The Magical Christmas Cat

Chapter 1

There were a dozen houses on Holland Court, and each household was represented at the annual Christmas party, which was, as usual, held on the afternoon of the second Sunday in December. Ruby had been tempted to skip the affair, to pretend to be sick or busy or antisocial, but weaseling out of anything Hester Livingston was in charge of was usually more trouble than it was worth.

Besides, she'd drawn a name, as had everyone else on the cul-de-sac. This year she was Secret Santa to Zane Benedict, the studly and standoffish professor who lived across the street from the house Aunt Mildred had left to Ruby in her will. Mildred had died more than six months ago, and the grief was still very sharp. When Ruby had buried her aunt, she'd buried all that remained of her blood kin, and the holidays only made her more aware of that fact.

"Did you lose a bet?"

Ruby glanced up from her seat in a chair against the wall to see that the professor himself stood before her, the box of cookies she'd made grasped in his hands. Large hands, she noted, with long, well-shaped fingers. She'd seen him from a distance more than a time or two, but never so close. She couldn't help but take a moment to study the details. His black hair was too long, curling just a little on his neck, but she suspected the style was a result of neglect, not design. His brown eyes were amazingly dark and deep. He needed a shave, this late in the day, and his clothes were the norm, for him. Jeans. Boots. A dark gray long-sleeved T-shirt. How tall was he, anyway? Six-three, she'd guess, but then she was sitting and he was standing.

Benedict hadn't been here for last year's Christmas party. He'd moved into his house shortly afterward—in February, if she re­membered correctly. He'd skipped the early-summer picnic and made only a brief appearance at Aunt Mildred's funeral. She was actually surprised that he was here today. He didn't seem to be the neighborhood-party type. Mildred had loved these neighborhood affairs.

"What?" Why would he ask if she'd lost a bet? She blinked twice, fast, and pushed away the threatening tears that had crept up on her.

"The sweater." He gestured with the box.

Ruby glanced down at the holiday sweater Aunt Mildred had given her last year. Yes, it was gaudy and busy and too bright, but it was also festive, and she was trying very hard to feel festive. "It's Snoopy," she said. "You don't like Snoopy?"

"It's not becoming," the professor said. "The garment is too big for you and the design is garish."

"You came over here to tell me you don't like my sweater?"

Like her, Benedict was quiet in a crowd. He hadn't exactly been the life of the party thus far. Ruby wondered what Hester had threatened to get him here.

"No, not really." He offered the box of cookies to her. "I don't eat white sugar or white flour."

Ruby had thought nothing could take her mind off of her aunt today. This was Mildred's neighborhood, Mildred's friends, and it was impossible to be here and not be reminded that Mildred was no longer among the living. And yet somehow this odd man had turned Ruby's morose thoughts around. "I'm very sorry for you," she said, perhaps more coolly than was necessary.

"I'm not allergic," he responded, missing her subtle sarcasm. "I simply thought you'd like to give these to someone who will actu­ally eat them. It would be a waste to throw them away. I'm sure those who eat this sort of thing will find them enjoyable."

Talk about ungracious! "The gifts are from Secret Santas," she said. "What makes you think I gave you those cookies?"

He tilted the box so that she could see the name of her business there, ruby's sweet shop was emblazoned on white in bright, crisp crimson. "You're not particularly good at being deceptive, I would deduce."

Someone else could've bought them at her shop, but the pro­fessor was right, of course. "In that box there is an assortment of my best-selling cookies. Macadamia white chocolate chip, oatmeal cranberry, peanut buttet chocolate chip, and orange-walnut. I un­derstand eating healthy, I really do, but every man should indulge on occasion. Would it kill you to eat a cookie now and then?"

"Probably not," he responded seriously. "But refined sug­ars . . ."

"I don't want to hear it." Ruby snatched the offered box from his hands.

Instead of walking away from her, as he should have, the profes­sor sat next to Ruby and asked, "What did you get?"

He couldn't have simply walked away once he'd returned her gift. No, he had to stick around and make awkward small talk. Ruby placed the rejected box of cookies on the chair beside her and reached under her chair to grab the gift bag she'd stashed there. She held it out so he could see inside.

"Candles," he said brightly as he peeked into the bag. "Very practicable to have on hand in case the power goes out."

A loose strand of black hair fell across one eye. Ruby stud­ied his face while he was peering at her candles. The professor was handsome but not cute; his features were more interesting than pretty. His face had the nice, clean lines of a healthy man who doesn't eat white sugar or white flour. His lips were just full enough, and he had smart eyes that seemed to notice everything. She had noticed it all before, but from a distance. Up close, there was a surprising power about him. An intensity she should have expected but had not.

"Yes, I suppose they are practicable."

He looked around the room—Hester's basement, where the Christmas party was almost always held—as if he were searching for someone. There was an almost instant disconnect. Was he one of those absentminded professors who sometimes forgot to eat and missed doctors' appointments and birthdays? It sure looked that way.

The other neighborhood bachelor headed her way, and Ruby sighed. Todd made the professor look downright normal, and that wasn't an easy task. His long gray hair was pulled into a ponytail, as usual. Today's tie-dyed T-shirt was done in Christmas colors. Red, white, and green swirls were stretched over a protruding belly. The shirt had seen better days. And the professor thought Snoopy was bad!

"Hey, Ruby! I found this under the tree." Todd waggled a small, square box in her direction. "It has your name on it."

"There must be a mistake. I already have my gift." She held the bag of candles aloft.

Todd looked at the tag hanging from the brightly wrapped box in his hands. "No, this says To: Ruby Kincaid, From: A Secret Ad­mirer."

A chill walked up her spine. Maybe it sounded romantic, but in her mind a secret admirer was just one step away from a stalker.

"That's weird," she said softly as Todd offered her the gift. "I don't think I want it."

Todd and the professor both seemed surprised. "I thought women liked gifts," Benedict said.

"Me, too," Todd said.

It occurred to Ruby that the only two unmarried men in the room were with her, and if the box really did come from a secret admirer it was likely one of them. Oh, she hoped it wasn't Todd! Weird as the professor was, he wasn't a forty-four-year-old man liv­ing in his mother's house, living off of unemployment combined with money and prizes from radio and television contests and one long-ago moment of glory on a network game show.

"Fine." Curious, she offered her hand for the box. Best to open the thing and get it over with.

Both men watched curiously as she carefully unwrapped the box. She had never been one to tear into pretty paper, but instead picked away the tape with care and removed the wrapping paper in one barely wrinkled piece to reveal a sturdy white gift box.

She placed the paper aside and opened the box, finding that whatever was inside had been protected by white tissue paper. She removed the tissue as carefully as she had the gift wrap. At the bot­tom of the box sat a pale green figurine of a cat, perhaps two inches by three. She lifted the figurine out of the box and studied it care­fully, noting the incredible detail and the heaviness of the stone. Jade, perhaps? Whatever it was, this was no cheap knickknack.

"Wow," she whispered. "This must be some kind of mistake."

"Interesting," the professor said. "May I?" He offered his hand.

"What is it?" Todd asked. "A doodad? Not very romantic, con­sidering it came from a secret admirer. Perfume or jewelry would be better. I won some really expensive perfume when I was on televi­sion, but I gave it to my mom."

"I like it," Ruby said defensively as she finally placed the cat on Benedict's palm. Neither of the men acted as if they knew anything about the cat, which was odd. Who else would've gone to so much trouble to give her an anonymous gift? Who else would've signed the card "secret admirer?" It didn't make any sense. If the secret admirer was one of the married men who lived on the street—that really was creepy.

The professor studied the figurine as if it were made of solid gold. He turned it this way and that and studied all sides, taking in every aspect. "This appears to be quite old," he said. "The work is incredibly detailed. See the hairs here, and the shape of the mouth? Extraordinary." He lifted his head and looked at her, his dark eyes deeper than before. "Would you mind if I borrowed this piece for a few days?"

"Why?"

"I'd like to do a bit of research if you don't mind. Classes are out for the holidays, and I have some time on my hands."

"It's just an ornament," she said. "It's pretty and intricate, and I agree that it's interesting, but if it were worth studying I doubt it would've ended up in a box with my name on it."

"Please," the professor said softly.

"Hey, Ruby!" Todd called too brightly.

Her head snapped around. She had forgotten that he watched. "Yes?"

"I have tickets to a concert in Birmingham on Thursday. Won them in a radio 99.1 contest." He told her the name of the popular band and grinned. "I was the tenth caller. They're really good seats."

"Thanks, but I can't." At least once a month Todd won tickets to something, and he always asked her to go along. Maybe her love life was nonexistent. Maybe she did spend her nights alone. She had a feeling if she ever said yes to Todd, she'd be stuck for life. Lonely as she sometimes was, that was entirely unacceptable.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I don't want to ask someone else, then have you change your mind." It sounded almost like a threat.

The professor did not take his eyes from the figurine in his hand as he said, "For heaven's sake, Todd, she said no. Go away."

Todd looked annoyed, but he did leave. In the crowded base­ment, he didn't have far to go before he ran into another victim. He honed in on poor Mrs. Logan, the very shy widow who lived on the other end of the cul-de-sac.

"So, can I borrow this?" Benedict lifted his head and looked at Ruby expectantly.

He looked so anxious, so excited, she almost gave him an instant yes, but something stopped her. "Well, Professor . . ."

"Zane," he interrupted. "Call me Zane. We are neighbors, af­ter all."

Her heart did a strange little flip. It was the expression in his eyes and the intimacy of calling him by his first name and the fact that all day she had been hyperaware that she was all alone in this world that made her insides react. Ruby took a deep breath. "Well, Zane, if you want it that badly . . ." She opened the box that sat on the chair beside her and reached in, randomly plucking out a cookie. Orange-walnut, she noticed as she held it beneath his nose. "Live a little. Eat a cookie."

Zane didn't hesitate. He'd worked too hard, given up too much to get to this point, to let a little dietary lapse get in his way. He didn't even bother to take the cookie from Ruby's hand but simply dipped his head and took a big bite.

He was prepared for the cookie to be tasty, and still the flavor that burst on his tongue and the way the sweet melted in his mouth took him by surprise. Yes, it had been a long time since he had in­dulged. In anything.

Watching his reaction, she smiled with evident satisfaction. It was a tempting look on a very pretty face, he admitted. The soft smile, the twinkle in her green eyes, they were very nice.

"More?" she asked softly, and he responded by taking one more bite from her hand. The second bite was as good as the first, but without the shock.

As he savored the second bite of the decadent cookie, he studied Ruby Kincaid. She wore her dark brown hair very short. At the mo­ment it was shorter than his. On most women it might've been too severe, but the style suited her face and made her eyes look larger than they might've if she had a mop of hair. No, it was best that the neck and that pixie face be shown off to their best advantage. Not that he should be thinking about how she looked. Poor girl, she had no idea what was about to happen—if he was right and this was her.

It was a shame, really. Taste in holiday sweaters aside, she seemed like a very nice person. He did not understand why she was alone, when her looks and baking skills should have men lined up at her door. True, she was a few years too old for the college students who made up a large portion of the population of Minville, Alabama, and more than a few years too young for most of the professors at the college that was the heart of this small town, but there were many men in between.

Of course, in order to meet men, one had to be available. Ruby was not. She'd moved into the house directly across the street from Zane shortly after her aunt's death this past summer, and he had stud­ied her, just as he had studied the others in the neighborhood. She left the house shortly after five every morning, headed for work. Ruby's Sweet Shop was located within walking distance of the college and did a brisk morning and lunchtime business. There were a number of part-time employees, all students, who apparently spent a good por­tion of their salaries on cakes, cookies, and pies. Ruby served coffee as well as sweets, but none of those fancy caffeinated concoctions that were served at the chain store down the street. No, nothing was avail­able to compete with the taste of her scrumptious creations.

He understood why, now, as the flavor of the cookie lingered.

She closed at two in the afternoon and headed straight home— unless she stopped by the grocery store on her way, in which case she'd be home by 2:35. Once home, she worked in the yard, did laundry, cleaned the house she now called her own, perhaps grabbed a nap before dinner. Her lights were always off by nine at night, and sometimes as early as eight thirty. She was open six days a week. So, where was the time for a personal life in that schedule?

Zane took what was left of the cookie from Ruby and finished it in short order. By the time he was finished, she wore a wide smile that broke his heart. She had no idea what was coming. Maybe he was wrong. He could still hope that he was wrong.

"See?" she said as he swallowed the last bite. "A little bit of in­dulgence now and then isn't a bad thing."

He looked her in the eye, and she blushed. Ruby might push indulgence on other people, but he suspected she didn't practice what she preached. She led a structured, dull life, apparently of her own choosing.

If he thought telling her to run would save her, he would. Not only would she not believe him, he was convinced that running would not do her any good at all. They would find her; they would bring her back and keep her where she needed to be until the time was right. Time was running out.

The party was winding down. A few people had already left, and Hester busied herself picking up dirty dishes. Time to go. Zane reached past Ruby and grabbed the box of cookies. "Can I walk you home?" he asked as he stood, cookies in one hand, cat statuette in the other.

