Chasing Midnight

Griffin carefully freed his arm. “Better leave justice to the authorities, Miss Chase.”

Her easy manner vanished. “Sure,” she snapped. “That will work. Because if these guys work for a boss, they’ll get off in no time.”

“I have a contact in the police department. He can see to it that they don’t escape so easily.”

“A cop who isn’t corrupt? That I’ve gotta see.”

He held her gaze through the netting of the veil. “You’re too young for cynicism, Miss Chase. Your soul won’t profit by it.”

“How do you know how young I am? And what makes you think I have a soul?”

“A hunch, Miss Chase.”

“And how did you come to be so wise?”

“When you’ve lived a few more years—”

“Until I become a doddering old graybeard, like you?”

“I trust you’ll never grow a beard, Miss Chase. It would not be an improvement.” He tested the steadiness of his hand and extended it to her. “Come along…”

She slapped his hand aside. Her coat flew open to reveal long legs in flesh-colored silk stockings, exposed from ankle to knee by her short dress. He was momentarily distracted by the brazenness of her garments and the flash of bare skin at her upper thigh.

“Enjoying the view?” she taunted. “Want a better look?”

With one slender hand she lifted the veil from her face, and he finally saw the mysteries he had only guessed at before.

She was beautiful. Fair skin, so pale that it rivaled the moon at its whitest. Full lips enhanced with dark lip-rouge, contrasting vividly with the rest of her face. Aqua eyes, large and expressive, rimmed with kohl. Dark brows beneath the bangs of sleek black hair cut in a Louise Brooks bob just at the level of her stubborn, dimpled chin.

Griffin’s breath stopped. He knew the leeches tended to be handsome creatures, their appearances enhanced by transformation and the power of their natural magnetism. But in his rare dealings with them, he’d never met one quite so magnificent.

“Seen enough?” Allegra Chase demanded.

“More than enough.” He turned and offered his hand to Miss Moreau, helping her to her feet. “You and your mistress are leaving now.”

Allegra detached Miss Moreau from Griffin’s light hold and put her arm possessively around the other woman’s shoulders. “This isn’t over, Durant.”

“It is for you, Miss Chase.”

“You…you son of a—”

“You may regale me with every curse in your vocabulary, but it won’t do you any good. Even if you believe yourself capable of harming these men, which I seriously doubt, I won’t permit you to follow your less admirable proclivities.”

“Permit?” She laughed again. “You think I want your permission, much less admiration?”

“No. Nor do I require yours.” He caught her eyes. “Trust me. I’ll see that these men are sent to jail.”

“Ha.” She brooded for a moment, and then her posture loosened like that of a cat pretending disinterest in a careless bird. “Isn’t it a shame, Lou, that the world won’t know of our savior’s admirable chivalry?”

Miss Moreau glanced from Allegra to Griffin, frowning. “I doubt that Mr. Durant requires the world’s approbation.”

“True,” Allie purred. “He’s known as a recluse, isn’t he? Not the sort to seek publicity.” She leaned close to Griffin. “The gossip columns love to speculate as to who you really are under that straitlaced reputation. Wouldn’t they just love to know what you are?”

Griffin clung to his patience. “They’d be highly unlikely to believe such a story, Miss Chase.”

“Bet it would cut down on the list of scheming gold diggers hot on your trail.”

“I haven’t met these gold diggers. They must be chasing another man.”

“No fiancée? No lover?”

“That’s really none of your concern.”

Her expression softened. “You’re truly alone, aren’t you?”

“Miss Chase, this is hardly—”

“Is that why you spend your time rescuing damsels in distress?”

Griffin looked pointedly toward the street. “I suggest that you see a doctor at once, Miss Moreau,” he said. “If you and Miss Chase will—”

“Your hands are shaking,” Allegra interrupted. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

Cold sweat trickled under Griffin’s collar. “I’m perfectly well.”

“Could have fooled me. Still, it doesn’t seem—”

The sound of an engine drowned out her words. Griffin glanced up to see a battered delivery truck backing into the alley. Instinctively he placed himself between the ladies and the vehicle.

“What is it?” Miss Moreau asked.

“Bootleggers,” he said. “No doubt here to make a delivery.”

Allegra Chase moved up to stand beside him, her body tense and alert. “What perfect timing,” she murmured.

