My Big Fat Supernatural Honeymoon

Fans of the Dark Ones have long wondered what was up with Raphael St. John's amber eyes, and his skittishness around members of the Otherworld. Could there be more to him than was strictly human?

Chapter One

IT WASN'T UNTIL THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY, THOUGH, THAT life at Fyfe Castle took a dark turn.

"It did?" I glanced around the room. It was pretty dark even though the sun hadn't yet set, shadows seemingly smudged into the vast gray stone walls of the castle. Narrow window slits reluctantly allowed thin rays of Scottish sunlight to shoulder their way into the passage, but provided less illumination than the somewhat tattered electric candles which had been screwed into the stone wall. "Darker than this, you mean?"

The woman leading the way paused to look over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised. To be honest, I was encouraging her to talk just because her lilting Scottish accent sounded so delicious to my American ears. "Castle Fyfe has always had a dark and mysterious past. But when the seventh laird took ownership, all who lived here learned what fear truly was. He had a terrible temper, did Alec Summerton… Sir Alec he was then, later the earl of Seaton."

"That's the ghost you mentioned earlier?" I asked, waggling my eyebrows and tossing a lascivious grin to the man behind me.

Raphael rolled his eyes, and hoisted up the two suitcases, following as Fiona the castle hotelier started up the famed Fyfe staircase.

"Oh, no, the ghost isn't Sir Alec, although some say he does haunt the lower levels of the castle. Mind the ceiling just here, won't you, Mr. St. John? It's been the bane of many a tall man such as yourself. No, it isn't Sir Alec who is the best known ghost here, Mrs. St. John—it's his wife, Lily Summerton."

Raphael ducked to avoid a low beam as we marched up the stone staircase. Although I wasn't as tall as he was, at roughly six feet in height, even I had to bob my head to get through without braining myself. "Don't tell me—she's the Gray Lady?"

"Green, not gray," Fiona answered with a roll of her r's. She paused and gestured vaguely around. "This staircase was built in the early seventeen hundreds, in case you were wondering. It's known throughout Scotland as the finest example of its kind."

"I can see why." I waited until she continued up the stairs before waggling my eyebrows again at my husband. It had been a long train ride up to Scotland, and I was anxious to get to our room. "So, this ghost haunts the room we're staying in? Does she do anything in particular, or just float around and wring her hands while moaning about her lost love?"

"On the contrary—she says nothing, just appears briefly before people, gives them a searching glance, then sighs sadly, as if disappointed, and disappears into nothing."

"Sounds like a typical moody woman," Raphael muttered.

"Hush, male of the species. This is all very fascinating," I said, hoping Fiona would continue.

"Here's your suite." She threw open a modern-looking wooden door and escorted us into a bright room. "This was the laird's private suite. The later lairds, that is. It used to be Lily Summerton's room, in fact. The original laird's room was on the floor below it, but later lairds had their room moved up here after Sir Alec died. When the last Lord Seaton bequeathed the castle to the National Trust, it was decided to make his rooms available to the public. You'll have all the privacy you want, since these are the only rooms we let. The caretaker will be here, though, in case of emergency. His office is just off the tearoom, on the ground floor. The toilet is through that door. This is the sitting room, and to the right is the bedroom. I'll just make sure everything is proper…"

"Wow," I said, wide-eyed as I took in the heady scent of beeswax and antiques. The room was furnished as if the owner of a hundred years past had just stepped out of the room, with a few discreet nods to technology.

"Very nice," Raphael said, setting down the suitcases. "Worthy of a honeymoon?"

"Oh, yes. You think this stuff is real?" I asked in a low voice as I ran my fingers along the back of a rosewood settee upholstered in blue-and-green crushed velvet.

"At the prices they're charging? They'd better be."

"Good thing we decided to leave the kidlet with Roxy, then. I'd hate to see what Zoe could do to this lovely room. Maybe I should just call to check—"

Raphael stopped me before I could pull my cell phone from my purse. "You called half an hour ago, Joy. I can't imagine that even Zoe could get into trouble that quickly."

I raised an eyebrow.

His lips curved in a rueful smile. "Well, all right, I can imagine it, but I'm sure Roxy has her well bribed with all sorts of sweets and promises of visits to the zoo for her to be behaving badly."

"I suppose," I said slowly, quelling maternal worry.

"You're acting more like a worried mum than a blushing bride," my husband said.

"That's because I've been a mother for two years and a bride for less than a day. I know, I know, it's just separation anxiety, and it's perfectly normal. I've already had the lecture from Roxy, Bob. You don't need to fire one up as well."

"Bob?" Fiona emerged from the bedroom, frowning as she glanced at a card in her hand. "Has there been a mistake somewhere? I had you down as Mr. and Mrs. Raphael St. John, here for a honeymoon visit of a week. Is that not right?"

"Yes, it's right," I said, laughing a little as I grabbed my suitcase and took it into the bedroom. I whistled at the sight of the giant four-poster bed, determined to put my worry behind me.

"Bob is a nickname," Raphael told her. "Joy's a bit rattled because it's our first time away from our daughter. She's just two years old."

Fiona tsked and bustled around the room, chattering about children before pausing next to a large double-glazed window. "You asked about the Green Lady, Mrs. St. John. It is indeed here she makes her appearance… but not in the room, you understand. It's there, just outside the window, that her tortured face can be seen, as if judging those within the room."

"Oooh! Bob, a tortured ghost!"

Raphael gave me a long-suffering look.

"Do you not believe in ghosts, then, Mr. St. John?" Fiona asked, her voice kind as she patted him on the arm. "Don't be ashamed if you're not a believer. It's the way with many men, I know."

Raphael had difficulty in keeping his expression pleasant. Despite our experiences to the contrary, he clung desperately to the belief that the world had gone temporarily insane, and any minute now life as he previously knew it would regain the upper hand, allowing him to forget that things like ghosties and ghoulies really existed.

"My husband is a bit of a skeptic," I said, taking pity on him. "But I'm dying to know about this tortured ghost. What happened to her? Was she married? Is she one of those bride ghosts who appear to newly married women? I wonder if she'll show up for me, even though Raphael and I have been together for three years."

"About that, I cannot say. But this I can tell you—for a time, Lily and Sir Alec were happy, but she gave him a daughter rather than a son, and it wasn't long before he was casting his eye elsewhere."