Ruby was momentarily stunned. It wasn't as if he'd been an overly friendly neighbor to this point, but until now he hadn't been sure. He hadn't known, until he'd seen the cat, that she was most likely the chosen one. He also hadn't realized that someone in this neighborhood was actively working against her. The fact that the jade cat was here at this party, and not left on her doorstep or sent by mail, hinted that one of Ruby's neighbors was involved.

If he didn't find a way to save her, she wouldn't live to see Christmas.

Chapter 2

One of the things Ruby most liked about Holland Court was that the houses were all different. Some were brick, others were clapboard. The colors of the houses were alternately bright and subdued, indicating the personalities of those who lived within. In newer subdivisions, the houses all looked alike and the yards were small and there was no character. This older neighborhood, built in the fifties, definitely had character. Even the Christmas decora­tions hinted at the residents of those houses. Some were tastefully done, others were garish. A few, hers and the professor's among them, sported no holiday decorations at all. She kept planning to take Mildred's decorations down from the attic, but she'd just not gotten it done. There weren't enough hours in the day. Besides, she was doing her best to avoid the holidays, so why should she torture herself with a tree no one but her would see?

Her house was a soothing pale yellow, and she'd worked very hard to keep up Mildred's garden and the profusion of plants on the front porch and the back patio. It wasn't a big house, not by any means, but it was lovely and warm and homey. And paid for. Zane Benedict's house was brick. It was solid and well kept, but his tastes in accommodations were as simple as his tastes in clothes. She suspected inside there were lots of bookcases and gray or brown furnishings.

Todd lived just south of Zane, and his house was just as his mother had left it when she'd moved to Florida and put him in charge of the family home. The split level was white with blue shutters, and of all the neighbors, Todd was the last to mow. She didn't think he owned a weed eater. Unless he managed to win free landscaping service, his lawn would never be great. He had strung up sloppy but colorful Christmas lights around the porch, and there was a large plastic Santa on his lawn. Inside she suspected there were lava lamps and beaded curtains and black-light posters. She hoped she never found out if she was right or not. All up and down the street, she could see the personalities of the homeowners in their dwellings.

In hers, she still saw Mildred. Would she ever put her own stamp on the place? Did she dare?

She was surprised that Zane stayed with her as home grew near. He'd shortened his stride to remain beside her, and actually seemed to be walking her to the door. The very idea made her heart con­strict. Her cookies were good, but no man had ever taken a bite, then latched on to her as if he was staking a claim.

Later in the evening it would be cold, but right now the air temperature was pleasant enough, even though they were well into December. That was a benefit of living in the Deep South. Her Snoopy sweater was actually a bit too warm for the day.

After a moment of awkward silence, when Zane turned toward her house with her, Ruby blurted, "I'm not looking for a man. I don't want a man in my life. I'm perfectly happy being single and I don't intend for that to change." She didn't add that she was not desperate because that would sound, well, desperate.

"Okay," he said, sounding not at all surprised or hurt.

"It's just, I don't want any misunderstandings," she explained. "The holidays have a tendency to make people weird."

"I get it," he said. "I'm not hitting on you, I'm just being neigh­borly."

"As long as that's clear," she said, trying to sound firm but not stern. She probably ended up sounding like a bitch, but better a bitch than a tease. She wanted all her cards on the table. "So, how long do you plan to keep my cat?"

"Just a few days," he said. "Is that all right?"

"Sure. I'm actually interested to hear what you can find out about it. The thing is definitely unique."

He made an absent and noncommittal sound in his throat as they stepped onto her front porch.

"Good night," she said as she put her key into the door and turned it.

"Thanks for the cookies," he said.

"Sure." She closed the door behind her and locked it, and for a moment she just stood there, back to the door as she took a deep breath, suddenly convinced that she should've skipped the party and stayed home and weathered Hester's wrath.

The rest of the evening passed as usual. She put on her pajamas and watched a show she had recorded on her DVR. She'd eaten so much junk at the party that she wasn't hungry, but around seven she ate a bowl of cereal. Tomorrow morning would come early, so she crawled into bed about eight forty-five and pulled the covers to her chin. Her alarm was set for four. Monday mornings were always a bear, and even though classes were out for the holidays, she had lots of orders for parties and gifts, and even the locals frequented her shop. She was lucky. Business was good.

Afraid that the day's excitement would keep her up too late, Ruby closed her eyes expecting to fight for sleep. Instead she drifted off almost immediately.

Callida wanted to fight against the bonds that restrained her, but she was too weak to move. He had put something in her wine, some­thing intended to take away the last of her strength. She was helpless, bound and prone on a cold stone floor. She wanted to call for help, but even if she could manage to make a proper sound, who would come? No one. She had no one to rescue her, no one to miss her when she was gone. The one person she had believed to be her friend had put her in this position. Dezso had pretended to care for her, he had promised to show her the wonders of Rome, but instead he had kept her here, far from the great city, always promising tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. He had clothed her in fine chitons and fed her an abundance of food and given her gifts of jewels and other pretty things. And now he had betrayed her; he had poisoned her and bound her hands and left her here. Why?

The door to her stone cell opened, and Dezso walked inside. He smiled at her, smiled with great warmth even though he had lied to her and made her his prisoner and drugged her so that she could barely move.

"What you are about to do is very important, Callida," he said in his soothing, pleasant voice. "You will make the ultimate sacrifice in the name of a power much greater than any you have ever known."

"Please, let me go," she whispered.

Dezso shook his head. "I cannot. It is time. Do you see the moon?"

Callida turned her head—it was a great effort to do so, as her head felt heavy and her vision swam—and she saw the full moon through the small window high in the stone wall of her cell. It was bright, and large, and it shimmered with power. "I see."

The man she had loved stood over her and began to chant, calling to a demon to rise. Callida tried to scream but could not. Dezso clasped some­thing in his hand, and from that hand black smoke began to rise. No, this was not smoke it was simply blackness, a darkness so deep it looked bottom­less. What began as a formless blackness grew and took shape before her very eyes. The shape was not that of a man but was of a large, black cat with tremendous paws and glowing red eyes. It was solid and yet was not, as if a great nothingness in the shape of a large cat floated on air.

With a mounting horror Callida realized that Dezso offered her to the blackness, he gave her to this monster that grew and took shape before her. Again she tried to scream, but no sound came forth, not even when the dark cat hovered above her, blocking out all other sights, and its red eyes captured and held hers.

She stopped trying to scream. It was too late for that. Much too late. And she was too terrified to make a sound or fight her fate. The demon—for yes, it was indeed a demon that Dezso had called forth to take her—placed its empty face close to hers. And it inhaled. . .

Ruby was jerked out of the dream with a scream. Her own scream, one that died quickly, caught in her throat. Good heavens, she'd never had a nightmare like that one! She'd been watching and participating at the same time, she'd been terrified as if she'd been the one sprawled on cold stone, sacrificed to a dark monster. Lying in bed, Ruby rubbed a hand up and down her arm. She still felt chills, as if her blood ran icy cold. What had she eaten at the party to bring on such a nightmare?

She glanced at the clock. Not quite 2:00 a.m. She had two more hours before her alarm went off but wasn't sure that she could sleep after that vivid dream. Great. What a way to start the week!

It was dark in her bedroom, the only illumination coming from the bedside digital clock and a decorative porcelain night-light on the other side of the room. What little light she had was enough to draw her eyes to the object that sat on her bedside table, an object that should not be there. The cat figurine, the one she had allowed the professor to borrow, stared at her.

Ruby muttered a curse as she sat up slowly, blinking hard, won­dering if this was still a dream. She'd seen Benedict walk away from her house with the figurine in his hand. How had it gotten here? She reached out slowly and touched the pale green cat. Strangely enough, it felt warm. Alive. She drew her hand back. That night­mare had certainly revved up her imagination.

The damn cat had not been on her bedside table—had not been in the house—when she'd gone to sleep. It was here now, and that was fact, not the product of a bad dream. She shook herself into full awareness, throwing off the last of her dream along with the blanket that covered her andkept her warm. Had Zane Benedict broken into her house and placed the statuette there? What other explanation was there? She threw her legs over the side of the bed. Was this supposed to be some kind of sick joke?

No, this wasn't funny, it was creepy as hell. Studly or not, she did not want men she barely knew—or even men she knew well— creeping into her bedroom at night to leave signs of their visit. Ruby grabbed her bathrobe and stuck -her feet into warm, fuzzy slippers. She snatched up the green cat and headed for the front door.

She stopped in the hallway between her bedroom and the liv­ing room, her step stuttering. What was she thinking? Her first instinct was to run across the street and confront Benedict with the evidence, but maybe that was just what he wanted. Maybe he was waiting for her by his front door—or in the darkness somewhere between her door and his. Two in the morning. Holland Court slept. There would be no one to see her, and no one to hear, if any­thing went wrong.

Ruby fell into the wall for support, and when her knees went weak she gave in and sank to the floor. Until this moment she hadn't thought to be afraid of the professor. Why should she? He was a known factor, a quiet neighbor who ran every evening and kept odd hours and mowed his yard when it needed to be done. She'd always suspected he was one of the very smart people who lived in his own little world, which was odd, perhaps, but odd in a normal way. He was a well-respected member of the academic community. A couple of her employees had mentioned him a time or two, not only bring­ing up the fact that he was cute but that they loved his classes. A while back she had heard one student mention that he taught some kind of psychology.

She remained on the floor for a few long moments. Her luck with men had never been the best. They turned out to be unfaith­ful or dishonest or else they lost interest in her and her worka­holic schedule. Not that she'd had a slew of serious relationships in her twenty-eight years, but there had been a few. None of them had panned out, and in the past couple of years she'd been content enough just to drift alone. It was easier that way.

But now, sitting in the dark with a nightmare still on her mind and the proof that a man she barely knew had been in her bedroom, she didn't know whom to call. A year ago she would've called Aunt Mildred, but Mildred was gone.

She could call Todd, she supposed. He'd love that, wouldn't he?

No, she should call the police. With that in mind, Ruby pushed herself to her feet and walked toward the living room and the phone there. Of course, by the time she reached the couch and grabbed for the receiver, she realized that she couldn't call the police. She could swear up and down that the cat figurine had been in Zane's pos­session when she'd gone to bed, but she had no proof. She wasn't hurt.

A quick check of the doors and windows showed that every­thing was locked tight. The dead bolts were engaged on the front door and the back. To all appearances, it looked as if it would be impossible for Zane or anyone else to have broken into her house to leave the cat.

That statement alone was enough to keep her from dialing 911. Someone broke into my house to leave this cat figurine, then sneak out, leav­ing no other sign that he was ever here, and somehow locking the dead bolts behind him.

Deflated and wondering if she was losing her mind, Ruby col­lapsed on the couch, the figurine still clutched in her hand. She carefully placed the green cat on the end table, grabbed the phone book out of the table drawer, and snatched up the phone.

Zane hadn't been asleep very long when the phone rang, jerking him out of a deep sleep. Shit. Phone calls that came in the wee hours of the morning were never good. Never. He lifted the receiver and glanced at the caller ID. Shit, again. He barked hoarsely, "What's wrong?"

The voice he expected to hear responded, "What makes you think anything is wrong?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. Ruby sounded okay, at least. "It's almost three in the morning," he said. "No one calls at three in the morning unless something is wrong."

She breathed steadily, perhaps more deeply than was normal, but did not immediately respond. After a couple of minutes that dragged on too long, she said, "I have to know. How did you get this blasted cat into my house?"

Zane threw off the covers and leapt from the bed, cordless phone in hand as he ran into his office, which was set up in the spare room across the hall from his bedroom. Sure enough, the figurine he'd left sitting on his desk was gone. He had studied it for quite some time before retiring, but he was positive he'd left it right there.

Obviously, the cursed thing had found its way to Ruby's house. He couldn't tell her the truth. Not yet. She would never believe him, and he wouldn't be able to do what had to be done.

"Well?" she prompted sharply.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, forcing a yawn she was sure to hear.

"The little cat knickknack that was left under the tree by my secret admirer," she said testily. "I let you have it to study, but when I woke up after having a bad dream, the thing was sitting on the table by my bed. Don't play dumb with me. You put it there, and I want to know how and why."

"You changed your mind, don't you remember?" Zane said, try­ing to sound sympathetic. "I was going to study it. It's quite an interesting piece, and I think it might be jade, and there are small markings that I'd like to magnify and study."

"I didn't change my mind," she said softly. "You took it home with you."

"No, you kept it. If you've changed your mind I can pick it up tomorrow . . ."

"I . . . brought it in with me?"

Zane leaned against the doorjamb and took a deep breath. Guilt was an unaccustomed and uncomfortable feeling for him. He was usually unfailingly honest and forthright, but now was not the time. A lie that made Ruby question her sanity was better than the truth. "You did. Listen, are you all right? You don't sound like yourself. I can come over."

"No," she said quickly. Too quickly. "I'm just tired, I guess, and the bad dream shook me more than it should've." She laughed un­comfortably. "And apparently my memory is starting to go."