No sooner had she finished speaking than a pair of hatchet men jumped from the back of the truck, took up positions facing the street and stoodwatch while several other men began to unload crates into the alley. A door near the mouth of the alley opened to receive the shipment.

The last of the crates had just been passed into the building when another man, dressed from head to toe in black wool and leather, emerged from the truck and spoke to someone inside the door. After a moment the door shut, and the man turned to look at Griffin. His upper face was completely covered by his black fedora and sunglasses.

Griffin advanced a dozen paces, his hands loose at his sides, and stopped a few yards from the man in black. He felt the leech’s eyes on him, eyes as keen in the dark as his own.

The leech’s lips curled. He signaled to a pair of henchmen armed with tommy guns.

“You shouldn’t be here, dog,” he said.

“It wasn’t intentional, I assure you.” Griffin spread his hands. “We have no interest in your business.”

“You are pack—”

“My name is Griffin Durant. I don’t belong to the pack.”

The leech made a sound of disbelief and glanced toward Miss Chase. He hissed through his teeth.

“Allegra.”

The lady in question strolled past Griffin and assumed an insolent pose, pushing her coat away from her dress to expose her shapely legs, one hip thrust out, her hand perched at the curve of her waist.

“Bendik. How nice to see you.”

Griffin stepped in front of her again. “A friend of yours, Miss Chase?”

“A friend? That’s a laugh.” She returned her attention to her fellow vampire. “Quit your glaring, Bendik. No one here’s going to cause any trouble, so why don’t you just wander on home?”

The leech looked Miss Chase up and down with scarcely less hostility than he’d shown Griffin. “What are you doing with a dog?”

“He’s woman’s best friend. Or hadn’t you heard?”

“Raoul…”

“Worried he might not approve? Too bad he can’t decide who I spend my time with.”

“You’ll go too far, Allegra. I look forward to the day Raoul puts you in your place.”

She yawned, stretching her body sensuously. “I’ll see you at the funeral, Bendik. Send him my best wishes.”

Bendik lingered a moment longer, looking as if he would have dearly loved to spray the alley with bullets, then retreated with an audible snarl. His henchmen jumped back into the truck, and the vehicle pulled out of the alley.

Griffin faced Allegra, his palms slick with perspiration. “That was very foolish, Miss Chase,” he said.

“Why? Did you think I was in danger?”

Anger choked him. “That…man was clearly not well disposed toward you.”

“He’s one of Raoul’s lieutenants, and Raoul isn’t happy with me these days.”

Griffin had heard the name Raoul more than once. The leech ruled the city’s vampire clan, but the authorities naturally assumed him to be human.

“Raoul is your patron,” he said.

“No!” Allie’s vehemence made it evident that she was telling the truth. “My patron…he’s nothing like Raoul.”

Griffin almost asked her to explain but stopped himself. He had no desire to become involved in vampire politics.

“A pity your patron isn’t here to caution you against your habit of imprudence,” he said.

“Ha. You don’t know anything about my habits. I—” She paused, regarding him through narrowed eyes. “Hey.You’re as white as a sheet.” She lay a hand against Griffin’s cheek. “Your heart’s beating like a jackhammer.”

Her touch wasn’t cold, as he’d expected a vampire’s would be. He moved away. “I didn’t savor the prospect of further violence, Miss Chase.”

“Don’t tell me you were scared. Bendik and his men would as soon have shot you as looked at you, but you were ready to take them on single-handedly.”

He stepped away. “Only if every other method failed.”

She shook her hair beneath the veil. Silky skeins settled about her face like black feathers. “So modest, isn’t he?” she said to Miss Moreau. “A paragon of virtue.”

Refusing to dignify Allegra’s provocation with a reply, Griffin gathered up his and Miss Moreau’s packages and asked the ladies to wait while he hunted down a policeman. Much to his surprise, Allegra and Miss Moreau were still in the alley when he returned with an officer of the law.

After the patrolman had briefly questioned Miss Moreau and taken the hoodlums into custody, Griffin flagged down a taxi and handed the ladies into the backseat. Allegra gave the cabbie an address that made Griffin raise his brows. It was one of the finest apartment buildings on Fifth Avenue, directly across from Central Park.

Miss Chase leaned out of the cab, her eyes unreadable behind the veil. “Thank you, Mr. Durant,” she said coolly, “for Lou’s sake.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Chase.” She began to close the door, but he locked his fingers around the handle, holding it open.

