heavy enough to provide some warmth, a dark sweater, and shoes she could run in. Rashel was dressed
the same way, except that she was wearing high boots. The knife was in one.
"You go first," Rashel said, parking a street away from the club. "I'll come in a minute."
She watched Daphne walk away, hoping she wasn't going to get this little blond bunny killed.
She herself was the danger. Quinn was going to use mind control on them to get them to go to the
warehouse quietly. And Rashel wasn't sure what would happen when he did it.
Just don't let him touch you, she told herself. You can carry it off as long as he doesn't touch you.
Five minutes later, she started toward the Crypt.
Quinn was in the dark parking lot, standing by a silvery-gray Lexus. As Rashel reached the car, she saw
the pale blob of Daphne's face through the window.
"I almost thought you weren't coming." There was now a sort of savagery mixed in with Quinn's lunatic
good humor. As if he was angry she wasn't smart enough to save herself.
"Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world." Rashel kept her eyes on the car. She wanted to get this over
with. "Are we going somewhere?"
There was that tiny hesitation that seemed to come every time she spoke to him, as if it were taking him
a minute to focus. Or as if he were trying to figure something out, she thought nervously.
Then he answered smoothly, "Oh, right, get in."
Rashel got in. She glanced once at Daphne in the back seat. Daphne said, "What's up?" in a chirpy voice
laced with feminine rivalry.
Good girl.
Quinn was getting in the driver's side. Once the door was shut, he turned the engine on to run the heater.
The windows immediately began to fog.
Rashel sat in a state of continuing mind, ready for the unexpected at any moment.
Only the unexpected didn't come. Nothing came. Quinn was just sitting there in the driver's seat.
Watching her.
With a sudden void in her stomach that threatened her zanshin, Rashel realized that it was too dark. Too
familiar. They were sitting here together in silence, so close, visible to each other only in silhouette, just as
they had in the cellar. She could almost feel Quinn's confusion as he tried to figure out what was
bothering him.
And Rashel was afraid to say anything, afraid that her chirpiest voice wouldn't be a good-enough
disguise. The horrible feeling of connection was mounting, like some giant green wave looming over them
both. In a moment it would break, and Quinn would say, "I know you," and switch on the light to see the
face without the veil.
Rashel's fingers edged toward her knife.
Then, through the electric buzzing in her ears, she heard Daphne say, "You know, I just love this car. I
bet it goes really fast, too. This is all so exciting-I'm just so glad I got here this time. Not like last week."
She went on, blathering easily, while Rashel sank back lightheaded with relief. The connection was
broken; Quinn was now looking at his instrument
panel as if trying to escape the chatter. And now Daphne was talking about how exciting it was to ride in
the dark.
Smart, smart girl.
Quinn had to interrupt her to say, "So, you two girls want to surrender to the darkness?" He said it as if
he were asking if they wanted to order pizza.
"Yes," Rashel said.
"Oh, yes," Daphne said. "It's just like we always say. I think that would be just the most seriously cool-"
Quinn made a gesture at her as if to say, "For God's sake, shut up." Not a rough gesture. It was more
like an exasperated choir director trying to get through to some soprano who wouldn't stop at the end of
the measure. Stop here.
And Daphne shut up.'
Like that.
As if he'd turned off a switch in her. Rashel twisted slightly to look at the backseat and saw that Daphne
had slumped to one side, body limp, her breathing peaceful.
Oh, God, Rashel thought. She was used to the kind of mind control other vampires had tried on her. The
persuasive, whispery-voice-in-the-head type. And when Quinn hadn't tried to use that, or to call for help
in the cellar, she'd assumed he was low on telepathy.
Now she knew the truth. He packed a telepathic punch like a pile driver. No, like a karate blow: swift,
precise, and deadly.
He turned to look at her, a dark shape against a lighter darkness. Rashel tried to brace herself.
"And the rest is silence," Quinn said, and gestured at her.
Rashel fell into a void.
She woke up as she was being carried into the warehouse. She had enough presence of mind not to
open her eyes or make any other sign that she was conscious. It was Quinn carrying her; she could tell
even with her eyes shut.
When he dumped her on a mattress, she deliberately fell so that her head was turned away from him and
her hair was over her face.
She had a moment's fear that he was going to discover the knife in her boot when he shackled her
ankles. But he didn't even roll up her pant leg. He seemed to be doing everything as quickly as possible,
without really paying attention.
Rashel heard the shackle snap shut. She kept perfectly still.
She lay and listened as he brought Daphne in and chained her. Then she heard voices close by and the
sound of other footsteps.
"Put that one down here-what happened to her purse?" That was Lily.
"It's still in the car." Ivan.
"Okay, bring it in with the other one. I'll do her feet."
Thump of a body hitting a mattress. Footsteps going away. The metallic clink of chains. Then a sigh from
Lily. Rashel could imagine her straightening up and looking around in satisfaction.
"Well, that's it. Ivan's got number twenty-four in the car. I guess we're going to have one very happy
client."
"Joy," Quinn said flatly.
Twenty-four? One client?
"I'll leave a message that everything's going to be ready for the big day."
"Do that."
"You're awfully moody, you know. It's not just me who's noticed it."
A pause, and Rashel imagined Quinn giving one of his black looks. "I was just thinking it was ironic. I