A rap sounded at the door the next afternoon, the sound Julianne had been dreading. Tension raced up her spine.
“The guys just called,” Cambria called through the door. “Zeeland’s plane was on time. They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”
Julianne’s pulse threatened to run away from her. “Thanks, Cam. I’ll meet you downstairs.” As she heard Cambria’s steps retreat down the hall, she buried her face in her hands.
Zeeland is coming home.
Her skin flushed with old, bitter humiliation, butterflies fluttered excitedly in her stomach, and a harsh longing wrapped itself round and round her heart until the pressure was almost too much to bear.
A dozen times since yesterday, she’d debated running away to another enclave until Zeeland’s visit was over. Or even just hiding in her room with the door locked. But with Melisande hovering over her life, her room was no refuge.
And she knew Zeeland much too well. He was as stubborn as an ox and as determined as a jungle cat hunting prey. If he decided he wanted to see her, no locked door stood a chance against him. Nor could she flee anywhere that he wouldn’t find her.
If he wanted to find her. A very big if.
No, there was no choice but to grit out his visit and hope he paid her little attention. The hardest part was going to be pretending to be indifferent herself.
She dressed quickly in a sleeveless turquoise sheath she’d picked up at Lord & Taylor’s a couple of months ago with Serenity and Cambria, then sat at the dressing table and applied her makeup with a light, nervous hand. Therians might live forever, but they kept up with the fashions and took pride in good grooming. Especially when they were expecting company, as they were tonight.
Cambria and Serenity had been cooking all day, preparing for the impromptu welcome-home dinner for Zeeland. According to Cambria, a few of the Feral Warriors might even make an appearance. Though all Therian males tended to tower over their human counterparts, the Ferals were the biggest, the strongest, and without a doubt, the least civilized of the race. Things tended to get interesting when the Ferals appeared.
But the only one she both longed and dreaded to see was Zeeland.
Pulling the elastic band out of her hair, Julianne let the dark waves tumble around her shoulders. She grabbed her hairbrush and was nearly finished brushing out her hair when she felt that all-too-familiar trip of power.
Her breath caught. Fear rippled along the surface of her skin as an unnatural, pine-scented breeze blew through her room, raising the hair on her arms.
In the dressing-table mirror, Melisande appeared behind her, a ghostly figure of a woman.
Julianne shot to her feet and whirled, backing away from her nemesis.
“Melisande.” The name shot from her throat, a low burst of air.
The spiritlike woman floated before her, glowing a faint reddish orange. Petite and slender, Melisande dressed like a warrior of old in a brown tunic and tan leggings, a knife strapped at her waist. Her face was deceptively delicate and pretty, framed by golden blond hair pulled back in a long braid.
She looked sweet and harmless to anyone who didn’t notice the brittle look in her eyes or the cruel twist of her mouth.
For a thousand years, the Therians had believed Melisande’s race, the Ilinas, extinct. For a thousand years, they’d been wrong.
“The moonstone, Julianne.” Melisande’s eyes snapped with warning.
Once, Julianne had demanded to know why the woman needed it. She’d been told the Queen of the Ilinas was ill and in need of the stone to heal her.
Julianne lifted her hands, palms out. “I’ve looked everywhere. Over and over. Give me a hint, Melisande. Anything to narrow the search.”
Melisande scowled. “It’s somewhere in this house. I can feel its power, but not its source.” Melisande stepped…floated…closer. “You’re useless, little sister. Worthless. But you will find that moonstone.”
Melisande’s bright blue eyes gleamed with threat. “I’m giving you one more day, Julianne. When I return tomorrow, you’ll give it to me.”
Julianne stared at her, a dull quaking beginning deep inside, half fury, half fear. “You’re not listening. I’ve looked everywhere. It’s not here.”
“It’s here! If I could search for it myself, I would.”
But she couldn’t because the Ilinas were determined to keep their existence a secret. From what little Julianne had been able to ascertain, the Ilinas had faked their extinction a thousand years ago in order to hide from a dangerous enemy, to protect their race. And they would kill to keep that secret.
Something Julianne’s mother had failed to do when she’d told Julianne’s father her true heritage. That she was half-Ilina. They’d both paid for that bit of honesty.
Julianne would never tell anyone. Ever. She would never endanger the people she loved in that way.
