Rachel spoke next.

“All right. As we agreed. Jeremy drives. Sarah beside him, Josh and I behind them in the cab. Alex and Maria in the trailer. Try not to get knocked about too much back there," she said to the last pair. "Once we park, Jeremy will stay behind with the motor running. If he sees any sign of trouble, he'll send Sarah a text.

“The rest of us will go into the hospital through the front door. Not the E.R. side. There will be too much traffic there on a holiday weekend. Thanks to our recon mission this afternoon, Alex and Maria and

I know where Althea's body is. Don't initiate any conversations, don't make eye contact. Walk Like you own the place and hopefully no one will care enough to ask us what the hell we're doing.

“Ready? All right.

“Let's go."

Yasna Marafi sat in Althea Carpenter's room. She held one of her fragile hands in her own, confused by the degree by which she had become bound to this woman in the Last few weeks. She should have left hours ago, but tonight some indefinable impulse compelled her to stay.

It was unnatural, she knew. A small part of her was aware her preoccupation with Althea and her mysterious malady was verging on, and perhaps had already crossed the Line into, obsession. She had been warned about the dangers of ‘Nightingale Syndrome.’ When a nurse or doctor became infatuated with his or her patients. But despite all the cautionary tales, she could think of little else than the light on

Althea's lovely face, the sculpted beauty of her body, the faint, fleeting fragrance of her in her nostrils, which gave birth to sinful urges she thought had long since been forever extinguished.

How long until her work began to suffer? How long until she made some indefensible mistake, leading to the death of one of her other patients?

But still she sat, bound to the woman who lay in a sleep as still as death. She knew no joy but that of seeing her. Had no hope but that of hearing her voice. Knew no desire but that of her arms rising, to take her in their embrace...

A soft murmur in the hallway, then the door eased open.

“Oh, Christ," a soft voice said. "She's here."

Her head jerked around and her eyes widened, unable to believe what she saw.

“What the hell are you doing here again?" she demanded. She placed her body between the five men and women who entered the room and Althea's sleeping form. She recognized three of them from earlier in the day; the ones she had caught making love in Althea's room; the attractive older woman, the lovely Latina, and the well-built young man with his jutting beak of a nose. Two were unfamiliar; a tall, slim young woman with brown hair and small breasts, and an older, sandy-haired man, who wore an air of calm competence.

The older woman gave a huff of exasperation, but kept her voice low

“What we're doing is rescuing Althea. And you can either come along or stay here."

“Rescuing her? From what?" She tried to find her bearings, taking refuge in her own authority.

“And you're not taking her anywhere without my permission.”

The woman gave a dismissive hand-flip, as if her protests were all but meaningless.

“From death. Or a fate even worse." She shook her head in aggravation. "I don't have time to explain. Something evil is stalking

Althea. If we leave her here, she'll die. Horribly. And there's nothing you can do but die trying to protect her."

“No!" she whispered fiercely. She didn't want to draw attention, but she interposed her body between Althea and the newcomers. "I won't let you take her from me!"

The woman raked her hand through her shoulder-Length hair and turned to her companions. "Damn it, we don't have time for this! God knows when

Kincaid will figure out where Althea is. When he does, he'll come here and kill her!"