She lifted the veil and gazed up at him, dark brows high. “Well?”

“May I telephone you? At your convenience, of course.”

She grasped the card he offered between two slender, red-nailed fingers. “Why?”

“To inquire after Miss Moreau’s recovery.”

“Ah. Of course.” She smiled slyly. “Do you like me, Mr. Durant?”

Her blunt question left him mute. There was no sensible answer, no response that was more than witless babble. They’d only just met. They were of different breeds, races that had been enemies far more often than not. All the prejudices of his species should make Griffin regard her with suspicion and loathing.

But Allegra Chase had a subtle charisma that was something more than the glamour others of her kind possessed…something complex and passionate beneath the brash, seemingly careless exterior. She was fiercely protective of her employee, a quality that must be rare among creatures who viewed humans as servile inferiors. She was brave…and dangerously reckless.

The fact that she belonged—quite literally—to another man had oddly little impact on Griffin’s heart. He hadn’t felt such an instinctive attraction to any woman in nine long years. It was utterly mad. And undeniable.

“It isn’t real, you know,” Allegra said softly. “It’s just what we do.” Abruptly her features changed, taunting him with an air of casual indifference. “It’s a good thing for you that I have obligations that can’t be broken. You don’t want to know me, Griffin Durant.” She let his card fall into the gutter. “You must have a nice, quiet life. Don’t let anyone complicate it for you.”

He backed away from the cab, his throat tight under the knot of his tie. “I should certainly not wish to interfere with yours.”

“You already have. I hope you’re far away next time I want to have a little fun.”

She closed the cab door, and he caught only a brief glimpse of her face before the automobile drove away.

Deeply shaken by the fight and what had come after, Griffin walked aimlessly until well past sunset. Only then did he remember that Gemma would be wondering where he was. He stared at the slightly dented box in his hands and thought of the sweet, pristine dress inside it.

Gemma would never know a woman like Allegra Chase. And that was just the way Griffin wanted it. Miss Chase had done him a tremendous favor by reminding him just how untouchable she truly was.

Chapter Two

THE CEREMONY wasn’t anything a human would have recognized as a funeral. There were no clergymen, no pallbearers, no weeping relations. There would be no eulogies, no flowers thrown on the grave. The members of the clan stood in silent rows, sinister in their stillness, and draped in dark clothing that made them indistinguishable from the night sky and the black silhouettes of oak and chestnut trees.

Allie wore red. Cato would have appreciated her choice. She stood apart from the others, as befitted the one who’d been closest to the old scientist; she would scatter the ashes and speak the final words. And when it was over, not a single strigoi in the city could tell her what to do or how to do it.

She let her gaze wander away from her fellow mourners and drift to the buildings with their hundreds of windows glittering like stars. If any of the people in those buildings should wander into Central Park tonight, they would be in for a bit of a shock. Not that they would be killed; there were less drastic ways of dealing with inquisitive or thoughtless humans. Of course, Boucher didn’t have to conduct his cremation ceremonies in Central Park; he did it because it was his way of claiming his part of the city. At night, the park belonged to the clan.

A cool breeze ruffled the fringed hem of Allie’s dress. Her skin prickled, and she looked up to meet Raoul’s stare. He held the vessel out to her. She took it, careful not to touch his skin, and hugged it to her chest.

So this is all that’s left of a lifetime, Cato. How many hundreds of years, reduced to ashes.

How did you die, my friend? Raoul says it was the weakness left by the influenza that killed so many of us after the War. I don’t believe it. You would never tell me what you were working on, that secret research for Raoul. But you gave me a great gift, and I still wonder if that had anything to do with your passing…

She remembered the moment when she’d felt his death…the terrible, devastating shock that had washed through her like molten lava, a monster that ripped her heart from her chest with jagged steel claws. The blood-bond had been severed, yet the ghost of it had lingered, leaving her helpless while her world shattered and slowly reassembled itself again.

Cato is dead.

Grief made a hard knot in her chest, but she didn’t weep. She’d learned not long after her rebirth that vampires didn’t—couldn’t—cry, another one of those “anatomical changes” Cato had warned her about. But that was all right. The last thing she wanted was for Raoul to see her weak.

