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Prologue

Early summer 2585:

She loved to come to the lake. Nowhere else on earth was so beautiful and cool. Sunlight shimmered on the water and played chase with the golden ripples that dipped behind the shadows cast by stately redwood trees, only to emerge a heartbeat later and begin its game once again. The trees surrounding the lake were ancient now, born before the two thousand year wars.

Perhaps it was her father who made this place seem special, who created the magic. He was wonderful and good. He cared deeply for his family and his friends. But more than that, he worked hard to uphold the laws of the cities and to bring understanding between the City Dwellers and the outsiders.

He had promised her, had obtained the passes needed to go outside the perimeter of the virus-free bubble that protected them. She had been so proud when he handed her the permit.

"Victoria, I'm giving you this for safe keeping," he'd told her. "Now, don't lose the pass. Without this little piece of paper both you and Vanessa will have to stay home and I'll be forced to swim alone."

But her father was a busy and important man. Minutes before they meant to depart, he was called away on something vital, matters of state that had to be taken care of immediately.

She and Vanessa watched him leave. Yet they had the treasured passes in hand. There was no reason Tori could think of that she and her twin should stay home. They left the sterile confines of the City to swim and play, just as they had planned.

Oh, and it was such a beautiful day. Vanessa's giggle slipped across the deep blue surface, and seemed to dive beneath, as if following her twin in a careless display of frivolity. Nessa's dark blond curls broke the surface of the water. She shook her head. Droplets flew into the air then shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. They caught rainbows of light and melded with their source. Laughter rippled again.

Tori dove, then quickly emerged from the mysterious depths; with strokes synchronized perfectly, they swam to the farthest point of land. Reaching shallow water, they waded ashore, oblivious to everything except the beauty of the day.

"I wish father had been here." Nessa's small breathy voice lost itself in the towering trees and thick foliage.

"He had important business." Something was about to happen. Tori sensed it--some sudden stillness in the air, something that warned her.

Nessa DeMontville cast an exasperated glance at her twin who moved past her toward a huge granite rock that loomed almost ten feet above the earth. Another boulder soared higher.

"He promised us, and it has been so long."

"Sometimes he doesn't have a choice." To Tori, the forest had suddenly turned quiet--too quiet.

"Are you sure it was alright for us to come without him?"

"We have the passes," Tori said, scarcely able to breathe.

Nessa shook her head. "Yes, but..."

"I rest my case." She crossed her arms in front of her.

"But father..."

Tori patted the rock next to her. "I promise as soon as we dry off, we'll go home. Come on, join me."

Nessa looked from her clothes to the sun-warmed rock. After a few seconds, her gaze drifted back to her sister. Nessa trembled, and Tori knew her sister was afraid.

"I suppose we'll have to sneak in through the tower window," Nessa said.

"Only because it's so much fun," Tori replied.

The tower she spoke of stood guard over Tower City, an ancient reminder of a time long past. It looked over a larger arm of the lake they now enjoyed. A small, hidden door located at the tower's base enabled the girls to escape the stifling confines of the City.

No one had the freedom to come and go from the City, as they pleased; no one except physicians. Since the last outbreak of the deadly Signe virus, most travel was forbidden and permits were given only to a chosen few.

Tori lifted her face to the sun, intent on the precious moments she had left.

"I'm sorry Nessa, truly I am. If I'd realized you didn't want to go, I wouldn't have asked. Now that you're here, you have two choices; go up the ladder or walk through the gates. But then Father will know within minutes."

"So he will be angry?" Nessa asked.

"I don't know. Why did you agree to come with me?"

Nessa's head shot up. Her gray eyes clouded. "I couldn't let you go alone. What if something happened to you?"

Tori smiled tenderly then just as suddenly sobered. "You worry too much. Remember, we have passes and Father did approve this outing."

"But that's because he planned to be here."

Out of the corner of one eye, Tori watched her sister slip out of her swimsuit and struggle into her clothes. Nessa pulled on the form-fitting black body suit, wriggling to get into it. After that, she tugged at the bodice until the material flattened all her newly blossomed curves. Her dark blue tunic slithered over her head and rested an inch above her knees. Nessa buckled the wide silver belt she always wore before she buttoned the two remaining buttons, fastening them securely below her chin.

Nessa waited and tapped her foot impatiently. To Tori, it looked as if Nessa waited for her to climb from the rock and dress, but Tori didn't want to leave.

"Are you coming?" Nessa asked finally.

"Another minute. The sun feels so warm and..."

"Tori."

"What?"

Thunder boomed in the mountains far to the east and instantly the sky sizzled, turning the air sultry. Clouds billowed over the mountains and formed huge dark figures. The noise from the burgeoning summer storm eclipsed all other sounds.

Something awful was about to happen. Tori was suddenly anxious to be home.

She slid off her sunny perch and scrambled into her clothes. Loose fitting breeches and a lightweight cotton shirt slipped over clean fresh skin, a sharp contrast to her sister's attire. She quickly tugged on her boots, hobbling on one foot and then the other. When she finished, she straightened, brushing dusty hands on her pants.

"Race you to the cross roads." Tori started across the stream. One foot landed in the bubbling creek with a loud splash, the other landed squarely on the other side. The exhilaration left her breathless, and she gave no heed to the racket she caused, scrambling across the summer dried forest.

A sharp cry pierced the woods. The scream was followed by the sharp report of a bullet. Both girls fell to the ground and froze. After several terrifying seconds passed without another shot, they raced for cover.

Lightning scorched across the sky. Rain threatened. Black clouds filled the horizon, blocking out the sun.

"Tori...what?"

"Hush!" she said sharply.

"But..." Nessa's voice whispered through the shrubbery.

A terrified cry sounded an alarm in the forest. Nessa huddled closer to her sister.

"Stay here. I'm going to see for myself." Guilt swept through Tori. She had caused this--her sister's fear. Nessa shouldn't be here.

Nessa stiffened. "No, I..."

"We can't stay huddled in fear. One of us has to go."

"Don't you dare leave me."

Tori studied her sister carefully. "Are you sure?"

After a hesitant nod from Nessa, Tori rose on all fours. She peeked over the decaying log they hid behind then looked back at her twin. Nessa's hands were clenched in tight little fists, and she had an unusually stubborn look about her, her chin slanting a little higher than usual.

"All's clear." Crouched low, Tori moved swiftly along a narrow winding trail toward the crossroads. Nessa followed, and despite her apparent fear, she managed to stay on Tori's heels.

Before she could warn Nessa, even before she could stop herself, Tori stumbled onto the road.

One man, dressed in the stately gold and purple robes of a councilman, an advisor of the City, stood with his back to her. Two other men, hands shackled behind them, stood in front of the Advisor.

Thieves.

Behind the thieves stood five thieftakers. The golden red emblem emblazoned on their uniforms designated them as such. And then Tori's gaze caught and held the eye of one of the thieftakers. He was younger than the other four, but she knew first-hand he was twice as deadly. Quentin Morray.

Tori felt the cool, arrogant stare down to the tips of her toes. She rubbed her arms in a futile attempt to ward off the cold that enveloped her. She'd known him for a long time, known him as long as she could remember. Every time they met, Morray made her skin crawl.

Tori put him from her mind, her attention riveted to the Advisor who slowly turned toward her. Too late, she realized who he was. Her body shuddered and her heart slammed against her chest.

The Advisor's fists held tight at his side and the scowl creasing his brow were the only indication of his anger. She watched horrified. Their eyes met for one second before she looked away thoroughly penitent. The forest was as silent as death itself. Then...

"Father," Tori choked on the words.

"Daddy," Nessa whispered softly.

* * *

Tori froze.

Yet it wasn't the fear that caused the sudden and deep chill sweeping through her, or her hatred of Morray. Nor was it the unexpected sight of her father that frightened Tori so very much. Even though his expression was hard and unrelenting, she'd seen that look before.

What terrified her were the thieftakers. One already prepared a hangman's rope for the thieves. It was a cold-blooded group she'd run across, and she knew her father was here with his one guard for the sole purpose of stopping the lynching.

The two thieves were barbarians, a hated group, reviled by most City Dwellers. The thieftakers were circling the thieves, pushing and shoving, taunting the men who had no means to defend themselves.

The thieves were helpless. Their only hope lay in Advisor DeMontville's ability to hold the angry thieftakers back, on his ability to negotiate. But now his attention was focused on her.

"What are you two doing here?" DeMontville's voice rose above the others. "Go to my glider. Now!" His harsh tone sent the girls scurrying.

Even as her father shouted his warning, the scene erupted in chaos and angry cursing. Tori stopped mid-stride and watched as a bolt of lightning hit a tree nearby, saw the swift flight of a knife, a glint of silver.

A roll of thunder drowned the terrible agonized scream. One of the thieves dropped to the ground, a knife protruding from his back.

"For the love of God. Go, now!" Her father yelled again, but Tori froze to the spot. She could feel her sister's body tremble beside her. She stared at the thieftakers, sure Morray threw the knife. But she had not seen him do it.

"What is this? You murder a man without benefit of trial," her father called out as he turned his attention to the immediate problem. "I would have seen to them." He looked to the other prisoner who frantically dodged the thieftakers, desperate for his own life, his eyes wild with fear and hate. "Stop him!"

The thief stumbled. One man took Advisor DeMontville's command to heart.

A bullet was fired. The report echoed through the forest as the thief dropped to the ground, silent in death.

DeMontville could have done nothing to prevent the murders. The thieftakers had every right according to the law to kill an accused thief.

"They would have stood trial for their crimes," Tori's father said.

Morray stepped forward. "And what about your daughters? Will they stand trial for their crimes? It is against the law to leave the City without a pass."

DeMontville's sharply indrawn breath frightened her. They did have passes. She reached into her pocket to show them. But the passes were gone.

Both prisoners had fallen in the once green grass. Blood flowed from their wounds. And her father, trusted representative of the people, stood before the thieftakers, challenged to a point beyond thinking.

"I will see to their punishment."

"A slap on the hands again, DeMontville?" Morray said before he sighed heavily and shook his head, a sneer forming on his lips. With long slim fingers, he picked a piece of lint from his sleeve.

As if by unspoken command, the thieftakers suddenly drew their weapons, pointing them at DeMontville.

"If necessary there will be a trial by their peers, but I believe my punishment will be thorough enough."

Morray stepped forward and a hush fell over those gathered. "Those men deserved to die. And your own daughters need severe punishment, not some trial by their peers. They are incorrigible, flaunting the laws to their own purpose."

"You have no say in this. None!" her father shouted above the roar that followed Morray's proclamation. In one swift gesture, he motioned the girls to the van. "I will see to them."

"Father!" Tori cried out, though she knew he couldn't hear. The thieftakers surrounded him. He was outnumbered.

"Advisor DeMontville!" Morray challenged again. "Would you jeopardize the entire treaty between the barbarians and the City Dwellers? But of course you would. You'd risk everything for your daughters, wouldn't you? Perhaps even your reputation."

Quentin Morray motioned to his men and yelled out for justice. As the intimidating group surged forward, a strange whistling sound pierced the air. A silencer gun had been fired at the thieftakers. Quentin Morray suddenly stopped and fell to the ground, stunned but not dead. His men met the same fate.