"The dog!" I said, sitting on the edge of the bed as Raphael gave me another long-suffering look. He took out his shaving bag and disappeared into the bathroom. "What happened to her?"

"Well, it wasn't long after the birth of her daughter that Lily mysteriously disappeared. Sir Alec gave out that she'd gone to the seaside to recover, but no one believed such a tale. They heard the cries in the night, you see. They heard her sobbing and begging for help, and they knew what had happened."

"Walled up alive?" I asked, a prickle of goose bumps making me rub my arms.

"Like as not. He'd shut her up in the upper room of the black tower—it's gone now, but it stood in the northwest corner of the castle. No one was allowed near it, and Sir Alec claimed Lady Lily took the keys with her, and sealed the only entrance. For two weeks the servants in the castle heard her cries and pleas. For two weeks, she lived, but at last the devil had his way, and she fell silent."

"Oh my god! How horrible! He really was a nasty customer. What an evil thing to do to someone."

"It was indeed. Sometime during the night after she died, he spirited her body away, announcing a fortnight later that she'd drowned herself in the sea. And what did he do then but wed Grizel Adams, a widow from the village he'd been consorting with."

"Callous, murdering bastard," I muttered.

"That he was. On their wedding night, Sir Alec and his new bride lay together in Lily's bed. But they didn't get any sleep."

"Randy little bugger, was he?"

Fiona shook her head. "No, it wasn't the wedding night activities which kept them up—all night the two of them heard horrible scratching sounds, but though Sir Alec had all the lamps lit, nothing could be seen in the room. In the morning though…" She smiled.

"What?" I asked, thoroughly engrossed in the story.

"Do you see that window?" she asked, nodding toward it.

"Yeah." I got up and walked over to it. "Lily appeared outside it? She was scratching on the glass?"

"No. Open it up and tell me what you see."

Another little shiver of goose bumps rippled down my flesh as I opened the window and looked down. We were on the third floor of the castle, smack dab in the middle of the wall. "Well, it's a nasty drop. I can't imagine there's any way someone could get up here—there's no ledge, and the closest pipe is about fifteen feet away. Is that what you wanted me to see?"

"Look at the casement."

I squinted at the cream-colored stone. Someone had carved something just beyond the glass. It was upside down and somewhat blurred with age, but the words LILY SUMMERTON were chipped neatly into the casement. "Oh, wow. She carved her name?"

"That she did. And if you can tell me how anyone could do that in this spot, well, I'd certainly like to know."

I looked around the outer edge of the castle wall. Without some sort of a ladder or scaffolding, such a thing would be impossible.

"Very creepy."

"The Green Lady had her revenge, some said," Fiona continued, a prim set to her mouth. "For it was not but a month after Sir Alec married the widow Grizel that they both died when their carriage overturned. Snapped their necks, they did."

"How tragic. Makes you wonder, though, doesn't it?"

"Are you done with your ghost talk?" Raphael asked as he reentered the room.

"Yeah, but you should have stayed to hear it. It's really interesting," I said, giving the carved name one last look before closing the window.

"I'm sure I'll survive. Is it possible to have breakfast in our rooms rather than the restaurant?" he asked Fiona.

"Yes, but your food is bound to be cold by the time it's brought all the way up here," she answered.

He grinned and took the room key from her, herding her toward the door. "We'll survive."

Fiona melted before his grin, and although clearly desirous of telling us more about the castle's history, confined herself to wishing us a pleasant evening. In less time than it took to say the word "honeymoon," Raphael dashed across the room, stripped off his clothes, and pounced on me.

"At last, we are alone," he said with an atrocious French accent.

I blinked up at him a couple of times.

He kissed the tip of my nose, and cocked one eyebrow. "The accent too much for you, sweetheart? You look somewhat stunned."

"Yes, it was awful, and besides, I think your English accent is the sexiest thing on earth. But it's not that…" Loath as I was to pry myself from his arms, I did just that to sit up and look from him to the entrance to the suite. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked, pulling me back so he could nibble on my neck.

I shivered at the touch, thought about dismissing my confusion, but decided there were more pressing issues. "Bob, you know just how much I've been looking forward to this honeymoon—"

"Oh, yes. I believe the fact that you almost ravished me on the train coming up here brought that to my attention. And you will notice that whereas I objected to our enacting upon our wedding night in the coach of the Edinburgh Express, I am now agreeable to the whole idea, and you may commence with your planned ravishing of my manly self."

"Mmm hmm," I said, squinting at the door to the suite as I judged its distance.

Raphael's face suddenly filled my vision. His lovely amber eyes were narrowed with suspicion. "You are not ravishing me. You've talked of nothing for the last four hours. Why are you not ravishing me? Is it Zoe? Are you still worried—"

"No, it's not the baby. It's… well… how did you run from the door to the suite all the way in the other room, to here, without me seeing you move? Not to mention taking off your clothes while you were doing it."

Raphael turned to consider the door at which I was pointing. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't see you move. One minute you were there, smiling your very best smile for Fiona and making her go all swoony, and the next minute you were naked and pouncing on me. I didn't see you move in between the two actions."

"You were just too busy ogling my chest and imagining the many and varied things you'd like to do to me. With whipped cream."

"Do we have any whipped cream?" I asked, distracted for a moment.

He shook his head. "But I'll get some if you want it."

"Well…" I didn't have an opportunity to say more. Once again I seemed to be suffering from an odd sort of time loss. As the word left my lips, he was looming over me, his eyes alight with a familiar albeit exciting glint; half a second later the door to the suite slammed shut, his discarded clothes having vanished somewhere along the way.

"Bob? I didn't mean right now… Oh, hell. Honest to Pete, men! Sometimes they're just… just…"

"Treacherous? Vile? Whoremongering? No, I have it—murderous, evil bastards who deserve to spend eternity in pox-riddled, pustule-filled, eternal, endless torment!" a voice said from the window.

I fell off the bed spinning around to look behind me.

"Oh, dear, did I startle you? I'm so sorry. I just thought I'd take the opportunity while that male is out of the way." A woman, dressed in period Elizabethan garb complete with green-and-gold-patterned flat-fronted corset, long row of beads, and tiny neck ruff, strode forward and grabbed my hand, hauling me to my feet. "So sorry. Not hurt? Excellent. I'm Lily Summerton. I'm so very glad to see you! You have no idea how long I've waited for someone to help me."

