LITMIR.BIZ

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of the benefits of being…what we are, Lilith. He spoke to her clearly, without saying a word, and as she watched, her eyes sharpened with interest. One of many, he added. It’s not a bad thing, being immortal. Not at all.

      As he watched her closely, she closed her eyes, and then he heard her thinking, But we aren’t really immortal, are we?

      He smiled. “It depends on how we define the word, I suppose,” he said aloud. “Take care around the fire.”

      She smiled, apparently pleased that he’d heard and answered her question. That she could speak to him with no more than a thought. He actually thought there might have a been a glimmer of the old light in her eyes.

      “Thank you for taking me in, Ethan.”

      “You’re very welcome,” he said. And he meant it.

      Because, after all, Lilith was the only thing about The Farm that he’d regretted leaving behind. He’d thought of her so much that he’d been unable to keep himself from buying the Waterhouse print when he’d seen it. Because it reminded him of her. Of Lilith. She’d been nineteen when he’d left, and already notorious. Everyone knew who she was.

      She was the one they couldn’t break. She was the one who would rather die than submit. She was the voice of his conscience whenever he closed his eyes long enough to listen. She was the face he couldn’t stop seeing in his mind, the name he heard on the wind.

      She was the one kiss he had never been able to forget.

      He hadn’t named her Lilith because she reminded him of the print. He’d bought the print because it reminded him of her, right down to her name.

      She was Lilith.

      And somehow, she had found him.

      He was going to have to make her tell him how.

      21 Years Ago

      The taxi dropped Serena off in front of a cracker-box house in a neighborhood full of cracker-box houses and pulled away. She’d never felt more alone.

      It wasn’t a new sensation, of course. Serena had always been alone. She’d been orphaned at nineteen and had been making her own way ever since, waiting tables at the Broadway Grill, living in her tiny apartment in the low-rent district. On her own. That was how it had always been. The one-night stand that had resulted in the pregnancy had been just that. A one-night stand. A stranger in a bar on a particularly bad night when she’d been too depressed to want to go to bed alone. She didn’t even know his name.

      But for the last nine months, she hadn’t felt lonely at all. She’d had her baby daughter growing inside her. She’d talked to her. She’d laughed with her. She’d sung to her and read her stories. Then she’d given birth to her—and someone had stolen her away.

      It wasn’t fair.

      She’d briefly considered going back to her own apartment. Her own job. Her own life. Until she’d seen the one person who had tried to help her blown to bits in her own car.

      Now Serena was scared. She was angry, and she was grieving the loss of her baby, but fear had layered itself over both those emotions. She’d given her name and address, her employer and insurance information, when she’d checked into the hospital. She wasn’t going back home, not until she knew exactly what was going on. It might not be safe.

      So she stood in front of the little house staring down at the key chain from the knapsack and wondered briefly if this had been Maureen Keenan’s home. If it was, and if Maureen had been killed because she’d tried to help her, then wouldn’t those dark killers know where she lived? Wouldn’t they be watching?

      Serena turned and looked around. There were other houses just like this one lining both sides of the smooth, narrow, perfectly paved road. There were little maple trees spaced at regular intervals along both sides. There was a sidewalk unrolling in front of the houses, not a chip or a crack in it.

      A few cars were parked in a few driveways. None along the curb. None with anyone lurking inside. There were swing sets and tricycles in several yards. The place looked for all the world like a cozy, friendly, safe little neighborhood. No faces peered out through parted curtains as far as she could see. Maybe it would be safe to go inside.

      Drawing a breath, she went up the perfect little sidewalk to the front door, knocked and awaited an answer that never came. So, with hands that trembled, she slipped the key into the lock, turned it and opened the door.

      The house was dark, but it wasn’t empty. She didn’t know why no one had answered the door, but she could feel another’s presence. And along with that feeling, there were the aromas. She smelled something hot and rich, and her stomach growled.

      She looked through the darkened room she had entered to the rectangle of light that was an open doorway at the far end. A woman’s form stepped into that opening, no more than a dark silhouette.

      “Serena?” the shadow asked softly, but the tone of her voice said she already knew.

      “Yes.”

      “And where is Maureen?”

      Serena got the feeling that the faceless woman already knew what her response to that question would be, as well. “I…got off the bus where she told me. And she was there, in her car, and she waved to me….” She spoke faster than she should have, her tempo increasing as she went on. “I started to cross the street, and then her car, it just—it just—exploded. And she was…she was gone. She was just gone, and I couldn’t—”

      Her throat closed too tightly to let her go on, and she tipped her head back, eyes focused on the ceiling as she tried to swallow, tried not to just burst into the hysterical tears she felt pushing at the gates to get through.

      She heard the woman’s footsteps coming closer. Felt a hand on her shoulder and lowered her head to see a pair of kind eyes brimming with tears, an attractive face with full lips that trembled and high cheekbones that seemed pale in the insufficient light.

      “I’m so sorry,” Serena said, and sniffled hard. “She was your friend, wasn’t she?”

      “She was…more than a friend. She was a sister. Not by blood, but…well, hell, you’ll understand soon enough.”

      “Why was she killed?” Serena’s stomach clenched, and she tried to quell the sickness writhing inside her. “Was it because she tried to help me?”

      “She knew exactly what she was risking, Serena.” The stranger squeezed Serena’s shoulder and spoke these words firmly, as if they were very important. “This…this situation is way bigger than just you or your baby. You bear no responsibility for what happened to Maureen. Even if she had known what the outcome would be, she would have done exactly the same thing.”

      Serena lowered her head and let the tears flow. “I’m so confused. I don’t know what’s going on. Where’s my baby? Why would someone take her? Why would they kill an innocent nurse?”

      “I know all this is overwhelming to you right now. But I’m going to explain everything, I promise. Just…not here.”

      “We have to go?” Serena knew her tone was whiney, and yet she couldn’t help herself. “But I’m so tired.”

      “I know. I’ve made you soup and a sandwich to eat on the way. This is a safe house, but we can’t risk that you might have been followed. My car’s in the garage. This way.”

      The woman took Serena’s arm and led her to the kitchen, where the stranger picked up a Thermos and a zipper bag with a sandwich and a spoon tucked inside.

      “Grab something to drink from the fridge, and then we’ll get out of here,” she instructed.

      Serena opened the refrigerator, which was well-stocked, as if someone lived here. Maybe someone did. Or had. She pulled out two bottles of diet cola and closed the fridge again. The woman was opening a door, and beyond it Serena saw the garage and a blue compact car.

      “Come

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