"What?" her father whispered.

The clearing was quiet.

"Father, be careful!" Alarm rose as she watched her father hurry toward the downed thieftakers.

"It's all right. I know it is," he told her softly. He bent over the leader, searching for a pulse along the man's neck. The man groaned and his body shuddered slightly. He lay still once more. "Ah, he will recover in record time," her father said before he looked sternly at his daughter. "Your behavior will not be excused. This time you have tied my hands. I don't dare show mercy. You will have to be sent away."

Mortified, Tori hadn't realized the direction his punishment would take. Her teeth chattered, and she could scarcely breathe at the thought. Sent away. No!

Then she found strength. "You gave us passes."

"Produce them."

"I cannot. They are lost, atop the boulder by the lake." She pushed aside her own fears in order to comfort her twin.

Together they would find the courage to survive this separation, and she prayed her father intended the banishment for her alone. Nessa's tears flowed, and she was afraid for her sister, for sweet gentle Nessa.

Showing an uncharacteristic strength, Nessa managed to dry her eyes. Her tears stained the beautiful material of her tunic to a deep blue, yet, for the first time, she met her twin as an equal. "Tori, we have to be strong."

Their father led them to the glider, leaving the thieftakers to recuperate on their own. "You realize the danger you've put the City in--ah, but you don't--I can read it in your eyes. Foolish pranks! Childish whims! Was the day's fun and games worth another war?" Her father's voice, deceptively soft, made Tori's heart beat furiously. She thought he'd been angry before, but now...

Now she wanted to melt back into the forest, wanted to beg his forgiveness. The laws were wrong. It had been so long since she'd seen the forests and the lake, and she craved the freedom, the wind in her hair and the warm sunshine against her face. And there was still the matter of the passes.

"You cannot believe this was done on a whim."

"Your excursion will cause strife and treaties will have to be renegotiated. You can count on Morray to raise as much support against me as possible. They will cry out injustice. Perhaps even treason." He paused. "If you could have produced the pass--"

"But father," she said. "He's an evil man and what does it matter that he's angry?" Tori asked her father.

"You truly don't understand, do you?"

The silence between them seemed to last an eternity.

He sent Nessa off to the City with his attendant and directions for the guard to come back immediately.

Tori stayed with her father and the men that still lay motionless on the ground in the clearing. Two of them murdered ruthlessly--by thieftakers. She hated thieftakers.

"I do know the laws, know them by heart. But the thieftakers use the laws to their advantage."

Her father sighed deeply, and it seemed as if he looked at her in a different light. "Not all the thieftakers are bad."

"What will happen if the thieftakers gain more power? What if there are too many bad ones for the good ones to control?"

Her father, watching her, shuddered suddenly. He held her close. "Then evil will rule the land."

"I only wanted a moment of freedom. I've done no harm."

"Look around you and tell me your adventure has done no harm. You cannot disregard the laws or the thieftakers!" His voice escalated with every word.

"You saw what they are capable of," she finished for him. "Crime syndicates control the thieftakers. They are a law among themselves as was proven today. I hate them--every one of them and I always will." She began to tremble and her voice shook with indignation and anger at all the injustice.

Her father gave her a rueful smile before shaking his head. "Well, my dear, you are well versed in current events. You'd make a formidable opponent. I admit. But then I'm not your opponent. I'm your father, and by that right, you are mine to command. You have backed me into a corner. We still have virus-free confines in other provinces. If I send you to one of these refuges, you will lead a very, very austere life. You will have plenty of time to think on all that went on here today, all the disappointment and grief you have brought down upon the City, and the loss of your sister." He offered her a comforting smile before he touched her cheek. "This is not an easy task for me either. But you have tied my hands."

"I will fight the thieftakers--all of them."

"There is a reason and purpose for everything, my dear. It will take time and a strong hand to bring about peace and understanding between the people."

Tori knew what her father said was true. He was a dependable and good ruler with endless patience. Authoritative and domineering, he believed in justice and the uniting of the planet.

She looked at her father. "So, you will punish Nessa for my crimes, and send her away also. Isn't it enough to separate us? I never thought of you as unjust or unfair. You know as well as I that she could never say no to me."

"And because she has not learned to say that very important word, I will banish her. It was a lesson she should have learned years ago. Saying no is such a simple thing."

"You don't understand. She is sweet, pure, and so very loving. She does not have the strength within her to defy me."

Her father brushed tears of his own from his eyes then hugged her dearly. "True enough, but she followed you, without a thought to the passes and their safekeeping," he told her ruefully. "But my little one, think on this--if she is removed from your influence, perhaps she will learn to make decisions for herself."

He looked around the clearing as if he suddenly remembered the hidden sniper who had stunned all the thieftakers.

She nodded, and he touched her cheek with the palm of his hand. As if he had not meant to show a softer side, he looked away from her and directly at the men sprawled on the ground.

Three more gliders returned, one to pick up his daughter the other one for the dead thieves, the third for his own use. He helped Tori inside the first one then moved away.

It was time for his daughter to begin her lessons. Oh, she wouldn't like the first one, purification, but perhaps she would begin to understand. "Go on now," he spoke to the pilot. To Tori, "I'll see you before you leave." He needed a moment alone.

The land gliders started back to the City. DeMontville stood in the clearing, listening while the distant sound of thunder reverberated in the hills to the east, the air muggy and hot. Yet he was certain the watcher would present himself.

A sudden roar emanated behind him. He whirled around. One of the thieftakers raced across the grass ready to throttle him, ready to do murder.

He was ill prepared. City Dwellers had long since evolved beyond hand-to-hand combat. There was no time to learn the skills now. DeMontville tensed and waited for the attack. He could only pray this man would come to his senses.

He hated to think of all the work and time he'd wasted if anything happened to him here. Surely, all would be lost. Open warfare would rule the land again.

"Halt!" The voice rang through the air.

A man stood at the edge of the trees, gun drawn and ready. The weapon was pointed at the thieftaker.

The thieftaker faltered for a split second. Although he'd surged forward with the intention of doing murder, the thieftaker fell, his body stunned, shot by the newcomer.

DeMontville looked at the thieftaker then back to the man who had saved him. No, it was not a man but a youth several years older than his daughters.

He was tall. His dark brown eyes looked almost amber in color as the failing sunlight flitted across his face to vanish again. He was confident, with well-chiseled features and a strong jaw. And DeMontville knew him well.

DeMontville smiled slowly. "Cameron. Cameron Savage. Or is it The Phantom?"

The young man nodded and he appeared anxious now that he'd been discovered. "The meeting got out of hand," he said in his own defense. "I could not let them hurt your daughters, or kill you. They'll be fine in a few more minutes."

"There is nothing to justify here."

"And of course that big one woke up before he should have. I don't think the Council of Representatives would have liked the explanation. Actually I did us all a favor."

"Oddly enough, you did. But you needn't fear, I won't let word of this reach your father."

Cameron blanched. "I'll tell him. You have my word."

DeMontville hesitated a moment. "It's for the best. Yet, if you would follow in his footsteps, I suggest a more passive role. You cannot assume to shoot everyone you disagree with."

A slight chuckle followed DeMontville's comment. "I will consider what you've said."

"Fine!" DeMontville said quickly. "And for keeping my silence, I would ask a favor of you."

"Anything. What do you have in mind?"

"Nothing at the moment. But when the time comes, I would like your solemn promise that you will honor my request."

"You have it."

"You won't regret the vow."

Cameron nodded and a moment later was gone, vanishing silently into the forest.

DeMontville stepped inside the glider left for him. He powered up and turned the vehicle toward the City.

He thought on his daughters, so different, and yet they looked so much the same. They'd not easily forget this day. No, it would live in their minds until he could call them home, and he prayed to God they would both learn the needed lessons.

Tori had vowed to fight all thieftakers.

He tried to smile and remember all the goodness and innocence within each one. He would miss them both terribly.

The rain fell in torrents then and lightning sizzled, hitting the ground near his glider. Indeed the day was dangerous. The conspiracy had just begun.

Chapter One

Summer 2590

Five years later:

High above the retreat, on a narrow ledge, Tori DeMontville crouched. Hiding behind a monstrous pillar, she studied the forest for the slightest sign of movement. A thorough search of the area revealed nothing, no subtle play of shadows against the light or uncharacteristic images flitting from tree to tree. The forest appeared deserted and curiously vacant as if no life existed within.

Tori's eyes narrowed, assessing the relative safety of the mission. Her nerves and muscles stretched taut, she moved with incredible well-practiced stealth across the high wall.

The forest floor, carpeted in a light gray mist, reached out its arms, beckoning, weaving its enchanted magic around her. Slender birch trees rose above the fog, stretched their branches to the dawning sun and the gentle warm rays. Cryptic silence fluttered in gray swirls beneath the canopy. Far overhead one daring sea gull swooped and called out a plaintive tune. A curious gray squirrel chattered angrily at her feet, lifting the gloom that threatened, while the rhythmic crashing of the breakers thundered to the west. There was no other sound.

Everything looked normal, but the absence of noise was startling; Tori fought to shake off the feelings of doom that hovered in the pit of her stomach. She hesitated, overwhelmed by a feeling someone was out there--watching. The trees were too still, the earth too quiet. Nothing stirred, no shadows fluttered along the ground.

She shook off the sensation, telling herself she was imagining things. Unloosing the rope she carried across her shoulder, she tied the end around a metal post and let the length slip to the ground. She had to move quickly. Her form, outlined against the early morning sky, would stand out in stark relief. With patience born from caution and adversity, she swept the area one last time before she tossed a knapsack over the wall. She descended the corded rope to the ground. After shouldering the bag, she set off toward the forest.

With two hours until the dawn ceremonial, she had a minimum amount of time to find the tiny flower she needed. A rare, fragile white flower, one that bloomed in the early spring, was the object of her diligent search. The last factor in the electrolysis she worked on, it was imperative she locate the flower and isolate the rare chemical found in this plant.

Tori breathed deeply, filling her lungs with fresh, clean air before she entered the forest. Soon the need for stealth overcame all other thought. Far ahead, the harsh low rumble of men's voices filtered through the dense trees and brambles. She penetrated the forest in the opposite direction.

* * *

"God Almighty!" Cameron Savage rocked on the balls of his feet before he moved swiftly and silently behind the furtive shadow ahead. Until this moment, Cameron thought the area was secured and safe. If something wasn't done soon to stop this boy, all hell would break lose.

The most powerful of the overlords were due into this area by noon. He, Cameron Savage, confidant of the most influential of all the overlords, and also double agent, spy--thieftaker, was blessed with the burden of securing the perimeter.

His job was two-fold; the overlords must feel safe, and the wheels must be set in motion for their eventual capture and prosecution.

This City Dweller complicated his mission, had the nerve to steal away in the early hours of dawn to some secret rendezvous. It seemed he cared not for the laws and the tenuous peace. And why should the boy? The corruption that existed in this world went unprosecuted, terrifying all law-abiding citizens.