"Want to tell me about the dream?"

"No," Ruby whispered. "I'm sorry I woke you. Good night." With that she ended the call. Zane walked to the front of the house without turning on a single light. There he pulled back the curtain to look across the street to Ruby Kincaid's yellow house. Every light in the house, every light he could see from this vantage point, was on. Living room, bedroom, dining room. The nightmare, and waking to find an object she knew had not been in her possession when she'd gone to sleep, had shaken her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the well-lit house. "I wish I could make this go away." Unfortunately, it was much too late to make Ruby's troubles disappear.

Chapter 3

Five hours of sleep weren't enough for Ruby. She could get by on seven, but she loved to get eight good hours. When those five hours were followed by a rude awakening and a questioning of her sanity, it made for a bad day.

Fortunately, many of the students who made up her clientele were home for the holidays, and business was slow. No business­woman should hope for business to slack off, but she could use a break, so she was allowed! A couple of her part-time employ­ees were also away and unable to work, but Marielle, the one who had been with her the longest—three full years, now—was still in town. Marielle was perfectly capable of running the front part of the shop, especially on a slow day like today.

Ruby kept herself busy in the kitchen, only occasionally giving in to a yawn. She had lots of baking to keep her busy; in addition to the usual cookies, cakes, and pies, she had a special order for three pumpkin cheesecakes with cranberry glaze to fill.

She glanced at the clock often. Usually the day flew by, and she was surprised when two o'clock came around. Today, she kept glanc­ing at the big clock on the kitchen wall, wondering if two would ever arrive. She wanted to go home and take a nice, long nap.

It was just past one thirty when Marielle, who wore a huge smile on her young and pretty face, stuck her head into the kitchen. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Professor Benedict is here to see you."

Ruby's first thought was, "You're kidding, right?" But judging by the awestruck expression on Marielle's face, there was no joking involved.

"I'm busy," Ruby said, returning her attention to her work. "Tell him to go away."

Marielle's blue eyes went wide. "Come on. It's Professor Benedict, and he wants to talk to you."

Ah, such youthful exuberance. The way she said "Benedict" was so filled with awe she might as well be whispering "Johnny Depp."

"I heard you the first time," Ruby said. "If you think he's such a big deal, you talk to him."

Marielle pursed her lips. "No wonder you don't have a social life."

After the door closed, Ruby made a face at the cheesecake. "I could have a social life if I wanted one," she whispered.

Too soon, the kitchen door swung open again. "He said if you don't come out he's coming back here, and he's not wearing a hair­net just to talk to a stubborn woman even if she is pretty and likely the best baker this side of the Mississippi."

Ruby lifted her head and glared at Marielle. "Did he really say that?"

"Yes!"

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. This was a complica­tion she did not need, but she couldn't make herself brush Zane off again. "I'll be right out." After Marielle was gone, Ruby washed her hands and removed her chocolate-stained apron. She made sure she removed the hairnet before pushing against the door and leaving the kitchen that was her domain.

"Everything here is filled with white flour and white sugar," she said, pinning her gaze on Zane. "You won't eat any of it."

He lifted the disposable cup of coffee he cradled in his hands, then he smiled. Good Lord, he had a dimple! "I'm thinking of giv­ing up my refined sugar and flour ban for the holidays. Your cookies have been a bad influence on me."

Marielle had to step away to wait on a customer, a fact that obvi­ously annoyed the curious woman to no end.

Ruby stepped around the counter and moved closer to Zane. Like yesterday, like always, he was dressed in blue jeans and a loose-fitting T-shirt. The T-shirt was a dark, dull green, today. It was al­most as if he purposely dressed so as not to call attention to himself. It didn't work. "You didn't come in here to buy cookies," she said in a lowered voice.

"No. I still have a few left."

"Just a few?"

"I told you, those cookies have been a bad influence." He looked at her with expressive, dark eyes. "But no, I didn't come here to buy anything but a cup of coffee. I wanted to check on you, make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," she said.

"You weren't fine this morning."

"I'm sorry I called you in the middle of the night. I guess I freaked."

He smiled again. "A little."

"I think someone spiked the punch, and the liquor went straight to my head."

"Don't tell Hester," Zane said, a hint of teasing in his soothing voice. "She'll surely hunt down the cretin who dared to spike her Christmas punch."

She was losing her mind. Other than that one small detail, her life was nicely settled. She had a routine that suited her, and when she'd told Zane last night that she was not looking for a man, she hadn't been exaggerating. Romance meant drama, and she didn't want any drama in her life at the moment. Maybe her life was bor­ing, but she liked boring. It was easy. No one got hurt.

The expression on Zane's face changed. The easy humor disap­peared. "What are you doing for dinner?" he asked, taking her by surprise.

"What?" Ah, the snappy comeback.

"Dinner. I thought we could eat. Together. Food," he added when she remained silent.

Ruby gathered her courage and said, "I'm kinda tired. I didn't sleep well last night."

Again, that smile and the dimple. "I know."

"Sorry."

"We still have to eat, and I won't stay late," he said. "Promise."

Stay? His invitation to eat was supposed to mean dinner at her house? Boy, did he have a lot to learn about wooing women. That was what he was attempting to do, right? She hadn't been wooed in a long time. She'd gotten really good at shutting down even the simplest advance long before it got to the wooing stage.

"I'm a lousy cook," she said. "I can bake sinfully sweet and deca­dent treats you'll never eat, but I can't cook a meal to save my life."

"I'm a good cook, but my stove's on the fritz. I'll bring the food if you'll provide the stove, pots, plates, and silverware."

"And dessert," she said, not sure she wanted to agree to his in­vitation until the words were out of her mouth. She still wasn't looking for a relationship, but she realized as she looked ahead that she didn't want to be alone. Not tonight.

This was a very bad idea. He wasn't supposed to get involved with the woman, he was simply to watch and wait. But he wanted to get a look at the layout of her house, and he really wanted another look at 77 Colletore Di Anima. The Soul Collector.

There were those who called the dark spirit that lived within the innocuous-looking statuette II Gatto Nero, the Black Cat, but the Brotherhood of Madani preferred a more fitting name. Soul Collec­tor was definitely fitting.

Once upon a time the thing had had a name, he supposed, but as far as Zane or any of the Brotherhood knew, that name had been lost sometime in the past three thousand years or so—give or take a century. If the information that had been gathered by the Brother­hood during those centuries was correct, Ruby's would be the last soul II Colletore claimed. She would be the ninth, and once her soul had been taken the demon would live again. It would live for more than the few hours it normally enjoyed after taking a soul. The dark thing would walk the earth, immortal and indestructible and bringing an unimaginable darkness to an unprepared world. He couldn't allow that to happen.

Zane wished he could convince himself that he was wrong and it was coincidence that someone had given Ruby a cat knickknack, but the fact that the jade statue had made its way from his house to hers on its own made that theory impossible to swallow. Someone in this neighborhood—someone who was aligned with The Order of Runhura, no doubt—had left the cat under the tree for Ruby, specifically. The jade piece had transported itself to Ruby's bedside table. No, he could not even wish to be wrong.

The Brotherhood that was dedicated to stopping the darkness and the Order that worshipped the demon had both existed since sometime long before a Brotherhood wizard had cursed II Colletore to be captured in stone. Three thousand years of sacrifice, of train­ing, of secret warfare, and it all came down to this place, this time, and this woman.

Zane watched as Ruby set the places at the small, round kitchen table. She had a formal dining room, but had chosen to set out their plates here, in the warm, yellow kitchen. Maybe she was afraid eat­ing in the dining room would make this feel like a date, and dat­ing was definitely not on her list of things to do. The kitchen was for neighbors and friends, and he could fit comfortably into that category.

This would be so much easier if he didn't like her. Emotions were only going to get in the way, before all was said and done. Still, while II Colletore wasn't human, Zane most definitely was. He felt that humanity now more than ever. Ruby tried to be tough, but she radiated a very feminine vulnerability that had crept be­neath his skin and aroused his most primitive protective instincts. He was also attracted to her sexually, which was ludicrous given the circumstances but undeniable and growing stronger with every passing moment. It wasn't as though his attraction was new. In months past he had thought about how he might live his life after this final crisis had passed. If the demon they fought rose elsewhere in the world and was stopped, then Zane would be free to ask his neighbor on a date. His life was so centered on the Brotherhood, he could not even remember the last time he'd had a real date, a real relationship. There had never been time for such indulgences.

He should've already called in the Brotherhood. There were agents posted in at least twenty sites around the world; there were men like him watching over vortexes where II Colletore Di Anima might rise, one last time. As soon as they knew where the event was to take place, they could converge and see that the final collection did not happen, not here and now. Defeated, II Gatto Nero would be forced to return to the jade and wait another two hundred and eighty-seven years before trying again to rise, and at that time the demon would be someone else's problem.

If the Brotherhood could keep the statue in their possession, perhaps they could find a way to destroy the demon before that time passed.

All possible scenarios had been studied and discussed, and Zane was well aware of the most favored scenario. The Brotherhood would find the next victim. Ruby. They would watch over her closely, just as he was doing now. A group of well-trained warriors would wait for the demon to rise, and they would kill the intended victim, rob­bing her of her life and robbing the collector of the soul he required to take form. By that time it would be too late for the collector and those who served it to choose another victim, to appear in the heart of another vortex in another town or another country. The time for the taking of a soul was very precise and inflexible. There would be no second chances for the demon, not if the timing was right.

It was a coldhearted but workable plan. Unfortunately, Zane liked Ruby. He liked her a lot. For the first time since joining the Brotherhood and dedicating himself to the destruction of II Colletore, he was having serious second thoughts. There had to be another way.

The demon would rise on one of the three nights when the moon was at its fullest. It was impossible to know which one. In any case, Zane had a matter of days to find an alternative.

Dinner was simple. He didn't want to scare her off with any­thing too unfamiliar, so he made chicken teriyaki with pineapple salsa and brown rice. Zane actually enjoyed cooking. The simplicity of the task took his mind to a quieter place. Usually. Tonight his mind would not rest. There was no quiet place within him.

He filled their plates at the stove, then carried them to the table where two tall glasses of ice water sat on cheerful Christmas place mats, along with matching cloth napkins and good silverware.

"Looks good," Ruby said as she took her seat. "And healthy."

"It is." Zane sat, after she was settled. Since the table had been pushed into one corner, there were only two spaces available, and they were side by side. "Do you have something against eating healthy food?" He forced his voice to be light, almost teasing. He even managed a smile.

"As long as it's in moderation," she responded. And then she took her first bite. The look on her face was one of surprise. "Oh, this is good," she said after she'd swallowed.

"You sound so surprised."

"Don't get me wrong, it's not exactly an English toffee cheese­cake, but it's very tasty."

They managed to eat and talk, and the conversation was very nice. Even though he could and did on occasion cook, Zane was accustomed to eating alone, whether he grabbed something quick or made a full meal. He couldn't even count the number of meals he'd eaten mindlessly while reading a book or working on charts or doing research on the Internet. This was nice, and made him wish the circumstances were different.

They were almost finished with the meal when the doorbell rang. He couldn't help but note how the sound of the bell made Ruby jump out of her skin. She was skittish, as if she instinctively realized something was wrong.

She stood and headed for the front door, and Zane followed. Someone in this neighborhood had given Ruby the jade cat. Some­one in this neighborhood was aligned with the Order of Runhura and offering her up to II Colletore Di Anima. That someone would not take kindly to a disruption in her routine, and Zane intended to be a disruption.

Todd stood on Ruby's porch, his tie-dyed T-shirt not quite enough to keep out the December chill, not even here in Alabama, where the winters were mild. He hunkered in slightly and rubbed at his arms to ward off the chill, as he looked past Ruby's shoulder. The man was obviously surprised to see Zane standing there, mak­ing himself at home in Ruby's house. Usually friendly eyes hard­ened, for a moment.

"I didn't know you had company," Todd said.

"Yeah," Ruby said. "What can I do for you, Todd?"

"I won a drawing for a free dinner at Captain Ron's Seafood, and I thought you might like to join me." He waved a piece of paper that was clutched in his meaty hand.

"That's very nice, but I've already eaten," Ruby said kindly.

Zane wondered if Todd's interest was normal and sexual or abnor­mal and deadly. It was impossible to tell. He had been the one to de­liver the anonymous present at the party yesterday, and he did seem to hang around Ruby's house more than he should, but that didn't mean he was in league with the demon. It only meant he was a creep.

"Tomorrow, maybe." Todd grimaced. "It expires on Wednesday, so I need to use it soon."

"I really . . ." Ruby began.

"We're busy tomorrow," Zane said, stepping forward and plac­ing his arm around Ruby's shoulder. It was a pose that said, very clearly, mine. His eyes communicated the same, as they met Todd's. "You're going to have to find someone else to take to dinner."

Todd grimaced. His nose twitched, and he rubbed his hands along his meaty arms. "Do I smell coffee? It sure is cold out here."

