“Screw you.”

“Screw. Interesting word. Painful word.”

Weismann shrieked, his body convulsing, his spine trying to curve.

“Talk to Jane,” Caleb said. “Don’t be impolite. She asked you a question.”

“Son of a bitch.” Tears were running down Weismann’s cheeks. “What’s happening?”

“Caleb,” Jane said sharply.

“Too late.” Caleb said. “A little hemorrhage…”

Blood was pouring from Weismann’s nose.

“Convulsion.”

Weismann howled and bent double in agony.

“Dammit, Caleb,” Jane said.

“He can stop it. All he has to do is talk to you.”

And Caleb wouldn’t stop. He was enjoying it too much.

“Do it, Weismann,” Jane said curtly. “For God’s sake, answer.”

Weismann was scrambling, desperately trying to scoot backward. “Get him away from me.” He gazed frantically at Jock. “Gavin, do something.”

“Why? I’m finding this very interesting. I’d guess you’re the only who can end it.”

“Cramps,” Caleb said.

Weismann flinched back, his legs twitching. “Monster,” he gasped. “You’re-a-monster.”

“Yes, tell her what she wants to know.”

More pain.

Weismann howled.

“Why did they target her, Weismann?”

“Damn you.” He could barely talk because of the blood running down into his mouth. “Stop it. How can I talk when you keep-”

“Two minutes. Then it starts again if you don’t tell her everything that she needs to know. Why?”

He was silent. “It’s that painting of the man. The one she called Guilt.”

“That painting?” Jane repeated. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Weismann is going to make sense out of it for you,” Caleb said. “Go on, Weismann.”

“I don’t know everything,” Weismann said sulkily. “Millet doesn’t trust me as far as he could throw me. But I managed to slip around and listen to him rant to some of the others after I saw how angry he was when he received that clipping.”

“You thought it would prove valuable,” Gavin said.

Weismann ignored him. “It wasn’t the painting as much as the title that bothered Millet and the others. He said by naming it Guilt, you’d committed blasphemy.”

Blasphemy. That word again. “How could I do that when that painting was born purely from imagination?” Jane asked, in frustration.

Weismann shook his head. “That’s not what Millet said. He said you must have seen it in the temple. He said that even if you weren’t a blasphemer, they’d have to stop you before you could tell anyone about the temple.”

“What temple?”

“I don’t know.” He groaned, twisted in a ball. “Stop him. Stop-Caleb. I don’t know.”

Jane whirled on Caleb.

He shrugged. “Just a little nudge.” His gaze shifted to Weismann. “The name of the man who sent Millet the photo?”

He didn’t answer.

Then he screamed. “Alan-Roland.”

“Ah, the man pulling strings behind the scenes,” Gavin said. “What do you know about Hadar’s Tablet?”

“I know that bitch Adah had it. I know Millet wanted it.”

“But what is it?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe some artifact Millet thought was valuable. He grew up in Syria and did a little smuggling before he formed the Sang Noir.” He looked in panic at Caleb. “That’s the truth. I swear that’s the truth. Millet sent me to Adah and told me to pretend that I was a wealthy businessman and try to find out where she was keeping it. No problem. I’m good with women. She was easy. It was in the safe-deposit box, right?”

“Yes,” Jane said. “But I can’t believe she didn’t realize what scum you were.”

“I had her. The bitch was going to take me to get the tablet, and she thought we were going to go away together.”

“And you were going to give the tablet to Millet.”

“Maybe. I hadn’t decided.”

“Are you through with him?” Caleb asked.

“Don’t be impatient,” Gavin said. “I can understand your dislike for him, but I don’t believe Jane is going to let you have your way.”

“You don’t understand anything about me,” Caleb said curtly. “Neither does she. It’s my nature to be impatient. He’s no use to us.”

“Back off. I can’t let you murder him in cold blood,” Jane said.

“Not cold blood, hot blood,” Caleb said. “That’s the problem.”

“He’s a freak.” Weismann moistened his lips. “Don’t let him near me.”

“We’ll do our best. Alan Roland,” Jock said. “What do you know about him?”

“Not much. I overheard Millet talking to him on the phone a couple times. I got the impression they’ve known each other for a long time. I think he lives in London.”

“More,” Jane said.

“There isn’t any more. Just something about an Offering.” He shrugged. “They don’t like each other. But I think Roland had something on him.”

“And Jane was part of the deal?” Gavin asked.

Weismann nodded. “Roland threw her to Millet as a kind of appetizer, but she wasn’t the main course.”

“How humiliating,” Jane said ironically. “My life isn’t even that important in the scheme of things. Well, it’s important to me, dammit.”

“It’s important to me, too,” Caleb said roughly. “Or I wouldn’t have brought this bastard here gift-wrapped. But he’s told you all he can.”

“How do you know?” Gavin asked.

“I don’t. The only way to make sure is to go inside and take a look. But if I did that, I couldn’t promise you that he’d come out of it intact. He’d probably be a vegetable. I don’t have much control right now. Any resistance, and I’d burn him away.” He glanced at Jane. “But I don’t mind, if you don’t.”

The words are cool but they are the only thing cool about him, Jane thought. Kneeling there in the moonlight, she could almost feel the heat emitting from him. No, not heat, fire. His muscular body was taut, his eyes dark and glittering, and she somehow felt as if she could see him surrounded, enveloped, in flames. She couldn’t look away from him. She felt as if he were drawing her close, closer, into the fire that he was generating. She was dizzy with it. She wanted it.

“He’s just scum,” Caleb said softly, coaxingly. “He was going to kill all of us. Let me go inside. Just say yes.”

She could feel herself sway, yield. After all, he was right.

No, he was wrong. She finally managed to tear her gaze away from him. “I believe he’s told us everything he knows.” She turned to Jock. “Will you call Venable and have him send someone to pick Weismann up?”

Jock nodded. “And I’ll take him to the toolshed and find some rope to tie him up.” His lips lifted in a half smile as he glanced at Caleb. “You lose.”

Caleb didn’t look away from Jane. “I didn’t expect to win. She’s very strong. But I had to try.” He got to his feet in one graceful motion and turned toward the door. “Be careful with him.”

“You’re worried about me? I can handle him.”

“No, I meant don’t let him get loose. It isn’t over.”

What isn’t over? Jane wondered. His bloodlust, which was nearly visible in intensity? His attempt to persuade her that had been almost a seduction of the senses? She shook her head to clear it. “Lina. I need to get back and see if anything she’s translated has any connection with what Weismann told us.”

“We can make a deal,” Weismann said jerkily. “I’ll go back to Millet and find out whatever you need to know.”

“No deal.”

His lips curled. “Venable won’t be so reluctant. Go ahead. Turn me over to him. I’ll win anyway.”

“I don’t think so.” Caleb opened the door for Jane and stepped aside to let her precede him into the cottage. “You were very stupid with Adah Ziller. I can’t see you coming out of this in one piece.”

He closed the door behind them. “You’re sure that you don’t want me to take care of him now?” he asked Jane wistfully. “It would be no trouble.”

“I’m quite sure.” She looked away from him. She was still too aware of that disturbing aura of electricity that seemed to surround him. “He may be a murderer, but I don’t have to be one.”

“Very commendable. In the abstract. But there’s a streak of savagery in you, too. Would you feel the same if he had killed your Eve?”