Mark’s whole body trembled; a white roar of anger, anguish, and joy surged in his heart. Her face was turned this way, eyes closed, skin like cream. Her arms clutched the other woman’s shoulders, sweet, elegant arms.

She was beautiful beyond anything he had dared to remember, but in the purity of that face he also saw a purity of suffering that made him suck the air of shared pain through his clenched teeth.

His heart might be twisting in torment, but his mind was too disciplined to attempt to understand what could not be understood without more information, which was how in the world Gina had ended up coming to this place.

As the Vespa slowed and stopped, he watched quietly, prepared for anything. His eyes were on Gina’s hands. He did not want to see a weapon, but if he did, he was prepared to act appropriately.

He did not know much about God. He had not been given the gift of religion. He prayed in his own way, and now he said inside himself simply, Please, God, please.

The Vespa stood there, its driver’s wind-flushed face so still that he thought that she might be suffering from shock or blood loss.

“Help her,” he said, “she’s going over.”

As the driver collapsed and the scooter toppled, Gina leaped off, ran across the road, and disappeared into the woods on the opposite side.

“Wait here,” Mark said to the Pete and Linda, who had been nearest to the girl and had stopped her fall. He raced off after Gina.

In among the trees, he was surprised to find that he could detect no movement—which was strange. Very strange. In fact, it was impossible. Gina was not trained in any way. She could not be still enough for him not to spot her.

Had they taken her into one of their lairs?

He forced back a cry of terror, then slid his knife into his hand. Rarely did he feel rage or fear. His mind calculated and evaluated. But that was not the case now. He was afraid, truly and deeply. If they got her, he thought he might go insane with grief. But what did that mean, for something like him? Did any of his feelings mean anything—grief, love, hope? How was he to know if his programming actually mirrored real human emotions or was designed simply to make him appear to react like a human being?

For example, why wasn’t he furious at her? Why had he reacted with desire and love, not rage? She had tried to kill him. But he just wanted her so badly. She knew what he was, though, and she’d thought him dangerous enough to justify attacking him. So how could he possibly win her over, even if he did find her? But, above all, why had she come here?