She nodded to the Master, reached into the vessel and gathered a handful of ashes. They felt dry and cool in her palm. She withdrew her hand, spread her fingers and scattered the ashes on the breeze, letting them fall where they might. No one made a sound. The others were here because Raoul demanded it, not because they cared that Cato was gone. They didn’t like being reminded that even strigoi could die.

Allie emptied the vessel quickly and let it fall. She faced the clan members with a raw-edged smile.

“Catowasmy patron,” she said. “But hewas also my friend. I know that doesn’t mean much to most of you. The funny thing about Cato was that he hadn’t forgotten that there are a fewgood parts about being human.”

Someone hissed, a sound of derision and contempt. Raoul’s head snapped around, seeking the source of the comment. The ensuing silence was deafening.

Allie laughed. “I always did enjoy a good argument.” She grabbed her wrap from the tree branch where she’d hung it and threw it over her shoulders. “Rest in peace, Cato Petrovic.”

She’d walked halfway to Fifth Avenue when a man stepped out from among the trees along the path and gestured to her frantically. She paused as she recognized his face, pursed her lips and went to join him.

“Elisha Hatch,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

The human looked right and left, his nervousness palpable. “I watched,” he said. “Cato was my friend, too.”

Friend? Perhaps, Allie reflected. But Elisha had primarily been Cato’s laboratory assistant, the one human her mentor had trusted to help him in his mysterious work. He remindedAllie too much of a mouse…or more likely a rat, with his beady eyes and furtive movements. Not every human could live comfortably among vampires.

“What is it?” she asked, eager to be gone.

He rubbed his arms repeatedly, though the night was warm. The tattoos on the back of his right hand jumped and quivered. “Did Cato…did he give you anything before he died?”

The question caught her unawares. “What do you mean?”

“There was something…something he was supposed to leave to me if anything happened to him. It’s missing. I thought you might have it.”

Allie narrowed her eyes. “If something happened to him?”

Elisha risked a glance at her face. “The old weakness, you know.”

Just as Raoul had claimed, but Allie was far from satisfied. “Was he in some kind of danger?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

“And what was he supposed to give you?”

Once again Elisha looked carefully about them. “Papers,” he said. “Notes from his research. He didn’t want them to be misplaced if he…if he couldn’t work on them anymore. He knew I was the only one who could understand them.”

Allie weighed his answer. It seemed reasonable enough. “Why do you think he would have given them to me?”

Elisha shifted from foot to foot. “Maybe he thought they’d be safe with you.”

“Safe from what?”

But Elisha had scarcely begun a hesitant reply when he saw something that shut him up fast. He melted back into the trees, leaving Allie to wait alone for Raoul.

The Master glanced toward the trees as Allie returned to the path. “Talking to someone?” he asked.

“I thought I saw an intruder hanging around.”

“And did you?”

“I must have imagined it.”

Raoul regarded her with a half smile. “Your imagination is as troublesome as your impertinence, Allegra.”

“Impertinence? Is that what they call it?” She began to walk, and Raoul fell into step beside her, his shoes soundless on the path.

“Impertinence,” he said. “Rashness. Foolhardy defiance.”

Allie yawned behind her hand. “Glad I made an impression.”

“Oh, you most certainly did.” He moved almost imperceptibly, and suddenly he was in front of her, walking backward with casual ease. “I had hoped you would stay for a little chat.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, Raoul. Not anything we haven’t discussed before.”

Raoul’s handsome, ageless face altered before Allie’s eyes, becoming more animal than human. “I’m not satisfied with the outcome of our discussion.”

“I guess even the great Master will have to get used to the occasional disappointment.”

With a flash of white teeth, Raoul came to a stop. Allie caught herself in midstride. They stood face-toface, inches apart, gazes locked.

“I think not,” Raoul said. “I’ve ruled the clan for thirty years. I have no intention of allowing a rogue protégée to foster anarchy and disrupt the organization I’ve built here.”

“I’m not a protégée any longer, Raoul.”

He leaned closer, bathing her face with his breath. “You will submit. There is no other way for you.”

“I know the law as well as you. No one, not even the Master, can compel me to accept a new patron once I’m free.”

“Free to spend your nights among humans.”

“With anyone who doesn’t think that the last good hooch was distilled during the Roman Empire.”

“Does that include dogs?”

She remembered Bendik and his threats. “So what if it does?”

For a moment his eyes glinted red, and his body seemed to lift off the ground. Then he relaxed, the muscles under his perfectly fitted suit smoothing out with supple grace.

