He moved on, but as he passed her bedroom, something caught his eye. He backed up.

His blood turned to ice as he recognized the Lilitongue hovering in a corner. He stood in the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe, feeling as though the world around him had come to a screeching halt.

The Lilitongue had moved… okay. But why here instead of back to its chest? Vicky had spent the night in Gia's room, so that might explain it, but it should be gone. If Vicky was in the clear, why was it still hanging around?

Or was she in the clear? What if the Stain had been only temporarily removed? What if it was back?

He ran downstairs, but before heading for the kitchen he looked for Vicky. An awful thought had occurred to him: What if the Lilitongue's presence meant that the Stain had returned?

He found her reading the latest Mutts collection in the library.

"Hey, Vicks. Mind if I take a quick look at your back? I just want to make sure that mark is gone."

A concerned look flashed across her face. "You don't think it came back, do you?"

"Nah. Just want to make sure, is all."

"Okay."

She turned and lifted her T-shirt partway up her back. Jack dropped to his knees behind her and raised it the rest of the way. He released a sigh of relief when he saw her unmarred skin.

"Nope. Still gone."

He dropped the back of the shirt and rose to his feet.

"Good! I hope it never comes back."

"You and me both, kiddo. You and me both."

Okay. Vicky was clear. So why was the Lilitongue still here?

Jack wondered if Gia knew. No. Couldn't. She'd have said something. She was going to be upset when she found out. Maybe he could find an explanation before she finished her shower.

He raced to the kitchen and grabbed the Compendium. As he flipped through the pages, he heard the shower stop. Had to hurry.

He went back and forth until he found a section called Remedies. Could that be it?

A long section. He searched page after page until a heading stopped him: Stealing the Stain. That had to be it.

But something about it rang a warning bell.

He flashed through the list of odd ingredients until he came to the oddest of all.

"And last, to make the transfer complete, the taker must wish the Stain for himself. There can be no success without the wish. If successfully transferred, the Stain will appear on the taker who shall be required to wait only the hours remaining to the original Stained until escape. Have no fear of losing the Stain to the original Stained: Once lost, it may never be regained."

Jack read the passage again. And again. The tone was throwing him off… almost congratulatory. But he pushed through, trying to assemble the words into a shape, a thought, a message that made sense and wouldn't send him tearing upstairs screaming for Gia to tell him that it wasn't true, that she hadn't done this.

He couldn't. No doubt about it. He didn't need to see her back to know that Gia had taken—"stolen"—the Stain from Vicky and transferred it to herself.

He understood it… so typically Gia… she'd do anything to protect Vicky.

Jack leaned back and forced his numb brain to review his options. He came up with only one.

He heard Gia on the stairs. She walked in wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Her hair was still wet. Her red, puffy eyes told the story. She hadn't been sobbing with relief in the shower—she was frightened.

As she entered the kitchen Jack rose and faced her.

"Gia, how could you?"

She burst into tears. "How could I not?"

Just then the doorbell rang. Jack looked past Gia, saw Vicky run to the front door and peek through the sidelight.

"It's Tom!"

She pulled open the door and let him in. He held up a white paper bag.

"Hi, everybody! I come bearing gifts!"

"What?" Vicky cried.

"Donuts!"

As Vicky cheered, Jack muttered, "Oh, shit."

5

-44:46

Well, at least the kid's glad I'm here, Tom thought as he started down the hall.

And what a hall. What a house. He hadn't been able to appreciate it that first night—not with all the turmoil. But now… look at the fine wood, the Persian rugs, the antique light fixtures… had to be worth millions. He'd got the impression that Gia was a commercial artist, making ends meet but with little left over. How did she afford this? He'd have to wheedle the story out of her.

Maybe the donuts would help. He'd had an inspiration on the way over: Arrive with goodies in hand. He considered it a truism that the surest way to a mother's heart was through her kid. Get the kid to like you and you enhance your chances twofold, maybe threefold.

So he'd asked his cabby to find a bakery or donut shop along the way. He'd stopped at a place on the East Side called Muller's. The donuts looked so good that Tom had scarfed down a cruller on the way over.

Vicky snatched the bag from his fingers and darted into the sitting room. Further on, in the kitchen at the end of the hall, Jack and Gia stood facing each other. Both looked upset.

Jack pointed to him. "Wait right there."

The words, the tone, the gesture took him aback. Who was Jack to order him about in Gia's house? But one look at Gia's puffy face and he knew something was wrong. Still wrong.

What had happened? He hadn't exactly expected to find a party going on, but this seemed like a wake. Only Vicky was in good spirits.

Jack turned away from him and back to Gia. They seemed to be in a serious, almost heated, discussion.

Tom edged closer.

"I can't believe you did this without telling me," Jack was saying.

"I knew you'd try to stop me."

"Damn right I would have! Now there are two people in jeopardy instead of one!"

Gia sobbed and the sound angered Tom. Jack was being rough on her. What was he so exercised about?

"I know! Don't you think I know that? But what was I to do? If I had a chance to save her, I had to take it."

"You should have come to me first!"

"I couldn't." She shook her head. "I know I should have. Don't ask me why… I just couldn't."

What was this about? What had she done?

Tom had come even with the sitting room. He glanced in and saw the kid sitting on the edge of a chair, kicking her legs, oblivious to everything but the TV and the sugar-coated donut she was munching.

"All right," Jack said. "Let's see it."

"No, I—"

"Please. This isn't just about you and me. There's the baby to think of."

Gia looked like she was again going to refuse to show him whatever they were talking about, but must have changed her mind. Because, without another word, she turned and raised the back of her T-shirt.

Tom gasped and felt his knees dissolve when he saw the black band spread across her back. He had to prop himself against the door molding.

Sweet Jesus, it was almost halfway around her body!

Jack stared at it, then his head dropped. Gia pulled her shirt back down.

The light dawned for Tom.

No! A horrendous situation had become infinitely worse. He could comprehend a mother's love for her child, but weren't there limits? He'd heard of mothers throwing themselves in front of a car to save their child, but that was impulse. This had been premeditated.

Initially her daughter was going to be shunted off into the Great Unknown. Now Gia was going to be sent there instead.

It made no sense. Either way she loses her daughter, but this way she loses Jack too. Not to mention this exquisite townhouse.

"Only one thing to do then," he heard Jack say.

In one swift, smooth move he stepped to the counter, pressed his hand into a saucepan, and returned with his palm coated in some thick brown fluid. He then lifted the back of Gia's shirt and slipped his hand under. Gia reacted as if he'd splashed her with acid—her back arched, her eyes widened, and then she began to cry.