Two days after my sixteenth birthday, he attacked a small boy-one of the groom's sons-and inflicted permanent scars. The boy admitted to having thrown a stick at the dog, but no one listened. The groom shot Thorne an hour later. I heard his gun from my room. It wasn't as though I'd lost a pet who was dear to me. He just somehow seemed more important than the boy. Why should anything so strong and fierce have to die like that? I'd put my cloak on, left William in Marion's care, found a shovel, and had Mr. Shevonshire lift the dog's dead body into an old wooden cart for me. Pushing the cart into the woods, I buried Thorne by the pond so he could hear flocks of geese coming home in the spring. I shed tears for him. His loss affected me in a way I can't explain. He was not a loss to me personally, simply a needless loss. He'd been magnificent in life, more worthwhile than most people could claim to be.

And why would Thorne push to the front of my brain after so many years? Perhaps I was lying next to his kindred spirit. This Philip. This purist who saw no contrasting shades in the world.

He stirred beside me and pushed up at the boards. "Eleisha, are you awake?"

"Yes."

"Come."

After climbing back up into the barn, we walked outside, night air breezing across cool skin, making me feel alive. Half expecting Philip to start looking for a car, I was surprised when he sat down on the grass.

"Sit," he said. "Answer questions."

I stayed on my feet. "You need a new shirt."

"That doesn't matter. Tell me things."

"What things?"

"You were afraid of being caught by mortals last night, no? Not a game. Not your gift."

His face and hair glowed like a candle in the dark, emanating his gift, but I didn't care.

"Why did Maggie leave you?" I asked.

That caught him off guard, and he stood back up. "She… we were different before. I can't remember how, but we were different. She cried for lost walks through vineyards in the morning, the sun on my face at dusk, the warmth of our hands. None of that mattered to me. Useless, human trappings of a world long past. There is nothing but hunting."

"Did you miss her?"

His jaw twitched. "I thought she had gone to Wales at first, so I searched for Julian. But she wasn't with him. He said that my chasing after an undead whore was insane. He said I must have been mad for turning her in the first place."

"You had a better reason for making her than he had for making me."

Walking over, I stood beside him, my head barely reaching his chest. He gazed down at me uncertainly. "Your voice is soft tonight. You don't hate me anymore."

His amber eyes searched my face when I didn't answer.

"You spat angry words at me," he said. "You called me ‘sick.»

We all have hang-ups. Philip seemed overly concerned about what others thought of him. An unexpected weakness. But that could work to my advantage, give me a little control, keep him from killing unless we found safe conditions to hide bodies.

"You just surprised me," I said. "You're so careless."

"And you've been keeping William safe forever."

"Forever."

That may have been the heart of my fear, of my shock at Philip's inhumanity. The prospect of a future without William meant either death at the hands of Julian or existence in isolation. Which would be worse? Philip presented a third option. But did I want his company? Did the seeds of friendship-or more likely respect-keep me here, or merely reluctance to be alone?

"We could leave the country," I whispered. "Go to Sweden or maybe Finland."

My words struck a chord, and his eyes widened. "Would you do that? Leave with me?" Then he smiled. "Julian will think us insane."

"Probably. We could get on a plane tonight. Be far away before morning."

"Tonight?" He frowned. "No, tonight we go to Maggie's."

"Maggie's?" I stepped back. "We can't go there. Dominick's been watching the house, waiting for me."

"You should have killed him nights ago, ripped his throat and watched him bleed. Maggie cared for you, little coward."

William never spoke to me except in garbled sentences about chess games and rabbits. Philip's use of «coward» sliced like a thin blade. Thinking myself above it all, above him, above pain, the shame made me choke.

Only because he was right.

"He knows what we are," I said. "How to really end us, not like a peasant with stakes. He used a shovel to cut off William's head."

"You and Maggie shared a weakness, having grown too dependent on your gifts. Not lions anymore, but snakes, waiting only for the right time to strike. William was no challenge, old and weak. I am still a lion, and I am not weak."

His words weren't a hollow boast to impress me. Philip wielded the truth like a weapon. But he barely mentioned Maggie's name after leaving the hotel last night. I thought his mourning must either be internal or past. Now he wanted revenge. What good would it do? We couldn't get Maggie back.

"Can't we just go, Philip? Just run? There's nothing left here. Killing Dominick won't change anything."

"Are you coming, or do I go alone?"

The thought of staying here by myself, wondering, waiting, frightened me more than Dominick did. "I'm coming. But promise you won't play with him. He's dangerous. Promise we'll just do it and go."

"Whatever you want." He seemed pleased, like a little boy with a new puppy. He glanced around the old junkyard. "These cars don't work. We have to find others."

"Couldn't we just call a cab?"

A little over an hour later, we pulled up to Maggie's in a 79 Chevy pickup with Styx's "Pieces of Eight" flooding from the speakers-Philip had actually wanted to put in Boston. I was going to have a serious talk with him about music when we had time.

"Didn't you ever watch MTV?"

"What's that?"

"Forget it."

Somebody else must be buying his clothes.

The house looked dark.

Stepping from the car, I cast around with my mind for Wade. He wasn't here. That would be just like him, though, to come back here instead of running for Portland.

Philip walked out the front gate and came back a moment later. "There's a dark-haired man two blocks down the street in a silver Mustang."

"That's him." Fear crawled up the back of my neck.

"Good, then he saw us drive up. Do you have a key?"

"A key?" I tried to smile, but my teeth kept clicking. "Mr. Break-and-Enter wants a key?"

"If I know Maggie, this place will be locked like a fortress."

"Dominick broke in the night he killed William."

"Then somebody got careless-left a window open maybe."

Did we? I didn't think so. But that would be too much to bear. Guilt from William's death weighed heavily enough.

I had a set of keys, but getting past the multiple locks on the front door still took a few minutes. Philip had been right about that. There was also a dead bolt that someone would normally have to slide back from the inside, but Wade and I left in a hurry the night before last, out the back.

"Okay, we're in," I said.

"Leave the door cracked. I want him to waltz right inside."

"He isn't that careless."

"We'll see."

"Do you want another shirt? That one's all stiff."

We went upstairs to Maggie's room. I took my coat off and laid it on the bed, but then I watched Philip's face as he walked in. He disappointed me a little. Instead of gasping in awe at her wondrous creation, he stepped to the window and lifted up yards of satin drapes to expose a blacked-out window laced with steel bars. He stomped his foot once against the floor.

"Good," he said. "Hardwood floors beneath the carpet, Sheetrock walls. We can sleep in here if we have to. What's the door reinforced with?"

I'd never even noticed the bars before. Philip must have known Maggie far better than I had. This room made me happy because of its beauty. But we definitely weren't sleeping here-too high off the ground. So, instead of answering his question, I went to the walk-in closet and found an oversized plaid flannel shirt… maybe from Maggie's baseball player?