“You’re afraid, Allie,” he said. “There is no need for fear. If you give yourself to me, I will care for you. You’ll want for nothing. You will belong.”

Allie gazed into his eyes, feeling his power like hot, fresh blood flowing over her tongue. It would be so easy to agree. One bite, and she would be bound to Raoul as she had been to Cato…his offspring, his student, his property. She would be part of the strigoi hierarchy in which every member knew his or her place, virtually incapable of challenging the Master’s control. No need to make decisions or worry about spending the long centuries alone. No need for anything but obedience…

She shook her head, casting off Raoul’s subtle influence. “Nice try,” she said. “But I’m not likely to want for anything with the money Cato left me. And by clan law you can’t touch it, as long as I pay the settlement.”

“You think that’s enough?” He grabbed her arm and tightened his grip until she felt her pulse pound beneath her skin. “You’ll never leave this city or rise from your lowly rank.You won’t ever be permitted to create your own protégés, Allegra…not if you live a thousand years.”

Allie pulled his hand away. “You think that’s the ultimate ambition of everyone like us? To make more? It may be the only way to gain status in the clan, but I don’t care. Get it? I don’t care.”

She pushed past him and continued toward Fifth Avenue, bracing herself for another assault. But Raoul didn’t follow. That didn’t mean he’d given up, not by a long shot. She would have to keep fending him off until he got the message, even if it took the rest of the century to do it. Of course, there was always the possibility that he would resort to illegal force, but that was a chance she was willing to take.

And how far are you willing to go, Allie? She slowed her angry stride, her thoughts returning to the strange encounter earlier that evening. Funny that she was still thinking of Griffin Durant. She should have been able to put him out of her mind easily enough; she’d spoken no less than the truth when she’d told him that he wouldn’t want to know her. She’d done the right thing by implying that she was still blood-bound. One look at Griffin Durant and anyone would realize he was the old-fashioned type, still clinging to his Victorian morals, chivalrous to the core.

The problem was that she’d taken more than one look, and he had somehow become imprinted on her mind. There was no doubt he was handsome, and not in the pretty-boy way of so many among the pampered rich set. His slightly wavy dark brown hair tumbled over his forehead as if he hadn’t the patience to slick it down into the usual style. He had a small scar on his chin. His wolf-yellow eyes had been haunted with some past suffering.

He was the right age to have served in theWar, and that would explain a great deal. Allie couldn’t imagine that many werewolves had volunteered to fight. Certainly no vampire would have done so. But Griffin Durant wasn’t a member of the pack, and that in itself was highly unusual. The pack could be every bit as jealous as the clan. The fact that he’d kept his independence hinted at a powerful will and considerable courage.

Allie frowned as she stepped into the street and crossed to her building. Griffin Durant was a bit of a paradox. But then, so was she. Someone who didn’t know better might have thought they were much alike, but they were worlds apart.

You wanted to protect me from myself, Mr. Durant, she thought. You said I was too young, as if I couldn’t know my own mind. But you’re the one who’s naive. No one can save anyone else. All of us, breeder and dog and leech…we all go through this life alone.

With an impatient toss of her head, Allie dismissed Durant from her thoughts. She smiled at the night doorman and took the stairs all the way up to the eighth floor, relishing the exercise after the unpleasantness with Raoul. Almost the moment she touched the doorknob to her flat, the door swung open.

“Lou!” Allie said, shocked by the look on the other woman’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Lou retreated, letting Allie into the flat. “Something has happened, Allie…someone has—”

“Sit down, for God’s sake.” Allie grabbed Lou’s arm and led her to the nearest chair. “I should never have left you alone. Let me get you a drink, and then you can tell me what—”

“I’m all right.” Lou took a deep breath and clasped Allie’s hand. “Someone has been in the apartment. I lay down as you suggested, and I must have fallen asleep.”

She made a mute gesture at the room, and Allie looked. At first glance there didn’t seem to be anything wrong, but then she noticed the chair sitting off kilter, the pictures hanging crooked on the walls, the knickknacks scattered across the floor. A glass vase lay shattered beside the sofa.

