Alex stood at the edge of the clearing, surrounded by the morning fog, indistinct, watching, saying nothing, making no move to come to her rescue. "Are you just going to stand there?" she demanded of him, backing away from her murderous stepbrother. "Aren't you going to stop him?"

Jeremy halted his determined advance. "Who are you talking to?" he demanded in a bizarrely irritated voice.

"Is he part of this whole plan?" Laura demanded, backing away from him and his murderous, outstretched hands. "Did you bring him here to seduce me, to keep me busy while you murdered everyone who stood in the way of your getting Father's money?"

Jeremy followed her gaze to Alex's still, waiting figure. "I don't know what you're talking about. There's no one left alive here but you and me."

As if to refute his claim, Cynthia made a faint moan, but Jeremy just shrugged. "She won't survive a fall down Nichols Ravine," he said. "Nor will you. I can't imagine what people will think happened. Perhaps I'll tell them Cynthia was despondent. Maybe you came after her, trying to stop her suicidal desperation, and in the struggle you both fell. I think that would work very well, don't you?"

She turned to look at Alex. "Can't you stop him?" she cried again.

Jeremy's expression of affable determination vanished. "There's no one there!"

"No," Alex said, and his voice was deeper, richer, more unsettling. The sound of it drew Jeremy's attention, and suddenly he was able to focus on what he'd failed to see before.

"How long have you been there?" Jeremy demanded, his voice rising in panic.

"He followed you down here," Laura said. "Don't you realize you can't get away with it? Even if you're strong enough to throw Cynthia over the ravine, even if you managed to kill me, as well, I'll still fight you. I'll fight you enough to make you give me bruises, and then people will wonder..."

"You already have bruises," Jeremy said, pulling himself together. "Doubtless courtesy of your friend there. He's already told you he won't stop me, though I'm not sure why. Maybe he knows I can be generous. Or maybe he knows that he's a more obvious candidate if anyone starts to get suspicious, and he has the good sense to get the hell out of here.''

"Why won't you stop him, Alex?" Laura whispered. "Do you want him to kill me?" She was half-afraid of the answer. He looked oddly indistinct in the misty gloom, almost insubstantial, and she couldn't begin to guess at the expression behind his mirrored glasses.

Alex moved forward through the mist, and overhead the lightning crackled in the gloomy sky. "He won't kill you," he said, and there seemed to be a built-in echo to his voice.

"The hell I won't," Jeremy said, lunging for her.

She was so mesmerized by panic that she didn't see Alex move. One moment he was halfway across the clearing; in the next he put his hand on Jeremy's shoulder, with seemingly the lightest of touches.

The white-hot light sizzled, illuminating the clearing with a blinding dazzle. Laura fell back, covering her eyes instinctively, and in the distance she heard a muffled cry, followed by a powerful clap of thunder.

She sank to her knees on the damp earth, terrified beyond coherence, shaking as the thunder shook the earth. It died away slowly, the brilliant white light faded back to the overcast morning, and slowly she opened her eyes.

Jeremy lay at her feet, his eyes open, staring, his face fixed in a grim rictus of death. She had no doubt that he was gone, nor did she question what had happened. She turned and looked at Alex, across the clearing. He looked as if he hadn't moved.

"You killed him," she said. "How?"

"I took him," he told her, his voice emotionless. "And it doesn't matter how. You'd better see to his widow."

Cynthia lay crumpled up against the lower railing, stirring slightly, a faint, choking rasp signaling that she was still alive. Laura sank down beside her, pulling her into her arms, stroking her tangled hair.

"It's all right, Cynthia," she whispered. "No one will hurt you. It's over."

Cynthia's eyes blinked open, and she stared up at Laura in uncomprehending horror. "Jeremy," she managed to gasp. "He was trying to kill me."

"He's dead, Cynthia. He won't be able to hurt you."

Cynthia turned her head, her eyes focusing on the other figure in the clearing. And then she screamed, the choked sound eerie. "No!" she gasped. "Don't let him near me. Don't let him hurt me!" She clawed at Laura's arm.

"Cynthia, I told you. Jeremy's dead. He won't hurt anyone again."

"Not Jeremy." Cynthia's voice was choked. "That…that thing." Her voice was deep with horror and loathing as she stared at Alex's dark, shadowy figure.

"Laura!" She could hear her father's voice from the deck overhead now, and the babble of confusion, as Maria and Mrs. Hawkins were crying and talking. She released her hold on Cynthia, then turned and rose, confronting the man who stood there. Realizing for the first time just how insubstantial he was.

She turned to him, amazed at how calm she was. "What is she talking about, Alex?" she said. "Who are you? Why do I know you?"

"Don't let him touch you!" William shouted from overhead. She glanced up, just for a moment, to see her frail father leaning on the railing, shaking a fist down at Alex. "He can't have you, damn it."

She turned back to him, taking a tentative step toward him. "Who are you?" she asked again.

He retreated. One small step away from her, as if he were afraid of her touch. Which was odd, she thought, since everyone seemed to feel she was the one who should be afraid.

"Don't you know?" Cynthia spit out the words like a curse. "Don't you recognize him? He's Death. The Grim Reaper. And he's come to take you."

Laura raised her head, staring up at him. Oddly enough, she felt nothing more than profound relief. She had known him. Through her darkest times, he'd been there, a presence, a comfort. He was part of her, and now she knew why.

"No," he said, his voice echoing in the morning stillness.

"Don't lie to her." William's choked voice came from overhead. "She's too damned smart to be tricked. Take me instead. I'm an old man, a bad man. I've lived out my life."

"I'm not going to take her."

The words fell into the clearing like a stone into water. And then Laura spoke.

"Why not?"

The question was simple, almost childlike in its curiosity.

He seemed to be growing larger now, shimmering in the murky light, and his voice took on the echoes of a thousand years. "Someone else will come for you when it's your time," he said, and even so, she could hear the desperation in him.

"Why not you?" she persisted, taking another step toward him.

He backed away again. "Because that's not how things work. I rule in hell, and I serve in heaven. If I were to take you, it would only be to pass you on."

"And if I didn't want to go?"

She could feel his fury, his longing, in every fiber of her well-loved body. As the moments passed, she was feeling more and more certain, and the strange hope began burning inside her, between her breasts.

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

"What if I want to stay with you?"

"Laura, no!" William cried out, but she ignored him.