THE PANTHER'S BODY IS LIKE A CHILD'S IN MY arms. I leap off the altar and race for the darkness beyond. The humans, however full of hate, cannot keep up. I leave them behind with a howl of satisfaction.

I don't go to the tunnel. The witch knows the tunnel. It is her domain. I head out into the desert, following an instinct I didn't know I possessed. Back to Beso de la Muerte. I need to get the cat to shelter.

I race over the desert terrain with a sure footedness that surprises me. When we came this way before, Frey led and I followed. I don't know what instinct is at work now, but I surrender to it, let an inner guidance system direct my feet the way I had let Frey guide me earlier. In much less time than it took us to reach the tunnel, I'm racing down the dusty streets of Beso de la Muerte.

When I reach the saloon, animal instinct stops me from bursting through the doors. I don't know if Culebra is dead or if he has beaten me back here or if the witch awaits both of us inside. I lay Frey on the street, out of harm's way, and approach. My senses tingle with apprehension. I listen, not only with my ears, but with my entire body. My nerve endings are on fire. The skittering of bugs crawling across the floor and the hum of the wings of flying insects are sounds both distinct and identifiable. I listen harder-for mortal breathing and the pulse of a heartbeat. I probe for things nonhuman-vampire and shape-shifter. When I am sure I am alone, I sweep the cat into my arms once more and take him inside. I lay him gently on the floor and hunker down beside him.

The hammering of my heart, the rush of my blood, the desire to attack something is so intense, I actually consider going back to find the witch. Foley is human. The witch is something else. Without Frey's well-being to consider, I could stop her from harming my friends again. Permanently. Killing her, drinking from her, would be exquisite revenge for what she did to Culebra, to Frey.

The human Anna comes back slowly.

When she-when I-return, I have to close my eyes, clear my head until the shaking stops. I've felt it before, the dichotomy. I've fought against it. But tonight, when the vampire took over, Anna was gone. Rational thought gave way to instinct, and human emotion to an animal's drive for self-preservation. If Foley had fought, I would have killed him. I would have killed Burke or any of her coven if I'd gone back. I've been fooling myself to think my humanity was stronger than the creature that shares my body.

The guttural sound of an engine floats across the still night. A car approaching. The barrier must be down. Perhaps when Frey and I broke the circle, we broke the spell as well.

I lay Frey down carefully behind the bar and crouch there, too, to wait. It might be the witch and Foley. If it is, I'll be ready.

The car pulls to a stop right outside the saloon. Three doors slam, almost in unison. My mental probe detects nothing. Either three humans approach or these visitors have cloaked their own thoughts the same way I am cloaking mine.

I creep to the end of the bar, hidden in shadow, and peek around.

The doors swing open with a rustle of air.

Anna ? Are you here ?

I don't realize how tense I am until the sound of the familiar voice sends relief flooding through my body. I leap up.

Williams crosses the floor in a blur of motion almost too fast to see. He grips my arms and looks down at me.

His expression of concern is so intense, a ripple of fear replaces the relief. "What's wrong?"

He lets go of my arms and steps back, color flooding his face. Embarrassment? I wonder why. Because he guessed wrong about the witch and where she would be tonight or because I accomplished what he and his Watchers could not?

I let him read my thoughts, see the color deepen, feel chagrin replace discomfiture. But I don't push. Part of me is glad to see him. Part of me is furious with him. I let that come through, as well.

For the first time, I see who arrived with Williams. Ortiz and another. Not a vamp. But not human.

He steps forward. "Is Frey with you?"

He opens his mind. Shape-shifter.

Yes. And he's hurt. Can you help him?

He motions for me to lead him to Frey. I do. He bends down and places one hand on each side of the arrow.

I watch as he gently probes. He appears to be in his fifties, tall, broad shouldered, rangy muscle. His face is full of concern for Frey, his thoughts mirror that concern. Before I can ask what he intends to do, he has grasped the arrow and pulled it from Frey's body with one single, violent jerk of his hand.

Frey's body spasms. I jump toward the shape-shifter, a growl of rage erupting from deep inside. Williams grabs me from behind and spins me around.