Ruby was just about to invite the creep in when Zane reached past her to grab the doorknob. "Good night, Todd," he said as he swung the door closed. And locked it.

"That was rude," Ruby said, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"You're welcome. Now, tell me why you jumped out of your skin when the doorbell rang."

Ruby felt silly telling Zane that a dream had made her jumpy, but he did teach psychology, so maybe he could shed some light on the meaning of the vivid nightmare. All day she'd expected the dream to fade, as they usually did, but this one had stayed with her. If anything, it had grown more vivid in her mind, more real.

They'd cleared off the kitchen table, and she'd placed her con­tribution to the meal in the center of the table. Dessert tonight was Death by Chocolate Cake, her best seller at the shop, and a pot of freshly brewed decaf. Zane was eyeing the cake as if it might come to life and bite him.

"There are only two of us."

"You can take some leftovers home, if you can get past the fact that it's not at all healthy." She cut him a huge slice and put it on one of Aunt Mildred's favorite Christmas dessert plates, then cut herself a smaller piece. He poked at the cake with his fork as if he still expected an attack.

"Tell me about the dream that spooked you," he said, eyes on the cake.

Ruby took a bite to delay. She chewed slowly. Maybe if she told the dream aloud, it would sound silly and she could laugh and dis­miss it and tonight she'd sleep well. She began, and as she told the dream it did not sound silly at all. By the time she was finished, she had chills all over again. She'd never sleep tonight!

Zane didn't make fun of her or make light of the dream, but instead listened intently. He didn't so much as take a taste of the cake, so when she was finished with the telling—the last bit being the sight of a fathomless black face sucking the very breath out of her—she reached for his fork and cut off a big piece that had moist cake, chocolate chips, white chocolate chunks, and thick frosting. When she led the fork to his mouth, he automatically parted his lips, and she slipped the cake inside.

Zane closed his lips, and an expression of sheer ecstasy flashed across his face. "Good God," he said, taking the fork from her and cutting off another bite, then taking a swig of hot coffee. "This is decadently delicious."

He was always so surprised when her treats tasted good. "Didn't your mother bake?"

"No. She did on occasion buy the generic brand lemon cookies or Twinkies, but I never developed a taste for either."

"Bless your heart," she said sincerely. He literally didn't know what he was missing!

He shrugged. "Your dream," he said, changing the subject. "It's quite interesting. Did you write down the details?"

"No."

"You should. Do so tonight before you go to bed," he in­structed. "And if you have any more dreams like that, write them down as well."

"I hope there are no more dreams like that one, not ever again." She shuddered and sipped at her decaf, wondering if she'd sleep at all tonight.

"Dreams often have meanings we must take time to decipher. Yours was definitely unusual. I want to hear immediately if there are more like it."

"I'll call you at three in the morning again," she said, trying for a lighthearted tone.

"Do," he said seriously. "Anytime."

"So," she said, pushing a half-full cup of coffee back. "In your expert opinion, what do dreams like that one mean?"

"Expert?" he asked, taking one more bite of the cake before set­ting it aside, as she had her coffee.

"You teach psychology, right?"

For a moment he looked confused, then chagrined. "No. I teach parapsychology."

"Parapsychology," she repeated.

"It's the study of phenomena which have not yet been explained by conventional science. You know," he said when she did not re­spond. "Extrasensory perception, clairvoyance and clairaudience, telepathy, psychometry, remote viewing, precognition."

Ruby felt deflated. Shit. Zane Benedict was good-looking and smart and sexy, and she had really enjoyed his company tonight. She was even beginning to forgive his insistence on eating healthy and shunning her favorite food groups. Too bad he was a flake.

Zane knew this look. He'd seen it many times in his lifetime. It wasn't as bad for him as it had been for his father. These days there were a greater number of people willing to admit that there was more to life than what could be seen and explained in a rational fashion. Of course there were skeptics. He should've known Ruby was one of them. "You're not a believer."

"In woowoo stuff?" she asked. "No."

Woowoo was one of his least-favorite words. "I could try to con­vince you, but I suspect we don't have enough time for that, not tonight."

"Nope. I'd be a hard sell." She did smile a little, which assured him that while she was not a believer, she wasn't afraid of him, ei­ther. Sadly, she would be a believer before all was said and done, but by then it would be too late.

Shortly after that awkward moment, he said good night and accepted a huge piece of chocolate cake she insisted he carry home. Death by Chocolate, she called it. Normally, he might find that an amusing name for a dessert, but at the moment there was nothing at all amusing about death.

While Zane did not claim to have any psychic ability of his own, he felt as if eyes were watching him as he crossed the street. Curious neighbors? A jealous would-be suitor? Or a servant of II Colletore who was watching over the latest sacrifice?

Ruby was so tired she didn't have any trouble falling asleep. After placing the anonymous gift on the bookcase in the living room and double-checking all the doors and windows, she crawled into bed, pulled the blanket to her shoulders, and almost instantly dropped into a deep sleep.

Aiyana ran, cutting into the deepest part of the forest to make her escape. Her long black braid whipped as she ran. Her bare feet had been battered against the harshest part of the path, and already her legs were scratched. They bled, a little, they stung horribly. She did not slow down.

When she had found the pretty rock in the creek, she had thought it a gift from the earth, and she had treasured it, hiding it among those few things she called her own, taking it out and stroking it when she could not sleep. The stone was shaped like an animal and had the face of a small panther. Many nights she had passed studying that face, feeling as if it were alive. Now she knew that the stone was not a gift but a curse. A terrible curse. It had come for her soul. Helaku had told her so, right before he'd unleashed the darkness.

She grabbed the protective totem she wore around her neck and squeezed tight, and as she did so she heard the movement behind her. Footsteps crash­ing through the forest she called home came closer and closer, stealing the last of her hope. She looked up to the full and brilliant moon, which she could see through an opening in the limbs above. The moon was too large, an omen that all was not as it should be. She had always thought the moon was her friend, but tonight it was not. It shone down upon her, offering no place to hide.

Helaku grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground. He held the cursed stone on the palm of his hand as he pressed her body to the ground with his foot.

Aiyana gripped the totem that lay against her chest. It would protect her from darkness, as it was meant to do. Helaku reached down and pried her fingers apart. He forcibly took the totem from her, throwing it aside to land on the littered forest floor, where it would do her no good at all.

"II Gatto Nero has chosen you," Helaku said. "Your soul will feed him well."

"Why, Helaku?" she asked. "Why do you do this to me?"

The old man who had been her father's friend for all of Aiyana's too-short life did not answer. Instead, he looked to the moon and began to speak in a language she did not understand. From the green stone in his hand a dark shape rose.

Aiyana screamed, realizing that the darkness was coming for her. That blackness would take her spirit, it would take all that she was, and she would be no more.

It hurt. . . . *

Ruby sat up sharply. There was a pain in her chest, a deep pain just like the one that had made a young girl scream for help that had not come. She glanced at the bedside clock. One fifteen in the morning, and she was wide-awake and terrified of returning to sleep. Drugs. She needed drugs to knock her out, so she would not dream.

Unfortunately, she had no such drugs, and besides, that might make matters worse. What if another dream came and she couldn't wake up? She shuddered and rolled over to face the window.

The moon was not quite full, but it was getting there. Just a couple more days. Both of her disturbing dreams had included a full moon. Was it a warning of some kind? Was something going to happen during the full moon?

All was silent, so she could not mistake the soft sound that cap­tured her attention. A deep purr resonated from the very walls, as if a large, satisfied cat hid within them. A large, satisfied black cat?

No, just a cat. One of Hester's kitties must've crawled under the house and gotten stuck. Great. Ruby rolled over, intent on grab­bing her bathrobe and a flashlight so she could check under the house for a stray cat. She didn't get far before her plans changed.

The jade cat was sitting on her bedside table, in front of the clock. It had not been there two minutes ago, she was certain of it.

Chapter 4

Zane hadn't been able to sleep, but had hours ago settled in front of his computer to study a file of Brotherhood docu­ments. Over the past several years he had read it all, and now he was looking again to see if he might've missed something. There had to be a way to stop II Colletore without sacrificing Ruby.

According to their carefully kept records, the victims were al­ways female and young. Those who had been properly identified had been between the ages of fifteen and thirty-two. There had been no male sacrifices, but that didn't mean a male sacrifice would not be accepted. If he had to get Ruby to a safe place and take on the de­mon himself, he would. Was there a safe place? Was there anywhere in the world those who served the demon would not find her?

He wasn't surprised when the phone rang. After hearing about Ruby's dream, he'd suspected there would be more. Somehow, the demon had already begun tormenting her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, not bothering with a greeting.

For a moment, she didn't answer, then she breathed a "No," that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He ran.

Again, all the lights in Ruby's house were on. She lit up the dark street when she opened the front door long before Zane leapt onto her front porch. She was pale, and even from a distance he could see that she shook. Her hair was mussed, and it was so short that meant it stood on end. That style should've been amusing, but was not. She was terrified.

"Tell me you hear it," she said in a hoarse, sleep-roughened voice.

Zane listened carefully. "I don't hear anything."

Ruby laughed sharply, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

Zane closed the door behind him and instinctively gathered her into his arms. She fell there easily, accepting of his comfort. She continued to shake, but the trembling soon eased.

"Better?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "It's stopped," she said, relief evident in her voice.

"What's stopped, Ruby?" he asked. "Tell me."

"Sounds from the walls and the floor. Cat sounds. Purring, with the occasional mewing." She pulled her head away from his chest and looked him in the eye. "Tell me the truth," she said.

"If I can."

"I didn't change my mind and bring that damned jade cat home with me Sunday night, did I?"

"No, you didn't." He could at least be a little bit honest with her. "It came here on its own," she whispered.

"I believe so."

"It moved again, from the living room to my bedside table, then from the garbage can to the coffee table. Explain that!"

"I can't," he said, running his hands through her hair to smooth a particularly wayward strand. And to comfort her, too, he sup­posed.

"I think I'm losing my mind," she said. Though she no longer clung tightly to him, she did not let go.

"I doubt that. Did you have another dream?" She nodded.

"Want to tell me about it?"

The shake of her head that followed that question was fierce. "Not yet. Aren't you cold?" she asked, wrinkling her brow slightly.

"No." Zane glanced down, just now remembering that all he wore were faded flannel sleep pants. No shirt. No shoes.

"I woke you up again," she said, then she offered him a poor at­tempt at a smile. It didn't last.

"I wasn't asleep," he said. "I was working on my computer."

"Woowoo stuff?" she asked.

"Woowoo stuff."

Ruby let her head fall against his chest again. "I haven't heard the purring sound since you walked through the door. I don't un­derstand what's going on, but will you stay? Please?"

After half an hour of sitting on the couch watching an old movie with Zane, it was almost possible for Ruby to convince herself that she hadn't heard anything. She'd been the one to put the jade cat on her bedside table. She had never thrown it in the trash can, only to have it reappear in the living room, front and center on the coffee table.

But only almost. She had heard the purring. She had thrown the blasted thing in the garbage, but it had refused to stay.

Having Zane sitting in her living room shirtless and warm was a nice distraction, and for a moment she allowed herself the luxury of thinking about something other than her fragile mental state. The no-white-sugar, no-white-flour thing had its benefits, apparently. Be­neath those loose T-shirts he always wore, Zane Benedict was fine. More than fine, he was muscled, cut, strong and well shaped. Oh, the ridges and sharp angles were tempting. She wanted to reach out and run her hands along those muscles, she wanted to test them all with her fingertips, to see if he was as warm and hard as he looked.

The fact that she didn't want to be left alone had nothing to do with her attraction. Yeah, right.

She did, eventually, tell him about the newest dream. He seemed concerned, he listened intently and nodded and wrapped his arm around her when her voice trembled. Once he even leaned down and kissed the top of her head, an impulsive move that seemed to take him by surprise as much as it did her.

When she was finished, he said, "Tell me about the totem. Did this girl really think it could protect her?"

"Yes, and the man who brought the dark thing to her, he snatched the totem away from her before releasing . . . whatever it was." She shuddered.

"What did it look like?"

She tried to remember, but that part of the dream was unclear. "I don't know. It was fairly small, and I think there was a crescent-moon-shaped thingie attached to it." Moons again. She shuddered.

"Anything else?"

Ruby shook her head. "What do these dreams mean? And what the hell is going on with that damn cat knickknack?"

Zane didn't answer for a while. "You don't believe in my field of study."

"If my walls keep purring, that's going to change pretty quickly," she muttered. "First things first. How do I get rid of the cat?"

"I'm sorry to say, I don't think you can. Not easily, at least," he added. "I'm going to have to study this a bit before I have any definite answers for you."

"Study tomorrow," she said, burrowing into his side. "If you leave I'll . . . I'll . . ." Go mad, eat every bite of the leftover cake, cry, scream—maybe all four.

"I'm not leaving," he assured her.

Ruby took a deep breath and sighed. On her television screen, men in top hats were dancing in black and white. A woman in a flowing white dress drifted across the screen. It was an odd scene to fall asleep to, but she did, falling hard.