"Lily… Summerton?" I asked, gazing with openmouthed astonishment. "You're… you're…"

"The fabled Green Lady of Fyfe Castle, yes," she said, preening just a little as she patted her hair.

"I see. Hello. I'm Joy Randall… er…Joy St. John. You're… a ghost?"

"Yes, of course! I couldn't very well be the Green Lady if I wasn't one, now could I?"

"I suppose not."

"And you're a Beloved."

"Well, kind of. Not really. That is, I am and I'm not," I said hurriedly. "We don't actually mention the whole Beloved thing very much."

"You don't?"

"My husband gets a little bit testy when he's reminded that I was born to be the soul mate of someone else, especially when that someone is a vampire, although why he gets quite so upset is beyond me. Everything worked out wonderfully. I think it's just a territorial male thing, to be honest," I said, giving her a little smile.

She pursed her lips for a moment, looked like she was going to ask a question, then shook her head. "Where is your Dark One? That male who was just here certainly isn't he—everyone knows therians can't be Dark Ones—and I desperately need the latter. Could you summon him, please?"

"Er…" I glanced toward the door and wondered if I yelled loudly enough, if Raphael would hear me before he left the castle.

"Oh, it won't take long, I assure you," she said with a kind pat of my hands. "A half an hour at most, I promise, and then you can get back to your man. Surely you can see your way clear to helping me?"

"I'm not quite sure what it is you want me to do," I said slowly, edging toward the door.

"Oh, didn't I mention that? My memory has been shocking the last few hundred years. It's quite simple, really," she said with a bright smile. "I'd like you to curse my husband to eternal torment. I won't be able to rest until you do so."

Chapter Two

"SORRY, SWEETHEART—NO WHIPPED CREAM. THE GIFT SHOP was just closing up, but I did manage to get this before the girl left." Raphael held up ajar of clotted cream. "I know it's not the same, but perhaps you can imagine it's whipped cream. Erm… why are you still dressed? Why aren't you waiting for me naked and warm, in bed? And why are you wearing an expression of a woman who is annoyed, rather than one who is about to be pleasured from the top of her adorable head to the tips of her delectable toes?"

"—very nice, although to give the bastard credit, Alec was ahead of time so far as having a privy indoors. He had one in his bedchamber, which admittedly wasn't terribly pleasant on warm summer days, but as I spent so little time in his room… Oh. The male is back." Lily emerged from the bathroom, where she had been admiring the plumbing. She turned a cold, hard face to Raphael, her eyes narrowing for a moment. "Have we met? No, that's silly, we couldn't have. Still, you look somewhat familiar…"

"Who the hell is this?" he asked, waving the jar of clotted cream toward her. He checked, and added, " What the hell is this?"

"I could swear…" She shook her head at herself. "My imagination has been running wild of late. My name is Lily Summerton. You may refer to me as Lady Summerton. This, I take it, is your mortal husband?"

"Lily Summerton?" Raphael repeated, suspicion rife in his voice. "A… a…"

"A ghost, yes, I'm afraid she is." I slid off the bed and twined my fingers through his.

"Oh, hell, this is Christian's doing, isn't it?" he demanded.

"Is Christian your Dark One?" Lily asked me, ignoring Raphael.

"He's not her Dark One. He's got a perfectly good wife of his own! Who's going to be a widow if he doesn't keep his paws to himself—"

"Bob, calm down. Christian didn't set this up. It's just coincidence that we found a castle that was really and truly haunted."

He turned to me, his eyes a bit wild looking. "You know how I feel about all this sort of thing."

"I know," I said, squeezing his fingers again. "You don't like vampires or ghosts or anything of that ilk. But it seems that Lily has a task that must be performed before she can rest, and she's picked us to do it."

"No," he said, his expression darkening. "This is our honeymoon. We're not going to get involved with any more of your crackpot woo-woo friends."

"Crackpot!" Lily gasped.

"Sweetie, I don't think we have much of a choice," I said, pulling Raphael aside.

He glared at Lily. She glared right back at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"We certainly do. We'll ring up Allie and have her do whatever it is she does to ghosts to get rid of them. I'll be damned if I let anyone ruin our honeymoon."

"She said she will haunt us if we don't help," I whispered, sending Lily what I hoped was a confident smile. "She said if we don't take care of a little situation concerning her mortal life, she won't give us a moment's peace."

"We'll leave, then," Raphael said loudly, hitching up his glare a notch or two. "We'll find somewhere else to stay."

"I'll find you," Lily answered unconcernedly as she examined her fingernails. "You can't hide from me, you know. No matter where you go, I'll find you. If you won't give me the peace I desire, then so shall you have none."

"Why us?" Raphael roared, seeing, as I knew he would, the inevitability of the situation.

"Your wife is a Beloved. She's the first one to come to Fyfe Castle who had the ability to help me. Now, if you're done wasting time, perhaps we can get under way?" She evidently saw the objection Raphael was about to make because she added quickly, "I have told your wife it will take only a half hour to do my bidding, after which I will happily leave you in peace."

Raphael grumbled a few things to himself, but both Lily and I thought it was best to ignore them.

"We would be happy to help you, but I'm afraid a cursing is out of the question. Not only am I opposed to cursing someone I don't know, but even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know how to go about doing it," I said.

Lily's gaze rested on Raphael for a moment. "A curse can be cast only by someone of dark origins. Most people use demons, but Dark Ones are an acceptable substitute, since they themselves are more or less cursed. Your man seems to get upset when I mention your Dark One. Why is that?"

"It's a long story, but basically, somewhere some wires were crossed because I was born a Beloved to a very nice man named Christian, but Raphael was the man I was meant to end up with." I gave Raphael a kiss on the chin.

His eyes flashed for a moment, before they narrowed again on Lily. "Not to mention the fact that Christian found a woman who wasn't born his Beloved, but she turned out to fill that role, so Joy has nothing whatsoever to do with him."

"Well, how are you going to curse Alec if you don't have a Dark One?" Lily asked, her hands fluttering in an agitated manner. "I must have reparation! I will never find my peace without it!"

"I'm sorry, but a curse is out," I said, feeling bad that we couldn't help the distraught ghost.

"So you might as well just run along and let us enjoy our honeymoon," Raphael said with an absolute dearth of tact.

"Bob!"

"What?"

