"No… This isn't Gladys."

"Is she there?"

"I'm afraid you have a wrong number."

"Oh, dear. It's me eyes. I'm sorry, dear."

"No trouble," said Rachaela.

She replaced the receiver slowly. Even the Scarabae were not immune to calls dialed in error.

But she was trembling. She felt sick. What was it? Fear? Why?

She sat down in a chair and shut her eyes. And, after a moment, steps crossed the room very lightly. As the firm cool hand touched the back of her neck, she smelled the unique perfume, cinnamon, shadow.

The fingers rubbed at the base of her skull, briskly. Rachaela relaxed.

"It made me jump, the phone," said Rachaela, foolishly.

"An instrument of evil," said Althene sardonically. "Bad news and sorrow."

"Yes, pure primitive fear. Absurd."

"You're better now."

"I think so. Thank you."

The hand left her alone.

Althene stood away, shimmering darkness. Water drops glittered on her hair. The windows had faded to copper.

"It's raining."

"At least, not frogs," said Althene.

"When I was a child I thought it rained cats and dogs," Rachaela said. She felt numb and at the same time desperate. "My mother used to shout at me. She thought I was trying to be cute. A proper child. But I was really a useless child. I always felt self-conscious in that ridiculous small body."

"Ah, yes," said Althene. She looked out into the hall. Longing to get away?

"Don't let me keep you," said Rachaela.

"I'm quite expensive," said Althene. "Do you think you could afford it?"

"I think sexual jokes are going to fall rather flat," said Rachaela. Then, "I apologize."

Althene took off the coat and dropped it on a white sofa, like a dead snake. She wore gray, a nun's color, and had masked her eyes in smoke. But her lips were rubies.

"Let's drink some of Eric's brandy," said Althene.

She went to the oval silver tray and lifted up one of the cut-glass decanters.

Rachaela sat still, obedient.

Althene handed her the black drink. It was bitter and burned like gall, whatever gall was.

"My mother's name," Rachaela said, "was Janet. Janet Smith. It's ordinary enough she may have contrived it."

"And how did she pick your name?"

"I think… he must have suggested it. God knows why she let him. Why she did what he said."

"Why did anyone do what Adarnus said?"

"He mesmerized us all. My mother, myself. Ruth."

"I never met Adamus," Althene said, "although, of course, I knew of him."

"If the Scarabae live so long," said Rachaela, "why do they commit suicide—how can they be sure…"

"Vampiric resurrection," said Althene, "is that what you infer?"

"I don't know what I infer."

"Are we still talking about Adamus?"

"Camillo," said Rachaela suddenly. "He's altered. He isn't just an old man wearing boy's clothes. Sometimes he looks—he looks too young." Althene did not answer. Rachaela said, "And Miranda's hair. Is she coloring it?"

"I doubt it."