Olwen stopped fighting. She was tired, and she was frightened, and she now knew that there was no escape from this. Her beloved husband Arlin had tied her to her own bed when she'd told him about the dreams. At first she had been afraid he thought her a witch, but now she knew that was not true. He simply didn't want her telling anyone else about the warning dreams.

She'd been here for two days, now. Arlin had seen that she was fed, and he had even given her a washing and dressed her in her best linen shift. The man she loved, the father of her child, made sure she could not escape, but he also cared for her. And then, when he said the time and the stars and the moon were aligned, he offered her soul to the demon he worshipped.

The dark cat stood on her chest and placed its snout close to her nose. It purred, deep and rumbling, so that it 'Seemed the entire world shook. When she had first seen the feline rise from the pretty stone cat her husband had given her, it had been made of nothing. It had been a hole where there should've been none, darkness where there should've been light, but now it was solid, heavy on her chest. It was real. She could see the fur on its skin and the burning red of its evil eyes. Using the power of its mind, the cat forced her mouth to open, and it inhaled, stealing her breath, sucking her life and her soul from her body. She could see her life escaping, white and blue streaks flowing from her mouth into his until there was nothing left of her but what lived inside the darkness.

Olwen, devoted mother and wife, saw her betrayer husband through the eyes of the demon who had killed her. She did not wish to gaze long upon her own lifeless body. She looked so scared in death, so horribly empty.

Arlin dropped to his knees and praised this demon who had taken his wife's soul. The large cat who had once been nothing but a dark hole now had a beating heart and a deep hunger for flesh. He would not be like this for very long, she knew, as she was now inside the demon in all ways and shared his thoughts. A part of this night was all the time he had to feed his hunger of almost three centuries.

The curse that kept the demon trapped in stone for all but a few hours out of nearly two hundred and ninety years was not unbreakable. When he woke the demon took souls, and when the ninth soul was his, he would live again. He would be whole and he would make the world pay.

Arlin looked up, a love and admiration in his eyes. Olwen had once thought such expressions were reserved for her, but apparently his love for the demon was greater than his love for his wife. "I have been promised much for my great sacrifice." Arlin opened his arms wide. "I am your humble servant, II Gatto Nero."

A great black paw swiped out and sliced open the betrayer's throat. A cat's scream filled the small hut, and the baby began to cry. The demon who had taken Olwen's soul could not take another, not until he was whole again, but while he lived he craved flesh, and he started with his most humble servant. . .

Not my baby! Olwen screamed.

The gruesome scene went black, and a soft voice, the voice of the woman who had been sacrificed, whispered in Ruby's ear, "While his heart beats, he can be taken. Do not hesitate, or he will take your soul.

"Trust no one."

Ruby awoke with a cry and all but threw herself at the man who shared the couch with her. Zane, too, had slept, and when he came awake his arms instinctively wrapped around her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Not even a little," she confessed.

"Another dream?"

She nodded, then she pressed her face to Zane's chest and closed her eyes. Another movie was on the television in front of them, this one more somber than the musical that had been on when she'd fallen asleep. There was no singing, no dancing. Lots of angst, judg­ing by the expressions on the faces on her television.

If she believed in curses and living statuettes and telepathy and all that other nonsense, she might be able to make herself believe that the dreams were a kind of warning. Whatever had killed the women who visited her as she slept was coming for her.

She shook off that thought; it made no sense. No more sense than a piece of jade that seemed to move on its own and make the walls of her once-peaceful home purr like a satisfied panther. No more sense than the urge to lose it all in the earthy and pleasur­able distraction of sex with a man who was willing to sleep on her couch so she wouldn't have to be alone. Ruby was tempted to lift her head and kiss Zane Benedict and see where that kiss took them. She hadn't been attracted to a man this way in a very long time, and it would be nice, very nice, to enjoy something real and solid and reasonable, like sex. He could make her forget, she knew he could, and right now she very much wanted to forget.

After being alone for much too rong, she wanted someone to hold. She wanted the complete connection that would come with Zane inside her, when pleasure would wipe away the fear. She had told him so fiercely that she was not looking for a man, but hav­ing him here, feeling his skin against hers, it was wonderful. She wanted more.

Ruby didn't consider herself a brave person, but she lifted her head and very slowly moved her mouth toward Zane's. She didn't attack him; she moved so slowly he had plenty of opportunity to move away or turn his head. He didn't. Instead, his lips parted slightly right before hers touched them.

Eyes closed, they let their mouths linger against one another. Immediately a riot of sensations was set into motion. What she felt was strong enough to wipe away the fear of her dreams, to allow her to forget the impossibilities of purring walls and figurines that moved on their own.

Her hand rested on his side, and she allowed her fingers to stroke there, learning the unexpected muscles and strength he usually hid beneath baggy T-shirts. They moved a bit, adjusting arms and legs, getting more comfortable and closer on the couch. She was oddly twisted but didn't care. The kiss took her beyond the terror of inex­plicable sounds and terrifying dreams, and she wallowed in it.

Ruby was so hot she didn't mind at all when Zane loosened the belt of her robe and parted it. She enjoyed the rush of cool air, the extra bit of freedom, the feel of his hand slipping up her pajama top and finding one welcoming breast. They kissed and touched, caressed and learned one another, until Ruby found herself lying on her back with Zane Benedict cradled between her legs.

Reality intruded. She didn't have any sort of birth control in the house. Hadn't needed any for about two years, sad to say. Zane had come running to her house wearing elastic-waisted flannel pants. Unless there were hidden pockets with condoms in those sleep pants, they were out of luck.

"We have to stop," she said, then she kissed him again, unable to help herself.

"Why?" Zane asked gruffly.

She could use a lack of birth control as an excuse, but more than that concern stopped her. There were ways they could offer one another pleasure that wouldn't risk pregnancy, and there was a twenty-four-hour drugstore five minutes from her house. No, she had to tell him the truth. "This is happening too fast for me," she whispered.

"It is rather unexpected," he agreed without anger or even a hint of frustration. There wasn't going to be any sex on her couch—not tonight—so she half expected Zane to pull away and sit up straight, putting an end to the comfort. Too bad. But he didn't go away. He held her. He stayed.

"You are perfectly symmetrical," he whispered.

Ruby had not thought it possible to laugh tonight, but she did. "What?"

"Symmetrical. True beauty is in symmetry, and you have it."

"I'm not beautiful," she said. Cute, maybe, when she worked at it, but not beautiful.

"You are." He demonstrated, first with both hands on her face, slowly tracing and measuring in between kisses, then lower, hands on her breasts. Thumbs rocked gently against sensitive nipples beneath the thin fabric of her pajamas, as he weighed and tested shape. Then lower, to her hips, where his hands gripped and held her, thumbs rocking against her pelvic bone.

If she had one iota less control, she'd strip him naked in a heart­beat and he'd be inside her and it would be so good. It would be symmetry; it would be true beauty. They were so close. She was ly­ing on the couch, and he was on top of her. There wasn't much in the way of clothing between them. A shift, a push, and she could so eas­ily dismiss all her reservations. Without warning, Ruby twitched as the final words of her latest dream came back to her. Trust no one.

"We should sit up, I suppose," she said.

"Yes." Zane slowly and reluctantly moved up, taking her arm and pulling her with him until they sat side by side. Her head rested on his shoulder, and he didn't make any juvenile attempt to hide the fact that he was aroused. "So, tell me about your latest dream?"

It was still too clear, too vivid and horrible, and those final words haunted her. What had happened to the baby that had been in the next room as his father offered his mother to a demon? It was only a dream, and yet the child seemed so real. It had been a little boy, she knew. How did she know?

Trust no one. "I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Perhaps later," Zane said, sounding more disappointed than he had when she'd made him take his hand off her bare breast.

Even when dawn came, Ruby refused to tell him about the latest dream. She said she'd forgotten the details, but Zane didn't believe her.

She was white as a sheet and refused to try to get more sleep. She was exhausted but afraid of another nightmare. The nightmare had just begun, he knew that, but he couldn't tell her, not until he knew what could be done to stop II Colletore.

By now the others would be frantic, wondering at which loca­tion the collection would occur. He should've reported his findings yesterday, but he had not. It was unfortunate that he liked Ruby so well. What if it wasn't possible to save her? What if only her death saved the world from destruction at the hands of a demon that had been locked away for nearly three thousand years?

He watched Ruby make coffee and shuffle to the refrigerator for eggs and bacon. She moved like a zombie, slow and heavy and without emotion. Only her eyes hinted at life, and they revealed her terror. Last night, he had seen more than terror in those lovely green eyes, and he had liked it. They were at a critical juncture. Her life was literally at stake, and if she had not called a halt to their explorations last night, they would've ended up having sex on her couch. He needed to protect her, and he could not even protect her from himself.

"Don't go to work today," he said.

"I have a business to run."

"You also have employees. Call one of them and let someone else run the bakery for one day."

"Most of my people are out of town." Ruby wrinkled her nose. "But i really don't feel like going to work today. I haven't missed a day since I opened the place four years ago, but . . ."

"You can't work like this," Zane said.

"I know." Ruby made her way to the kitchen phone and dialed a number from memory. "Marielle?" She paused, while the girl on the other end of the line spoke. "I know it's early, but I can't make it in today. I'm sick." She looked pointedly at Zane. "Can you run the store today?"

Apparently Marielle agreed, because Ruby told her employee where the special orders were stored, and that with the students out of town business would be slow, so they could get by with the inventory on hand. If they ran out of anything . . . well, there was nothing to be done.

Zane knew that Ruby needed sleep, but it was likely any sleep she got would be filled with terrifying dreams. How many days did they have left before II Colletore rose? Two? Three? Four?

"Let me make you breakfast," Zane said, walking into the kitchen intent on taking the eggs and bacon from her. In her cur­rent state, she was likely to burn herself. He hadn't gotten any more sleep than she had, but he was used to-getting by with little sleep. She was not, obviously.

"No," Ruby said sharply. She looked at him with suspicious eyes. "I really appreciate your coming over, but I'm all right, now. You can go home."

Zane's jaw tightened. "You are not all right, I assure you."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me."

"I beg to differ."

Her face hardened. "Go home, Professor."

Professor? She hadn't called him that in days. "I'd rather . . ."

"This is my house, and I'm asking you to leave." She looked him up and down. "As it is, you're going to raise a few eyebrows crossing the street half-dressed at dawn. Wait an hour, and everyone in the neighbor-hood is likely to see."

"You care what the neighbors think?"

She hesitated, then said, "No, but you need to leave anyway."

This was her house, and he could not insist on staying. "i thought we were . . ."

"You thought wrong," she said, long before he was finished.

As he walked through the living room toward the front door, Zane looked at the jade cat, which remained on the coffee table. Ruby hadn't wanted to touch it after it had made its unexplained trip from the garbage can to the living room, so there it had re­mained all night. He could offer to take it with him, but when it reappeared close to Ruby, where it should not be, she would only be freaked out all over again.

"I'll check on you later," he said as he opened the front door on a cool morning.

"Don't!" she called, and Zane wondered what had happened in her most recent dream to make her afraid of him.

Chapter 5

After a breakfast of bacon and eggs, Ruby showered, hoping the spray of water and the familiar routine would wake her up and chase away the lingering dreams. It didn't work. She dressed in a faded pair of jeans and a lightweight blue sweater, trying for normalcy even though at the moment her life felt anything but normal.

In all three of the dreams, it had been a friend or lover who offered a woman's soul to the demon. They had all been betrayed by men they loved or cared for. A husband, a lover, an old family friend.

She sat on the couch and stared at the jade cat. It seemed to stare back at her, but there was no purring, no distant and creepy meow. Not yet, at least. The feline's green face was pointed and sharp, primitively feral, not at all like a normal cat. Ruby didn't believe in ghosts and demons, she didn't believe in Zane's woowoo. But some­thing was going on, and this damn cat was at the center of it.

Trust no one.

The only man Ruby trusted, the only man she had trusted in more than two years, was Zane Benedict.

She was not going to sit here and wait to see what might happen next! It took her no more than three minutes to grab her coat, her keys, her cell phone, and her purse. She had credit cards and some cash, and she was, by God, going to get as far away from Holland Court as she possibly could.

As Ruby locked the front door, Hester Livingston was walking up the driveway with a loaf wrapped in foil grasped in her hands. "Hellooo," the older woman called, and she flashed a smile. "Did I catch you going to work? You're later leaving than usual. When I saw your car in the driveway, I thought you might be ill, so I brought you a loaf of my homemade cheese bread."

"I'm just on my way out," Ruby said.

Hester was not deterred. "This will just take a minute. I know you make your own baked goods, and you're quite talented, but my cheese bread is special."

Intent on taking the bread from the old woman and just carry­ing it with her, as that seemed the simplest and fastest way to end this encounter, Ruby met Hester on the driveway. "Thanks," she said.

The nosy neighbor did not leave; did not even move from her position between Ruby and the car. "I was up early this morning, and I could've sworn I saw Professor Benedict leaving your house in nothing but his skivvies."