I nodded toward Lily, who was now pacing back and forth, muttering to herself. "We have to help her."

"Says who?"

"Says me! We were clearly meant to help her. She said herself that we were the only ones who could do it."

Raphael grumbled again.

I put a hand on his sleeve and batted my lashes at him. "I couldn't possibly relax enough to enjoy clotted cream knowing there was a ghost around whom it was in my power to help."

His lips thinned. "You don't play fair, do you?"

"Never have, sweetie."

"Very well." He heaved a heavy sigh and turned back to face Lily. "Right. The cursing aside, what is it you want us to do?"

"He must be destroyed. That is the only way I can have rest," Lily insisted as she continued to pace. "But how to do it, that is the problem. Oh!"

"That sounds hopeful. You thought of something?" I asked.

"I'm a lackwit," she said, slapping her forehead. "I can't believe I didn't think of this first, but it's better, so much better than just a cursing!"

"Oh?" I asked, suddenly wary. "If it's anything involving a demon—"

"No, no, I've given up on the curse idea. I have a much better one! You will destroy the stone!"

"The stone? What stone?" Raphael asked.

She stopped pacing to face us, an earnest expression on her face. "There were three stones bound to Fyfe Castle: the castle stone, representing the castle itself. That was placed into the wall of the foundation, so it will not be destroyed unless the castle is razed. The second was the lady's stone, which signified the lady of the castle. That stone Alec says was lost, but I'm not sure he didn't destroy it himself—he certainly wasn't above such an act to ensure that the women of Fyfe have naught but ill luck. The third stone, the laird's stone, is in the Stone Room. That is what you must do."

"Er… what, exactly?" I asked, confused.

"Destroy the stone, naturally!" she answered, rubbing her hands together with much pleasure. "It's only fitting! Just as Alec destroyed the lady's stone, thereby damning all ladies of the family, so now must you destroy the laird's stone. It will affect not only Alec, but all his descendants as well—a just punishment, don't you think, for a man who killed his own wife for bearing him a daughter?"

"To be honest, I don't think that's very fair," I said slowly, and to my surprise, Raphael interrupted me.

"We'll do it. Where's this laird's stone kept?"

Lily shrugged. "That I do not know. Alec would never tell me the location of the Stone Room. There was some curse on the men to keep them away from it… You'll have to ask him for that information."

"But—," I started to protest.

Raphael clamped a hand over my mouth, and hustled me out of the room before I could say anything.

"Don't let Alec bully you!" Lily called from the bedroom. "Be firm with him!"

"Why all of a sudden are you so hot and bothered to help her?" I asked a moment later as we hurried down the hall.

"It's like you said—the sooner we help her, the sooner she'll go away and leave us alone to enjoy our clotted creamapalooza. Where did she say we'd find her husband?"

"The long gallery, which is evidently on the ground floor, or the stable yard, or possibly the dining hall. But sweetie, we can't destroy the laird's stone, not if it will affect a bunch of innocent people!"

"Who says it will?" Raphael flashed a quick grin. "Fiona said the family line had died out, so there won't be any descendants to harm, in addition to which, I don't believe at all that a stone has anything to do with people's health and happiness. So we'll just find this stone, drop it into the moat, tell her the job is done, and our way will be clear to enjoying our honeymoon."

"I don't know. I don't think it's going to be a good idea to mess with something so historic," I said.

"You worry too much. Everyone concerned is dead already, aren't they? It's not like there's anything we can do to hurt them now."

I held my tongue, but I wasn't so sure on that subject. Allie, a woman who had made her living summoning and releasing ghosts before she met Christian the sexy vampire, had told me that ghosts could be bound to a spot, but since Lily and assumedly her husband were already stuck at the castle, it didn't seem like breaking a stone would change their status.

"I don't see why she couldn't come with us to find him," Raphael muttered as we hurried down the pinwheel stone staircase.

"She said she doesn't go down where her husband roams. I can't say I blame her, given what he did to her. Have you ever heard of the word 'therian'? As applied toward a person, that is?"

"Therian?" Raphael thought for a moment before shaking his head. "It's Greek for 'wild animal.' I can't imagine it being applied to a person—good Lord!"

A woman's scream rent the night, coming from the floor below us. Raphael dropped my hand and dashed down the stairs. I hurried after him, slipped on the highly polished wooden floor, and ended up falling against him where he stood in the middle of a long hallway, his hands on his hips. Despite the fact that my mother describes me as being built like a brick house, Raphael didn't budge when I slammed into him.

"Who is it?" I asked, collecting myself enough to peer around him.

His indignant snort told me everything I needed to know. A moment later, a woman's scream echoed down the long passage, but this time, it was followed by feminine giggles and, "Stop it! Ye're goin' to make me wet myself if ye keep ticklin' me that way! Alec, stop! Nay, ye mustn't!"

Although the hallway was lit with night-lights at either end, there was sufficient illumination from outside to highlight the two nearly translucent figures that came down the hallway toward us. In the lead was a woman with her skirts hitched up and breasts almost wholly out of her corset, her hair tousled halfway out of her French hood, and bare legs flashing as she barreled down on us. In close pursuit was a bearded man clad in a flapping linen shirt and pair of breeches. "Run from me, will ye, ye lusty vixen? Ye'll not be escapin' me that easily!"

The look on Raphael's face was not welcoming, but it was no cause for the woman racing toward us to shriek loud enough to wake the dead. So to speak.

"Lord bless me!" she gasped as she caught sight of us. She came to an immediate stop, her hands on her cheeks for a moment before squeaking and hurriedly rearranging her breasts back into her corset. "Hsst! Alec! We're havin' visitors!"

"Aye, I see them." The ghost who was evidently Lily's husband cleared his throat, puffed out his chest, and strode toward us in a haughty manner. "I am Lord Summerton. By what right do you come to my home and stare at my wife?"

"I have my own wife to ogle, thank you," Raphael said stiffly. "Perhaps if you kept yours confined rather than let her run the hallways half-naked—"

Sir Alec had been in a stretch of shadow, but as he stopped in front of us, he was lit by both the outside light shining through the window, and the slightly orange glow of a security night-light.

My jaw dropped as I got a good look at Sir Alec. "Holy Moses! Raphael, do you see that?"

"By the saints!" Sir Alec said at the same time, his eyes wide as he stared at Raphael.