Wait. Watch.

He turns me back so can I see.

I shake loose of his hands, still reeling from the surge of anger that would have had me at the shape-shifter's throat had Williams not stopped me. I take a step away from Williams. If I decide to attack again, I want to be out of his reach.

The shape-shifter is bent over Frey. He has placed his hands over the wound. Frey is still squirming, making a sound in his throat that is half cry, half growl. But he breathes. I see it. The rise of each inhalation and fall of each exhalation. In less than a minute, his breathing becomes less labored, his body quiets, Frey's keening sound dies away.

Only then does the shape-shifter lift his hands. They are red with Frey's blood. He falls back as if the healing has drained him. That's when I see it-a gash in his shirt and an open lesion corresponding to the wound in Frey's side. He closes his eyes and leans back against the bar. While I watch, the wound closes, the blood is absorbed back into his skin. The only indication that anything has happened at all is the rip in his shirt.

I switch my gaze to Williams. Empath?

He nods.

Like Sorrel? Can she heal, too?

Sorrel's gift is to heal the spirit. He gestures to the man now climbing slowly to his feet. Stephen's gift is to heal the body. Each is distinct unto itself.

When I look again at Frey, he has shifted back into human form. He shakes his head as if awakening from a particularly vivid nightmare. There's confusion and alarm in his expression and a kind of breathless anticipation as rational thought creeps back.

He struggles into a sitting position and looks around. Stephen says, How do you feel?

Although I can't hear Frey's response, I can read the relief and gratitude on his face. He reaches out a hand and Stephen grasps it, pulling Frey to his feet. Only then does Frey turn to me.

"You're all right?"

I nod. I want to throw my arms around him and express just how relieved I am that he is all right. But I don't want to embarrass either of us and I don't know how he would react. After all, he did tell me that he has a girlfriend now and he is standing here naked. Who knows what kind of reaction a near death experience might have on him if I press myself against him?

He's looking at me as if he reads my thoughts. He smiles and reaches down for that pair of jeans he'd left behind the bar. This time, though, he doesn't turn away or hide himself, just slips them on.

When he's zipped up, he comes around to join us. "What happened to the witch?"

The question is directed at me. I shake my head. "I don't know. I grabbed you and got out of there when the coven started getting restless."

Williams releases a breath. "I don't understand why she came here. It doesn't make sense. The very reason we didn't have a sentry in Mexico was because every one of our sources said she planned to raise the demon in Arizona, outside Sedona, where she could tap into the power of the vortex."

"Then what brought you here?" I ask.

"Avatoar." Williams lifts a shoulder. "He came to find me in Arizona. Told me about the barrier. Said it was definitely constructed by a coven."

"So you know Avatoar?"

He brushes the question aside with an impatient wave of the hand. "Obviously. Why do you think the coven would construct a barrier aimed to keep you out?"

"I don't think it was," I reply. "Not anymore. Burke knew that letting me know she had Culebra was the one sure way to get my attention. She wanted me here."

Frey frowns. "What do you mean? We stopped the demon. She almost succeeded in raising it. She wanted you to do that?"

"No. She wanted to raise the demon all right. She didn't think I could stop it. But you were hurt and didn't see what happened after."

He motions for me to go on.

I turn to Williams, anger flooding back. "There was another guest at Burke's party. Foley."

Williams' shoulders tense, his eyes grow watchful, wary.

You knew Martinez had Max. You said nothing yesterday. You sent me here.

Williams is standing so still I can hear the beat of his heart, the stirring of the hair on the back of his neck as he absorbs the enormity of my fury.

Idon't know if I can forgive you for this.

Frey senses the heat of what is passing between Williams and me even if he can't read the message. He looks from one of us to the other as if hoping by that simple act to break the tension. When he doesn't, he asks, "Foley was there, too? Why?"

I look away from Williams.

"They were both waiting for someone else to show up at midnight. They were waiting for me."

"She's right."

The voice comes from the doorway.

Culebra is there, holding the woman from the cross in his arms. His face is battered with grief. "They wanted Anna," he whispers. "And because of me, this woman is dead and they almost got her."