Ah, so this was the reason for the visit and the cheese bread. "They were flannel pants," Ruby said. "Not skivvies."

Hester waved a dismissive hand. "He was hardly dressed at all. Unsavory situations like this can give the neighborhood a bad repu­tation."

So could demons, Ruby thought. "Zane and I are two fully grown unattached adults. What we do indoors is really none of your business." Letting the old woman believe that Zane had been at her house for a little recreational sex and nothing more was much better than the truth. "Now, if we start hooking up in the middle of the street . . ."

Hester's eyes got wide. "There's no reason for sarcasm."

"There's no reason to be meddlesome."

In a huff, Hester reclaimed her foil-wrapped bread and turned to stalk toward home. Any other time, Ruby would've felt guilty about being short with her neighbor, but today she only had one thing on her mind. Escape.

She got in the car and threw her purse on the passenger seat, started the engine, and let it idle for a moment to warm up. When she put the car in reverse to back out of the driveway, she looked into the rearview mirror and saw the front door to Zane's house open. He stepped onto the porch as she backed into the street, but she didn't give him another glance or another thought. She had to get away from here, and she suspected if she gave him the chance, he would try to stop her.

She didn't know where she was going, but the interstate would be a good start. Twenty minutes to the interstate, and from there she'd go to Birmingham or Huntsville or beyond. Maybe she'd just keep driving until she couldn't keep her eyes open, then she'd find a motel and crash for the night, so tired she couldn't possibly dream.

Not five minutes from the house, Ruby pulled up to a four-way stop. She looked to her left, and saw nothing. She looked to her right, and there on her dashboard, where a moment ago there had been nothing, sat the jade cat. It appeared to be smiling.

Ruby screamed as she instinctively hit the gas and raced impul­sively through the empty intersection. She could feel herself losing control, inside and out. She didn't see the telephone pole until it was too late.

Amalie smiled as she stretched her naked body across the fine sheets of her lover's bed. She had never known such pleasures existed, but then, until Henry had claimed her body and soul, she had known very little pleasure in life. An orphan since the age of eleven, a ladies' maid who served others and answered to others' demands, she had never thought to know such indulgence for herself.

"You are incredibly beautiful," Henry said. He was naked, too. She liked his body. It was hard and strong, and so very different from her own. She could not keep her hands off him.

He said they would soon be married, but he had family business to see to first. His wealthy merchant father would not approve of his taking a woman who had once been a servant as his wife. Henry was planning a charade. By the time all was said and done, his family would think she was a fine lady just recently arrived in the colonies from France. "I think he will like you happy," Henry said.

"Who will like me happy?" Amalie asked, smiling as she ran her hands along his fine chest. "Your father?"

"II Gatto Nero," Henry said, taking her wrist and wrapping a length of fine red-silk fabric around it. She did not protest, not even when he tied her wrists together and tethered her to the bedpost. His sexual tastes were sometimes a bit odd, but he never hurt her, and he always saw that she found her own pleasure before he found his. Amalie didn't like being tied up, but if it made Henry happy, it was a small price to pay.

"The black cat? I did not know you had a cat."

Henry took a nipple into his mouth and suckled it, and Amalie forgot about cats and charades. Nothing else mattered but this. She closed her eyes and savored the sensations. She wished to be able to touch Henry, to wrap her arms around him, but she could not. Her lover took his time, kissing and licking and arousing . . . then he was gone.

Amalie opened her eyes to find Henry standing beside the bed. He still smiled with great warmth, so she was not concerned. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," Henry said. "Areyou happy, love?"

"Ecstatically so. Come back to bed." She wanted to gesture to him, but could not with her hands bound and tied to the bed.

"That is good." Henry reached beneath the mattress and withdrew a small jade figurine. A cat, she saw right away. "II Gatto Nero takes greater enjoyment from a soul filled with pleasure as well as fear. Such a soul tastes sweeter, and he has waited a very long time for that taste."

"What are you talking about?" Amalie pulled against the bonds. She did not like the expression that crossed her lover's face.

"No one will miss you," he said softly. "Are you truly surprised? Did you not hear Il Gatto Nero speaking to you in days past?"

The soft purring, the echoing meow, the distant roar of a large cat in the woods surrounding the remote cottage where Henry kept her. . . she had heard it all but had thought the sounds to be those of normal animals around her newly claimed home.

Henry began to chant, and a black smoke rose from the head of the jade cat. Amalie pulled at her bonds, but that did no good. She was trapped. Trapped by the man she loved. . . a man she had been so certain loved her. The blackness grew, and she jerked her head to the side and stared at Ruby.

Trust no one.

Ruby opened her eyes sharply. The scream that escaped was short and weak, but it was enough to catch the attention of a nearby nurse. Ruby glanced around, recognizing the place. She'd been here before, with Aunt Mildred. Minville had one small but well-equipped clinic set up to act as a small ER, and she was in one of the beds.

"What happened?" Ruby asked, and as she finished her ques­tion she remembered the damned cat, the telephone pole, and the dream.

"There's someone here to see you," the nurse said.

Ruby suffered a rush of fear. Somehow Zane had found her. He was here and he was going to seduce her and tie her to a bed and offer her soul to a piece of rock. Is that why he'd aroused her last night? Was he making her tastier for the demon? She shook her head and immediately wished she had not. It hurt.

The curtains parted, and Marielle stepped through. Even obvi­ously concerned she looked perky, with her long blond ponytail and heart-shaped face. "Oh my God, I was so worried about you," the girl said. "The police called the shop looking for family, and I came right over."

"Who's running the store?" Ruby asked.

Marielle pursed her lips. "The shop is closed and will remain closed until I'm sure you're okay. I thought you were sick. Why were you out driving around? What were you thinking?"

It was a question Marielle didn't expect an answer to, which was good because Ruby didn't have one.

"Take me to Nashville," Ruby said, sitting up carefully. She was suddenly certain neither Birmingham nor Huntsville was far enough from Minville.

"You're addle-brained," Marielle said as she offered a steadying hand. "I'm taking you home."

"I don't want to go home!"

Marielle didn't ask why, which was just as well since she'd never believe the truth. "Well, my place is too small, and it's a mess. I wasn't expecting company so we can't go there. I'll take you home, and I'll stay with you until you're feeling better."

"The shop . . ."

"Ruby's Sweet Shop wili still be there when you're recovered. If there's someone else you can call to sit with you I'll keep the place running, but if not, then your loyal customers will just have to make their own cookies and cakes for a few days."

There had been a time when Ruby would've crawled on her hands and knees to keep her business open, but now her little shop seemed unimportant. She didn't want to be alone. She couldn't call Zane. She didn't have anyone else.

Zane had been keeping an eye on Ruby's house all morning and all afternoon, waiting for her to return. It was after three when a strange car pulled into the driveway. The blonde he had seen at Ruby's shop stepped out of the driver's side door. Ruby, not instantly recognizable with the white bandage on her head, stepped carefully from the passenger side.

He was tempted to rush over there to ask what had happened, but she'd made it clear this morning that she no longer wanted him around. He wasn't sure why, but .he suspected it had something to do with the most recent dream she'd had. She no longer trusted him, that much was clear. She had gone to sleep in his arms and had awakened afraid of him.

What if he couldn't save her? She was the ninth, the last, and he could not allow her to become a part of the demon. The males of his family had been important members of the Brotherhood for generations. Stopping II Colletore was a purpose he had lived with since the age of fifteen. Twenty years devoted to research, training, and waiting for this moment. No matter how much he liked Ruby, he could not allow the demon to live.

He waited for the blonde to leave, but she didn't. The car re­mained in Ruby's driveway. The curtains to the cheerful yellow house remained shut. Night fell, a few lights came on, and still the blonde remained in the house. A bad feeling crept down Zane's spine. This was it. It had started.

For a few moments he hesitated, his hand on the telephone re­ceiver, his heart physically heavy as if it were weighing him down. Not Ruby, please. He would not wish for anyone to be taken as a sacrifice for II Colletore, but of all the possibilities in the world— why her? She was good and fragile and had only begun to live her life. If the situation were different, he might ask her on a real date, make love to her, make her laugh.

But his time for pretending the situation could be different was done. He lifted the receiver and dialed, and snapped out a crisp "This is Benedict. It's here."

The older man on the other end of the line actually tried to ar­gue with him. Apparently there was a gathering of known members of the Order north of London, near a particularly powerful vortex. Many warriors of the Brotherhood were gathering there.

"I'm telling you, it's here," Zane said. "The UK assembly is a distraction."

Still unconvinced, the dispatcher reluctantly agreed to send a few men to assist, just in case. When that was done, Zane closed his eyes. A moment later, he threw the phone across the room.

Chapter 6

Ruby was not surprised to see the jade cat sitting on her bed­side table when she crawled into bed. She hadn't slept well in two days, her head hurt, and Marielle had prepared a very nice chicken soup that had really hit the spot. Now Ruby could barely keep her eyes open, and for the first time all day she didn't feel as if she needed to run as if the devil were on her tail.

Marielle had been very attentive since arriving at the clinic, and Ruby was thankful to have such a good friend. When the younger woman had insisted on spending the night, Ruby hadn't protested. Maybe if someone else was here, the walls wouldn't purr.

With her blond ponytail dancing, Marielle walked into the dimly lit room to make sure her patient was settled for the night. She even straightened the covers. Ruby didn't mind.

"Take that damn cat out of here," Ruby said, her eyes barely opened as she pointed to the night table. "Throw it in the trash." It wouldn't stay, but there was something satisfying about plunking the thing into the garbage.

"This?" Marielle lifted the jade cat and studied it casually. "It's pretty, and it looks kinda old and expensive. Why would you want me to throw it away? Shoot, if you don't want it, sell it on eBay. Or I can just keep it."

"No!" Ruby tried to get up but couldn't. Her head was so heavy. "Stay away from that damn thing," she said, wanting to protect her friend from whatever had ruined her own life.

"Okay." Apparently forgetting the original request, Marielle placed the figurine on the bedside table.

Ruby thought about reissuing the order to take the thing away, but she didn't have the energy to speak, and besides, if the cat wanted to be there, watching her, it would find its way back. Her fear was no less sharp than it had been when she'd tried to flee, but somehow Ruby felt safer than she had earlier in the day. She was not alone; Marielle was here. There was no more mewing, and Zane Benedict wasn't going to get anywhere near her.

She heard the front doorbell ring, and thought nothing of it. Mari­elle went to answer and was back shortly, wearing a big grin on her pretty face. "Some guy in a tie-dyed T-shirt wants to take me to a con­cert on Thursday. I think he wanted to ask you, but I told him you were under the weather. He won the tickets and is desperate for a date."

"Todd wins everything," Ruby said, her tired voice slurred.

"He really wanted to come in and check on you, but I wouldn't let him." She shuddered. "What a loser."

"Yeah." Ruby closed her eyes, aware that Marielle remained by the bed, standing guard.

There was snow all around. Trey a felt cold, but that cold was the least of her worries. Her hands and wrists were tied, and she had been staked to the ground. A full moon made the night bright white, and the icy cold cut to the bone as surely as the fear that gripped her.

She did not want to give up her soul. All beings died, but the soul was eternal, and she feared for what would happen if hers was taken.

"Sister, no," Freya said softly.

Her own sister, older by two years and the beauty of the family, was the one who had drugged and bound Freya. It was Maeva who offered Freya's soul to the evil spirit. Since the rest of the family had died in the fire last winter, it had been just the two of them. They were close, especially so since the deaths of the others. It had been Maeva who'd saved Freya from the fire.

Freya had a horrible thought, one that rivaled her fear for her soul. "Did you kill them? Did you start the fire that killed our parents and our brothers?"

Maeva smiled, and her long blond hair whipped in the wind. She seemed not to feel the cold that tortured Freya. "All for a good cause."

Ruby stirred but did not entirely awaken. This was different from the other dreams. A sister? Such a betrayal seemed worse even than the betrayal of a lover or a friend. She was vaguely aware that her house was purring again, but she didn't care much. Why didn't she care?

Amalie watched from her new home inside the demon, as the monster panther took the heart of Henry, the man who had pretended to love her, the man who had trapped her soul in this dark place. She was not alone, she knew. There were others. Women, girls, souls trapped as hers was trapped. There were seven others, she sensed. Seven who had been betrayed by those they trusted most only to be trapped inside this blackness for a very long time.

Through the demon's eyes, Amalie saw the door to her bedroom burst open. Four men, all of them armed with swords and hatchets, tried to sur­round the big cat. The cat moved so fast. Two of the men fell almost in­stantly, their throats ripped apart by deadly and unnatural claws. The two others did not flee, as sane men would've, but continued to fight. One of them managed to thrust his sword through the panther's heart.

The demon slowed, wounded but not yet ready to forfeit what little time it had to live. One of the men shouted, Benedict, look out! just as the demon swung again. Benedict, a black haired young man with intense brown eyes, moved lithely to the side and avoided the attack. He used his sword again, and this time he moved close and swung mightily, taking the panther's head.