"Ooh," breathed the disheveled woman. She looked from one man to the other. " 'Tis like seein' twins!"

"My boy!" Sir Alec shouted, enveloping Raphael in a bear hug.

Chapter Three

"ERM…" RAPHAEL WAS OBVIOUSLY TOO DISCONCERTED BY THE fact that he was being hugged by an Elizabethan ghost to rally much along conversational lines. "Do I know you?"

"Ye're the very image of me when I was a lad," Sir Alec answered. "Ye can be no other but the spawn of my loins!"

"Didn't you say you had Scottish ancestry?" I asked Raphael as I continued to marvel at the ghost. He had a beard, but it was close-cropped enough to make out the shape of his jaw. He had the same stubborn chin as Raphael, the same strong jaw, wide brow, and brown curly hair. Even their eyes were the same, a tawny amber that I knew could glow with molten heat, or glitter with cold intent.

"Yes, but way back. My mother's family. They weren't named Summerton, though."

"Ye've the look of me! Of course ye're my kin!" Sir Alec crowed, giving Raphael another hug. "Grizel, 'tis one of my descendants, come back to the ancestral home!"

"How d'ye do," the woman answered, bobbing a little curtsy at us. "Pleasure to meet ye."

"You, I take it, are Sir Alec's second wife?" I asked. Grizel nodded, a faint blush visible on her cheeks despite the dim light and her transparency. I eyed her curiously, expecting to see a much harsher woman, the type who wouldn't mind coming between a man and his wife. But this woman was fresh-faced, bearing an air of innocence that made me wonder if Lily had told me everything.

"This lovely is Grizel, the light of my heart," Sir Alec said proudly, wrapping his arm around her and hauling her up to his side. "She's not related to ye, though, more's the pity. I only had one brat, and she was off the she-witch who was my first wife."

His expression turned sour as he spoke. Grizel elbowed him, whispering, " 'Tis not fittin' to speak ill of the dead, husband."

Sir Alec suddenly grinned, making my knees wobble for a moment, so similar a sight was it. "That'd be us as well, ye daft hen!"

"Oh, aye," she giggled. "I'm ever forgettin' that."

"She's soft on the eye, but a bit light in the head," Sir Alec said fondly, giving his wife a squeeze to take the sting out of the comment. "Now then, ye'll be wantin' to have a tour of the castle, won't ye? I'll be happy to show it all to ye… all but the Stone Room."

"Oh?" Raphael and I exchanged glances. I cleared my throat. "Er… why not the Stone Room?"

Sir Alec shot me a sharp look. "The laird's stone is there. The stone was cursed centuries ago, and so long as it's kept in peace, so will be the happiness of the men of Fyfe."

"But we're not from Fyfe," I argued.

"He's the spittin' image of me!" Alec said, nodding toward Raphael. "I cannot allow him into the Stone Room. 'Twould be a great danger."

"How so?" I asked as we started down the hall.

" 'Tis the curse, lass. The Thane of Fyfe shadowed be, thrice around the stone bound; in its light, the devil can see, and the beast within be found."

"What does that mean?" Raphael asked, frowning as he tried to puzzle it out.

"Any man of Fyfe who sets his hands upon the stone will be forever changed," Alec answered with a meaningful look.

"Oh? What about the women?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Only the lady's stone affects them, and even if the laird's stone would, they don't know where the Stone Room is. It's a secret room, ye ken, its location told only to the ruling master of Fyfe and his heir."

"I know where it is," Grizel said suddenly.

"Ye're daft woman. Ye don't."

"I do," she insisted. "I saw you go into it from the privy not long after we were wed. You counted five stones up from the floor, five stones over from the door, and five stones in from the corner. The back wall of the privy swung open, and you disappeared into it. I was going to tease you about it when you came back out, but that was last I saw of you until…"

Grizel's smile faded as she looked away, her fingers fretting the material of her skirt.

" 'Tis all right, lass. We died together, and we'll stay together for all eternity," Sir Alec said, his voice gruff as he comforted his wife.

Raphael exchanged another glance with me. I could see he was as hesitant as I was about the whole thing. "I think we'll take a rain check on the tour of the castle, if you don't mind," I told the two ghosts.

Sir Alec looked crestfallen until Raphael told him we were on our honeymoon.

"Oh, then ye'll be wantin' a bit of privacy," he said with a wink. "Grizel and I are still on ours, as well. It's goin' on for five hundred years now, but she's still as saucy as a minx! Ye go and have a wee cuddle with yer wife, and I'll be doin' the same. Come here, ye redheaded Eve!"

"Ye'll naught catch me until I say ye can!" Grizel squealed and leaped away, racing down the hall into the shadows, a grinning Sir Alec in pursuit.

I looked at Raphael. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Probably. Where did Fiona say the old laird's quarters were?"

"Somewhere on this floor. I'd guess below our rooms. But Raphael…" I bit my lip, hesitant to put into words a worry that had nagged me ever since I'd spoken with Lily.

"You don't want to destroy the stone," Raphael said, trying the door to one of the rooms. It was locked. He moved on to the next one. "I figured you wouldn't."

"No, it's not that. That is, yes, that's part of it—Fiona may have said that there was no family living, but they obviously missed your side of the family."

He shook his head and tried another door. "I told you—my Scottish ancestry is quite small, a great-times-ten grandmother, or something like that. Even if she was someone related to Sir Alec, by now the ancestry has been diluted with good old English stock."

"Sweetie, you look just like him," I said, pointing out the obvious. "No wonder Lady Lily thought she recognized you. I wish she'd told us it was her husband you resembled, but I guess if she hadn't seen him in several hundred years, she probably forgot just what he looked like."

"It doesn't matter. This situation is due to genetic coincidence, nothing more. Ah, this one is open." He stuck his head into a room, reaching around for a light switch. Dim light flooded a room empty of all furniture, but containing several boxes of what appeared to be dry goods for the restaurant located on the main floor. "This looks promising. Where would the privy be, do you think?"

"Lily said there was one connected to the bedroom. You aren't seriously thinking of destroying the stone, are you? I know we told Lily we were going to, but that's before we met Alec and Grizel. He doesn't seem at all like the sort of person to coldbloodedly murder his wife. Not to mention I'm more than a little bit concerned about what destroying it might do to you."

"I'll be perfectly safe, sweetheart. Do you see anything that looks like a privy?"

