Before he could finish speaking, a shadow stepped out from the base of a tree, and moonlight glinted in his eyes. He heard the sweeping arc rather than seeing anything. Then Angelo's body toppled to the ground, his separated head landing with a soft thud in the snow. The whole picture took a few seconds to sink in.

Then the pain hit.

Searing, scorching, hysterical faces exploded inside his eyes. Turks, ragged peasants, pale children, sobbing women, all danced and clawed at his brain while he writhed helplessly, scratching at his own temples to get them out-men with long surcoats, crosses in one hand and swords in the other, crying fanatical words while rushing to battle, horses and fire and a lady called Elizabeth who always waited, a dark-skinned vampire with no name biting his shoulder, hating him, making him pay for all eternity by stealing his dream of heaven. The visions and agony went on and on, a parade of lost souls seeking retribution. Finally the waves began fading. The sounds hushed.

"You're all right. It's over." Julian knelt beside him, a sword in one hand, blood smeared all over the other.

Twisting up to all fours, Philip stared at his master's body as it began to turn gray and crack. This couldn't be happening. "You killed him."

"I had to," Julian rasped. "Don't you see? We are meant to be alone, not to live in twisted families like mortals. Our kind has become diseased, feeding upon each other's powers until some of us began to throw off the balance… growing stronger than others, creating a threat. I'm putting the balance back. Soon we will be pure again, equal… safe."

The words sounded far away, at the end of a long corridor. Philip climbed to his feet in shock, not understanding or absorbing Julian's words. "What will John say? This will make him sad!"

"No, it won't. He's already dead." Still kneeling, Julian pressed the sword into the snow and leaned on the hilt with his hands. "Angelo must have known. He must have felt it."

"What?"

"Four nights ago, I took his head right in front of his servant."

"Edward? Where is he now?"

"Long gone. He's not one of them."

This was a night of new emotions. Acute pain and sorrow faded as something infinitely worse crept up Philip's spine. Julian's black eyes bored into him, emanating fear, making him back away.

"You may not remember," Julian whispered, "but we've been friends since childhood. That existence is over. You are an immortal hunter, forever alone. Do you understand? Alone."

"No. Maggie's mine."

"You stay away from her, or I will send her after. I'm not being cruel, only strong. You will thank me later. And it's not so harsh as it sounds. We can speak to each other, sometimes even hunt together. But never can we live together, never feed off each other's gifts. If even one of us gets this disease, the whole nightmare might begin again. Purity is what matters now-your first priority, more than me, more than Maggie, more than hunting. Do you understand?"

Terror filled Philip until fear was all he could see. What would he do? Existing by himself was worse than death. Perhaps this was a vision, the dream on the edge of John's sleep that he never quite saw, the bad thing he saw coming and couldn't stop. Julian's voice echoed through the darkness.

"Alone. Do you understand? Alone…"

Alone."

I pulled out to see him mouthing the word almost silently, amber eyes lost in a fog of memories.

"Philip, wake up."

He blinked and looked down at me. Without thinking, I laid my face against his knee in a gesture of comfort, like a mortal, like a woman.

"It's all right," I said. "Long past now."

Julian had hurt him, filled his world with lies.

"I think he went on killing… all of them, Leisha," he whispered, "all but Edward, Maggie, and me."

"Did you send Maggie away?"

"No, I just didn't go home. Julian never had to chase her off. Then she left for America on her own in 1841, about two years after you."

"So she waited sixteen years for you to come back to Gascony?"

"We saw each other… sometimes. Like that first night you saw me at Cliffbracken, we'd all been out hunting together. I was happy. But after a few nights together, Julian broke us up."

How many had Julian murdered? Angelo said, "Nearly thirty in Europe alone." But how? Julian had been turned less than a year before Philip. If we grow more powerful with age, then how could he destroy such ancient beings?

I flashed the question mentally at Philip. He didn't seem to realize no words had been spoken and nodded at me.

"I wondered that, too. He told me later that they couldn't feel him coming. Maybe because he doesn't have psychic powers? But the same technique worked every time. He'd track his target down, hide behind a tree-like with Angelo-or a door or a building and just wait. Nobody ever felt him, and nobody ever saw him coming."

I stood up, trying to get my head around all this. "But I lived with Edward for seventy years."

"Yes, and Julian didn't know what to do at first. He feared what might happen."

"He never said anything."

"How could he? To stop the situation by force meant traveling to New York. That meant seeing his father. And if he wrote to order you away and Edward refused, this would be… The shame was not worth risking for Julian."

"We didn't even know psychic ability was possible."

Philip's brows knitted. "That's true. Perhaps he didn't want you to know. He kept watch on you for years, waiting to see what would happen. But nothing ever did, and in the end, you left on your own, proving Julian's point that we were all meant to live alone… He didn't consider William a true vampire."

"You're missing the point. Edward and I developed no psychic powers from living together. It never even occurred to us."

"I know. Angelo said such power must be taught… like Wade has done for you. Perhaps we all have the power buried, waiting to wake."

"All except Julian."

Yes, all except Julian. That was the crux. He feared what he did not possess, enough to murder his own kind.

Philip stood up, towering over me. "Leisha?"

"Mmmmm?" He pulled me out of concentration.

"Do you remember a few weeks ago, when Maggie called me and told me you were living with her?"

"Yes, I remember."

"It hurt, and I hadn't felt anything for a long time."

"You missed her?"

"No, it wasn't that. But she spoke of fireplaces and the three of you talking together. It didn't seem fair when I had to stay by myself. It made me think of John and Angelo-things pushed to the back of my head for so many years."

"And you like having company now?"

"Yes, but look at us! Julian was right. Only a few nights together, and it's started."

I turned to him angrily. "Listen to yourself! He's been rationalizing his own fear, his own weakness, for so long you've started believing it. Telepathy isn't a disease. It's more like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it grows. If not for Wade… Oh, he's still in the bedroom."

"Oh."

Philip jumped up and crossed the room. "I am sorry, Wade. We're finished." He spoke like someone who'd known Wade for years.

When they came back to the couch together, I noticed similar lines of sadness below their eyes, on their foreheads. What a team the three of us made. Almost everyone we'd ever cared about was dead or gone, taken away in this unstoppable conflict, which started with the single action of Edward Claymore jumping off his own front porch.

Why couldn't we mourn? Wade had tear ducts. Why didn't he cry for Dominick? Philip rarely mentioned Maggie unless he had to. And me? I couldn't think about William, couldn't let the image of his face enter my consciousness or I might dry up and crumble. What a team.