And still, Amalie watched. The two men who had survived searched the room for the piece of jade where the demon once again hid, but they could not see it. Amalie tried to shout here but she could not make a sound. The jade cat that housed the demon and eight betrayed souls hid. The cursed stone was invisible to the men who had come here to stop the demon. They had taken the head of a living being, but the demon still survived.

Too late. They had arrived too late.

Amalie's eyes met Ruby's. "You are the ninth and last. Do not let him take you. Remember, he is vulnerable for seconds before he sucks your soul from your body, when he is solid and yet still hungry. Take him then, if you can. If not we are all doomed.

"You cannot escape this," Amalie whispered. "Fight, fight with all you have. You cannot avoid what is coming. You cannot trust her." In the way of dreams, there was no face, but there were large blue eyes and large warm tears. "Save us, Ruby. Save us all."

Ruby came awake slowly, not with a start as she usually did after one of the horrible dreams. It was morning, she could tell by the way the light was coming through her window. The pieces of the dream fell together as she woke, claiming consciousness slowly.

Watch out, Benedict!

You cannot trust her.

Her?

Ruby rolled over to see that Marielle sat in a chair beside the bed. The younger woman smiled brightly, and the pieces of this twisted puzzle came together in a heart-crushing burst of reality. The one person she could depend on; the one person she truly trusted. Mari­elle. Could she slip past Marielle without revealing what she knew? If she could get to Zane, would he help her? Could she be helped?

Ruby attempted to swing her legs out of the bed, but could not. Her ankles were very loosely bound, and the length of fabric that was wrapped around them was attached to the bedpost.

"They've been talking to you, haven't they," Marielle said.

Ruby tried to play dumb. "Who? What?"

Pretty coed Marielle just smiled. "The eight women who have fed II Gatto Nero. The eight souls you will soon join. You must be a touch clairvoyant; otherwise, they would not have been able to reach you. I'm clairvoyant myself, though the talent was dormant until II Gatto Nero awakened my abilities and spoke to me." Mari­elle bit her lower lip. "I have had my own special dreams, dreams that led me to this special place and time."

Ruby sat up awkwardly. She could continue to play dumb, but judging by the dreams and the expression on Marielle's face, ar­guing would be a waste of time. "He' s going to kill you too, you know," she said. "First me, then you."

Marielle shook her head. "No, he loves me. He's going to give me everything I've ever wanted, and we are going to live together forever. No one will be able to stop us." Her eyes were bright but unfocused, feverish and distant. Reasoning wasn't going to work. "Besides, I've already worked so hard and done so much to come to this point. Why would I give it all up now?"

Ruby didn't think her heart could sink any more. "What have you done?"

"Well, your aunt had to go, so you could be in this house. It's built on a very special bit of land, which allows II Gatto Nero to come alive. Fortunately, Mildred wasn't in the best of health, and all I had to do was hurry things along with a few carefully measured drugs administered slowly and diligently"

"You poisoned her."

"With the same drug I put in your soup," Marielle confessed without regret. "That was actually easier than breaking into the house down the street to drop off your anonymous gift." She grinned. "Breaking into a house to leave something beneath a Christmas tree is just as hard as breaking in to steal. It will all be worth it when he comes to life again: We're going to have everything, including an army of servants who will do anything we ask of them." The pretty girl was downright giddy at the prospects.

"The demon who has been speaking to you in your dreams is a monster," Ruby whispered angrily.

Marielle's eyes hardened. "Then so am I."

Too late, again too late! Twice before since the founding of the Brotherhood they had come close to stopping the taking of a soul, but both times they had arrived too late. In each case the sacrifice had taken place, and the Brotherhood had lost members to II Colletore. They had once managed to kill the demon's solid form, but only after he had taken his chosen soul. On one other occasion they had arrived in time to save a child—an orphaned Welsh boy who was ultimately taken in by Zane's own ancestors—but in sav­ing the boy they had allowed the demon to escape to wipe out an entire village in the hours he had to feed.

This was why Zane had fought so hard to avoid getting personally involved with the woman across the street. He should be concentrating only on killing the demon, and yet he was distracted, thinking only of saving Ruby—a task that was likely impossible. He hadn't fought in­volvement as hard as he should've. When he'd kissed Ruby, he had not been fighting at all. In truth, he had barely been thinking.

Three other men had gathered in Zane's living room. Those in charge still believed that the collection would take place north of London, where the Order had gathered. Would four men be enough to stop the demon? During the night these warriors had parked on a nearby street and walked through backyards and climbed over fences to reach Zane's back door secretly. They couldn't know who might be watching.

Marielle had been in Ruby's house all night. Was she the one, the servant of II Colletore? Likely. It had been foolish of him to think one of her neighbors had been the one. That was too simple, too damn easy. Still, one or more of them could be with the Order, so they had to be careful.

Though he was itching to rush across the street now, they would wait until nightfall before making their move. Zane did not like it. He was so tempted to rush across the street, break down the door to the little yellow house, and kill the girl who held Ruby hostage. But the research was indisputable. If he saved Ruby now, the jade cat would disappear. It would reappear in another house on another vortex, somewhere in the world where another servant to the de­mon would be waiting. Another vulnerable woman would die, and the demon would take its form—forever, this time.

The other men in his living room were, like him, members of the Brotherhood through family connections. Their fathers, their grandfathers, their great-grandfathers and in some cases ancestors much farther back, had dedicated their lives to researching and planning for this night. If they succeeded, there would be no more need for a Brotherhood, thank the heavens. If they failed . . . well, they could not fail.

The latest research suggested that there would be a moment— just a moment—after the cat took form that he would be vulner­able. He would not be easy to kill, but he would not yet be inde­structible. One of Zane's own ancestors had killed the body of the living demon, some two hundred and eighty-seven years ago. It could be done.

This was the time they had all waited for, if their records were correct. II Colletore was about to take his last soul, the soul that would give him eternal and terrifying life. Would the opportunity to kill the demon come before or after he had taken Ruby's soul? Why did it have to be Ruby?

"We have always been told that the timing has to be precise," Zane said to his companions as he once again parted the curtains and peeked out the window. Ruby's yellow house looked as it always did, offering no outward hint that a true darkness lurked within it. "If we can stop II Colletore from taking the ninth soul, and if we can keep him from transporting to another vortex until it's too late, then it will be over. His chance for immortality will pass until an­other two hundred and eighty seven years have gone by."

"I'd like to get my hands on that jade cat and destroy it," Ter­ence said softly.

"Aye," Aiden agreed.

"Ruby is a good person," Zane said, revealing more than he should to these Brothers.

"So were they all, I imagine," Julio responded darkly. "And so will be those the demon takes if we do not stop it tonight."

Chapter 7

The passing of the day was too fast to suit Ruby, as she real­ized that it might very well be her last. A couple of times she tried to go to sleep, hoping for more instruction from the women she had begun to think of as one very-strong entity. Marielle, how­ever, wouldn't allow Ruby to sleep. Did that mean there was a way to stop the plans? Why else would Marielle work so hard to keep Ruby from making contact?

The eight were inside that piece of jade as surely as the demon was. Perhaps together they were stronger than anyone knew. Per­haps they could communicate with Ruby when she was not asleep if she got her head in the right place.

She should've taken one of Zane's classes, she supposed. Or at least not laughed at him.

Ruby stared out of her bedroom window. Once during the day Marielle had allowed her to go to the bathroom, but her ankles had remained tied together, which made for short, awkward steps. Her hands were free, and maybe she could try to fight. Maybe she could get away, but whatever drug Marielle had given her last night still had Ruby woozy, and she knew a failed escape attempt would get her more tightly bound. She did not want her hands trussed as her ankles were! Maybes were not enough.

She sat up, her back against a thick stack of pillows, and stared out of the window. It was a cool day, but the sun shone through the thin curtains. Ruby focused on the light. She tried to dismiss everything else—Marielle, the jade cat, the possibility that this day would end very badly. If she did have a gift of some sort, if she could hear the demon's previous victims in her dreams, then why could she not hear them now?

Deep, even breaths lulled her, and in her mind she did her best to picture the women who had come to her. She remembered their faces. She had not dreamed of all eight, but there were five she could remember very well. Five victims. Five souls who only wanted to help her. Had those five been a touch clairvoyant, as she apparently was? Was that why they had been able to reach her in her dreams?

In her mind she asked, How can I fight? For a long while there was nothing. Not an idea, not a word, not a shimmer of light to hint that someone—or something—heard her. She asked again, How can I hurt the demon? What was it about that totem that made the demon's flunky snatch it away? She remembered the shape of a crescent moon, and something else that dangled there. What was she searching for? What did she need?

A single word finally came to her. Silver.

Ruby blinked hard. Of course! In every horror movie she'd ever seen, silver did the trick. Vampires and werewolves. Silver crosses and silver bullets. She didn't know why, and at the moment she didn't care. It was something to work with.

She turned to look at Marielle, who was staring at the jade cat with a dreamy expression in her eyes. "I have a request," Ruby said.

Annoyed to be interrupted from her admiration of the demon's current home, Marielle snapped her face around to glare. "Why should I care what you request?"

"Because no matter what, we were friends. Good friends, Mari­elle." She reached back into her dreams for more, she asked for guidance from the eight. "Besides, I suspect a happy soul is tastier and more filling than an unhappy and hungry one."

"You want something to eat," Marielle said.

"There's a Death by Chocolate cake in the fridge, and double chocolate chunk ice cream in the freezer."

"You want both?" Marielle asked, her blue eyes widening.

"I don't exactly have to worry about how many calories I'm get­ting today, now do I," she snapped.

Marielle relaxed. "That's true." As a precaution, she quickly bound Ruby's hands and tied them to the headboard.

"Since this is my last hurrah, let's do it right," Ruby called be­fore Marielle left the room. "I want the cake and ice cream on Aunt Mildred's best china, and I want a good fork and a good spoon. I feel like such a putz, saving all that stuff for special and never using any of it."

Marielle huffed a little, making Ruby wonder if she'd get what she'd asked for, but then the girl asked, "Will I find all that in the dining-room buffet?"

Ruby nodded, trying not to give away the surge of hope that filled her. Marielle couldn't be allowed to see even a hint of that blessed hope.

Maybe she couldn't stop what was coming—maybe she couldn't kill the demon that was coming for her. But she wouldn't go easily; she was going to fight.

The sun set, and the four soldiers of the Brotherhood armed themselves to the teeth, said a prayer, and positioned them­selves by the door to Zane's house, waiting for the correct moment. The moment of attack had to be precise—not too soon, not too late.

They had always known that even if all went well, they could end up dead or behind bars for the rest of their lives. Four men rushing into a house armed with guns and swords was bound to call attention. They would probably have to kill the demon's servant, and no one would know—or believe—that a pretty young girl like Marielle was actually an evil bitch who deserved killing.

Not that deserving killing was a defense. In that respect, the old days had been much better. Now there were fingerprints, telling fibers, blood evidence—all that CSI shit. Still, if Ruby was saved, it didn't matter. He would happily spend his remaining days in prison if she could be safe.

"Now," Zane said, reaching for the doorknob.

"Too soon." Julio reached out and covered Zane's hand with his own.

The cul-de-sac remained quiet, but in Zane's mind he could hear Ruby screaming. He could see and feel the soul being ripped from her body. His heart pounded too hard, his mouth was so dry he could hardly speak, and still he said—somehow knowing that he was right—"Now."

"Accept, and this will go easier," Marielle said as she took the jade cat on her palm and began to chant, using sharp, decid­edly unfriendly words Ruby didn't understand.

Ruby's heart pounded hard, and beneath the sheet that covered her she clutched a fork in one hand and a spoon in the other. She was quite sure Aunt Mildred had never intended for her good silver to be put to use this way, but knowing all that she knew now—she didn't think her aunt would mind.

Just as in the dreams, a darkness rose from the jade cat. It looked like a hole, a vast nothingness, and Ruby choked back a scream. The eight had warned her, and still here she was, tied to the bed and offered as sacrifice to a demon. Offered by a friend. A fork and spoon seemed precious little in the way of defense, but she would, by God, fight with all she had until she could fight no more.

Just as in her dreams, the blackness began to take shape. The eyes were fiery red. Marielle was so excited, so overjoyed at the ap­pearance of the demon who had seduced her with dreams of forever, that she trembled from head to toe and smiled like a woman on the verge of a big orgasm.

"Wacko," Ruby muttered. Marielle either didn't hear or didn't care.

The darkness drifted to the bed to hover over Ruby. More and more it looked like a cat. She gripped her weapons tightly.

Not yet, a serene blending of soft voices whispered.

The thing Marielle called II Gatto Nero began to look solid, not so much a hole in the world as a large, fierce cat. There were likely claws—she had seen the claws in her dreams—but at the moment she had eyes only for the face above hers. The eyes were hideous, red like fire and blood. The teeth were wicked, white and sharp and hungry. The fur was black as night, and did not look soft like a kitten's coat but was instead thorny and rough, as if it would cut like shards of glass if touched. Not that she wanted to touch.