With much foreboding, I pointed toward a small alcove off the main room. As privy's went, this one was fairly small, more a tiny little closet with a long open shaft in the center of the floor. A board had been laid across it for safety purposes, which Raphael skirted as he squatted next to the back of the stone wall. "Five up, five in, five over," he murmured to himself as he tapped on stones. One of them made a dullish sound, which turned into a low rumble when he put all his weight into pressing on it. "Et voilà! Your secret passage, milady."

The air that swirled out of the passage around us didn't smell foul or unclean, but my nerves were still all on end. "I doubt there are lights down there."

"Stay here," Raphael ordered as he got to his feet. "I'll get a torch from the car."

I used the time it took him to run down to the car and back to form plausible arguments why he shouldn't go into the passage, but they fell on deaf ears.

"I'll be fine," he said firmly, giving me a pat on the behind as he shoved one of the boxes from the main room into the doorway to keep it open. He switched on a powerful flashlight, the light showing dark stone steps eerily leading down to inky blackness.

"I don't suppose you'd consider letting me go first?"

The look he gave me spoke volumes.

"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you when this curse or whatever it is bites you on the butt."

"You're the only one I allow to do that," he said with a leer before doubling over to get through the four-foot-high doorway. "Besides, I don't believe in centuries-old curses."

I grabbed the back of his shirt and followed. "You believe in vampires."

"I would prefer not to."

"And ghosts."

"Again, not by choice."

"And werewolves and imps and all other sorts of things we've seen."

An indignant snort was my answer to that. "I may be forced to believe in vampires and ghosts, but that doesn't mean I buy into every supernatural idea out there. People do not turn into wolves, Joy. It's physically impossible."

"Uh huh. Watch your—ow. Sorry."

Raphael rubbed his forehead where it had hit a low overhanging stone. The staircase we were on was a miniature version of the grand staircase, a narrow stone spiral that seemed to go on forever. "I think this is the bottom," Raphael said as he moved a few steps forward. The light pooled around an iron-banded wooden door.

"Bob, wait," I said, grabbing his arm as he was about to open the door. "We can't just up and destroy the stone and Sir Alec. It's cruel."

"Cruel? Didn't he starve his wife to death?"

"Yes, but… well, after meeting him, I'm not too sure about that. I think we should talk to Lily again. Maybe things weren't quite as she remembered."

His lips were warm on mine as he gave me a swift kiss. "Let's take a look at this tamed laird's stone. If it's small enough to move, perhaps we can just hide the thing, and tell Lily it's gone."

"I don't see what good that will do, but it's better than nothing," I grumbled.

He laughed and slid back a solid slab of wood which barred the door, swinging it open. It had suitably creepy squeaking hinges, but nothing rushed out of the room at us when Raphael shone his light inside.

"Rats?" I asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Not that I can see. It's just a small empty room."

And so it was. There was a slight musty odor, but as Raphael said, it was a small empty stone chamber.

Empty except for a plinth, upon which sat a greeny-gray chunk of stone approximately the size and shape of a large wheel of cheese.

"That's gotta be it," I said, eyeing the stone carefully as Raphael shone the line around it.

"I'd say so. Hold this while I see how heavy it is."

"Sweetie—," I started to say, but my words stopped as Raphael reached out to grab the stone. A blinding flash of light startled me into screaming and dropping the flashlight, which promptly went out. I scrabbled around on the floor until I found it again, quickly switching it on. "Oh, my God, what was that? Are you all right?"

I shone the light to where Raphael had been standing, my jaw dropping as I blinked in absolute stupefaction at the thing that stood in his place.

A lion, golden, tawny-eyed, complete with mane, fuzzy ears, and an almost comical expression of utter disbelief, stared back at me.

Chapter Four

"OH MY GOD," I SAID, MY SKIN CRAWLING as I reached out to touch the tip of the lion's nose. His eyes crossed as he followed the movement of my hand. "Oh my God! I knew it! I knew something like this would happen if you tried to destroy the stone! OH MY GOD! You're a werewolf."

The Raphael lion rolled its familiar amber eyes and opened its mouth as if it would speak. All that came out was a guttural grunt.

"All right, then, you're a werelion! Same difference, Bob! Oh, my God, what are we going to do?"

Frustration filled Raphael's feline eyes as he made the same guttural noise a couple more times.

"Don't swear, sweetie. We'll figure something out," I said, patting him on the top of his furry head. "That's what that beast within bit from that curse must have meant. That's all fine and well, but I am not going to spend my honeymoon with an animal. Let's go find Sir Alec and see what he has to say about this. It's his stone, maybe he knows of a way to break this transformation."

Raphael didn't object when I hefted the stone and marched toward the stairs, although he did give the back of my hand a swift lick with his bristly tongue.

By the time we made our way back to the first-floor hallway where Sir Alec and Grizel had been romping, it was obvious that a shouting match was going on.

"How dare you! I'll go anywhere in this castle that I please, and you cannot stop me!"

"Ye're confined to the upstairs. Grizel and I have the lower floors. That's how it's always been, and that's how it'll ever be!" Sir Alec roared.

Lily didn't appear to be threatened despite the fact she was staring her murderer in the face. "I came down to see that you don't harm that dear Beloved and the one who I see now is some relation of yours, the poor man. And don't you threaten me, you murderous whoreson! You were a horrible husband when you were alive, and you're a worse one now that you're dead! Running around the castle flaunting your trollop in that manner. Have you no shame? No sense of dignity?"

"Now there's a pot callin' the kettle black," Sir Alec yelled. "Ye had yer skirts up for any man who caught yer eye!"

Lily gasped. "Oh! I did not!"

Sir Alec leaned forward, all three of them so obviously focused on the argument they didn't notice our approach. "I've three words to say to that: Sir Roderick Langton."

Lily opened her mouth to protest, but quickly snapped her teeth closed.

"Aye, I thought that would shut ye up," Sir Alec answered with satisfaction. "Ye can't be throwing out accusations about Grizel and me when ye were up to the very same thing with that pasty-faced bastard."

"Roddy wasn't a bastard! He loved me! He wanted to take me away from your cruelties!"

"Cruelties!" snorted Sir Alec.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's a situation I'm going to need your help with," I said, plopping the stone down onto the nearest table.

