"Why?"

"He had his old man's eyes. Except they were dead, you know? I remember thinking we might be tracking him one day. In his father's footsteps. Then they ducked under the Privacy Act, and nobody ever heard of them again."

"Until now." Eve kept her eyes level. "I'm seeing Conroy's son tonight. At a witch's coven."

– =O=-***-=O=-

Roarke brought the limo. She'd been certain he would, just to annoy her. She'd have stayed annoyed if he hadn't seen that the AutoChef was stocked, Italian style.

Eve was wolfing down manicotti before they crossed the Jacqueline Onassis Bridge. But she shook her head at the burgundy he poured.

"I'm on duty," she said with her mouth full.

"I'm not." He sipped, studied her. "Why haven't you taken care of that?'' he asked, brushing gentle fingers over her throat.

"I got tied up."

"Now, that's something we've yet to explore." He smiled genially when she goggled at him. "Just a thought. I caught the replay of your little tete-a-tete with Nadine on the way over to Central. I'm surprised you agreed to it."

"It was a trade. I got my share." She leaned forward, engaged the privacy shield between them and the driver. "And I'd better fill you in before we join in tonight's festivities."

She detailed the new line she was pursuing, then sampled one of the sweet, fat olives on the antipasto tray. "It bumps him up a few notches on the list," she concluded.

"The sins of the father?"

"Sometimes it works that way."

He said nothing a moment. They both had reason to be uncomfortable with the theory. "You know best, Lieutenant, but isn't it just as likely circumstances would push him to the opposite pole?"

"He knew Alice, he has knowledge of chemicals. Her grandfather had chemicals in his system, and she'd been hallucinating. The other two victims were ritual slayings. Forte belongs to a cult. I can't ignore the steps."

"He looked remarkably unhomicidal to me."

She poked through the antipasto, selected a marinated pepper. "I once took down this little old lady, looked like everybody's favorite granny. She took in stray cats and baked cookies for the neighborhood kids. Grew geraniums on her windowsill." Enjoying the bite, Eve chose another pepper. "She'd lured a half a dozen kids into her apartment, and had fed their internal organs to the kitties before we nailed her."

"Charming story." Roarke slipped his plate into the holding slot. "Point taken." Reaching into his pocket, he took out the amulet Isis had given him the night before, slipped it over Eve's neck.

"What's this for?"

"It looks better on you than me."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Bull. You're being superstitious."

"No, I'm not," he lied and set her plate in with his before he shifted and began to unbutton her shirt.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Passing the time." His hands, clever and quick, swooped down to take her breasts. "It'll take an hour to get there by car."

"I'm not having sex in the back of a limo," she told him. "It's – "

"Delicious," he finished and replaced his hands with his mouth.

– =O=-***-=O=-

She felt remarkably limber and relaxed by the time the limo turned onto a narrow country road. Here the trees were plentiful, the stars brilliant, and the dark complete. Half-denuded trees arched over the roadway, tunneling them in. She caught the glinting gold eyes of what might have been a fox as a shadow darted across the road and into the woods.

"Feeney and Peabody still behind us?"

"Hmm." Roarke tucked his shirt back into his trousers. "It would seem so. "You're putting that on inside out," he said mildly and grinned.

"Hell." Eve struggled back out of the shirt, pulled the arms through, and tried again. "Don't look so smug, I just pretended to enjoy that."

"Darling Eve." He took her hand, kissed it. "You're too good to me."

"You're telling me." She slipped the amulet off, looped it over his head. "You wear it." Before he could object, she caught his face in her hands. "Please."

"You don't believe in it, anyway."

"No." She tucked it under his shirt, patted it. "But I think you do. Your driver knows where he's going?"

"The directions from Isis are programmed in." He checked his watch. "By my calculations, we should be nearly there."

"Looks like we're nowhere if you ask me." She stared out the window. Nothing but dark, trees, and more dark. "I'd rather be on my own turf. Hard to believe there's this much nothing less than two hours' drive from New York."

"You're such an urbanite."

"And you're not?"

He moved his shoulders. "The country's an interesting place to visit for short periods of time. Quiet can be restful."

"It makes me edgy." They turned onto another winding road. "And everything looks the same. There's no… action," she decided. "Now, you stroll into Central or Greenpeace Park and you're bound to run into a mugger or chemi-head at least. Maybe an unlicensed hooker, couple of perverts."

She glanced back, saw he was grinning at her. "Well?"

"Life with you has such… color."

She snorted, strapped on her side arm. "Yeah, like everything was gray in your little world before I came along. All that wine, women, and money. Must have been pretty tedious."

"The ennui," he said on a sigh, "was unspeakable. I might have faded away from it if you hadn't tried to hang a murder or two on me."

"Just your lucky day." She caught the glimmer of lights through the trees as the car turned up a steep, rutted incline. "Thank Christ. Looks like the party's already under way."

"Try not to sneer." Roarke patted her knee. "It would offend our hosts."

"I'm not going to sneer." She already was. "I want impressions. Not just of Forte, of everybody. And if you happen to recognize a face, let me know." She took a small device out of her bag, slipped it into her pocket.

"Micro recorder?" Roarke clucked his tongue. "I believe that's illegal. Not to mention rude."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"And unnecessary," he added. He turned his wrist, tapped a tiny button on the side of his watch. "This one is much more efficient. I should know. I manufacture both brands." He smiled as the car stopped at the edge of a small clearing. "I believe we've arrived."

Eve spotted Isis first. She was impossible to miss. The sheer, white robe she wore seemed to glow out of the dark like moonlight. Her hair was left long and loose, flowing over her shoulders. A gold band studded with colored stones circled her brow. Her long, narrow feet were bare.

"Blessed be," she said and disconcerted Eve by kissing both her cheeks. She greeted Roarke the same way, then turned back to Eve. "You're injured." Before Eve could respond, she lay fingers against the scratches. "Poison."

"Poison?'' Eve had visions of vicious nails dipped into a slow-acting brew that crept through the bloodstream.

"Not of the physical but of the spiritual kind. I feel Selina here." Her eyes stayed on Eve's as she lowered her hand to Eve's shoulder. "This won't do. Mirium, please welcome our other guests." She spoke to a small, dark-skinned woman as Feeney's rattletrap of a car bumped up the road. "Chas will see to your wound."

"It's fine. I'll see an MT in the morning."

"I don't think that will be necessary. Please come this way. It's unhealthy to have even this much of her here."

She led the way around the clearing. Eve could see a wide circle formed by a ring of white candles. People stood outside it chatting, she mused, as they might at a midtown cocktail party. Dress varied. Robes, suits, long and short skirts.

Twenty in all, by her count, ranging in age from eighteen to eighty with a mixture of race and gender. There seemed no specific type. Coolers were stacked nearby, which, she supposed, explained why several members were sipping drinks. Conversation was muted, punctuated by the occasional laugh.