Serafina glanced at the clock on the wall, counting the hours until dusk. Everything was in readiness. A baby rested in the crib downstairs, drugged to insure it would sleep through the night. She had the necessary herbs: rosemary, yarrow, and meadow rue. Even now, Anton was on his way to pick up DeLongpre's daughter. As soon as the girl was safely in the lab, Anton would deliver a message to DeLongpre. Serafina had no doubt the vampire would do as he was told when he realized his daughter's life depended on his compliance.

It was All Hallow's Eve.

Soon had finally come.

Tonight, she would be with her beloved.

Anton pulled into the parking lot behind the library just as the sun went down. Instead of parking in one of the spaces for patrons, he parked close to the back door. He sat there for a moment, wondering at the wisdom of what he was doing. Did he really believe his mother could raise his father from the dead?

True, he had seen his mother perform some remarkable incantations in the last few weeks, but raising the dead? Still, the need to avenge his father's death, a need his mother had drummed into him every day of his life for as long as he could remember, burned strong within him. What did it matter if she killed a vampire? DeLongpre was already dead. They would return the baby to its parents in a few hours. And Cara... he felt a twinge of regret at the thought of her demise, but it was quickly swept away in the embarrassment of her choosing Vince over himself. Foolish girl. She would reap the consequences of that foolish decision tonight.

Getting out of the car, he looked around for her bodyguard's Lexus. He had followed Cara and her bodyguard for the last week, getting to know their routine. The bodyguard always followed her inside, stayed for an hour or two, then left the library to stretch his legs.

Anton whistled softly as he walked toward the bodyguard's car. Getting Cara to the lab would be relatively easy, but first he had to fix it so her bodyguard couldn't follow. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he slashed all four tires on the Lexus.

Still whistling softly, he slid the knife into his pocket, then walked around the building to the entrance.

Cara was at the front desk helping an elderly woman fill out a form for a library card when she saw Anton walking toward her. She couldn't help wondering what he was doing there, since it had been weeks since she had seen him.

"Just sign here, Mrs. Green," Cara said, handing the woman a pen.

Anton rested one elbow on the edge of the counter. "Hey, sweet cakes, long time no see."

Cara nodded at him. Taking the pen from Mrs. Green, she handed the woman a temporary card. "You can use this tonight. You should receive your card in a couple of days."

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Green said. She looked from Cara to Anton and smiled, then walked slowly toward the back of the library.

Cara looked at Anton. "What brings you here?"

"Just stopped by to say hello and see how you were doing."

"I'm fine, thank you."

"How about going out for a cup of coffee?"

"I don't think so."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I really need to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Your father."

"My father! What about him?"

Anton glanced around, as if he was afraid of being overheard. "I don't think this is the place to discuss it, do you?"

Cara tapped the pen on the counter. He was right, of course. This wasn't the place to discuss anything that had to do with her parents. She glanced around. The library was empty save for Sarah Beth, Mary, Mrs. Green, an elderly man reading a newspaper, and Frank, who was sitting at a nearby table working on a crossword puzzle. Still, she wouldn't want anyone to overhear her having a conversation that included vampires.

"Let me tell Bethy that I'm stepping out for a moment," Cara said, dropping the pen in a drawer. "I'll be right back."

Cara took Sarah Beth aside and told her she was going outside for a few minutes.

Sarah Beth glanced at Anton, who was leaning casually against the front desk. "Is everything all right?"

"I don't know," Cara said. "He said something was wrong with my father, but..." She shook her head. "I can't imagine what it could be, or why Anton would know something I don't."

"I hope your father's okay," Sarah Beth said sympathetically.

"I'm sure he is. I won't be gone long."

She nodded at Frank as she walked by his table, then headed toward the rear of the library. Ever the gentleman, Anton held the door for her, then followed her outside. She noticed his car was parked near the back door instead of in the lot.

"So," she said, turning to face him, "what's all this about my father?"

"Let's talk in the car."

She shook her head. No way was she getting into the car with him. She didn't trust him any farther than she could throw him! "We can talk here."