"Just a minute, lass," Sir Alec told me without glancing our way. "I've taken enough from this she-devil. It's time she face the truth rather than the pack of lies she preferred to believe. Was it cruelty, then, to give ye everything ye wanted? Ye had the finest cloth, jewels, the best of my bloodstock—"

"Trivial things," Lily yelled, waving her hands. "You thought to buy my affections with your gold! I saw through that in an instant, though. I knew what sort of man you were—a murderer, a thief who would steal his own wife's jewels to give to another. You drove me to Roddy's arms! You and your damned harlot!"

"I realize that this is a heated subject, but I really do have an emergency on my hands here, and I'd appreciate a little help," I said, but the three ghosts ignored me.

"Ye'll not be talking about my Grizel that way!" Sir Alec shouted back at Lily. "She's worth a whole castle full of the likes of ye, not that ye'd know how a proper wife behaved, lockin' yerself away in the tower as ye did for months on end! And as for yer precious jewels—ye'll be needing to talk to Sir Roderick about them."

Lily gasped again, her eyes blazing. "How dare you impugn his name! He was a saint! A god among men! You were not fit to lick his boots!"

Despite the urgency of the situation with Raphael, I was oddly drawn into the argument. "Wait a sec—did you just say that Lily locked herself into the tower? I thought… er… well, I thought you did that because she had a daughter instead of a son?"

Lily lifted her chin and looked away. Sir Alec shot his first wife a nasty look. "Oh, aye, that's what she wanted everyone to think. But the truth is different from legend, isn't it, Lily? Go on and tell this lass how ye locked yerself in the tower in a fit of temper. Tell her how ye had that ball-less whoreson bringin' ye food and wine on the sly, while ye let everyone think ye were up there starvin'. Ye tell her that, and I'll tell her how Sir Roderick disappeared once he finally got his hands on yer jewels and gold, and how yer own stubbornness kept ye in the tower rather than admit what had happened."

Raphael bumped my hand with his nose.

"Just a sec, sweetie. I think we're finally getting to the truth," I murmured to him.

"He didn't disappear!" Lily bellowed. "You killed him! Just as you killed me!"

"I did nothing of the kind! He strung ye along as long as it took to get the key to yer strongboxes, then he up and left ye to starve to death in yer tower. Ye have no one but yerself to blame!"

Raphael bumped my hand again. Absently, I patted him on his head, relieved to know that my gut instinct about Alec hadn't been far off. But how were we to resolve the situation?

"You killed me!" she repeated, and was about to fly at Sir Alec when Raphael had evidently had enough. He tossed up his head and let loose with a roar that came close to shaking the windows. The three ghosts spun around in unison and stared at Raphael.

"Ah, lad," Sir Alec said, shaking his head. "Ye just had to see the stone, didn't ye? And now ye'll pay the price for yer curiosity."

"We are not amused," I said loudly, leveling a stern look at Sir Alec as I pointed to Raphael. "This is our honeymoon. That is my husband. He is a lion. Which of those three statements does not belong?"

The three ghosts blinked at me.

I took a deep breath. "I want him changed back, and I want him changed back right now!"

" 'Tis nothing to do with me." Sir Alec shrugged. "He did it himself. I warned him not to go into the Stone Room."

"You didn't say there was a chance he would be changed into an animal!" I yelled, overcome with frustration. "How the hell did it happen anyway? All he did was pick up the stone!"

"I told ye that's all it would take. The men of Fyfe were cursed long ago, ye ken. Cursed to be therianthropes—to change into animals—when they touch the laird's stone. Yon laddy… well, ye can see what happened. He's a very nice-lookin' lion, though, don't ye think, Grizel?"

"Very nice," she agreed quickly. "Just like a great big kitty. Does he purr if you stroke him?"

Raphael growled low in his throat. I patted him again. "Calm down, sweetie. We'll get this figured out." I took a deep breath and skewered Sir Alec with a look that would have scared the crap out of a mortal man. "Given the evidence before us, I'm willing to accept the story about the stone. You have yet, however, to tell me what it is we need to do to get Raphael back."

Sir Alec shrugged. "He must learn how to shift back to human form by himself."

"Well, surely you can give him some help!" I said, clutching my hands together to keep from shaking the annoying ghost. "You must have some experience with this!"

"Nay, none," he said, shaking his head.

"But… but… it's your stone!"

"Aye, and the men of Fyfe were well warned not to go near it. None of us did," he said with irritating righteousness.

I stared at him in outright surprise. "Do you mean to say that you have this horrible stone in the castle, one that can turn any male family member into an animal if he so much as touches the damned thing, and no one ever did so?"

"Aye, that's what I'm tellin' ye. We had the warning, ye see. We knew that to touch it would bring down the curse upon our heads."

I turned to consider the stone. "Then what are we going to do? If we put it back, will it change Raphael back?"

"I'm afraid not, lass. He's therian, ye see. All of us men of Fyfe are, but only those who touch the stone trigger the change."

I looked at my husband. His eyes peered back at me, filled with a heart-twisting mixture of hope, trust, and sadness. "Don't worry, I won't let you stay this way. We just need to think… There has to be an answer. If there's one thing I've learned the last few years, it's that nothing is absolute."

"We'd help ye if we could," Sir Alec said, pulling Grizel to his side. "But I'm afraid that there's no solution. It's as the curse says: The Thane of Fyfe shadowed be, thrice around the stone bound; in its light, the devil can see, and the beast within be found."

"Thrice around the stone bound," I murmured, eyeing the stone. "I wonder… Bob?"

Raphael looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly thinking the same thing I was. His head jerked up and down in an awkward acknowledgment.

"Are you sure?" I asked, my heart weeping at the sight of his eyes, so familiar, so human, bound in a body that was nothing more than a furry prison.

He nodded again.

"Right. Here goes nothing." I picked up the stone, grunting a little at its weight as I lifted it over my head.

"What are ye doin'?" Sir Alec yelled, leaping toward me.

I lowered the stone and took a couple of steps back, just in case he had any funny ideas about trying to snatch it from me. "The curse revolves around the stone. You guys have been protecting it all these centuries, believing it made you happy."

"Aye, it has! So long as the laird's stone is safe, all will be well."

"The laird's stone, the laird's stone," Lily muttered before jabbing a finger in Sir Alec's direction. "Ask him what he's done to the lady's stone!"

Sir Alec looked abashed for a moment.