Cameron vowed long ago to put an end to the trafficking, to stop the thieves that stole the deadly viruses from the disease control centers, holding them ransom until the City Dwellers were all but bankrupt. He'd vowed to stop the corrupt and dangerous thieftakers from forming unholy alliances with the thieves, and in the process reaping fortunes from both sides.

For a moment he looked at the emblem sewn on his jacket and gritted his teeth. Once the golden red symbol of the dragon, of the thieftakers, stood for something noble. A man wearing the emblem could be proud of what he did.

But no longer.

Over the last five years, progress had been made. The tension had eased somewhat, but the threat of contamination always lingered. One mistake, one infestation and all would be for naught. All the hard work and research over the long years would be wasted by a few heartless people. Corrupt thieftakers. The crime syndicates.

Any mistake could prove fatal.

While Cameron watched, the small figure stopped beside an old rotten log and knelt before whipping the knapsack from his back and rummaging through the inside. Seconds later a spade and a small knife were secured from the pack, and the figure began to shuffle through the dust, the dirt, and the growths found within. The boy sat back on his haunches and deposited debris in tiny plastic sacks.

A shiver snaked along Cameron's spine. The figure did appear elusive but hardly dangerous. He wore loose fitting camouflage pants and a matching shirt. His cloak was hooded and dark. When he looked up, he seemed to stare directly at Cameron. With lithe movements, he deftly packaged and labeled each article and moved farther into the dense undergrowth.

The darkened forest and the gray mist closed in around the City Dweller as he passed a huge redwood tree and disappeared. Cameron stepped forward, intent on tracking this person, but a flash of light where the boy had been digging made him stop. Cameron searched the ground for the object that pulled his attention away from his quarry. Then he saw the piece of jewelry, a ring, with the DeMontville crest.

Perhaps this wasn't a waste of time.

Cameron's hand closed around the ring and he held the jewelry a scant moment before he slipped it on his little finger.

He looked again for the wayward youth.

"Halt!" The person he trailed stepped from behind a shield of trees.

A slow smile of amusement curled Cameron's lip. "Halt?" Cameron leaned casually against the tree the juvenile had emerged from. His hands crossed negligently over his chest. "Why?" Cameron asked.

"You have no right to be here."

Cameron cast the boy a contemptuous glare. "And I suppose you do." Cameron straightened and stepped boldly toward the small tense figure.

"Yes...I..." The young man sounded unsure of himself.

"Tell me what you are up to and I might allow you to slip back over the wall. Perhaps the good people within will forgive you the indiscretion."

"It's nothing," the youth said shakily as he backed away.

"Leave the pack and go," Cameron said in what he hoped was his most menacing tone. This young man needed a good scare.

"No."

"What?" There was too much at stake here. Cameron decided the boy's curt refusal was foolhardy, and perhaps a good scare was not quite intimidating enough to convince him. Perhaps he needed to be taught a more severe lesson. Cameron started toward him bent on that very thing.

The boy stood his ground, chin tilted upward in a strangely feminine gesture that almost stopped Cameron.

"No?" Cameron's eyebrow rose in mockery. "Don't try to defy me. It will do you no good."

The little hellion whipped out a gun and pointed it at him. "I kill thieftakers!"

"Hell!" Cameron swore again.

Despite the shaking fingers, Cameron had no doubt this boy would use the weapon. He could disarm the boy.

Easily disarm him. Swiftly he brought his hand up, landing hard beneath the boy's wrist.

The gun, that had moments before been pointed against Cameron, went flying into some green oblivion of forest and moss.

Retribution could be quite satisfying.

Satisfying indeed. Yet he was about to be deprived of it. That very minute the juvenile turned and ran, disappearing into the mist and the trees.

Seconds later Cameron picked up the sound of his quarry's rapid flight through the overgrown and nearly forgotten trail.

He moved swiftly through the forest and its pathways, as if he had intimate knowledge of every tree and bush within.

And he did.

But the boy proved elusive.

Cameron came to a complete stop, warily searching the surrounding area, listening intently for any sound, or a subtle mistake. Only silence prevailed in the forest.

Suddenly a camouflaged waif darted between two trees.

Cameron followed. As he managed to close the distance between the two of them, his adversary reached for a handful of dirt and grass. The debris hit him squarely in the face.

"Damnation! Fight like a man or I'll treat you as I would a small child. You deserve a thrashing, by God." The dirt did not slow Cameron. He started after the brat once more.

The boy slipped several times and was now scrambling on all fours as if he searched for something else to throw.

"Just try it." There was nothing more in the little clearing for the urchin to grab hold.

Cameron, more frustrated than he could ever recall, moved with lightning speed and agility. Like a thunderbolt, he crossed the few remaining feet between them and tackled the boy.

Fragile hips suddenly lay between his thighs, and something within him quickened as he held the soft form. Sheer amazement at the sudden insight held him still for a second.

Even as she struggled again, with what should have been the last of her strength in a final bid for freedom, beating upon his chest with her small fists, Cameron tried to decide what should be done with her. He caught her wrists and held them still.

"Who are you?" he challenged.

Nothing had changed, except...

This tiny thing provoked every tender emotion within him and it seemed his blood quickened, heated, bolted to life. The girl's teeth were gritted tightly as she struggled against his hold. She arched and bucked, finally managing to loosen an arm. Instantly, she clawed and slapped at his face.

Someone who fought so hard must have something to hide. He found her wrists, forcing them tightly together and high over her head where they could do him no more harm.

"Now, little fool," Cameron began and eased his weight a fraction. "Be still. I don't want to hurt you."

Her eyes fastened on his uniform, on the emblem of the thieftaker and she began the struggle anew, fighting fiercely and trying to dislodge him with a diligent fervor.

"Hold!" Cameron swore even as he admired her stubborn courage. "But you are asking for serious discipline..."

"Disciplined by a thieftaker? They have no discipline--no moral code, no--"

"Stop it." Suddenly he wanted to shake some sense into her, tell her the truth, burned to have her understand that he was not a thieftaker. Wanted to kiss her senseless. He reminded himself this was a young lady, too young for him.

"If you knew my name you..."

"Would let you go? I would not let you go even if you were DeMontville's daughter. Ah, but no! I promised punishment, I think." The young lady looked horrified as Cameron leaned close, a smile curving his lips. He lowered his head to her, his mouth very nearly against her ear as he spoke. "You should be stripped as naked as the day you were born and made to go through purification. Or would you prefer something more humbling?"

The girl's eyes widened and flashed sparks that shot out to pierce his thick hide.

She moistened her lips. "Naked?" The light of battle shone in her eyes.

"As the day you were born." Cameron's thumb gently traced the girl's cheek. The little lady appeared even more horrified. Cameron swore softly at the rush of blood that heated her face. Lord, he couldn't, he shouldn't go through with this. But then he might, because she had sorely tempted him. And this was no child. This was a young lady in desperate need of guidance.

She was reckless and wild and something in her nature stirred him. She had put her very life in danger, and his by coming out here this day, had defied the laws of the City. Punishment was inherent. But purification? Or even sterilization? That was inhumane; he could not let that happen, but he could make her think about it, and perhaps in the future, she would not be so quick to leave the City.

Ah, but he could tease her only so long no matter how enticing she was, despite the lure of her form beneath him, regardless of the desire that raged instantly with his touch upon her skin. And, he reminded himself again, she couldn't be more than nineteen.

Anger seized him, raw fury against himself and the ease with which she defied him and flaunted the rules. Courage was one thing, stupidity another. Then a determination, fierce and unrelenting, overrode every other thought.

Cameron's eyes closed. Memories once buried resurfaced and the years vanished. So many years. Yet the one he remembered now was a different forest, still green and dense. And a thief lay on the ground dead from a thieftaker's knife, one of his own kind. A thieftaker that he'd never trusted. Quentin Morray.

His eyes widened, meeting the girl's.

"I shall never forgive you for this--thieftaker. Let me up!" she commanded him.

"I do not seek forgiveness." It appeared that she would not give in, would not surrender. He could not let her see the concern and the fear that swept through him when he thought of what she risked here. His rock-hard thighs squeezed around her hips snugly. Intimately. He forced himself to smile, grinning knowingly as he spoke in a challenging fashion, his voice husky. "You should realize your interference here is not appreciated. You should learn to stay in the safety of the City. There is nothing here for you."

"I hate you. Let me..."

"No, you'll only stumble on something more dangerous. They banish City Dwellers who defy the laws, you know. But only after purification."

She turned instantly white. He felt the trembling of her body. "I know," she said, her voice strangled and barely perceptible.

"Oh?" Cameron didn't enjoy her sudden contrition or his dominant position with his legs encasing her thighs, but he had gone too far to turn back. "Once upon a time a councilman of highest rank banished his daughters for just such an offense as what you've committed here. Why..." he hesitated, a grin stretched across his face and he breathed close to her ear. "Once upon a time, a thief might have been sent to the outskirts of civilization for standing on the towers that rim the City. Lie still. You wouldn't want me to call for the watchers, eh? You know what they do to their victims before they escort them away?"

Her eyes shot sparks of fire. His anger died along with a startling rise of heat to his loins, his intent to convince her stronger now that he realized the affect he had upon her.

"Ah, let me think. I had thought to punish you as a child. A severe tongue-lashing might leave a lasting impression for a week or so. But no. A lesson should be remembered and it should fit the crime. Where shall I start? Strip you naked first, I believe. Purification always begins that way."

She had lain so very quiet and so very still that he wasn't sure if she were in shock or contemplating his demise. But she finally found her voice. "Punish me and be dammed with you, but stop taunting me with humiliating reprisals! Thieftaker!" She spat out the word in the most derogatory manner.

"I'd rather prolong the agony, little fool. It's all part and parcel of the punishment, or hadn't you guessed that already? If the punishment fits, then the lesson is remembered."

"Bastard!" The girl managed to free one hand, raking her fingernails across his cheek before he could capture it again.

Cameron swore. "A child and a little fool to boot! Where were your father and mother when you were growing up? You have the manners of an alley cat."

The barb hit home. As he watched, the small oval of her face turned bloodless, yet her eyes narrowed and he caught a glint of determination and a moment of helplessness just before she unleashed her fury. Renewing her struggle, she reached swiftly for the gun at his belt. It went off, knocking Cameron from her hips and onto his back.

She rose and quickly assumed a position of authority, the gun pointed squarely at his chest. "Ah, babe...I like you like that. Perhaps now...I'll see you thrashed, stripped naked and readied for purification," she mocked and victory resounded eloquently in her words. "Now, my arrogant thieftaker, I have the advantage. Take yourself home and make sure your mother doesn't birth any more bastards, or worse--thieftakers!"

The gun was still pointed at his chest and the protective vest he wore. Its first blast did little damage and he had no doubts a second would do nothing more. It was the embarrassment of his unseating, the humiliation that this wisp of a girl could gain the upper hand so easily that bothered him.

"Go!" the girl cried out.

"Or what?"

She grinned. "Or I'll see to your punishment." She looked at his feet. "The boots...I want your boots first. Put them over there by the tree." She nodded her head in that direction.

His mind focused on the gun, Cameron began to move.

