His mouth is curved in a frown.

Finished gawking?

I blink again and nod.

Then we should get to work.

I wait expectantly for him to tell me what to do.

He puts a hand on my shoulders and pulls me down to a kneeling position so that we're eye to eye.

This will hurt a little. But not for long. Try to relax.

That, of course, causes the opposite reaction. My shoulders tense, my body becomes rigid. What do you mean, this will hurt?

He doesn't respond. Avatoar's eyes are fixed on a point somewhere in the distance, just over my shoulder. I try to swivel my head to see what he does, but his grip is tight and the pressure of his fingers just at the base of my neck holds me immobile.

Then the pain creeps up.

When it begins, my first impulse is to fight. I slash at his arms, but for a little guy, his grip is mighty. I can't break his hold and I can't escape the blistering heat. It starts at my feet and works its way up. My skin is on fire. I'm being drawn into some kind of whirling, white-hot vortex. I feel Avatoar's hands but when I open my eyes, all I see is a blur of space. It's a Wizard of Oz tornado but Dorothy never looked like she was experiencing this kind of pain. I open my mouth to scream, but the intensity of the gale forces the scream back down my throat.

I'm trapped, I'm powerless and I'm being burned alive.

“ANNA. ANNA. WAKE UP."

Second time in as many days I've heard those words. This time, though, the voice is high-pitched and tinny. Like one of those munchkins in the Wizard of Oz.

Something shakes my shoulders. "Come on. It's over. Wake up."

I don't want to wake up. Wherever I am is quiet, peaceful. No pain. No noise. No light. No hunger. Over the rainbow?

"Am I in heaven?"

The laugh is loud. Rude, even.

I burrow deeper into whatever I'm lying on and refuse to open my eyes.

"You're crushing me. Get up."

Suddenly, I'm aware of movement. Beneath me. Something is squirming, trying to escape.

Oh my god. Am I back in that motel room in Santee? Have I done it again?

I pop one eye open, fight back a wave of nausea and spy an unfamiliar face with bright red hair.

I have done it again. This time with—what? This guy looks a little strange and the length of his body stops somewhere just below my waist.

I screwed a midget?

The nausea is stronger, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut again. Still, the spinning continues. It's like the horrible, out of control feeling from a bad drunk just before you pass out—or throw up.

"Don't even think about it."

The voice screeches in my ear.

I jump up and away. A midget in a bright green jumpsuit stares at me. How did I get in that movie?

"Thank the gods."

"What?"

He frowns. "Will you snap out of it?" He waves a hand. "See where we are?"

I tear my eyes off the face of the munchkin long enough to sneak a look around.

We're in the middle of a dirt road. There's a car with a smashed front end—

A flash of recognition. The car? I touch my cheek. The skin feels rough, and it tingles.

A memory hovers just out of reach.

I shake my head. Concentrate.

The midget stirs. "Come on. I have places to go, things to do. I can't wait here all day."

"Listen, Casper—" That automatic response snaps everything into place.

It must show on my face because Casper—er, Avatoar— grins. "At last. Jeez, Anna. It doesn't usually take so long for a vamp to come back. You were really out of it."

I arch my back, working out a vicious kink. "I thought you said that would only hurt a little?"

He shrugs. "If I told you it would hurt like a son of a bitch, would you have agreed to try?"

His tone, his expression, his very words are certainly different from the rather ethereal character who used to tell me things like "don't forget who you are."

I raise an eyebrow. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Casper?"

He answers with a withering look.

I approach the front of the car. Cautiously. Don't want to bounce off the damned wall again. A tentative probe confirms that, as I suspected, I'm now on the other side of the barrier.

There's a hole at my feet. Big enough for the two of us to have squeezed through.

"Want to tell me how you did that?"

"Pretty obvious isn't it?"

I look from the hole to Avatoar. "You mean we tunneled under the barrier?"

He makes his hands flutter. "More like bored under."

That explains the heat and friction. "Why aren't my clothes torn or my skin?"

"I could protect us from some of the effects of the vortex. Unfortunately, not the pain."

"I noticed." I kick at the dirt. "Well, what now?"

Avatoar doesn't answer.

I turn around.

I'm alone.

I do a complete three sixty. Casper is nowhere in sight.

I'm not surprised or angry. He did his part. Got me where I needed to be. But—

I wave a hand at the sky. Wait, Casper. I have a question for you.

For a moment, there's no answer. Then, Make it quick. I said I have places to go.

How did you find out about me? In the beginning, with the Revengers?

Casper's laugh floats back to me like music on a summer breeze. Jeez, Anna. I would have thought a smart cookie like you would've figured it out by now.

Figured what out?

That the Watchers may not be the only game in town. Bye, Anna. And good luck.

WELL. I DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF ANSWER I expected, but certainly not that one. Now, of course, I have a hundred other questions. The Watchers aren't the only game in town, huh? Casper may be gone but I'll certainly grill Williams about it when I get out of here.

I turn back to look at the car. I guess I'll have to burrow back to the car, gather the stuff I bought this morning to bring to Beso de la Muerte, and head for town.

I look down.

Avatoar isn't the only thing gone.

The hole is, too.

Shit.

I throw up my hands. "You could have left the hole."

I don't expect an answer and I'm not wasting time trying to make Avatoar come back. I believed him when he said I wouldn't be hearing from him again. I guess my probation period as a vampire is officially over. I'm sure when I have time to think about that, I'll miss Casper. But right now, I'm too busy being irritated with him. All the provisions I brought for this little foray are still locked in the trunk of a car I can no longer reach.

The sun is already low in the sky. Nothing to do now but make my way into Beso de la Muerte and see if Culebra left any clue about what's happened to him.

I start out at a jog, a pace designed to prevent my unprotected head from bouncing off any other obstacles that Burke might have thrown up. But this time, I get all the way into town with nothing to slow me down but the mounting desire to be running the other way. My feet tread relentlessly forward, but my head is yelling at me to turn around and get the hell out of here. The fact that darkness is falling adds to the escalating feeling of dread.

Once in sight, the street and its decrepit collection of rotting buildings looks even more run down than I last remembered. It's as if with Culebra and his "guests" gone, decomposition has accelerated. The boards on the dusty sidewalk creak an ominous warning as I approach the saloon. I have to force myself to push open the swinging doors and walk inside. The threat of something dark and evil makes every motion of my hand, every footstep, heavy with foreboding. It's right in front of me, floating just out of reach, a shadow promising the torment of a nightmare, the embodiment of one's worst fear. It's forcing itself into my head and under my skin. It's designed to raise the hackles on the back of my neck and bile in my throat.