"He destroyed it, that's what he did!" she crowed. "He couldn't stand to see me happy, and he destroyed it, damning all women in the family to eternal sorrow!"

"I didn't even know ye, ye daft woman!" Sir Alec answered. "I dropped it down the privy when I was a lad!"

I raised an eyebrow.

He cleared his throat, embarrassment plainly written on his face. " 'Twas an accident. I didn't know it was the lady's stone. I used to play in the passage leading to the Stone Room. I never touched the laird's stone—even then I knew what repercussions that would have—," he said, looking at Raphael. "But the lady's stone was different. It was smaller, and pretty. I used to carry it about with me, and it… er… well, it was dropped into the privy by mistake."

"A likely tale," Lily snorted.

"What happened after that?" I asked, glancing from the stone in my arms to Raphael.

His eyes pleaded with me to do something.

"What do ye mean?"

"Was there any repercussion for destroying the lady's stone? Did something happen to your mother?"

"Nothing happened to her, although she proper tanned my arse for playing in the privy," he said with a rueful grin as he rubbed his behind.

I smiled at him. "I'm sure you deserved it."

"Aye, but that didn't make it any easier to—nooo!"

I lifted the stone as high over my head as I could, and slammed it back down toward the solid marble floor. A shock wave knocked me back off my feet, against Raphael. We fell to the ground in a tangle of human and lion limbs, the explosion as the stone shattered into a thousand pieces echoing painfully along the hall. Beneath us, the ground trembled for a moment, easing as the horrible sound faded into nothing.

A dense cloud of dust choked the air, making me cough as I pushed my hair out of my face and sat up.

"Bob!" I yelled in delight as I flung myself on a familiar man-shaped form.

"Blessed Virgin, what have ye done?" Sir Alec asked, his figure barely visible in the dense, dusty air. He helped Grizel to her feet, ignoring the nasty look Lily shot him as she rose from where she'd been knocked back.

Sir Alec stood looking at the pile of rubble that was formerly the laird's stone.

"I broke the damned curse," I said, hugging Raphael.

"But… but ye have destroyed the stone! Ye've destroyed the happiness of the lairds!"

"You don't deserve happiness, you murdering, adulterous blackguard!" Lily growled as she dusted herself off. She turned to face us, giving a regal nod of her head. "You've done as I asked; you've destroyed the stone. I will be at peace now."

"I hate to say this, but that wasn't why I destroyed it," I said as Raphael helped me up. "You okay, sweetie?"

"Yes, thanks to you." He kissed me, his eyes hot with love and desire.

"Ye broke my stone!" Sir Alec wailed, dropping to his knees before the pile of rubble. "Ye've ruined my chance of happiness!"

"Pfft," I said. "I don't know why someone didn't think of destroying the stone earlier to break the were-kitty curse, but I assume it's because you've had it drummed into your heads that no one must go near it or touch it in order to be happy. Well, I've always been a firm believer in people making their own destinies, and their own happiness. You and Grizel seem to be pretty happy as you are, and nothing can change that."

"She's right, love," Grizel said, putting a hand on her husband's shoulder. "We're still here, and we still have each other. What more could make us happy?"

"Oh, for mercy's sake," Lily said, rolling her eyes as she picked her way across the dirt- and rock-strewn floor. "Now that I have been avenged, I can move on and find Roddy. I have a few questions to put to him about what happened to my jewels…"

Lily's form shimmered as it disappeared into the wall.

"Alec?" Grizel asked, prodding him.

"Eh? Oh, aye, I suppose ye're right," he said, sighing as he brushed dust from his hands and stood up. "But I still think it's a tragedy the stone is gone."

"Cheer up," I said, wrapping my arms around Raphael's waist and biting his chin. "You still have the castle stone, right? One out of three isn't too bad."

"Aye, I suppose. Unless ye'll be wantin' to see that too," he said with a barbed look.

"I swear I'll keep Joy away from any other stones," Raphael promised.

Alec grunted acknowledgment.

Grizel smiled winsomely at her husband. "Come, love. We'll go back to the stable yard, and ye can be the stable lad, and I'll be the goose girl. Ye know how ye love to play stable lad."

A lascivious light dawned in Sir Alec's eyes as he turned away from the stone. "Would ye be the dairy maid instead of the goose girl?"

"Perhaps," Grizel said with a coy arch to her brows, and an encouraging twitch of her skirt.

"Ah, lass, ye do know how to stoke my fire," Sir Alec said, lunging for her. She squealed and took off down the hallway.

Sir Alec started after her, pausing to look back at us. "What are ye waitin' for, lad? It's yer weddin' night, and ye're back to yer manly form. Go pleasure yer wife!"

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," Raphael said, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me up the stone staircase.

"I agree completely," I said, kissing his jawline. "And since I'm so accommodating, would you like to get the 'I told you so' out of the way now, or later?"

"I'd like to forget the whole blasted evening," he growled, pushing open the door to our suite.

"I'm sure you would, but I have to say—you made a very sexy lion."

"That's all over with now. It won't happen again," he said, setting me on my feet as he locked the door.

"I wonder…" I nibbled my lip as I went into the bedroom.

"You wonder what? How long it will take me to have you screaming with ecstasy?"

"No, I know that's a given," I said as he followed me into the room. Before I could say anything else, his clothes were off and he was stalking toward me, a hungry, predatory look in his eyes that left me shivering with delight. "I was going to say I wonder if you coming to Fyfe brought forth previously hidden therianthrope tendencies, but I think I have my answer."

"I am not an animal," he growled, the sound starting deep in his chest, rolling outward with a rumble that sounded remarkably like a lion's.

"Oh, I don't know," I said, giggling when he pounced on me, sending us both falling back onto the bed. "I think I might like having the beast within you released."

He growled again, nibbling my neck as he peeled off my shirt.

"What a honeymoon this is going to be," I sighed happily. "I can't wait to see what happens at the end of the week."

"End of the week?" Raphael asked, removing my bra. His eyes lit as he swooped down to nibble various and sundry exposed parts. "What happens at the end of the week?"

"Full moon, sweetie. Full moon!"

Two years after she started writing, Katie MacAlister sold the first of more than thirty books. Her novels have been translated into numerous languages, been recorded as audiobooks, received several awards, and placed on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly bestseller lists. Katie lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and dogs, and can often be found lurking around online. You can visit her at www.katiemacalister.com.