"Ah, babe, you follow orders well. How does the big bad thieftaker feel now? I suppose your father never saw fit to teach you manners. I believe it will be my pleasure. A nice long walk in the buff might do the trick."

"Take care, little wildcat, I have all day to play this game. You, on the other hand, have one hour."

"Game. Game? This is no game."

"Of course it is. You defy all the laws to be out here."

"I have good reason, and I hold the gun. And thieftaker, the boots then your pants, I think. It is my duty, you see, to humble a thieftaker. Go on now, strip."

Cameron's stance was wide, his long arms hanging loosely at his side. His smile widened as her eyes flashed, battle ready and primed, her reaction surprising him. He stepped forward.

"I wouldn't do that," she said.

"Ah, but...I'm not you." He dove for the gun. His fingers closed vise-like around her wrist, forcing her arm and the weapon toward the green canopy above. The gun discharged. Twigs and leaves fell from the sky and showered them with debris.

"What now? As you can tell, I hold the gun."

The upper hand was his once again.

Time to end the game. The overlords would arrive soon. As the lady twisted her arm from his grip, Cameron reached out, his powerful fingers curling into the material of her shirt. He swung her around, intent on finishing this mission and seeing her home.

Reckless and as wild as a summer storm, she struggled within his grasp. His hold upon her was fragile, yet her shirt ripped.

The view beneath Cameron's gaze startled him, the image provocative and sexy as hell. She was exquisite, a work of art.

Believing her subdued, he loosened his grip. A mistake. She was a woman, yes, a wild impetuous, furious one. Any attempt at reasoning on his part would be wasted, and any thought of her submission was foolish.

He had nearly lost his hold on her. He caught her arm and pulled her around with such force that she stumbled, falling into him and toppling them both. He shifted in midair so that he'd take the brunt of the fall. The air rushed from her lips, leaving her dazed and vulnerable. He swiftly rolled over.

Cameron straddled her hips again, his weight rendering her immobile.

He had wanted to know her mission. Yet the admiration for her stubborn courage and the sensual pull he felt for this lady surprised him. And for a brief second he had thought...hell, she was young, way too young.

With an inward shudder and the memory that reasoning and threats had all failed, he placed the gun beneath her chin. "Don't threaten a man with a gun unless you intend to use it."

Instantly, she was trembling beneath him, her hands clenched against his chest in defiance. "Blow me away, thieftaker, and be done with it." His captive lowered her lashes and held her breath. Her fingers tightened against him, winding into his own shirt as if pleading for courage. Suddenly, her eyes were open and gazing into his own.

Seeing her eyes so close and the fear clearly shining from them, he felt a moment's compassion.

"What are you waiting for?"

The words spoken impetuously held the slightest tremor, the fear almost concealed.

He withdrew the weapon and holstered it.

"Despite my concern for the noise the gun would make, you surely tempt me. Two shots already--I cannot risk another. You're out of the City when you should not be. You refused to cooperate with me, an officer of the coalition."

"Liar! You are nothing but a despicable thieftaker!"

He looked at his uniform then grimaced, but went on anyway. "Then to make things worse, you attacked me. While purification is a severe punishment, I'd prefer to learn your name and why you are here in these woods. Something must be done. A thieftaker's hand in lieu of that other punishment."

"Coward! You mock, threaten, and now you think a child's punishment will loosen my tongue? You're a fool. Now let me go."

"Not until you talk. Perhaps your pack will provide answers," Cameron said.

"Drop dead...thieftaker."

With this last show of defiance, Cameron lost all concept of patience. He was up, pulling her by the wrist and heading through the forest toward her pack.

She struggled against him, resisted the show of force, but stumbled backwards when he let go of her and reached for the knapsack. Suddenly, she shrieked and dove at him.

Cameron was too quick. He upended her belongings. Specimens fell and scattered on the forest floor. Helpless against his brute strength, she sat back on her knees and watched. A tiny white flower fell from one of the smaller bags. She whimpered, her fingers trembling. An array of herbs, boasting a wealth of medicinal power followed. He sifted through them and knew full well the implications here. This was a greater offense than leaving the City. This was expressly forbidden to any except the medical team now assembled at his lab in Reding. "You dare too much," he said harshly. "Why are you collecting?"

"Find yourself someone else to torment and leave me alone."

"Who are you?" The deception had gone on too long. This was no game. He didn't know quite what he was doing. His anger was frustration, sweeping within, taunting everything he'd been brought up to believe. His fury was concern for her life. And she would not tell him the truth about her mission outside the City, would not even admit to any wrongdoing.

Irrevocably bent on ending this travesty and her foolishness, his gaze swept her daringly from head to toe, lingering at the soft curve of her breast, then the gentle swell of her hip. He meant to challenge her.

She had mocked him too many times. Taunted him.

Done him bodily harm. Attempted murder.

He stepped toward her. The fingers of one hand bound her wrists together, while his other hand moved boldly to uncover her head. She gasped, then a deep blush colored her face. A wealth of brandy-colored hair tumbled around her shoulders. Wild and unrestrained, just like the lady, it seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. With his gloves, he wiped away dirt from her cheeks. Only one smudge remained on the bridge of her nose. The sight of her small up-turned face, framed in cascading amber curls, made his breath catch, and his heart to pound fiercely. Even as he felt his muscles tighten, he realized he was staring into a pair of blue-gray eyes that appeared exceptionally innocent yet at the same time strangely beguiling.

"Admit it. You have disobeyed every law on the books," he whispered and gently ran his fingers through her hair.

"Take your hands off me. I understand quite well what brute force can accomplish. Now let me go."

He shook his head, still touching her. "Your name."

Her shoulders squared stubbornly.

"Enough," he said. "You'll stay with me."

Cameron froze suddenly. A movement almost twenty yards away caught his attention. The forest became mysteriously silent.

Relief swept over him.

Jonathan Reese, his friend and confidant, stood in the shadows and with long forceful strides, approached.

Jonathan had come, dressed not in his usual City garb, but dressed as a barbarian, belying his position of counselor with the City and his authority with the coalition.

Cameron had known Jonathan for years. Jonathan was slightly smaller than he was, but Jonathan had a runner's grace and agility. Cameron held out his hand in greeting, and Jonathan clasped Cameron's hand in his. He carried a military rifle braced across his shoulders; a handgun rested in a holster around his waist. Jonathan's eyes were on his captive.

"Savage!" Jonathan called out in hushed tones, as if he meant to give warning. "Let her go."

Cameron was even more puzzled. He could not let her go, would not. Intemperate with an unrestrained need to discover her secrets, he would not allow the lady off this easy, despite Jonathan's command.

"I think not," he called out in defiance.

Jonathan's eyes flashed to his then to the girl's. Jonathan was furious with her, Cameron realized. Unspoken words flew between them as if they read each other's minds, the communication so subtle that Cameron felt sure Jonathan knew this girl very well. A moment of jealous regard surged through Cameron, a fleeting thought of claiming this woman as his own insinuating itself in his mind, yet he quelled the impulse.

No matter Jonathan's command or his own feelings, he needed to know what went on here.

"Savage!" Jonathan called again. "Leave her. She is only a child and we've more important business this morning."

"I want my things back. And I'm not a child," she protested.

Cameron's lips tightened in a thin smile.

Cameron regarded her coolly and watched as she turned her head away. She lowered her lashes demurely. No innocent child would possess such a trick. Cameron almost smiled.

"Go," Jonathan commanded her. She stared, her gaze darting between the men.

He allowed her the freedom to leave.

She looked at Jonathan. "I cannot leave without my specimens. I..."

"Go!" Jonathan repeated. "Before I change my mind and take you back myself or before I allow Cameron Savage his request."

Cameron saw her eyes, clouded gray-blue, dusted beautifully with sparks of passion and fury. Eyes that seared into him and promised revenge even as she sought a way to retrieve the herbs scattered upon the ground. Eyes that matched Jonathan's.

Then she made one last request. "May I have the flower...the white one, there?" She pointed to it, her eyes pleading for this simple favor. Cameron wavered then began to deny her request.

"Yes." Jonathan interrupted his thoughts and before anything more could be said, she grabbed the fragile blossom and darted toward the convent walls.

Cameron watched Jonathan, the townsman, the coalition leader, a man who had done everything within his power to bring peace. "Everything is secure in my area. I would not have let her go, despite your command, had there been any sign of trouble."

"Do you know who she is?"

"No, although for a moment I thought...no."

Jonathan nodded. "You've guessed. Yet only logic forbids you acknowledge such a little hoyden is actually the daughter to DeMontville. My cousin."

"DeMontville's daughter? Which one?"

"Need you ask?"

"Tori..." The one word was emitted on a long drawn out breath; he remembered the first time he saw her. He'd been fascinated with her courage. Intrigued by her daring. Understood her wildness because it was inherent in his nature.

She was a little fool. With no sense to call her own.

Jonathan nodded again. "I'd swear to you she was up to no mischief, but I couldn't. She's had free run of the laboratory since her father banished her to this unholy place. She has set about to find the cure for the Signe virus. And my friend, since that day in the forest, she hates thieftakers. Despises them."

"I figured that much out by myself," he said dryly. "I would have liked to take the flower back and have it analyzed."

"If I thought there was some basis for her research, I would have her lab dismantled and further use of the computers forbidden to her. She is far too impetuous."

"You cannot allow her out of the City again," Cameron warned softly. "Overlords use the trails nearby transporting goods overland to the sea. She doesn't think of the consequences before she acts. If she's in your care, Jonathan..."

"Only temporarily," he said stiffly. Then the slightest smile curved his mouth. "And I hasten to say that as soon as I can arrange a marriage for her, she will no longer be my concern."

"I'm not offering, but if I find she's causing more trouble, I'll gladly see she doesn't break anymore laws."

"You don't see the entire picture," Jonathan said softly. "She will not be controlled. She has suffered more than a woman should and now she feels invincible. No one can tell her what to do. No one."

"Her misdeeds might well see her dead," Cameron said angrily.

"She'll think twice about leaving the City again."

"Perhaps...but, if she were to stumble upon a thieftaker or a member of the syndicate, and if he were to take exception to her presence...Convince her to stay put, and quickly."

"You're right, of course. I'll make sure she remains secure, even if I have to post guards at all her doors and windows," Jonathan assured him. Then he added urgently, "But now she has seen us together. What should I say to her?"

"Does she know of anything that has happened since she was banished here?"

Jonathan frowned. "Very little news reaches the outpost. It is why DeMontville chose this convent. The sisters that run it are not concerned with anything except their spiritual lives. Tori's been excluded from most everything a young girl does."

"No wonder she's turned into such a wild little creature."

"Don't be so harsh. They have kept her safe and the way her father felt, I believe he would have liked to strangle her himself." He paused. "So what do we tell her?"

"As little as possible. I wouldn't want the responsibility that comes with encouraging her curiosity." As he spoke, he strode toward his glider. The camouflaged vehicle had blended into the forest.

Jonathan smiled slowly. He saluted smartly to Cameron as Cameron opened the door. "I wish you luck. God go with you."

