With a low, playful growl, she moved closer to him. Then she stopped. Her body tensed.

"Bella?" Oh God. Not again.

Before he could complete the thought, Max flew backward, propelled by an evil wind that seemed to come through the walls. Nothing else moved—the curtains didn't even stir—but Bella rose slowly from the floor, her head tipping back. Her mouth fell open, blood dribbling from her lips as the Oracle spoke through her. "Bring the weapon to me!"

"You want a weapon? I'll bring you a weapon, you crazy bitch!" He reached into his back pocket for the stake there, then remembered it was Bella, not the Oracle, he would kill if he used it. How did she get so far into my head? The thought of what he'd been about to do sickened him, but there was no way to retaliate against the power that was destroying Bella.

"Bring the weapon to me!" the voice raged from Bella's throat. Then, as quickly as it had come over her, the Oracle's power was gone. Bella dropped in a heap on the floor, lay still for a moment, then snapped up, her eyes cold with hatred.

Max stepped warily toward her. "Bella, is that you?"

"It is me," she gasped, choking up more blood. "She is here. She has people here. They know we are coming."

He scrubbed a hand over his face, hating that his hand was trembling. "You rest. I'll keep watch. And I'll call Nathan, see if he got any information on reinforcements."

"No." She shook her head, drawing herself up slowly. "No. I will not wait for them to come after us. Get back in the car."

"Bella," he began, ready for a fight. He walked toward her, and she was on her feet before he reached her, brandishing a stake.

She leveled the point in front of his chest. "Get back in the car."

Max kept one eye on the road and one on Bella as she leaned out the car window, scenting the air. For the first time, he was tempted to snap at a passenger for not wearing a seat belt. She was hanging way too far-out.

When had he become so like Marcus? If this was what love did to someone, no wonder Max had avoided it for so long.

"Are you getting anything?" he asked, gripping the steering wheel tighter, as if that would hold her in. If she fell and broke her neck, he'd kill her.

She slipped into her seat again, thank God, but didn't buckle up. "Turn at the next available right."

"The next available right is a dirt two track." He leaned forward. "Or less."

"That is where you must go." She wrinkled her nose. "I smell vampires."