"No," Anton said curtly, "I'm afraid we can't." And so saying, he grabbed her by the arm, opened the passenger-side door, and thrust her inside, slamming the door behind her.

Alarmed, Cara tried to open the door, only it was locked and wouldn't budge. Before she could do '

anything else, Anton slid behind the wheel and sped out of the parking lot.

"Anton, what are you doing?"

"All in good time."

"Let me out of here, now!"

"Just sit tight, sweet cakes. It'll all be clear soon enough."

Overcome by a sudden nameless fear, Cara glanced out the back window, hoping to see Frank's car behind them, only there was no sign of him, and as they reached the outskirts of town, there was no sign of anyone at all.

"What's going on, Anton? Where are you taking me?"

"To see your father, of course."

Cara looked out the window. There was nothing to see but a few old houses and soon even they were gone. "What would my father be doing out here?"

"He's not here yet." Anton looked over at her. "But he will be."

"I don't understand."

"All in good time," Anton murmured. "All in good time."

Cara stared out the window, chilled from the inside out. Where was he taking her? And why? And what did her father have to do with it? She bit down on her lower lip as her father's voice rose in her mind. "

I'm a wealthy man," he had once told her, " and I have many enemies. Frank is there to make sure that no harm comes to you."

Only Frank wasn't there.

Vince sat at his usual table in the rear corner of The Nocturne. Time and again he stared at his watch, as if glowering at it could make the hands move faster or the hours pass more quickly. He had left town almost two weeks ago, fully intending never to return, determined to put Cara out of his mind forever. It sounded simple enough. It turned out to be impossible. She filled his every waking moment. He missed her voice and the sound of her laughter. His body ached for her touch. He missed her in his arms, and in his bed.

Remembering Mara's advice, he had burrowed deep into the ground, seeking oblivion, but the memory of Cara's sweetness had followed him even there. Right or wrong, he had to see her again. He would tell her the truth and live with the consequences. Even if she rejected him, at least he would see her one more time. He felt like the worst kind of coward for leaving town without telling her good-bye, but when it came right down to it, he just hadn't had the nerve to face her, couldn't bear to see the hurt and disillusionment in her eyes and know he had put it there.

He glanced at his watch again, an oath escaping his lips. Would nine o'clock never come? He thought of storming into the library and confronting her there, but that would never do. If she denounced him in public, it would be embarrassing for both of them. If she accepted him for what he was, that would be embarrassing, too, because no matter where they were, as soon as she said she was his, he intended to drag her into his arms and make love to her until they were both exhausted.

Would nine o'clock never come?

Cara's heart lodged in her throat when Anton pulled up in front of what looked like an old abandoned building. She knew, in the deepest part of her being, that if she entered the place she would never leave it alive.

Grabbing the door handle, she shook it fiercely, willing it to open, and when that failed, she tried to roll down the window in hopes of climbing out, but to no avail.

Anton's laughter, cold and brittle, like the sound of dead leaves striking a tombstone, filled the confines of the car. "What's the matter, sweet cakes?"

"Please." She forced the word through lips gone dry. "Please let me go."

"No can do." His hand closed over her forearm, dragging her across the console and out the driver-side door.

"My father's not in danger, is he?"

"Not yet, but he will be." Anton unlocked the door to the old building and dragged her inside.

She tried to wrest her arm from his grasp and when that failed, she pummeled his chest with her fists, then kicked him in the shin.

"Stop that!" he growled.

"Let me go!"

He slapped her across the face, hard enough to make her ears ring. "I said stop it!"

"Anton, is that you?"

Glancing over her shoulder at the sound of a feminine voice, Cara saw a middle-aged woman, clad in a long black dress and white apron, ascend the stairs. She was of medium height, with dark brown hair tied at her nape. Her skin was pale and clear; her eyes were gray. A hint of madness lurked in their depths.

The woman's gaze, sharp as a dagger, raked over Cara. "You must be DeLongpre's brat."

"Who are you?" Cara asked.

"Serafina. Has your father never mentioned me?"

"Not that I recall."

"Perhaps I'll tell you the story while we wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Your father's arrival, of course. Didn't Anton tell you? Bring her down, Anton. Everything is ready."