"If we are successful, then perhaps we can sit back and relax," Cameron said, lowering the window and leaning out to address Jonathan. "One of the thieftakers has set up a handy little practice of ridding the thieves and the overlords of their rewards. He has played one against the other too many times and now I think it will all blow up in his face. When that is done, I will retire to the country and resume my own research."

Jonathan stepped closer. "You could do your research here. I'm sure Tori would let you have space in her lab."

Cameron grimaced. "So you'd have me play nurse maid?"

Jonathan leaned on the glider. "You know that's not my intent. She's brilliant--perhaps a little incorrigible, but if the two of you put your minds together..."

"Our minds together?" Cameron glanced out the window, his eyes narrowing severely. "So tell me then, how would I accomplish this remarkable feat? The joining of two minds."

Jonathan's languid smile sent chills down Cameron's spine. "I'm sure you'd find it--not so unpleasant." A touch of humor in Jonathan's voice gave Cameron pause, but then Jonathan looked back to the City. "She knew better than to break the laws, and I know better than to allow her to reenter without the proper sterilization. Yet I don't have the heart."

"I could have killed her. And if she'd met another man...Lord, I hate to think what might have happened."

"So do I. But I don't know how to stop her."

"Then pray you find a way. If you don't, I'll find her, and despite her protests, I will see she does not bring this house of cards we have so painstakingly built to fall down around our shoulders," he said softly.

"It is of my opinion she should be locked from the lab and forbidden all reference data," Cameron continued. "Her father..."

"Her father is gone," Jonathan reminded Cameron. "Lost when the Signe virus hit the first time. That is why she is so intent on finding a cure herself. That is why I'm afraid for her..."

"As well you should be." He rallied against the thoughts that found their way into his head, fought against renewed desire he had for the beauty with amber hair and soft gray eyes. "I am sorry for the loss of her father, but he lost control of her long before his death. Her banishment is proof enough."

"She's independent now. It would take a strong hand to control her. She has lived by her own rules for so long...in any case it would not be an easy task to make her biddable."

"Her foolishness will be her end one of these days. But it is not my concern." Cameron laughed softly.

Jonathan backed up a step. The glider lifted from the forest floor. "Happy hunting then."

With that last thought, the glider skimmed the ground for a moment, then finding an opening, turned and vanished from sight.

* * *

Tori pressed the dirt carefully around the fragile white flower, then set the flowerpot on the window ledge. High above the convent grounds she had a three hundred sixty degree view of the forest. Leaning against the cold bricks, she stared at the cloudless sky, watching as a glider sped out of site.

A wisp of hair fell across her eyes. Pain, loneliness, emotions she couldn't afford, feelings she hated curled deep inside. As always, Tori DeMontville willed them away.

Five years had passed since her father had sent her away. She was nineteen now, but even so, the banishment had not cured her of her worst fault, rebelliousness. Her wild, sometimes reckless nature. The rules, the horrid rules, every last one of them were made to be broken. They caused fear and hatred between the people. She wanted peace. Had always wanted peace.

"Cameron Savage."

She'd heard that name before, yet she had never met him. She had heard too that he'd gone to the other side. Arrogant. A rebel. And worst of all a barbarian. Yet he was a man who had transcended all the barriers set up between the different cultures, traveling between both worlds. Now he was a thieftaker.

Her fingers clenched the dirt then loosened. She let her forehead fall against the window. He had touched her and somehow he'd lit a fire within her. She could still feel the heat.

He was a thieftaker and she'd never forget how much she despised him and what he stood for.

She prayed she would never meet him again.

Chapter Two

Summer 2592:

The lab at Reding, two years later:

"Label everything. Document all the data. Then file it in the computer for future reference." Cameron called out directions for the third time. His own area was organized, his results professionally documented.

He'd won countless awards for his research. He picked up the stack of research papers on his desk, the frustration from all this intolerable. There was no denying by any man--any trained medical researcher--that he, Dr. Cameron Savage, was at the top of his field, and a brilliant mind. He had proven himself, but the one answer he sought still eluded him.

While the Signe virus spread from City to City, he isolated himself, bent on finding the cause and the cure of the deadly disease. Over the last two years, his thoughts constantly returned to Tori DeMontville and the fragile white flower she'd retrieved from her sack of specimens. Despite the resources at hand, regardless of his driving need to discover the significance the flower held, it wasn't until a few days ago that he'd discovered a long forgotten and archaic computer disc that gave him the information he searched for.

Then he'd cursed himself for a gullible fool.

Tori had outwitted him, almost out-fought him, humbled his tenacious ego, and he'd not known it until now, two years later. Appreciation for her indomitable courage suffused his mind, but it disappeared the next instant replaced by grim determination and horrible frustration. Together, united in a common cause, they might have accomplished so much, might have found a cure. Instead...instead, because of his temerity and unwillingness to acknowledge her high intellect, they had accomplished nothing.

Nothing. Nothing, and that was the crux of the problem. What now? he wondered vaguely. If he put all his volatile emotions and preconceived opinions of Tori DeMontville aside, could he go to her? Work with her?

Logic and rational thought warred with his assessment of her. In his mind, she was spoiled and willful. She had disobeyed the rules and laws that governed her society. A rebel at heart. Wild and reckless. If she had lived in the country, he would have respected and admired the very attributes he sought to tame in her now. But she couldn't, she was a City Dweller and by that fact alone she could never have the freedom she craved.

Yet Cameron still searched for a means to bring her to Reding, a lab that had every modern device. The potential incredible. The significance undeniable. If he brought her here, he could not guarantee her safety, and that, in and by itself, was reason enough to forget Tori DeMontville.

Now, as he turned back to his reading, determined to find the vaccine that would conquer the Signe virus, he did so with a solid team of assistants and the best facilities in the world. The coalition backed them and provided everything they requested. Each day they moved closer, but it always seemed they moved backward too. For each piece of solid positive information uncovered, he always found something else to refute the facts.

The director of the disease control center, Samuel R. Sheridan, hounded them, determined that the pressure he placed on his team would generate a breakthrough. The encouragement helped, Cameron knew that, but nothing short of a miracle or perhaps the union of two minds bent on a common goal would net the desired results.

But as the virus spread throughout the cities for the second time in five years, Cameron began to search in new directions. When the last tests proved negative, Cameron decided to leave. Old folk tales, the lore of the elders, remained strong in the mountain people. Medicinal remedies passed down from one generation to the next provided harmless if not beneficial cures. The white flower was the illusive thread. Yet the only way to unlock each link in the chain was to go to the source. The source lay in the hills and in the minds of the mountain folk. He meant to travel back to his roots, the beginning, before 'Merica divided, before all hell broke loose.

Now the sun rose on a new day, and more people would die from an incurable disease. The land glider hovered outside the med-lab. The vehicle held two years worth of records and research. Before Cameron settled himself in the driver's seat and headed east into the rugged Cascades, he looked to the West. It was lighter in that direction. When he closed his eyes, he imagined the smell of salt spray, the sound of breakers crashing against the rocks, the sensual pull of a young beguiling girl with blue-gray eyes. Eyes that reminded him of the soft color of a dove's wing.

His brows narrowed thoughtfully as he climbed into the glider.

It hovered, began to move...slowly at first then picked up speed. Earth and greenery flew beneath the air of the glider and within minutes, he had left the road and traversed cross-country, his destination a small primitive village nestled in the Rockies. Highly intelligent minds, yet antisocial behavior, marked these people and Cameron was well aware of their idiosyncrasies. Once they knew his purpose though, once they saw the endless stack of notes, heard the relevant news, and understood the enormity of his mission, they would help.

Tall mountains, deep canyons, and deserts appeared before him then vanished on the horizon as he passed by. Hour by hour, minute by minute, he closed the distance.

Until he could see one mountain rising high above the others.

Sheltered in the lush green valley on its north side he'd find his people. Nervous energy pulsed through his veins and he bumped up the throttle, accelerating, daring to push his rig as fast as it would go.

"Woo...ee...!" The glider skimmed across the earth and banked into a tight turn. Cameron came in low, banked, dodging boulders and trees.

For a moment, he thought he'd lost control. He pushed the vehicle to its limit, tested his own strength and stamina. He righted the glider, easing back on the throttle, and he felt the surge of adrenalin in his blood dissolve.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and let his throbbing head fall back against the seat. Exhaustion caused by long sleepless nights was beginning to leave its mark. He fought it, because there was something else he'd learned from long hours of study and research. Never, never let the fatigue betray you, and he was determined it would not.

"Set the glider down easy. The hangar's in sight--ETA one minute," the voice spoke through his headphones. He hesitated before turning, then eased back on the throttle until the glider skimmed inches above the earth before finally setting down.

* * *

Later that night, after he'd explained his mission to his new research assistants, Cameron assembled his lab in a large cabin overlooking the valley floor.

It had been hard work hauling the equipment he'd sent ahead up the narrow mountain trail. Perhaps none of this was necessary.

His intuition told him differently.

It was a night where all preconceived notions could vanish. Drake, the leader of this band of Outsiders, had given him free access to all the data banks available there.

Drake's people were not without their insurgents, and no villages existed without a substantial number of women looking for pleasure. The villagers worked hard and played with a zealous fervor, sometimes rejecting long standing moral codes.

That night the bonfires blazed and the music played, sometimes fast and furious and sometimes with a slow, spellbinding, seductive rhythm. Women danced barefoot in long swirling skirts and peasant blouses that fell enchantingly low. Tables piled high with savory treats tempted even the most fastidious pallet.

And the wine flowed.

There were no guards, no locked gates or sterile bubbles erected over the cities to guard the people from the diseases that existed here. Only freedom, and the mountains looming in the distance.

Somehow this liberty, this independence had a way of changing everyone, even the women.

Ah, the women of the mountains--independent beauties whose minds worked in a unique, challenging manner, rejecting any restrictions society mandated. It was allowed here, where the air was clean and people said what they thought and did as they pleased. Victoria DeMontville would feel at home here.

The music rose to a crescendo and the dancers swirled frantically, skirts billowing and hips swaying. Dancers, with haunting moves and beguiling steps, beckoned.

Leaning on the windowsill, the night breeze caressing his skin, Cameron closed his eyes and felt the pulse of the mountains. The exhaustion of the long day faded from him. He had a consecrated responsibility, a vow made to himself that he would uphold.

And he held very special feelings for these people of the mountains. Here in this land he had grown to adulthood, had run wild and free with the wind and the rivers. The Outsiders were often cold and ruthless, yet they had learned the laws of nature and of survival the hard way. Many had died because they had accepted when they should have challenged, had relaxed when they should have persevered.

Nothing in the mountains could be taken for granted, especially not a life. Cameron had studied the old archives years ago when he was still in school, fascinated by the old folklore and the tales passed down through generations. He had learned a great deal from the dusty computer discs and the archaic books stored lovingly by one old woman. Sometimes it seemed these 'barbarians' respected and loved life more than the people of the City who were always running from it. In the cities, all these years after the war, people still trembled at the mention of diseases, yet they did nothing to help themselves.

Until the last decade, no diseases infiltrated the cities, but these were turbulent times. Thieftaker and thief joined forces and catapulted the cities into chaos with their threats. Despite his efforts and those of the coalition, corruption and greed still ran rampant because a thief could always find someone who had the money to pay. Germ warfare, they called it in the old days, a past long forgotten by most everyone. Thieves stole viruses or bacterium from the control center and held them ransom.

