"Which is why Dani is here." Those pale sentry eyes were fixed on her face.

Dani felt wholly inadequate and terribly confused. "I-I don't-All I know is that he's down there somewhere."

"And Miranda?"

The name caused her a queer little shock, and for no more than a heartbeat, Dani had the dizzy sense of something out of place, out of sync somehow.

How could it be Miranda? I warned her. I warned her, and she went back to Boston to be with Bishop. But he's here, he was always part of this. Only she shouldn't be.

And… where is Paris?

Where is Paris, and why do I have her abilities?

"Dani?" Bishop's face was even more strained.

Miranda. He asked about Miranda.

And she had an answer for him. Of sorts. "She isn't-dead. Yet. She's bait, you know that. She was always bait, to lure you."

"And you," Bishop said.

Dani didn't want to think about that. Couldn't, for some reason she was unable to explain, think about that.

Why can't I think about it? What did I do to change so much-and all the wrong things?

"We have to go, now," she heard herself say urgently. "He won't wait, not this time." And he's not the only one.

The conversation had taken only brief minutes, but even so the smoke was thicker, the crackling roar of the fire louder, and the heat growing ever more intense.

"We're running out of time on every level," Marc said, his fingers tightening around Dani's. "It's been dry as hell for weeks, and this place is going up like a match. I've called it in."

Bishop swore under his breath. "Marc-"

"Don't worry, they know it's a hostage situation, and they won't come in. But they can damn well aim their hoses outside and try to save the nearby buildings." He paused, then added, "Am I the only one who suspects this bastard planned out every last detail, including this place being a tinderbox?"

Bitterly, Hollis said, "No, you aren't the only one. We're on his timetable, just like before, like always, doing everything he expects us to do like good little soldiers."

Did she say that before? I don't think she said that before.

Bishop turned and started toward the rear of the building and the south corner. "I'll go down on this side. You three head for the east corner."

Dani wondered if instinct was guiding him as well, but all she said, to Hollis, was, "He doesn't care whose timetable we're on, does he?"

"If fighting it means a minute lost in getting to Miranda? No way in hell. That alone would be enough, but on top of that he blames himself for this mess."

It's not his fault.

Oh, God, I think it's mine.

"He couldn't have known-"

"Yes. He could have. Maybe he even did. That's why he believes it's his fault. Come on, let's go."

Dani and Marc followed, but she had to ask, "Do you believe it's his fault?"

Hollis paused for only an instant, looking back over her shoulder, and there was something hard and bright in her eyes. "Yes. I do. He played God one time too many. And we're paying the price for his arrogance."

But it's not his fault. I'm almost sure…

Dani held on to Marc's hand even tighter as they followed the other woman. She could hardly breathe, her throat tighter despite the fact that, as they reached the rear half of the building, the smoke wasn't nearly as thick. They very quickly discovered, in the back of what might once have been a small office, a door that opened smoothly and silently to reveal a stairwell.

The stairwell was already lighted.

"Bingo," Hollis breathed.

But it's a trap. We all know it's a trap. Why are we just walking into it?

This doesn't make any sense!

Paris… where's Paris ?

Dani wanted to suggest that they wait, at least long enough for Bishop to check out the other side of the building, but every instinct as well as the waves of heat at her back told her there simply wasn't time to wait.

It's a trap and none of us cares.

Why not?

Hollis shifted her weapon to a steady two-handed grip and sent Dani and Marc a quick look. "Ready?"

Dani didn't spare the energy to wonder how anyone on earth could ever be ready for this. Instead, she just nodded.

Marc squeezed her hand, then released it and took a half step closer to Hollis, saying to Dani, "Stay behind me. You're the only one of us without a gun."

"She doesn't need a gun," Hollis said.

I don't? Why don't I?

"I still want her behind me," Marc said in a tone that not many would have argued with. "Let's go if we're going."

Hollis had only taken one step when a thunderous crash sounded behind them and a new wave of almost intolerable heat threatened to shove them bodily into the stairwell.

The roof was falling in.

They exchanged glances and then, without emotion, Hollis said, "Close the door behind us."

Oh, shit.

It always ends this way.

Dani gathered all the courage she could find, and if her response wasn't as emotionless as the other woman's, at least it was steady.

"Right," she said, and closed the door behind them as they began their descent into hell.

Dani sat up in bed with a jerk, unable to breathe for a moment, feeling that her lungs were still clogged with smoke. But that feeling passed quickly, and she was left staring around the pleasant guest bedroom of Paris 's house, familiar to her even in the postmidnight darkness.

"Tonight, come get me. Take me in with you."

That was what he'd said. Before he had really known anything about what they faced, that's what he'd told her.

To come get him and bring him into her dream.

"But I didn't," Dani heard herself murmur in the quiet of the room. "I didn't take him with me. He was there. When it happens, in the future. He's part of it now."

What had she done?

Dear God, what have I done?

Chapter Seven

THE PREPARATIONS were as enjoyable as anything that followed, he had discovered.

Maybe the most enjoyable, in fact.

The first time, he had made the mistake of leaving her conscious, which had caused him all sorts of problems, not the least of which had been the mess.

The second time, he had drugged her so completely that she was deadweight quite difficult to manage and, worse, her eyes had remained closed.

It wasn't nearly as satisfying if she couldn't see him.

This time, he was experimenting with a certain drug, one very similar to the infamous "date rape" drug. The version he was using, if administered properly, kept the patient in a sort of biddable twilight state, able to move and follow directions but with virtually no physical strength.

His one reservation had been that there was no way to tell how her mind would be affected, not until he actually used it.

He really didn't want her to be dopey and unaware of what was happening to her.

That would take all the enjoyment out of it.

"Can you hear me, sweetheart?" he almost crooned.

She blinked sleepy eyes, a little puzzled, and she sounded rather like she'd just returned from a trip to the dentist when she murmured, "I hear you. Where ith-is-thth place?"

"This is my secret laboratory, and I'm Doctor Frankenstein." He laughed. "No, sweetheart, this is home. My home. And now your home. I've been working hard to get it ready for you."

Her brow furrowed. "Real-really?"

"Of course."

She tried to move, and the first hint of panic showed in her widening eyes. "I-I can't-"

"You have to be still for me, sweetheart." He checked the carefully padded leather restraints on her wrists and ankles, then returned to the head of the table.