“Another time, Miss Dean,” he said. “Don’t forget to lock the door.”

Virginia said something indistinct in a very low voice and closed the door with considerably more force than was necessary.

He listened for the rasp of iron on iron that told him Virginia had turned the key in the lock. When he heard it he went down the steps to the pavement.

“Uncle Owen?” Matt called softly.

He stopped. “Yes?”

“She’s the one, isn’t she? The woman everyone in the family says you’ve been waiting for.”

“Yes,” Owen said. “But I would take it as a favor if you don’t mention that to Miss Dean.”

“Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t understand that, not entirely. Not yet. I’m trying to break it to her gently. She needs time to become accustomed to the notion of marriage to me.”

“No offense, sir, but judging by the tone of her voice just now, I don’t think you’re doing a very good job of explaining the situation.”

“What do you expect? It’s the first time I’ve tried to do so.”

“You mustn’t hit her over the head with it. Women like to be romanced like the heroines in the sensation novels.”

“What the devil do you know about sensation novels?”

“A man can learn a great deal about women from novels,” Matt said. “You should try it sometime.”

Owen went to the end of the street and rounded the corner into the narrow lane that bordered the graveyard. The gas lamps were few and far between now, but he scarcely noticed the deeper darkness. His senses were slightly elevated, as they always were when he walked the night. He registered the small sounds and the shifts in the shadows around him without consciously thinking about it.

The hunter in him was on the prowl, searching for the spoor of the monsters, but he was aware that something was different tonight. He did not feel driven by the relentless compulsion that had been riding him so hard in the past year. The obsessive need to hunt had faded to a normal level or, rather, a level that felt normal for a Sweetwater. The men of his line would never be wholly civilized, he thought. But it was good to regain a sense of balance and perspective, good to be able to ignore, for now, at any rate, the terrible allure of the abyss of night that had been calling to him for months.

And, yes, it was good to feel this pleasantly euphoric, if unfamiliar, sense of well-being. Virginia had given him back his future, although she did not realize it yet.

Virginia. She was his talisman. The bond between them gave him the power not only to resist the dark forces that had been drawing him toward the edge but to control them once more.

He had to admit that Matt had a point, though. I’m botching the job of explaining the Sweetwater bond to her.

He would have to come up with a better way of making sure that she understood their relationship. Although when he thought about the situation closely he could not comprehend the exact nature of the problem. Virginia was obviously attracted to him. There could be no doubt about the depths of their mutual passion. She was as warm and sweet as melted honey in his arms. Women were supposed to be especially sensitive to powerful emotions. Where the devil was he going wrong?

He sensed the faint shift in the atmosphere between one step and the next, a subtle whisper of heightened energy. The hunter in him pricked up his senses. There was another strong talent abroad tonight, close at hand.

He did not change his pace. He was too experienced to give any outward indication that he had picked up the telltale signals of the other’s presence. Nevertheless, his senses flashed into full strength. He knew he was giving off a lot of hot energy. If the other sensitive was paying attention, he or she would surely realize that there was another talent in the vicinity.

It was not uncommon to encounter a stranger on the street who possessed a measurable degree of talent. But passing someone who was unusually powerful was a relatively rare experience. There were not that many high-level talents around. He could not afford to assume that this encounter was a coincidence, not when it was taking place so close to Virginia’s address.

He studied the lane without appearing to do so. There was no one else visible. That meant that the other talent was probably concealed behind one of the ancient stone monuments or in the crypt up ahead.

The crypt, he decided. That’s the place I would choose for an ambush.

He kept walking, waiting for his quarry to leap out of the shadows. He heard the faint rush of movement from the yawning darkness of the crypt a few heartbeats before the figure swept toward him. The preternatural speed and the certainty with which the attacker moved in the darkness told him everything he needed to know. He was dealing with a strong hunter-talent.

Although he was not a true hunter when it came to his physical abilities, he understood their nature and their talent, having grown up in a family littered with the breed. When they were in their full senses, their night vision was excellent and they moved with the speed and agility of wolves. He could not hope to match his attacker in those attributes, but he was not without resources. The critical thing was to make certain the other man did not get close enough to use his greater speed and strength against him.

He was prepared for the swiftness of the other man’s movements. It was like confronting a charging wolf. What he did not expect was the blinding flash of paranormal fire.

It was as if a paranormal sun had struck a mirror. The night burned around him, searing his senses. He was engulfed in a blinding radiance.

His heart pounded. A terrible chill spread through his veins, icing his blood. He fell, landing hard on his hands and knees. It was all he could do not to collapse on the cold pavement.

He knew then that he was dying.

“Virginia,” he whispered. The thought of never seeing her again was intolerable, but far worse was the knowledge that he was leaving her in grave danger. He had failed her.

“Virginia,” he said again, louder this time.

It seemed to him that the cold brilliance faded ever so slightly around him, as if the simple act of saying Virginia’s name had temporarily driven back the forces that had blinded him psychically and were now killing him.

The unnatural radiance moved closer to him. Although his paranormal abilities were gone, he realized he could still make out the crypt and the gravestones to his left. He could feel the pavement beneath his hands. He could hear the echo of the killer’s boots on the pavement. He was rapidly losing his strength, but he still had his normal senses.

“My client wants you dead, Sweetwater.” The voice came from the darkness beyond the senses-dazzling light. “But there is no great rush. I haven’t had a job like this in a while. I’m going to take my time.”

“Who hired you?” Owen managed.

“He called himself Newton, but I doubt that’s his real name. Seemed to know a lot about you, though. He said you’re a talent. Told me where I could find you. He knew all about your whore in Garnet Lane, you see.”

“He gave you that device you used to blind me?”

“He called it the Quicksilver Mirror. Told me it was valuable and that he’d want it back as soon as I finished with you. But between you and me, I plan to keep it. Right handy, it is.”

“Did he tell you why he wants me dead?”

“Doesn’t seem to like you very much. I got the impression that you’re standing in the way of something he wants.”

Owen felt himself growing colder. His vision and hearing started to dim. The energy of the mirror was affecting his normal senses now.

“He gave you the mirror because he knew you couldn’t take me with just your talent alone,” he said.