Amaryllis

nothing. You control the link between us.'

But Samantha was no longer so certain that she was in command of the mind link. She felt his power coiling around her. He was so strong, she thought. She had never met any talent as strong as Justin.

What if the legends were right? She wondered as he deepened the kiss. They said a psychic vampire could chain a powerful prism with mental bonds and use her for his own dark purposes.

If she did not burn out beneath the fierce flames of his psychic energy-- and she showed no signs of doing so-- then she might be in very grave danger.

The power in him surged through the prism. She knew in that moment that Justin St. Clair could take control of her mind the way he took control of her senses.

'It is desire that links us,' Justin said. 'Surely you do not fear it?'

But she did fear it. Samantha knew that she had to act before it was too late.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted Amaryllis before she discovered just how the heroine of Orchid Adams's latest novel intended to deal with Justin, the psychic vampire.

She marked her place, closed the book, and reached for the phone.

'Hello?'

'Is this Amaryllis Lark?' The voice on the other end of the line was vaguely familiar, although it was barely above a whisper.

'Yes. Who is this?'

'It's me, Vivien Huggleston.'

'Vivien Huggleston? I don't know anyone named--'

'Vivien of the Veils,' Vivien muttered. 'You came to see me after one of my shows. You asked me some questions about Jonny Landreth.'

Amaryllis sat up swiftly on the sofa. 'Yes, of course, Vivien. What is it? Did you remember something important?'

'It's a little more complicated than that. I never actually forgot anything. I just didn't see any reason to tell you everything I knew that first time. I had my reasons, y'know? But now I think I'd better explain about me and Jonny.'

'I'm listening.'

'Jonny gave me something to keep. He said he didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands.'

Amaryllis gripped the phone more securely. 'Was it a file?'

'How did you know?'

'Never mind. Have you still got it?'

'Yeah, that's what I want to talk to you about. It's in a safe place, but I think I better get rid of it. Things are getting a little out of hand. Look, can you come and pick it up? I don't feel right about just bumin' it. It was real important to Jonny.'

Amaryllis glanced at her watch. 'I can be there in fifteen minutes.'

'Come alone. I didn't much like the looks of that guy you had with you the last time. He made me nervous.'

'He sometimes has that effect on people. Don't worry, I'll come alone. Where are you?'

'In my dressing room. I'm between performances. I don't go on for another hour and a half. Take a cab. That way you won't have to park on the side streets. Gets a little dangerous around here after dark, y'know. But you'll be safe enough so long as you stay on the main strip.'

'I'll be there as soon as I can get a taxi.'

Amaryllis cut the connection and then dialed the number of a cab company.

She was on her way out the door a few minutes later when she remembered that Lucas would be calling to tell her that his dinner with Dillon was finished. He would worry if she failed to answer the phone.

She dashed back into the living room, grabbed the phone, and recorded a new message into her answering machine.

When she was done, she ran back to the door and opened it. The cab was waiting at the curb.

The strip that marked the heart of Founders Square was thronged, as usual. Although it was nearly ten o'clock, the gaudy jelly-ice lights of the clubs and casinos blazed brighter than the sun at high noon.

Amaryllis got out of the taxi in front of the SynCity Club. She glanced at the long line of cruising cabs that clogged the street. There would be no problem getting one to take her home when she had finished talking to Vivien.

'Thank you,' she said as she handed the driver his fare and what she considered a reasonable tip. 'No need to wait.'

The driver scowled at the money she had thrust into his hand. 'Don't worry, I won't.'

Amaryllis chose to ignore the rudeness. She had more important things on her mind. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat, she made her way through the crowd to the narrow alley that led to the stage door entrance of the SynCity Club.

The massive guard who had blocked the door last time was not at his post. At least she was to be spared an unpleasant discussion about a bribe. That was fortunate. She only had a few dollars in her purse. She needed to save some cash for the cab fare home.

Amaryllis opened the stage door and stepped into the cramped corridor.

The outer door closed behind her. She paused, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light. A dull rumble reverberated down the ugly green hallway. The floor trembled beneath Amaryllis's feet. It took her a moment to realize that what she heard and felt was the rumble of the music being played on stage in the club.

She turned and went down the corridor, mentally counting off the doors. The thunder of the music grew louder as she moved deeper into the bowels of the SynCity's backstage environs.

The door with the glowing purple star on it was closed. Amaryllis knocked once. There was no response.

'Ms. Huggleston?' Amaryllis put one ear to the door. 'Vivien? It's me. Amaryllis Lark.'

There was still no response. The muffled roar of the music rose and fell in a throbbing wave of sound and vibration. Amaryllis wrapped her hands around the doorknob and twisted cautiously.

The door opened without protest. Amaryllis caught a faint whiff of smoke, as if someone had just lit a jelly candle.

'Vivien? I'm here.' She peered around the corner of the door.

There was an untidy bundle of purple veils lying in the middle of the threadbare carpet. It looked as if Vivien had discarded her stage costume in a hurry and left it on the floor.

Then she saw the feathery, high-heeled slippers sticking out from beneath a cascade of gossamer purple fabric. Vivien's feet were in the shoes.

'Vivien.' Amaryllis started forward. Her first thought was that the stripper had fallen and knocked herself unconscious.

The dressing room door swung shut behind her as she crouched beside the fallen woman. 'Vivien?'

Amaryllis heard a faint squelching sound. The carpet was wet. She glanced down and saw the dark stain.

A scream rose in her throat.

Blood soaked the thin carpet and several layers of veils. The puddle had its origin in the terrible black hole in the center of Vivien's forehead.

Amaryllis snatched back the hand she had been about to place on the dead woman's shoulder. She managed to stagger to her feet. Her stomach churned. The room started to spin gently. The noise of the pounding stage music shook the walls.

She turned and ran for the door. She had to get help.

But when she opened the door she found only darkness in the hallway. Someone had turned out the weak overhead lights that had illuminated the narrow corridor.

Then she felt a faint, not unfamiliar, trickle of awareness on the psychic plane.

It was gone in an instant but not before Amaryllis recognized it. What she had sensed was the brush of a strong but unfocused talent instinctively seeking a link. It was the sort of spiking surge of energy that often