Knowing it was useless, Cara continued to struggle as Anton dragged her down a flight of stairs, through a laboratory, down another flight of stairs, and into a large, windowless room. Two metal tables stood side by side in the middle of the floor. One was fitted with thick silver restraints, the other with leather straps. A stone crypt occupied one corner; a table covered with a black cloth stood beside it. Two dozen black candles provided light.

In spite of Cara's frantic struggles, Anton lifted her onto one of the tables. He held her immobile while the woman strapped her wrists and ankles to the table.

Cara tugged against the restraints, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that she couldn't hear anything else. "Please." She glanced at Anton and the woman. "Please, don't do this."

"It's time," the woman said.

Anton nodded. "I'll be back soon, Mother."

Cara stared after him. Where was he going? Surely not to confront her father. No sane man would rile a vampire. And yet, her father was her only hope.

Wringing her hands, the woman paced between the metal tables. "It will all be over soon," she said.

"Why?" Cara asked, choking back a sob. "Why are you doing this?"

Serafina stopped pacing and glared at Cara, her eyes blazing with hatred. "Why? You ask me why?

Your father killed the man I love, that's why!" She walked to the crypt and knelt beside it. "My Anthony."

Her hand caressed the cold stone. "Soon, my love, soon we'll be together." Rising, she came to stand beside Cara once again. "Tonight I will bring my Anthony back," she said, the madness in her eyes growing brighter, "and tomorrow he will be mine again."

Smiling, Serafina walked to the covered table and drew back the cloth, revealing a silver bowl, a black-handled silver dagger, and several small jars.

Cara stared at the dagger and hoped that her death would be quick.

Anton was surprised to find the gate leading to DeLongpre's house standing open. But then, maybe DeLongpre was expecting him. No doubt the bodyguard had already informed the vampire that Cara was missing.

Lights shone in all the downstairs windows. The front door opened even before Anton was out of the car and Roshan DeLongpre stood silhouetted in the doorway.

Anton slipped his hands into his coat pockets. The left one held a bottle of holy water, the right one contained a string of garlic. A sharp wooden stake rested against the small of his back; he wore a silver crucifix on a thick silver chain. It felt heavy around his neck.

DeLongpre moved to the end of the porch. "Bouchard, what are you doing here?"

"I have a message concerning your daughter."

The vampire was down the stairs in the blink of an eye. He towered over Anton, his dark eyes blazing.

"You know where Cara is?"

"I do."

"Tell me now."

"All in good time."

Roshan's eyes narrowed ominously. "What's going on? What kind of game are you playing?"

"No games."

"Tell me what you want."

"Back off," Anton said, "or you'll never see her alive again."

"Roshan?"

"Stay in the house, Brenna," DeLongpre said curtly. "I'll take care of this." His eyes burned into Anton's.

"What do you want?"

"This is how it's going to be," Anton said, pleased that his voice betrayed none of the fear that trembled just below the surface of his calm exterior. "You will get in the back of my car. You'll find a pair of handcuffs there. You will put them on. You will put the hood over your face. You will not try any of your mind games on me, nor will you offer any resistance when we reach our destination. Is that clear?"

"Where is my daughter?"

"With my mother. Cara's life depends on your obedience."

"And who is your mother?"

"You might remember her. Serafina Bouchard. You might also remember my father," Anton said.

"Anthony Loken."

Roshan nodded as everything became suddenly clear. He was aware of Brenna listening at the door, sensed her frustration because he had sent her inside. Glaring at Anton, he considered his options. He could easily overpower Bouchard and search his mind for Cara's whereabouts, but to do so might put Cara's life in danger. Then there was the witch, Serafina, to contend with. She was a far greater threat than her son.

"So, vampire," Anton said impatiently, "what do you say?"

"You've given me little choice," Roshan said. Better to play along for now. He would deal with Anton when Cara was out of danger.

"Exactly. Get in the car."

Anton remained out of reach, his hand curled around the bottle of holy water, while the vampire did as he'd been told. Only when the hood and the silver-plated handcuffs were in place did Anton get behind the wheel. Feeling a bit weak with relief that everything had gone as planned, he slid the key into the ignition and headed for the lab.

