nastily. It was clear that his confidences were over. "How?"
"None of your business!" Rashel tilted her head and looked at him soberly. "How, John Quinn? You
know, there are some things you really ought to tell other people. It might help."
"I don't need a damn psychoanalyst," he spat. He was furious now, and there was a dark light in his
eyes that ought to have frightened Rashel. He looked as wild as she felt sometimes, when she didn't care
who she hurt.
She wasn't frightened. She was strangely calm, the kind of calm she felt when her breathing exercises
made her feel one with the earth and absolutely sure of her path.
"Look, Quinn-"
"I really think you'd better kill me now," he said tightly. "Unless you're too stupid or too scared. This
wood won't hold forever, you know. And when I get out, I'm going to use that sword on you."
Startled, Rashel looked down at Vicky's handcuffs. They were bent. Not the oak, of course-it was the
metal hinges that were coming apart. Soon he'd have enough room to slip them off.
He was very strong, even for a vampire.
And then, with the same odd calm, she realized what she was going to do.
"Yes, that's a good idea," she said. "Keep bending them. I can say that's how you got out."
"What are you talking about?"
Rashel got up and searched for a steel knife to cut the cords on his feet. "I'm letting you go, John Quinn," she said.
He paused in his wrenching of the handcuffs. "You're insane," he said, as if he'd just discovered this.
"You may be right." Rashel found the knife and slit through the bast cords.
He gave the handcuffs a twist. "If," he said deliberately, "you think that because I was a human once, I
have any pity on them, you are very, very wrong. I hate humans more than I hate the Redferns." "Why?"
He bared his teeth. "No, thank you. I don't have to explain anything to you. Just take my word for it."
She believed him. He looked as angry and as dangerous as an animal in a trap. "All right," she said,
stepping back and putting her hand on the hilt of her bokken. "Take your best shot. But remember, I beat
you once. I was the one who knocked you out."
He blinked. Then he shook his head in disbelief. "You little idiot," he said. "I wasn't paying attention. I
thought you were another of those jerks falling over their own feet. And I wasn't even fighting them
seriously." He sat up in one fluid motion that showed the strength he had, and the control of his own body.
"You don't have a chance," he said softly, turning those dark eyes on her. Now that he wasn't looking
into the flashlight, his pupils were huge. "You're dead already."
Rashel had a sinking feeling that was telling her the same thing.
"I'm faster than any human," the soft voice went on. "I'm stronger than any human. I can see better in the
dark. And I'm much, much nastier."
Panic exploded inside Rashel.
All at once, she believed him absolutely. She couldn't seem to get her breath, and a void had opened in
her stomach. She lost any vestige of her previous calm.
He's right-you were an idiot, she told herself wildly. You had every chance to stop him and you blew it.
And why? Because you were sorry for him? Sorry for a deranged monster who's going to tear you limb
from limb now? Anyone as stupid as that deserves what they get.
She felt as if she were falling, unable to get hold of anything....
And then suddenly she did seem to catch something. Something that she clung to desperately, trying to
resist the fear that wanted to suck her into darkness.
You couldn't have done anything else.
It was the little voice in her mind, being helpful for once. And, strangely, Rashel knew it was true. She
couldn't have killed him when he was tied up and helpless, not without becoming a monster herself. And
after hearing his story, she couldn't have ignored the pity she felt.
I'm probably going to die now, she thought. And I'm still scared. But I'd do it over again. It was right.
She hung on to that as she let the last seconds tick away, the last window of opportunity to stake him
while the cuffs still held. She knew they were ticking away, and she knew Quinn knew.
"What a shame to rip your throat out," he said.
Rashel held her ground.
Quinn gave the handcuffs a final wrench, and the metal hinges squealed. Then the stocks clattered onto
the concrete and he stood up, free. Rashel couldn't see his face anymore; it was above the reach of the
flashlight.
"Well," he said evenly.
Rashel whispered, "Well."
They stood facing each other.
Rashel was waiting for the tiny involuntary body movements that would give away which direction he
was going to lunge. But he was more still than any enemy she'd ever seen. He kept his tension inside,
ready to explode only when he directed it. His control seemed to be complete.
He's got zanshin, she thought.
"You're very good," she said softly.
"Thanks. So are you."
"Thanks."
"But it isn't going to matter in the end."
Rashel started to say, "We'll see"-and he lunged.
She had an instant's warning. A barely perceptible movement of his leg told her he was going to spring to
his right, her left. Her body reacted without her direction, moving smoothly... and she didn't realize until
she was doing it that she wasn't using the sword.
She had stepped forward, inside his attack, and deflected it with a mirror palm block, striking the inner