The image above her occasionally shimmered, shifting from al­most real to insubstantial illusion and back again. Suddenly, Ruby could not resist the urge to open her mouth. She had seen this in her dreams, too, and knew what would happen next.

Not yet, those comforting voices called.

Were they kidding? She didn't have much time left!

The cat placed its mouth close to hers, as if moving in for a kiss. Oh, what a horrible, rotten smell! She had not been subjected to the stench in her dreams. Her heart was pounding so hard and fast she could feel it. Her heart wanted to escape, but there was no escape, not that Ruby could see. Now? she thought.

There was a pause, as the cat above her inhaled and with that breath began to draw Ruby's soul from her body. It hurt! She felt as if a part of her was literally being ripped from deep within her. Eight voices whispered, Now!

Ruby swung her hands up as hard as she could, burying the fork and the handle of the spoon into the flesh of the demon. What she struck was not entirely flesh. There was no blood—but the thing howled as if in pain, and it drew away from her. Ruby took that opportunity to shift her weapons. She stabbed at the ghastly face, aiming for the eyes. The tines of the fork pierced the demon's left eye, while the spoon glanced off the side of its face.

The thing growled and screamed, and Ruby was vaguely aware that Marielle was protesting, too, though not as loudly as the big, solid cat, which was now very annoyed. Great. She'd only made it mad.

The door to her bedroom burst open, and four men rushed inside. One of them grabbed Marielle and pulled her away from the bed. Another snatched up the jade cat. Two moved toward the demon.

One of them was Zane.

"Silver!" Ruby shouted. "He doesn't like silver!"

The noise coming from Ruby's bedroom had drowned out the sound of four men breaking down her front door. Zane's heart had almost come through his chest, as again he had thought they were too late.

They followed the unnatural din, and without hesitation Zane kicked in the door. Ruby was tied to the bed, offered as an unwill­ing sacrifice, but her hands were free. She clutched a fork in one hand and a spoon in the other, and when the demon cat turned toward the intruders, he had only one eye.

II Colletore. He was solid, and Ruby was alive.

Julio grabbed Marielle and dragged her toward the master bath­room, throwing her into the windowless room and closing the door on the hysterical blonde. Terence grabbed the jade cat and placed it in a leather sack, which was tied to his belt. This time it would not hide!

With Aiden beside him, Zane faced the demon—and Ruby shouted, "He doesn't like silver!"

Zane shifted his sword to his left hand and drew a silver dagger that was hanging from his belt. He heard the others making ad­justments, as well. Julio fired a bullet at the demon, but it had no effect. Surely no one had thought to bring silver bullets. In all their research, there had been nothing about silver!

Research or not, silver made a difference. In the demon's one red eye, Zane saw frustration and confusion. Time was running out; his ninth soul was fighting; and for once, for once, the Brotherhood was not too late in arriving.

Zane used the silver dagger to swipe out, aiming for the place where the heart should be. The demon's shape was that of a pan­ther. Did that mean the heart was in the same place? Was there a heart? The demon screamed, emitting a loud, catlike shriek that cut through Zane's brain like a hundred burning needles. A mere four warriors of the Brotherhood fought against II Colletore with what­ever silver they had available. Knives, mostly, though while the demon howled in protest, Julio jerked the silver cross from around his neck and threw it into the gaping, tooth-filled opening.

The cross flew into the demon's mouth, and while II Colletore howled, Zane took careful aim and swung his sword with all his might. With the head and body separated, the black cat fell to dust. It had not taken a soul this time, and so was weakened. The demon had not retreated into the jade, where it would be frustrated but safe until the proper moon came again, but was destroyed. As what was left of the terrify­ing thing fell, several bits of bright light rose, separating from what remained of II Colletore, rising to the ceiling of Ruby's bedroom.

Zane looked to the bed, where a bound Ruby sat still clutch­ing her silverware. She used the fork to gesture to the streaks of light, and he realized that she was counting. She counted twice, then breathed what seemed to be a sigh of relief as she looked at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Eight," she said. "All eight are free, now." And with that, she collapsed onto the bed.

Ruby took a deep breath and tried to calm herself while Zane untied her ankles. Everything had happened so fast! She was alive, she had her soul, and Zane wasn't one of the bad guys. He was a good guy. A very good guy.

She had just fallen into his arms when the doorbell rang. One of his friends went to answer, and after a loud argument, a handful of neighbors rushed into the bedroom.

Hester was in the lead. "What's wrong? What was making those awful sounds? Who are these men?" No one paid any attention to the innocuous and almost invisible sprinkling of dust on the bed­room carpet.

Zane and his friends remained silent, and in the bathroom, Marielle cried hysterically. The neighbors watched and waited.

The truth was impossible. "I can't believe my screaming sounds awful, but I was scared." She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed but not trying to stand. Not yet. "In a nutshell, Marielle murdered my Aunt Mildred. Poison." Her lower lip trembled. That part of it was so unfair. "She planned to kill me tonight."

One of Zane's friends, the big blond, opened the bathroom door and dragged Marielle out. She looked at the dust on the floor and screamed in pure agony.

"Thank goodness Zane and his friends heard me. They were just about to start a poker game, but they rushed right over."

"With swords?" Todd asked, scratching his head.

"Zane's collection," Ruby explained. "They scared Marielle suf­ficiently, I'm happy to say."

"I called the police!" Hester said, and at that moment Ruby heard the distant wail of sirens.

Zane and his friends stiffened, but Ruby found herself patting Zane's arm in offered comfort. This could all be explained away, and Marielle would end up in jail. "Good," she said.

"They'll kill me," Marielle said softly. "I failed, I screwed up, and they'll kill me."

The neighbors all kept a distance from Marielle. Anyone could see that she wasn't quite right. The good people of Holland Court just didn't know how out of her gourd the pretty blonde was. She yanked away from the man who held her and dropped to the floor to run her hands through the dust—all that remained of the demon who had seduced her with dreams and promises.

"I actually asked her out," Todd whispered to the nearest man. "Thank goodness she told me to ask another time. I might be dead right now!"

The excitement over, Ruby's neighbors peeled away. More than one of them told her she had a scary-ass scream. She had a feeling that scream—the cat-demon's screech—would haunt her for a long time. Fortunately, she wouldn't have to face it on her own.

Before all the onlookers had departed, Ruby fell into Zane's arms. "I want a cookie," she whispered. "No, that's not enough. Maybe a cupcake, one with really thick frosting." Frosting, that was an idea. She'd choked down a huge piece of cake and a bowl of ice cream not so long ago, but that didn't count. Choking down food in order to keep the silverware did not compare with snug­gling beneath a blanket with a warm man and a sweet dessert. "No, wait, I want a cake. I want a whole chocolate cake with fudge icing. Nothing fancy. Aunt Mildred's recipe, the one she used to make when I was a kid."

"You can have whatever you want," Zane said, smoothing her hair.

"Can I?" she asked. "Can I really?"

"Yes."

She pulled away and looked up into fierce brown eyes. Life was too short for her to be so damn careful all the time. "Remember when I said I didn't want a man?"

"I remember."

"I've changed my mind."

He gave her a tired smile. "Good, because I'm planning to ask you out."

"On a date?"

"Yes, on a date."

"I'm a little rusty," she confessed. "I haven't dated in a while."

"Neither have I."

Ruby allowed her head to rest against Zane's chest. She held on to him more tightly than was necessary, and it felt good. She listened to his heartbeat, which was almost as fast and hard as hers. She took a deep and stilling breath, and when his hand settled on the back of her head she almost cried. It felt so right.

"Get me out of here, Zane," she whispered, and without hesita­tion he slid his arms beneath her legs and lifted her.

"I can walk," she said, resting her head on his shoulder and mak­ing no attempt to make him put her down.

"Not tonight."

The neighbors had not really left. They milled about in her yard and on the street. They all watched as Zane carried her to his house, and no one said a word, not even Hester Livingston. There were still police questions to handle, and Ruby had no desire to ever again set foot in that house—even though she knew the demon was gone. She didn't have any idea when she'd reopen her shop, and even though Marielle had turned out to be a fraud, Ruby had lost a friend today. And still, at this moment she was content.

CHRISTMAS EVE

Tomorrow there would be a big family Christmas celebration at the Benedict home place, a rambling farm-style house on a horse ranch in Tennessee, just past the Alabama-state line. Zane was looking forward to seeing his parents and his brothers, to introducing Ruby to them and celebrating the fact that II Colletore was no more. Since she'd moved in two weeks ago, he had not doubted for a moment that Ruby would celebrate the holiday with him. She was a part of the family, now. She was a part of him.

Ruby had already made four desserts to take with them, as she was horrified at the very thought of generic lemon cookies or Twinkies for the holiday meal. He didn't think she was trying to bribe her way into his family's heart, but if anything would do the trick, it would be the English toffee cheesecake, or the Death by Chocolate Cake, or the Mile-High Lemon Pie, or the huge box of homemade cookies that would feed his brothers for a week.

But tonight was for them alone, and he liked it. He liked it very much. With the demon destroyed and Marielle's assumption about the status of her safety having been proved correct—she'd been found hanging in the Minville jail two days after her arrest, dead from an apparent suicide—life was normal. For the first time since Zane had turned fifteen, he didn't have to worry about saving the world.

He just had to take care of Ruby.

That actually meant that for him life was no longer normal at all. He was going to have to get used to a different kind of normal. So far, that experiment was going very well.

Ruby put a few finishing touches on the small Christmas tree they'd put up earlier in the day, then they settled together on the floor by the tree, entwined and comfortable. Dressed in a wonder­fully skimpy Christmasy red nightgown, she fed him cookies and the most decadent apple pie he had ever imagined. If this was what most people considered normal, he would very quickly get accus­tomed to normalcy in his life.

While a piece of a rich sugar cookie melted on his tongue, Ruby moved onto his lap and draped her arms around his neck. "Do you think it's possible I only love you because you saved my life? And my soul," she added, making a face and shuddering a little. "And the world, of course. For the purposes of this discussion, let's just stick with my life."

"I don't know. Do I only love you because you feed me increas­ingly decadent sweets?"

"Don't forget the sex," she said with a smile.

"As if I could."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "The sex is very nice, but I thought you loved me because I'm symmetrical."

"There is that."

It was too soon for love, perhaps, but they both felt it, and nei­ther of them had been shy about saying the words. Almost losing everything would do that to a person, he supposed.

For a few precious moments he tested Ruby's symmetry with his hands. Face. Shoulders. Breasts. Hips. Thighs. Lovely.

"What am I thinking?" he whispered.

For someone who had so firmly denounced "woowoo" a couple of weeks ago, Ruby accepted her own clairvoyance very easily. That talent had saved her; it had allowed her to communicate with the women who had been sacrificed to the demon in years past. She was no psychic, but she did have telling dreams, and more often than not she knew what was on his mind. They'd been "dating" for two weeks, if you could call spending every moment together "dating," and already she was finishing his sentences for him. After the first of the year, when she reopened her shop and he went back to teaching classes, they would have less time to study her abilities, so they had been doing all they could to test and refine it. What am I thinking? had become a game of sorts. She was quite good.

It was too easy, of course, since lately his mind had been quite one-track, and still Ruby played along. Sitting in his lap, leaning toward him possessively, she closed he* eyes.

She did best with visual images, they had discovered. It was very easy for Zane to vividly imagine what he wanted from Ruby. He didn't want to make it too easy for her this time, so he didn't picture her naked on his bed. Instead, he imagined her naked here, lying be­side the Christmas tree, red and green satin ribbon wrapped around her torso, her hips, her thighs. She was the best Christmas present he had ever imagined, so it was fitting enough to see her this way.

"This is no longer much of a challenge," she said softly. "Must I always be naked?"

Practice was making her ability stronger. Day by day, she saw more, she saw more clearly. Though she could guess "naked" and be right more often than not.

"All right," he said, "Let's try something else."

He pictured another Christmas in another year, perhaps five years or so down the road. They were still in this house, and some­one else, someone who had no idea what had happened there in the past, lived in the yellow house across the road. He was still teach­ing; Ruby still had her shop though she no longer worked there every day. She had her hands full with the kids. Two, he thought, maybe a boy and a girl. The Christmas tree was larger than the one they'd bought on clearance this year, and it was heavy with decora­tions, some purchased but many made by the kids.

And they were happy and still in love. Whatever the reasons they had fallen in love so quickly, it was going to last. They were going to enjoy the only real forever that existed in this crazy world.

Ruby's smile faded a little, and she placed her head on his shoul­der and shifted closer. "Is that what you want or are you teasing me? Don't tease me," she added quickly. "Not like this."

"It's what I want," he said honestly.

She shifted, moving her body closer to his. "Me, too."

He took her face in his hand and tilted it toward his so he could kiss her. "Merry Christmas, baby," he whispered with his mouth against hers.

The kiss lingered for a while, then Ruby moved just far enough away to reach for the messy pile of wrapping supplies. She snagged the red and green spools of ribbon and proceeded to make all his Christmas wishes come true.