Roshan sat back, his eyes closed beneath the mask. His skin burned like hellfire where the handcuffs touched his skin. It was a pain he had suffered in the past at the hands of Anton's father. The mask, too, had been lined with a sheet of fine silver, burning his face even as it prevented him from seeing through the material.

He swore softly, his rage growing with each passing mile. No matter what happened this night, whether Cara was hurt or not, Bouchard and the witch would die for what they had done.

Roshan? Rrenna's voice sounded in his mind. What should I do?

Nothing at the moment, love. Keep Di Giorgio with you when he gets home.

You're in pain. I can feel it.

He's handcuffed me with silver to restrain me. I think we're going out to Loken's old lab.

I should be with you.

No.

You'll call me if you need me?

He smiled in spite of the pain in his wrists. Who else would I call?

I love you. Be careful.

A short time later, the car rolled to a stop. The engine stilled. The door beside Roshan opened, admitting a draft of cool air.

"We're here," Anton said. "Get out."

Moving blindly, Roshan did as he was told. He felt Anton's hand close over his arm, guiding him toward the lab. There was the sound of a key turning in the lock. Roshan followed Anton until the threshold's power stopped him.

"Oh, I forgot," Anton said, his voice thick with contempt, "come in."

Roshan crossed the threshold. Feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter, he followed Anton down two flights of stairs. A door opened and he caught his daughter's scent.

"Cara?"

"Daddy!"

"Shut up, both of you!" Anton said brusquely. He shoved Roshan backward. "Climb up on that table."

Revulsion swept through Roshan as he did as he was told. He remembered all too clearly the last time he had been in this place. He flinched as someone carelessly cut away his shirt, slicing into his flesh as well.

The silver blade seared his skin, as did the heavy silver strap they laid across his chest to secure him to the table. Silver manacles were clamped around his ankles; the handcuffs were removed and replaced by silver shackles. A thick silver strap was fastened across his neck so that he couldn't raise his head.

They were taking no chances this time, he thought. He could already feel the heavy silver leeching his strength, weakening his powers, leaving him blind and helpless.

"Get the baby." Serafina's voice, filled with barely suppressed excitement. "It's upstairs, in the lab."

A baby! Roshan shuddered to think what they would do with the child, but it was the fate of his own child that filled him with despair. "Bouchard?"

"He's not here," Serafina said.

"I came without a fight, now let my daughter go."

"All in good time," the witch said. "We are not through with her yet."

"What are you going to do to her?"

"Take a little blood."

Roshan swore a vile oath. "Don't tell me you're pursuing Loken's foolish dream of immortality!"

"No." She laughed maniacally. "Something better than that."

He strained against the bonds that held him, wincing as the silver shackles cut deeper into his flesh.

"Damn you!"

He heard the sound of Anton's footsteps coming down the stairs, a baby's sleepy whimper, caught the odor of sulfur as someone lit a match.

Roshan tensed as hands took hold of his arm.

"Keep him steady," Serafina said.

He felt a sharp jab as she plunged a needle into his arm, smelled his own blood as it filled the syringe.

"Now the girl, and then the baby," Serafina said.

Roshan heard Cara gasp as Serafina drew her blood.

The baby made no sound at all. He wondered if it was still alive.

"Take the brat back to the lab," Serafina said.

He listened to the sound of Anton's footsteps walking away, heard the woman muttering to herself as she paced the floor. A short time later, he heard Anton return.

Roshan tugged against his bonds again, but the silver was already doing its work, sapping his physical strength, weakening his preternatural powers, burning his skin everywhere it touched. If only he could see what was happening!

As if in answer to his unspoken wish, Anton removed the hood.

Roshan glanced to his right where Cara was bound to a metal table. Blood dripped from her arm. The scent of it enflamed his preternatural senses even as it stirred his hunger.

He turned his head to the left and Anton and Serafina came into view. For the first time, he saw the stone crypt in the corner.

Was it for his daughter, he wondered bleakly, or for himself?