"It's all right, Eleisha," Rose said again. "I would never hurt your friend, but I need to show you something, and he cannot see it. We need to go out tonight… by ourselves."

As these words landed smoothly on Eleisha's ears, she believed them. Of course Rose was right. Rose was wise, and she would never hurt Wade. She just had to share something with Eleisha.

Philip took a taxi to Fisherman's Wharf.

Reliving Rose's memories last night had been too much for him. Through her, he'd experienced real hunting again-a true feeding. But instead of satisfying him, the sensation only made him feel like he wanted to claw out of his own skin.

When he woke up tonight, only a few seconds ahead of Eleisha, he knew he had to leave the apartment by himself. It troubled him to leave her and Wade by themselves, but nothing would have stopped him from heading for the door.

Nothing.

"Pull over here," he told the cabbie when they reached Beach Street. He paid his fare and got out.

The lights and music of Pier 39 filled his senses, and he rejoiced in the sight of the busy crowds. Walking down the pier, he passed an endless variety of shops: souvenirs, chocolates, seashells, wine, T-shirts, novelty stockings… all bursting with tourists.

Then he reached a large, two-story carousel in the center. Colorful horses moved up and down to canned music, ridden by children gripping caramel apples.

Eleisha would like this.

He pushed the unbidden thought away. He did not want to think about her.

Hearing the sound of feminine laughter, he turned his head quickly. Three young women were standing outside a souvenir shop, carrying bags and talking in low voices, occasionally laughing more loudly.

Suddenly, Philip realized coming to Pier 39 presented a problem he had not considered: people rarely came here alone.

In the past, this had never hindered him, as he would simply kill anyone he needed to. But tonight he wished to do this quietly, which was why he'd come down to the waterfront.

He studied the group of laughing women: a tall one with a blond bob haircut, a chubby one-not far out of her teens-and a slender, dark-haired one wearing a T-shirt from the North Beach Museum.

He zeroed in on the last one.

The crowds continued to pass around, hiding him in the flowing mass.

How could get her alone? He could easily approach the trio and use his gift to draw her off, but if she disappeared, the other two could provide a detailed description of him.

He did not fear police, but any trouble at all would let Eleisha know what he'd done.

So he tried something new.

The dark-haired woman was not carrying a purse-and the other two were. Perhaps she did not bother with such things?

But he reached out with his thoughts, slipping them inside her mind. In her recent memories, he saw they had eaten in a cafй farther down the pier, and she had been carrying a mesh bag. She did not seem aware of his mental invasion.

Your bag. You left it in the cafй, he suggested, moving a little closer.

"Oh, damn it," she said suddenly, looking down. "I left my bag. I'll be right back."

She trotted off, leaving her friends to wait.

He followed her.

He had no idea where she'd left the bag, but it didn't matter. As she passed a fudge shop, he came up behind her.

"Excuse me."

He let his gift begin to flow.

She froze and then turned around.

"I have heard there are sea lions nearby," he said. "Can you show me?"

Her eyes moved up to his face, and she did not speak for several seconds. Then she said, "Sea lions? Oh, yeah, I saw them earlier, that way." She pointed to the right.

"Are they far?" he asked, letting his accent grow thicker, letting more of his gift seep out.

Eyes fixated on him, she breathed in and shook her head slowly. "No, just over there."

"Show me."

She seemed to forget about her lost bag and her friends. Turning right, she led him down a passage between two buildings, through a set of doors, and out onto a long, fenced dock. Away from the carousel's music, he could hear water lapping against the shore.

As they left the crowds of the busy section of the pier, he rejoiced at the numerous shadowed nooks and crannies on the backsides of all the shops.

The young woman was leading him farther into the darkness toward the edge of the pier.

He heard sea lions barking, and he saw lights all the way from Beach Street glinting off the water ahead. Then he spotted a flight of stairs that formed a landing at the top of the first level.

"Here," he said, moving to stand under the stairs, beneath the landing. Without a word, she followed him. Several people passed by, but no one looked inside the dark hollow.

She was breathing quickly now. He pressed her up against the wall and kissed her, reveling in the warmth of her mouth and the pounding of blood just below her skin. He grew excited but fought to control himself.

It was a pity he couldn't let her scream.

He vowed that next time, he'd find someplace more private, someplace where he could take more time.

Moving one hand up, he took his mouth off hers, whispering soft words in her ear. She was gripping his waist, trying to pull him closer.

Then he covered her mouth with his hand, tilted her head back, drove his teeth into her throat, and turned off his gift.

He needed to feel her fear.

She bucked in panic and tried to scream, but he had her mouth completely covered and he was gulping in mouthfuls of her blood. Waves of her terror passed through him like a sweet memory he'd almost forgotten.

Visions of her life flowed past in his mind as he consumed her-consumed everything about her, as he should. He saw a grandmother with gray curls, a cat named Boomer, a green ten-speed bicycle, the trees of a college campus, a handsome political science professor named Dr. McFarland…

Her heart stopped.

He pulled his teeth out and just held her body against the wall, letting the life force soak in. He felt like himself again, whole and strong and satisfied.

This sector of the pier was nearly deserted, with no shops or attractions. He held her up easily with one arm, and he looked out. He could hear voices down by the sea lions, but he saw no one near. He walked over to the edge, and he quietly slipped the woman's body into the water.

She disappeared beneath dark waves.

Philip closed his eyes for a moment, and he saw Eleisha's calm face looking back at him. He remembered the feel of her soft hair tangled around him when he'd woken up tonight.

He knew that he should feel remorse for his actions, for keeping this secret from her.

But he didn't.

Julian retrieved his baggage and then walked out of the San Francisco International Airport through a set of glass doors and into the cool night air. He was carefully groomed with his hair combed back, and he was wearing slacks, an Italian belt, a white shirt from Savile Row, and a black wool coat that reached his calves. He carried a light overnight bag in one hand and a long wooden box in the other.

He took a taxi to Nob Hill, to the Fairmont, where he had already reserved the Buckingham Suite.

He needed no one to help carry his luggage, so he got a key at the front desk and went straight to his room.

Opening the door, he walked across a parquet floor into a wood-paneled parlor with a fireplace. The suite was decorated in tones of dark rust and hints of yellow. Glancing across the parlor, he noticed a glass-enclosed balcony.

Fairly impressive for America.

But he didn't care.

"Mary Jordane," he called.

The air shimmered and her spiky magenta hair materialized, followed by the rest of her. She looked around.