"Cameron?"

A soft whisper aroused him, and he turned. Zaria had opened the door and stood there now with her hands clasped behind her. She was one of the technicians assigned to him and had studied extensively in one of the medical villages in the southern valleys.

Zaria had spent her life acquiring the new learning. She worked with diligence and a patience he did not possess himself. During the long afternoon of moving then sorting and cataloging his equipment, he learned much about her.

She was very pretty with her short-cropped hair, large brown eyes, and swirling skirt of deepest blue. The peasant blouse dropped far enough off her shoulder to tempt him.

"Yes?"

She moved across the room to the window then rested a shoulder against the wall. "Tonight?" The question hung on the night air, sultry and provocative, temptingly irresistible.

For a scant second, the thought of refusal crossed his mind, but Zaria and some of the girls had left no doubts about their willingness. "What's wrong with now," he teased gently, but she smiled and stepped back.

"Drake wants to see you...as soon as you're settled. He sent me to tell you. He expects you in his office. Something has happened. Something to change all plans. He is upset. Angry. And he is not easy to deal with when he is angry."

"Well, he's not angry with me." He turned toward the door, his senses heightened.

If someone had come from the west, he might well have brought information about the spread of the virus. A sudden chill touched Cameron's heart. He was tired, he realized.

Yet he was so close to the truth. He couldn't wait until his equipment was operational again.

"Do you want me to come later?" Zaria glanced up at him.

"Yes, I'd..." Cameron paused, wondering just what was going on with Drake. It might be a late night. His head still pounded from the hum of the land glider and the sleepless nights he'd endured while deciding his course of action. Tonight, despite the lure of Zaria's famous skills, he wanted to sleep alone.

He kissed the heart of her palm. "No, not tonight, sweet one. Something must be wrong. I might be very late."

She walked with him along the narrow winding trail down to the valley where the revelers danced and sang. He kissed her lightly on the cheek before sending her back to her friends. Striding past the bonfires, he looked up at the black velvet sky just in time to see a shooting star. It fell toward the west, toward the Pacific Ocean...and Tower City.

"A prophecy, Savage," came an old wizened voice.

Cameron spun around, startled. His senses always sharp, he could hear the lightest footfall.

But he had not heard Aisling come upon him this night.

Unlike Zaria, Aisling had never worked in the labs. She was old, older than the hills themselves, ageless, and she rarely left the security of her own lands.

She was an outlandish woman, a very puzzling one, Cameron was certain, but her white skin was not nearly as creased as it should have been, nor was she stooped or slow in any way. Not a hint of color tinged her long white hair foretelling her vast age, but it was more than that pure white color that proclaimed her old. It was the cryptic sense of the past and intelligence born from difficult trials that could only come from the passage of time that surrounded her. Her presence awed the people of the village.

"What brings you out, old woman," Cameron replied with a teasing note to his voice yet determined not to be drawn into the old lady's powerful aura.

"It's a mysterious night in the mountains," Aisling replied. She gazed pointedly in the direction the star had traveled. "I think your destiny is beyond. You do not belong here."

"Really?"

"I speak the truth. You will not be staying long, Cameron Savage."

"You are mistaken, Aisling. I will stay here until I have what I came for. The cure must be found."

"The vaccine will be discovered. But you will not find the answers here."

Cameron wanted to dispute her statements. Instead, he felt a strong and cutting sensation of apprehension. "Oh, and where will I find the answers?" Cameron silently cursed his own lack of control. Why was he playing this game?

Because he'd known of this old woman for years, learned of her predictions at his mother's knee. The entire valley spoke of the curious web of enchantment that surrounded her and the truths she spoke of before they occurred. The woman was a witch. She was enamored of the old faiths. She had at her disposal a wealth of medicinal herbs and an assortment of remedies that would astound the federation of City physicians. She knew the folk remedies just as well as she knew the modern practices, and her talent with the surgical knife was remarkable. Cameron had heard tales of her healing prowess since he was a small lad. Yet she wasn't one of the learned, one of the healers.

Aisling grinned knowingly and then winked. "I will set you on the right path."

Cameron sighed. "And just how will you do that?"

"Musty books, archaic computer discs, the old ways where the scientific method was revered and all research was shared."

"Then I'm in the right place. I have all that at my disposal."

"Not any more."

Cameron couldn't believe what she was saying, what he was hearing. Not here. Where the hell were they? He had come all this way with the sole intention of utilizing her knowledge and the endless libraries available in the mountains. Although the medical community scorned folklore, branding it as undependable, he knew better, and after finally convincing his superiors, he was allowed access to their knowledge. The mountain people had saved everything they could, transferring information to computer discs when the manuscripts began to fall apart. If the knowledge he was seeking wasn't here, where was it?

"Aisling?"

The old lady closed her eyes and the breezes wafting through the trees overhead grew very still. She chanted softly. Despite himself, Cameron listened, astonished at what the woman could do with her voice, and completely enchanted by the rhythm of it.

"The flower is a lady, small, fragile, delicate, coaxed to grow by tender hands. Petals as white as virgin snow will bring health and life to the one who cultivates its beauty. Maturity will bring sweet laughter and the cadence of life to this woman as well as the planet. Together, minds set as one..."

Aisling stopped. Her eyes were opened now and were as wild as the wind-swept mountains. She was staring at Cameron.

"What on earth? Fine, Aisling, come on spit it out," Cameron demanded. But her words had shaken him. They reminded him of a time and a place he'd tried hard to forget. Reminded him of a girl, no, a woman now, but someone he'd learned long ago to avoid.

"I see pain," Aisling murmured.

"So do I," Cameron muttered. "Get on with it. Finish your story."

Aisling moaned. "I see agony, a horrible suffering anguish. Only the slightest fraction of hope is there. An opponent, offering help. It is not what she wants to do. She is innocent, but...but betraying you."

"Hell!" Cameron ground out irritably. "You're talking nonsense. One minute you speak of a fragile white flower and the next it sounds like a lover's betrayal. Pain and hope. That's all there is any more. Aisling, it has been a long day..." But deep inside he knew her words could easily be true. After all, if he wasn't mistaken, she was speaking of Victoria DeMontville.

"She is the one that holds the flower, fragile, like a delicate porcelain doll, strong as her ancestors before her. He has located her, after all these years of banishment, for there is discord surrounding her; she creates it even as she breathes and her heart beats against her breast. She works passionately for the good of others. They'll come for her, again and again, seeking more than her knowledge, more than her beauty, seeking fortune and name, and all material things."

"A rebel without purpose," Cameron muttered, tiring of her mad ravings, yet knowing full well whom she spoke of.

"But a rebel that could be nurtured into a blossoming flower with the proper care," Aisling prompted.

"Water and fertilizer?"

"You purposely jest."

"Aisling, I know that I must see Drake, and I do not intend to keep him waiting longer."

Aisling's eyes were closed again. "Dove-gray eyes and whiskey-colored hair. A scent of summer sunshine and a cool mountain lake, skin like velvet. She is swimming amidst the waves, breakers toppling over her. Now I see her rising from the foam, sunlight beating against the sand, see the curve of her breast, the tender sweetness of her soul, the length of her legs, the innocent gentle nature of her heart..."

"Aisling, unless you can wave your magic wand and conjure her this instant, be quiet," Cameron said with a hint of annoyance. Yet he was disturbed by everything the old lady had said. Aisling was annoying. Truly annoying. He had easily formed an image of the woman as Aisling spoke and he wanted more than anything to disprove her statements.

A pain-filled shuddering swept through him. He discovered himself angered once more with Victoria DeMontville, with this woman who was destined to betray him. And he had no intention of joining with her, mind or body, on this quest of discovery.

Yet still, when Aisling had described the woman...

He had felt the most puzzling sensations, as if their destiny was truly intertwined.

He tensed his muscles, fighting the illusions hovering in his mind, battling the nightmare that threatened the cities and the ghosts haunting his soul.

"There is a foe to conquer. Move with caution and speed. Watch behind you and guard the girl with your life," Aisling warned.

"Aisling..."

"Sleep well, Cameron Savage," Aisling said as she turned to leave.

Then just as she had come, she silently evaporated into the mist of darkness and forested mountains.

"Damn." With long forceful strides, Cameron moved directly to Drake's lodgings.

One of Drake's guards stood at the gates. "Cameron Savage?" the man asked cautiously. "I was told you were coming."

Cameron arched a brow and strode past the guard. "Were you now?"

"Savage," Drake boomed out.

The tension in the room was brittle. Drake paced. Silence overrode all the revelry outside as if it were a carefully planned diversion for the news Drake waited to hand out.

Drake was a formidable man. He was tall, with a head of deep chestnut hair and a handsome, well-sculptured face. His eyes were a clear hazel, a color that added a touch of humanism to an otherwise dangerous looking man. By nature, he was considerate, except when someone or something he held dear was threatened. Drake hesitated in his pacing, pointing to the table where documents and manuscripts had been strewn, but where now, atop those papers, lay all types of correspondence.

Cameron did not move as he studied Drake. Drake's change of mood was oddly disconcerting.

"Something wrong?"

The calm facade seemed to dissipate from Drake. The lines of his brow drew together in a deep frown and he lifted a paper off the top of the stack. "Jonathan is concerned. He is weary of playing emissary and peacemaker in this deadly game. After all, if he fails, chaos will reign in the cities. The fear, Cameron. It is the fear, not the diseases, that creates the weakness."

"I'm doing all I can. I'm not a diplomat, as well you know," Cameron reminded him.

Drake poured him a glass of burgundy then slowly sipped his own, deep in thought for the moment. Cameron waited for Drake to continue.

"Leave the fate of the entire nation to one man?" Drake asked, then shook his head. "I know Jonathan is not the only clear-thinking man in the advisory committee, but he is the only one who speaks in favor of the Outsiders and maintains a level of consistency. Politically speaking, none of the others can be trusted. Civil war could erupt once more. Morray has come to the forefront and he is not without his followers."

Cameron kept his silence. Quentin Morray was evil and treacherous. If he had followers, perhaps Drake's concern was warranted.

"How powerful?"

Again, the furrows deepened across Drake's brow.

"Enough to cause worry among the council of representatives. He's a voting member now."

"Could he sway the assembly?" Cameron asked.

"Not yet, but he does have lobbyists, powerful ones waiting in the wings."

Cameron paused. It was not his concern. If a vaccine was found, all Morray would try to do would be for naught. Without the debilitating fear of sickness, the City Dwellers would rally against him and his kind once again. The senate would be strong and listen to reason.

But until that time Morray could squeeze the life from the people, and Jonathan, faced with a hungry foe, would have to scramble. Morray didn't hold all the power yet. He needed a catalyst within the City, someone the people loved and respected.

A vacillating situation. Dangerous.

"Morray will stop at nothing," Cameron said bluntly. "He's already one of the most powerful overlords in the country. But the coalition has no proof."