Melisande’s small hand clenched around the hilt of her knife. “If you haven’t found the moonstone by tomorrow, you’ll feel my wrath, little sister.” Her voice turned low and terrible as her lip curled nastily. “Tomorrow, one of your friends will die.”
Julianne jerked as if she’d been hit, her jaw dropping. “You can’t do that! They don’t know anything. I’ve told them nothing. I’ve kept them safe!”
“Then find the moonstone!”
Julianne felt her own lip curl back, fury washing away the fear that had ridden her for a month. An odd tingling sensation began to flow through her limbs.
She glared at the Ilina. “Retract your threat, or I’ll do nothing more to help you.”
An ugly smile formed on the spirit woman’s face. “You would threaten me?”
“The only reason I was willing to help you was to save my friends. If you’re going to hurt them anyway, I’ll do nothing more to help you. You can find that moonstone yourself.”
Melisande’s mouth compressed, her eyes beginning to narrow as the tingling in Julianne’s body grew worse. She felt as if her blood had become carbonated and was beginning to fizz in her veins like champagne.
Melisande made a sound of disgust.
Julianne lifted her hand…and stared.
Her fingers looked as mistlike and insubstantial as Melisande’s. She gasped, her eyes widening with horror. The last of her doubts about her heritage died as she stared at her traitorous flesh.
“Why is this happening?”
The cruelty and anger had drained from Melisande’s expression, replaced by a look of resignation. “Violent emotion apparently triggered the change in you. When you were young, I had hoped you had too little Ilina blood ever to turn to mist. I’d hoped you could live your life free of any knowledge of us. But I felt the power in you spark to life at your maturation. I feared it was only a matter of time. And I was right.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
“All your life. As I did your mother.”
“Why?”
“It is my job to eliminate all threats to the secret of the race.” She held out her hand. “You must come with me, little sister.”
Julianne stared at that small, mistlike hand. “You’ll kill me.”
“You will merely abide in the Crystal Realm for a time.”
“Where I’ll die. Don’t play me for a fool, Melisande. The Ilinas may have been out of sight for a thousand years, but we haven’t forgotten you. And everyone knows no corporeal being can live long in that place.”
Her gut cramped with fear. She’d become a true threat to them. “Tell me how to change back, Melisande.” Her words were half demand, half desperate plea. “Tell me how to keep this from happening again so I don’t give you away.”
Melisande’s jaw clenched and unclenched, a debate clearly raging in her eyes.
“Julianne?” Cambria’s voice called through the door. “The guys just pulled up. Zeeland’s here!”
Melisande flicked her hand. Pain pierced Julianne’s flesh as if she’d been hit with a dozen darts, sharp needles of misery that stole her breath and made her eyes water.
Was this it then? Her death?
But before the thought could turn to terror, the pain began to fade. Her hands returned to flesh and blood.
Melisande’s face turned hard. “Control your emotions, little sister. This is not over.”
A cool, pine-scented breeze blew through the room, and Melisande was gone.
Julianne sank onto the stool behind her, at once furious and terrified. As the last of the pain disappeared from her body, she wrapped shaking arms around her middle and stared at the place where Melisande had stood.
What am I going to do?
The knock sounded again. “Julianne?”
“I’ll be right there,” she managed, barely controlling the quaver in her voice. She clutched the dressing table, afraid she was going to be sick.
Zeeland. Why now? Why had he decided to return now? As much as it would hurt, she could only hope he still harbored the disgust he’d felt for her that last night, that he’d continue to ignore her as he’d done for ten years. Because if he didn’t, how was she ever going to keep him from seeing the turmoil inside her and demanding its source?
Outside, she heard the slam of car doors and the glad shouts of welcome.
Zee.
Her stomach a mass of nerves, Julianne pushed to her feet and moved stiffly to the closet to find a pair of heels to go with her dress. For ten years, she’d dreamed of this day. For ten years, she’d dreaded it.
But all her reasons for both—embarrassment, hurt, love—no longer weighed against the fear that now consumed her life.
It no longer mattered how Zeeland felt about her—whether he was glad to see her or tried to keep his distance. It was of little consequence now whether he still saw her as the child he’d possessed only brotherly feelings for, or as a woman he might someday desire.
Only one thing mattered.
Getting him out of here. Sending him back to Britain.
Keeping him, and all those she loved, alive.