“I didn’t move anything, in case you wanted to call the police,” Lou said. “I didn’t know where to find you, or I’d—”

“I know. You did the right thing, Lou.” Allie pounded her fist on her thigh. “For you to suffer two attacks in one day…”

“They weren’t after me. It’s obvious that the intruder was looking for something, something he wanted very badly.” Lou rose and took a few agitated steps toward the hall. “I think I woke up when the vase broke. I must have interrupted the thief, because he had barely started in your bedroom.”

Allie clenched her teeth. “How did he get out?”

“Your bedroom window was open. He must have climbed up somehow.”

“What did he take?”

“Only a few pieces of jewelry, as far as I can tell.” Lou turned in a slow circle, her arms folded tightly across her chest as if she were fighting the urge to clean, scour and polish until every trace of the trespasser was consigned to the dustbin. “I’m so sorry. If only I’d woke up sooner…”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Allie put her arm around Lou’s shoulders and steered her into the kitchen. “I’m glad you didn’t, or the bastard might have hurt you.”

She pushed Lou into a seat at the small dining table and searched the cupboards for the tea Lou preferred to anything stronger. Once she’d prepared a steaming cup and left Lou to enjoy it in peace and quiet, she made a thorough examination of the flat from door to bathroom.

Lou had been right; it didn’t seem that much had been taken. Allie’s jewelry box had been upended and the contents scattered over her dressing table. The closet door stood open, boxes strewn and spilling mothballed clothing and last year’s hats across the carpet.

Allie opened her window and looked out. There was just enough of a ledge for a very skilled acrobat to make his way to the fire escape.

A very skilled acrobat.

Allie sat on the edge of the mattress, working her fingers into the quilted satin bedspread. After her conversation with Elisha, she couldn’t help but suspect that the “papers” he was looking for might be of interest to Raoul, as well. Elisha had said Cato had willed these mysterious papers to him purely because he was the only one who could understand them. But in the park he’d been scared to death that someone would see him. What exactly had those notes contained?

And who had been in Allie’s apartment?

Was it you, Raoul? Do you want something else from me besides my submission?

If Raoul was behind this invasion, he’d obviously had reason to make it appear as if a common thief were responsible. Whatever it was he hoped to discover, she intended to find it first.

If you’re spoiling for a fight, Raoul Boucher, she thought, you’ll get it.

Because Griffin Durant was wrong. If it came down to choosing a soul or survival, she would pick survival every time.

“I CAN’T GO BACK.”

The Master heard Elisha Hatch’s puerile excuses with a calm that the human had every reason to mistrust. Hatch cringed, his defiance a matter of one fear pitted against another. The Master could spare him no sympathy.

“I must have them,” he said coldly, holding Hatch still with the power of his gaze.

The human swallowed. “I tried. I asked her. She wasn’t lying…she really doesn’t know.”

“Why should I trust your judgment?”

“I’ve known her ever since she was Converted. She’s never been like the rest.”

“Skilled at prevarication, you mean?”

The human blanched. “I don’t intend any offense.”

“Naturally not.” The Master leaned back in his chair. “Even if she knows nothing of the papers, they may still be in her possession. You must finish searching her apartment.”

“I think I was seen. They’re looking for me already. If I go back now, they’ll find me and question me, and then I won’t be of any further use to you.”

A certain slyness had entered the human’s voice, a pathetic attempt at negotiation he had no hope of carrying off. “Let me wait a couple of weeks,” he said, “so they think I’m really gone. He’ll have enough to worry about soon enough, and then I can slip in with no one the wiser.”

The Master traced his finger over his lower lip. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “But if he gets the papers first, I will hold you entirely responsible.”

Hatch literally shook in his shoes. “I…understand.”

Of course he did. All the Master’s human employees were well aware of the penalty for failure. They were tools to be used and discarded, their petty dreams of wealth and power destined to end along with their short and miserable lives.

“Leave me,” the Master told Hatch. “Stay out of my sight until you’re prepared to complete your task, or I may lose my patience.”

Hatch bowed. “I understand, My Liege.” He scrambled from the room. After a moment the Master rose and went to visit the laboratory, reminding himself that what he sought was almost within his grasp.

Patience, he thought. You have waited thirty years. You can wait another few weeks.

A few weeks, a taste of ambrosia, and the new age of glory would truly begin.

“I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND what’s happened to her, Grif,” Malcolm Owen said, dropping his head into his hands with a sigh. “It’s been three months since I’ve spoken to her. Three months! I don’t care what De Luca says…she wouldn’t just give me the brush-off like that.”