Drake nodded. "I'm glad you agree with me. We must protect not only ourselves but the City people as well." Drake hesitated a moment. Then he said quietly, "That's exactly why you're going to team up with Tori DeMontville."

Cameron laughed outright. Then he quickly downed his wine. "But I have just set up my lab, painstakingly, I might add."

"True. I'll keep it running while you're gone," Drake said flatly.

"I'm on the verge of a breakthrough. I've spent years getting to this point." Cameron's hold on the fragile stem of his wine glass threatened to snap it in two.

Drake did not back down.

"The news from Tower City bothers me more than any argument you could come up with. Too many thieftakers are growing far too bold. Outsiders, disillusioned with their lives, would trample their heritage as well as the cities into dust. Morray aligns himself with these men, slowly gathering them into a powerful force. It is a volatile situation and Tori is the catalyst he seeks. Cameron, you have worked hard the last two years, isolating yourself from all. Now you must do an about-face. You must cast yourself into the political arena. Remember your duty and your pledge to the late DeMontville."

"A vow I was coerced into making."

"And you are honor bound to keep."

Cameron clenched his fists and sank into a chair. He could refuse this mission. Certainly. But then Drake would toss him from his lab. Drake's mind was set.

"You needn't remind me," Cameron retaliated, his tone hard.

"Endless possibilities await you on this path."

The expression in Cameron's amber eyes turned guarded. "Very funny."

"Hardly. Tori DeMontville will be in Tower City when you arrive. All her research notes will be there also. Isn't that what you've secretly wished for? Access to her files? You knew this time would arrive."

"This is all based on the theory that Tori DeMontville will cooperate," Cameron commented. "Do you truly think she'll allow me uninvited access to her data banks?"

Drake grinned. "Now that sounds intimate. Perhaps you should try a little honey instead of the vinegar that flows from your mouth, and you'll have more success."

Cameron arched a grim brow. "Have you ever tried to sweet talk a piranha?"

Drake laughed loudly. "A piranha you say?"

"Worse," Cameron continued politely. It really made no difference to him. He would handle her by whatever means he needed to establish absolute control.

"Were you informed of the codicil to Advisor DeMontville's last will and testament?" Drake asked, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "Jonathan had the temerity to write me a short and very concise note when he heard of your planned departure from Reding." He leaned close to Cameron. "Do you have any idea what he wrote? What the additions were?"

"No. Tell me."

"I thought you would never ask. It seems DeMontville knew his daughters well. Although this hasn't been done for hundreds of years, he saw fit to play the betrothal game. Quite underhandedly too. He bequeathed his entire estate and the hand of his daughter, Tori, to one Cameron Savage, refusing to allow Vanessa marriage or Tori complete ownership of the lab until Tori was safely wed."

Marriage? No power on earth could entice him to marry Tori DeMontville. Except a solemn promise made to a man he respected. What did he care if Vanessa married, but he knew DeMontville would never leave it up to him. Cameron felt a debilitating curiosity.

"My compliance?" he insisted.

"Blackmail."

Cameron started. Blackmail? Hell. The mere thought of the incident he referred to still heated his temper.

Mentally, he recounted the meeting in the forest that day. The thieftakers surrounded Advisor DeMontville, the two thieves caught in the middle. After that, all hell broke loose. It was extremely dangerous. At the time, he had pitted himself against an organization he believed in, and worked for, in order to protect the laws he cherished.

Didn't DeMontville know that no one else had been there that day in the woods when the thieftakers made their stand against him? No one had seen him. When he'd stepped from the trees, everyone else was either unconscious or had left the scene. No one knew, except DeMontville, that he'd interfered.

Or could he possibly have entrusted the information with someone else, perhaps Jonathan, even if it created severe complications if the information reached certain people. If anyone discovered he'd stood against the thieftakers...

"Jonathan," he said, as his gaze met Drake's.

"Well," Drake demanded. "And do you recall a solemn promise you made to Advisor DeMontville?"

"I remember the promise."

What difference did it make, Cameron wondered for one bleak moment? There were women like Zaria in the world to satisfy a man's physical needs.

And he decided wryly, any female could be managed.

Any woman at all.

And more so than most, Tori DeMontville needed to be governed. Ruthlessly governed.

He stretched out his hand. Drake clasped it in his own.

"This is always such a pleasure." he said, his words spoken in a deceptive drawl.

Drake laughed.

"For luck then, Savage. Is this so bad?"

"Yes. I'll need all the luck in the world just to survive her tantrums. I can well imagine her reaction when she discovers the codicil for herself."

"Oh, she already has--in a way. The terms were read to her, but Jonathan, coward that he is, did not give her your name. Yet even then, she refused nourishment for three days, setting the convent in turmoil."

Cameron felt long fingers of foreboding slowly squeeze his heart. "I'm supposed to wed this termagant."

Cameron walked out into the revelry into the blazing summer night.

Damn Jonathan...and old Aisling. He was doomed.

He drew in a sharp breath, recalling the old lady's prophecy.

Pain and betrayal.

Hope.

Tori DeMontville. The intellectual with the beguiling dove-gray eyes, and the thick whiskey colored hair...

Wild and impetuous as a summer storm.

Ah, but they would have the joining of two minds. If we don't kill each other first, he thought to himself. Actually, there was a challenge to this arrangement, perhaps even a compromise in the making. Access to her data banks. She would fight him.

He would not allow her opportunity to betray him.

His grin spread slowly across his face. Perhaps Tori DeMontville had met her match. As his wife, she would owe him certain compensations. Strangely, he remembered telling Jonathan that he would gladly see to her obedience. He had simply not imagined that he was volunteering.

Suddenly, he was eager to confront his destiny. Tower City awaited him as well as a woman.

"It seems there are some very archaic additions, yet binding in the extreme," he mumbled softly to himself. "Very binding."

Chapter Three

"Visitors, Tori. Do you want me to show them around?"

From the lab, in the farthest section of the research center, Victoria DeMontville, head technician--Tori to her friends--looked at her sister with prudent concern. She was tempted to erase all the data from the multitude of computers sitting in front of her, but then again she was determined that she would remain composed and business-like. As Advisor DeMontville's daughter, she was attempting very hard to nurture a reputation of being a mature and competent research scientist, the perfect liaison to the Council of Representatives. In keeping with that scope, she had been spending her mornings in the laboratory and her afternoons in correspondence seeing to her newly acquired and desired respectability.

Visitors, of course, would mandate a change in the schedule she had just made. Courtesy demanded that she entertain any political groups that wanted to snoop around under the cloak of diplomacy.

These days one just never knew who would turn up at her door.

"What group do they represent?" she inquired.

"It's Sheridan."

She swore then quickly bit her tongue. She had been trying very hard to control her language lately. Victoria DeMontville should not lower herself to gutter language--not as a banished hoyden might do.

She glanced quickly to Vanessa, her twin and confidant. Nessa was ten minutes younger, a sweet and innocent lady, so unlike herself.

Nessa always berated her when she slipped up and swore or did some other uncivilized deed. She was her conscience now that they were back together and trying to make up for the years they had lost.

"Shut down the computer, Tori," Nessa said softly.

"Well, then, there goes the whole entire day," Tori commented dryly.

Tori moved quickly, rearranging files, hiding manuscripts, and very thoroughly obliterating, at least on screen, all progress in identifying and manufacturing a vaccine for the deadly Signe Virus. But more importantly, the process also hid her new research--the genetic surgery. It was not a difficult task. With Nessa's help, she had programmed everything herself.

In keeping with the staid and dignified position she strove for, Tori had meticulously designed and choreographed the research facilities in Tower City. Computer terminals were connected to all the cities in the nation including all negotiable Outsider villages. All she had to do to placate these gentleman was turn on the alpha computer link.

Yet even as she did so, she glanced at Nessa, the stubbornness in the set of Nessa's expression belying any pretense of the mature young lady.

"You know Sheridan," Tori said, "He will have questions already prepared. And he will demand answers. If he only knew what we aren't going to tell him." She didn't need to say the words aloud. Both of them knew that she was looking to find some excuse that could exempt her from this confrontation. She was anxious to get back to work.

"You have no choice. You will have to put on your best smile and greet Sheridan," Nessa said simply.

Tori paused then sighed deeply. She shoved the current logbooks beneath a stack of papers on her desk, nodding to one of her aids. "Give him the grand tour. Everything is ready."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Nessa. Begin the inspection in the sterilization rooms. Then move on to the botanical rooms. Sheridan and his minions will surely want to see it all, but we'll greet them first with the least conspicuous rooms, hoping to bore them to tears before they enter here. That should set them up royally, I think, and whatever questions they have perhaps they will have forgotten them. Hurry. I wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

Nessa was grinning now. "You're deviousness will thwart you someday," she said wryly. "For now I pray your luck holds."

"Of course it will. Sheridan is too naïve and he trusts me. He won't see anything. He'll never even guess at the subterfuge."

"Don't underestimate him," Nessa warned.

"Don't worry. I need only to offer him all the access he wants before he takes it," Tori muttered. "And with you as my emissary, I have sweetness and virtue at the forefront of my deception. He will never guess."

"If he does guess, though, I do not want to be within a hundred mile radius of his temper."

"It could blow sky high."

"Now there's an understatement," Nessa laughed. "But it is not really a laughing matter, is it? And that's a fact."

With serious eyes, Tori watched her twin, looking at her intently for several seconds. "Nessa...oh, how you have changed. Perhaps father was right. Maybe I did dominate you to the detriment of your own character. I'm sure that today you've told me "no" at least ten times and disagreed me with me more than that."

Nessa smiled softly then walked by Tori, humming quietly despite her sister's words. "I learned a valuable lesson. Don't make light of it. It is bad enough we have to show Sheridan our progress. But if he discovers the computer blocks and the hidden codes, we're in deep trouble."

Tori watched Nessa with a mixture of trepidation and pride. Then she turned her attention back to the formidable task at hand. Hers was truly a fine laboratory, named for the tiny white flower she'd found that day in the forest. The flower had not served its purpose. Too tiny and fragile, she could barely coax it to grow within the confines of a laboratory; indeed, it was a rarity in the forest also. Still, she knew that it was the link she sought.

The laboratory was assembled in one of Tori's favorite spots. Her own office and workspace sat high in the tower from which the City was named. Her room had always been in the tower. It was the place from where she and Nessa had grown up and learned to escape from at such an early age. And in the process of escaping, she had avoided the confining restraints of the City and enjoyed the blessed freedom that so few in this sheltered life understood. The freedom was the foundation for her heart and soul. Without it, she would wither and die.

Three main sections of the laboratory harbored her secrets, one holding a myriad of computer terminals from which her sister Nessa held charge over, another being a storehouse of equipment and sterilized experimental space, and the third being the visitor's center located as a type of bulwark in the main part of the building. Only those well versed in disease control guessed at what went on behind the well-manicured and carefully disguised visitor's section. Only a few were trained to know. Sheridan knew about some of it.

The lab had been assembled a year ago when the period of Tori's and Nessa's banishment ended, when a deadly mutant strain of the Signe Virus spread through the cities for the second time in five years, when they were welcomed back to their father's City as possible angels of mercy.

