"Jack often commented in the past on how good Rhoan was, and how good he expected you to be, Riley, when you finally gave in and joined the ranks. So I think it only fair that we have a little test to see who truly is the best guardian. And the test is, of course, stopping the madman behind the recent killings."

"I feel inclined to point out that, a, you're no longer a guardian, and, b, you said earlier you know the man behind the killings. That gives a rather good head start, doesn't it?"

He gave me a grin that was all teeth. "I never said the game would be easy for you."

And he had every intention of making it even harder, if the gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. Not that that was so surprising. "So, we play this little game of yours and both hunt The Cleaver. What does the winner get—besides the termination of said killer?"

"Well, you both get the satisfaction of knowing you beat me."

"Lucky us."

He nodded. "And of course, I would leave the state."

And I'd grow wings and fly. "And if you win?"

"Then we begin another game. Me hunting you and all you hold dear, while you try to survive."

Which is precisely what he'd promised to do four months ago. "I can't speak for Rhoan, but if you leave right now, I accept the challenge."

It was worth it, just for the chance to save the kid.

"Leave now, and I agree," Rhoan said, voice little more than a venomous hiss of air.

Gautier smiled. "I thought you'd see it my way. I'll see you on the battlefield." He gave us a salute with the laser.

Then he shot the board out from under the kid.

"No!" The denial was wrenched from me as I sidestepped the falling halves of the plank.

Gautier's laugh echoed even as the shadows swept him from sight.

I looked up for the first time, saw the tiny body dangling almost directly above me. Saw her bare and filthy feet, toes that were so tiny, so fragile. Not a teenager as I'd for some reason presumed, but barely older than a tot.

Bastard. Fucking evil bastard…

"Rhoan—can you shoot the ropes from where you are?"

"Yes. Get ready to catch."

I shoved the laser into my pocket and positioned myself under the little girl. "Ready."

A bluish beam bit through the half-darkness, cutting through the rope and blowing out the window above and behind me. Glass exploded, raining down in deadly shards. I caught the girl with a grunt, her limp little arm whacking me in the nose as I hunched over her and tried to protect her from the rain of glass.

Razor-sharp shards thudded into my back, but the leather coat protected me from the worst of it. I waited until the last of the glass had fallen, then carefully placed the little girl on the ground.

She was still alive—her pulse fluttered underneath my fingertips. But God, she was so little, so fragile… so cold.

There was a soft thump, then footsteps. I looked up, but could barely see Rhoan striding toward me through my tears.

"I'll take care of her," I said. "You go after Gautier."

"Keep aware." Rhoan's voice held all the fury I was desperately trying to contain. "He might have made other vamps. They might be hidden around somewhere."

If they were, I couldn't sense them. But I nodded, and as Rhoan ran off, I looked down at the little girl again and noted the bluish tint to her lips. The cause could have been asphyxia, or it could have been blood loss, but in all likelihood, it was a combination of both. Especially given the fang marks on her neck. If she was to have any hope of survival, I had to get help here fast. I stripped off my coat and sweater and wrapped them around the little girl's body and legs. It wasn't much, but at least they were warmer than the thin nightie she had on. Then I got out my cell phone and called in a mica-unit. The mica's were an ambulance designed to cater for medical emergencies on a street level. It was the little girl's biggest chance. Maybe her only chance.

Five minutes, they said.

I hoped the little girl had five minutes.

I gently brushed tangled tendrils of brown hair from her face, the chill in her cheeks so very evident against my warmer fingertips. Christ, why hadn't the Directorate received any reports about a missing kid? It was routine for the cops to pass on reports of kidnappings and disappearances, as rogue vamps often found easy victims in the young and the frail. A good majority of the reports weren't vamp related, of course, but the Directorate always had them double-checked, just for the one or two percent that were.

But maybe this snatch had been very recent. Maybe her poor parents weren't even aware that their little girl was missing.

God, what a hell of a way to greet the morning—an officer on your doorstep telling you your baby had been kidnapped and murdered.

I bit my lip again, fighting the fresh spurts of anger and tears. And I knew, deep down, that they stemmed not only from the horror of the situation, but the fact that I couldn't have children. Would never feel life grow within my belly. My vampire genes had overrun my wolf ones in that area and left me a mule—not just barren but with a womb that would not support a life. Of course, there was still hope of motherhood via a surrogate, as some of the eggs I'd had frozen had been tested and were apparently still viable. But that choice was one I'd hoped to avoid.

Of course, the rest of my body was still a battleground, and no one could tell me how my vampire genes might yet affect my future I might become more vampire, like Rhoan, or I might not And then there was an added element of uncertainty—the cell-changing ARC1-23 drug now running through my bloodstream.

"Gautier's long gone." Rhoan's voice rose out of the darkness, the suddenness of it making me jump I'd been too busy trying to help the little girl, and that was a mistake that could have gotten us both killed if Gautier had doubled back.

Rhoan stopped close by, then stripped off his jacket and handed it to me I wrapped it around the girl's body Her skin felt no warmer, even with the coats and sweater I'd already wrapped around her Maybe she'd lost too much blood.

"Why would he do this?" Rhoan asked softly. "It makes no sense I swiped at a tear trickling down my cheek and looked up at him "Gautier's i psycho, and psychos don't need a good reason to do things."

"Gautier's not your average psycho, and he doesn't do anything without a good reason."

"Enjoyment of the kill is the only reason he's ever needed."

"And yet he didn't kill this little girl She wasn't his escape route—Gautier's confident enough in his own abilities to believe he could escape us without problems " He nodded down at the girl "He let us save her when it is more in his nature to offer us hope then snatch it away Something else is going on here."

I frowned "It's also in his nature to want to prove himself better than everyone else. Why can't it be that? Why does it have to be anything more?"

"Because Gautier is a killer. It makes no sense for him to draw us here, offer us this 'game,' then let us save the little girl."

Who we hadn't actually saved yet. I shifted a little and glanced at my watch. Two more minutes before the mica-unit got here. God, I hoped they hurried. The air was getting colder and death seemed to be stirring out there in the darkness. Death that was real and forever, not death that walked in vampire form.

"Then what do you think he's up to, if you don't believe his game is real?"

"Oh, I think the game is real, as far as it goes. But I also think it's a diversion."

"He said he knows the real killer."

"Which might, or might not, be a lie."

"It didn't sound like a lie."