He tried to find surprise, indignation, any emotion more appro­priate than the one that was starting to stir. "All right then. What's on the agenda, more songs?"

She took his face in her hands and brushed his lips with hers.

"Se algunos juegos para mayores, hombre." She whispered.

Griffin spoke little Spanish, but the message in her eyes needed no translation at all. He had trouble finding his voice. "Let's go play Pathfinder, shall we?"

Her smile was hot enough to scorch. She rose, then bent and demurely collected her bedroll. She glanced up and said with half­lidded eyes: "I think we may need this."

He felt giddy, dizzy, and not totally sure of what he was doing as he nodded, gathering his own bag under his arm. Together, the two of them walked into the darkness and kept walking until the campfire and its noises were far behind them.

Acacia kissed him gently, almost shyly. "Here?"

He spread his sleeping bag down in silent agreement. They linked the inside edges together and sat next to each other, eyes locked wonderingly. "I didn't... I really didn't think that this was going to happen, Gary." She shied away an inch, and he reached out his hand.

He knew what he should be saying, and he forced his thickened tongue to say it. "It doesn't have to if you don't want it." He tried to mean it.

"We both know better than that..." She seemed to want to say something, but he stopped her by leaning forward.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, and what logic was left in Alex's head dissolved together. His blood seemed to fizz. She held him, and he could feel her nervousness.

"Help me, Gary. I don't understand it. I don't. I want you, but I don't know what's happening to me." There was no strength in her voice. She sounded like a little girl... but her skin was smooth and hot, and he couldn't stop touching her. Excitement and wonder burned in her eyes as he helped her off with her clothes and she clung to him, fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders. When at last he pulled the bag over them both and took

her in his arms, she closed her eyes, murmuring only "Please, please, Gary. .

Gary. Not Alex. He paused, unsure, gazing into eyes that were afraid. He felt the fire that roared in his mind and body and from somewhere gathered the strength to pull away. Something's wrong here. She's not-The crazy way the others were-Lopez wouldn't drug us, but- Then she rolled hard against him, and the questions were wiped

away as they began to move together. The same fear, the same wonder he felt was in her eyes too, but there was something more now, something that began to build until at last it clouded his vi­sion. And for a while, in that moment without time, there were no longer two people who strove and sought, there was only one body with four limbs that found a rhythm of its own.

When the everlasting moment was over, when he held her and she buried her face against his chest and cried, he stroked her hair and looked into the darkness surrounding them both, and doubted his sanity. I can't be feeling this, he thought. I can't. But the words rang hollow even to him.

Presently the force took them again, with equal power, as if the whole universe were moving in them, irresistibly. Afterward he held her, and she held him, and together, without words, they waited for morning.

Chapter Twenty-Three

BLACK FIRE

Birdsong woke him. Real or recorded? Alex opened gummy eyelids and looked into the face of the woman sleeping in his arms. He watched her for a bit, almost holding his breath. Her breathing was slow and even, and she wore a slight smile. A smug smile?

Unbidden, his brain called up vivid tactile images of last night.

My God, he thought, disbelieving. That was one hell of a powerful

experience! He watched her face, tenderly, and wondered when she would wake up. Then more memories intruded.

Eames' malice, Gwen's fright, Mary-em's tears. They fell into a pattern.

Neutral scent.

Why didn't I see it?

Because my brain was running on neutral scent. And it acti­vates emotions already there. ...omy god.

He shook Acacia until she stirred and clung to him, making

baby-sounds, her lips curled in a satisfied smile. Her eyes opened. They seemed huge to him, and it was all he could do to merely smile in return.

"Morning, handsome," she yawned. She snuggled closer to him in the bag. "You certainly know how to treat a lady."

"Wish we had time for thirds."

"Well?"

"I'm starting to remember things. We'd better get back to the others. We could be facing a disaster."

He wriggled out from between the bags and stretched, the cool windless morning air sweeping away the remaining cobwebs. Aca­cia watched, the bag pulled up to her neck, as he pulled on his pants. "You sure we have to get back?" She still seemed half-asleep.

Alex nodded and pulled his sleeping bag from atop her. She shivered and yelped, scrambling for her clothes. She was saying something to him, but he wasn't listening. Why? Why would a thief waste something so valuable on a vicious practical joke?

Not until she threw her arms around his neck did he snap alert. "Hey there, you. You're strange. I mean really odd, but I like you anyway." She bunched up her sleeping bag and tucked it under an arm.

She had to run to keep up with him, and some part of him felt sorry that he didn't have more to share with her. But sorry or not, he had to deal with something far more urgent: the thief knew who he was. He must have used some of his stolen flask of "neu­tral scent" to put The Griffin out of action while... while what? What was the thief doing last night?

The campground was a mess. Gamers littered the ground. S.J. had gotten sick on himself. Mary-em lay on her side beneath a twisted old tree, far from her sleeping bag. Dried tears streaked her face. Owen and Margie lay close to the ashes of last night's fire, half out of their zipped-together bags, both naked, their clothes piled untidily about them.

Adrenalin-doped blood pounded in Alex's throat. Too few.

Where are the rest?

Eames? Alex spotted the Warrior curled up with Captured Princess. Check.

Chester? Slumped sitting up, with his face between his knees. And Tony was splayed out near the Lore Master's feet, snoring

loudly. His twisted sleeping bag must be half strangling him. Red scratches laced his cheeks.

S. J. Waters: in his bag, sleeping like a baby. Gina: missing. Now what was Gina doing away from Chester? Maibang and Kibu­gonai: missing, maybe getting breakfast. What tendencies in an actor might be accented by "neutral scent"?

Gwen? Ollie? "Cas, do you see Ollie or Gwen? Or Maibang?"

"Maibang left when the Game broke off last night. Gwen and Ollie generally go off in the bushes anyway..." But she looked worried now. "I'll go after them."

"Good. Anyone else you find, too."

Acacia pushed off into the Brazilian plant life, calling.

Chester Henderson's head jerked upright. He wiped his eyes clear with the back of his hand and looked about him. The sense of something seriously wrong came home to him, and when he saw Alex he frowned. The Lore Master pulled himself up and paused a moment to balance. "All right, Tegner. What do you know about this?"

"I don't know much. I know we were all crazy last night, and I don't think it was the beer."