Yet they were far from saviors. They had no pedestal-like characteristics. They came as two women, bent on humanistic endeavors, thrilled with the promise their research held, afraid of falling from grace once more, but more than ever determined to spread their wings and fly on the winds of freedom.

Rebels at heart.

They had come of age, each in her own way, each seeking their own identity, one no longer the shadow of the other. The blood of all three worlds flowed in their veins. Tori and Nessa's grandfather had married an Outsider, but that was before the world spun crazily out of control. Then their own father, Advisor DeMontville, married a physician, a healer from the old world. She was an individual that belonged to neither the cities nor the forests. She was a woman so beautiful that many vied for her hand.

Tori's father had told her he'd seen her mother in the forest, wild and free, her untamed hair flying around her head. He had hesitated, unable to tear his eyes from her. She fled when she saw him, luring him with her innocence, beckoning him with her sweetness. The sight of her entranced him, bound him to her forever, and no one could tell him that he could not have her.

Not even the physician herself.

It wasn't an easy task to convince her. Determined and righteously stubborn, she refused his suit, the suit of a City Dweller, as if he was beneath her, Tori's father had said. After the story was told and delivered magnificently as if he were on stage, Tori's mother spoke of it differently. "I pretended an indifference to the politics he was so enamored of. And I made him memorize in minute detail every part of the human body imaginable and its function. But that did not deter him. He was a tenacious man, and before I could find something else to distract him, another mountain to climb, so to speak, he had asked for my hand. I had never believed him a romantic, but he pursued the topic with the gentlest concern over candlelight and music and upon bent knee. He touched my heart."

With every glance, every breath of air their love for each other was apparent, and Tori had treasured it close to her heart, spinning her own fantasies about love and happiness forever.

With her banishment, Tori had lost the ability to spin fairy tales. Life exploded around her that long-ago day in the forest, and she'd never quite recovered. When her father died of a mutant form of the Signe virus, she'd ostracized herself and the girlish daydreams that had still hovered in the back of her mind. Tori rallied quickly, only to discover the limitations her father had brought down upon her. Then, within a few years, she found that no one paid her any attention. Indeed, she believed that all save Jonathan had forgotten her existence. They had forgotten either because she was an embarrassment to them or because they had truly forgotten that she had humiliated her father, Advisor DeMontville. Jonathan had indulged her, casting a blind eye to what he called a passing fancy and had given her carte blanche when it came to building and assembling her laboratory. And that, Tori knew well, was an over-sight that Jonathan might well correct when he learned how very indulgent he had been.

The monitor in her office shadowed Sheridan and his associates, clearly indicating his progress through the visitor center into the level one-security rooms. He flipped through several files on a computer screen as she watched. After giving a disgusted snort, he strode through the door connecting him to level two-security. From her office on level four-security, she hurried so she could meet Nessa and Sheridan on level two. Practically flying through a maze of well-hidden stairways, Tori reached the level two rooms. After smoothing her hair and her clothes, she opened the door.

"Victoria! I hope this unannounced visit will not hinder your research."

She forced her most regal appearance. "Why, Mr. Sheridan, you know that what we do here is trivial in comparison to the other laboratories."

"You do your efforts an injustice," Sheridan told them, looking over the spacious room. Having reached her, he accepted the hand she held out in greeting. She forced herself not to pull back.

Sheridan was simply a man doing his job, she reminded herself pointedly. He sought the cure to this horrible epidemic as much as any man or woman living in this small global community. He just reminded her of the devil somehow. He was dark and his black eyebrows connected at the bridge of his nose, hovering over almost black eyes. He was average in height, hardly an imposing figure, but he was cunning and quick-witted.

"Well, look around, sir," Tori murmured, backing her way across the room. She looked around his shoulders trying to identify the people following him. Nessa assumed a place beside her.

First, there came Sister Anne, a curious sister if ever there were one. She was a tall, lean, beautiful woman with a startling transparency about her. Though she could stand there and pretend a pious devotion to God, Tori found it difficult to believe she was devoted to anything but herself. Sister Anne worked at the disease control center as a sister of mercy. Anne did not meet her gaze.

"Victoria DeMontville," she greeted Tori, seeming exceptionally charming and yet reticent.

Beyond the sister came David Hammond, another member of the disease control center's staff. He was distinguished for his work with mutant varieties of viruses. His development of the serum that had first worked its magic on the Signe Virus was well known.

He, too, greeted Tori with a reserved friendliness, and she became uneasy, wondering at their true purpose at coming here.

Then the last of Sheridan's entourage came through the level two-security door. He was taller than the others, more arresting than the others--more portentous than the others.

Quentin Morray. Threatening. Evil incarnate.

She despised the man with an intensity that had increased the last ten years. She could never look at him without recalling that long-ago time when she had encountered her father with the thieves and thieftakers in the forest.

She could not look at him without recalling the danger her father had been in because of him.

Morray...

He had red hair and a well-trimmed mustache and beard. His eyes were fathomless and brooding. He should have been handsome, except that the fast lifestyle he'd accustomed himself to already showed clearly in his physique. As a wealthy overlord now, he indulged himself in every vice imaginable.

His evil manifested itself in everything he did. The sight of Morray could make many women shudder. No man within the province had so horrid a reputation.

Gossip and speculation surrounded him wherever he went. He left fear and desperation in his wake, yet no one dared stop him.

Like the life-style he devoured, his predilection for brutality lived in the smile on his face.

"Quentin Morray," Tori forced the words. She had nothing to fear now. Sheridan would not let anything happen to her while he was still bent on analyzing her research data. Sheridan was a lot of things, but his career and the acquisition of knowledge always came first. Also, men who might not care what happened to her would rise against Sheridan if he let anything happen to Advisor DeMontville's daughter.

Yes, it all came down to knowledge, and that was exactly the reason why Sheridan and his cohorts had come. Or was it? She had never willingly let anyone into her laboratory, especially a man like Morray. On the few occasions when other scientist came forth with questions, she had defied all unwritten codes. Instead of staying to field the questions, she would leave some excuse, absenting herself from the premises and then order the immediate shutdown of all data banks while the scientists were present.

"Tori...ah, that is what your friends call you, am I right?" Morray asked, catching her hand and holding it despite her obvious distress, his eyes raking the length of her body.

She withdrew her hand as quickly as possible, shoving it into her pocket. "My friends," she said, curtly stressing the word "friends".

Morray's answering smile was anything but friendly, nor did he look amused.

"Oh, sweetheart, I believe we will be more than friends."

Her heart slammed against her chest as her body began to shake violently.

Defying the terror and the horrible rolling sensation in her stomach, Victoria DeMontville regally confronted her opponent. "Where would you like to commence the tour?" Tori asked them. "With the computer terminals on level two or would you prefer to move right on to level three? I can assure you there is nothing unusual about any of the facilities." She proffered Sheridan a bemused smile, trying to remember the role she played, despite the changed circumstances.

"I want to see everything. I understand the equipment here is state of the art, and I also have been led to believe that your terminals contain archaic information. Data that could be termed fanciful at best. I'm curious how you use it. Perhaps you are merely wasting time and money here. Perhaps this center is in need of a more knowledgeable, refined department head." He looked at Morray.

"Nothing fanciful, you'll see, goes on here. We're just always following every possible lead and nothing more."

"I see," Sheridan murmured, his eyes on her. For a moment, they were filled with disdain.

David Hammond pulled a chair out and switched on the computer in front of him. It hummed to life.

"Some of the best hunting can be found within seemingly humdrum screens, you know. And with Nessa close by, prepared to fill in any holes I might encounter...why, your terminal is an open book; did you know that, Tori?"

"I am well versed in your ability and, of course, Nessa is the best," she murmured. "So are you planning on some hunting?"

Hammond began to hum a noxious ribald tune that Tori had heard as a child when the City guards were unaware of her presence.

"Oh, yes, I'm out for anything that looks the least bit suspicious or illegal."

"That's a relief," Tori said lightly.

"What, nothing to hide?" Sister Anne remarked, every bit as lightly. "Of course David, with his expertise at the computer terminals, has a way of surprising even the most boring opponent. He is really quite efficient. I can hardly wait for the outcome."

"Shall we proceed, Tori," Sheridan said, moving from his position next to the computer terminal. "Level three and four and matters of importance."

"I'll inform the staff. They'll be overjoyed," Tori murmured to Sheridan, anxious for them to finish and leave the premises.

Morray stood behind her. Her skin crawled.

"This will be an unforgettable day," he said softly, bending low so that his breath whispered across her neck.

She fought the nausea churning in her stomach. "You are so sure," Tori said, turning around. "What would you wish to remember? The long, boring list of data you'll have to decipher, the cleanliness of the lab, or perhaps our sterilization techniques? Mayhap a moment in the purification chamber would exhilarate you."

Fury lined every muscle of his face. "What an impertinent little bitch."

"No one should be so rude," Sister Anne dictated piously.

"No need to bicker," Sheridan laughed. He patted Tori's head as if she were nothing but a child and strode to the door. "Announce on the intercom that I have free reign as long as I'm here, Victoria. I'd not like it if I met with any resistance or recalcitrant technicians. You did imply that you have nothing to hide, did you not?"

"As you say," Tori murmured uneasily.

"A likely story," David Hammond said softly. "Victoria, I cannot believe that you have not heard all the wild tales lately. Why, the grapevine here is alive with accusations and recriminations. Numerous laboratories tapping into the infinite boundaries of cybernetics have been astounded by the ludicrous information floating through the channels."

"The accusations hurt us all," Sheridan said irritably, his hand resting on the door, "and I'm sure the rumors are unfounded. You have tapped into some of these blatant lies, have you not, Victoria?"

"Nessa deals with the computers."

Sheridan moved to Tori's side, watching her eyes. "You actually expect me to believe that travesty. There is a computer block they call Romeo. And another with the name of Juliet, though perhaps you do not understand the significance. Have I underestimated your proclivities toward the past, your need for adventure and the romantic, Victoria?"

"Romeo and Juliet? How quaint," Tori repeated, relieved. She didn't need to pretend. "I have no idea what you're implying. Romeo and Juliet, a Shakespearian play, I believe. But computer blocks? You've been ensconced in your lab too long."

"Romeo, Juliet! They must be ferreted out! The perpetrator found and prosecuted," Morray demanded.

"And the other, the one they call Isolde," David Hammond said glumly. "I have spent hours in search of this quarry while trying to decipher the hidden codes that lead directly to this terminal. It is said that this is the home base."

"And I should like the proof," Morray said. "I imagine I could deal quite well with the perpetrators once they were found."

Shudders raked Tori's frame. "I can imagine," she said coolly. "Perhaps, Sheridan," she told him, "you prefer not to hunt in these terminals since you think so much is at stake."

"Nothing's at risk here," Sheridan assured her sarcastically. "Of course you already know that, don't you?"

"Excuse me?" Tori returned.

David Hammond gave a short, fierce victory cry, causing her insides to plummet as he tapped out a rapid fire staccato on the keyboard. "Damn," he murmured then, "it vanished again."

Quentin Morray stared at her for a few tremulous moments then reached out to touch her cheek.

"It will be a day for surprises," he told her as if he