She stepped from the shadows, her perfectly formed face pale in the moonlight, and moved silently forward to the man standing at the edge of the cliff. For a moment he was unaware of her, and she saw as he saw the still form which lay shattered on the rocks below. Then he turned, and she saw the terrible grief on his face.

"My love," she whispered, running her hand across his frozen face.

Barnabas moved slowly, like one caught in a chaotic dream. "No," he said, his drained voice barely audible. "No…."

She raised her arms to him. The rays of the moon shone with a diffuse glow through her translucent flesh of her hands.

"It isn't possible," he whispered, his voice a ragged tremor. Passively he allowed her to embrace him; then caught her to him and kissed her ardently, stroking her hair with trembling hands.

"How?" he whispered. "I don't understand... Oh my dearest Josette... I saw you..." He turned for a moment to stare down at the base of Widow's Hill. The surging sea lapped against the rock-

strewn sand. There was nothing else there.

He turned back to her in a confusion of horror and wonder. She reached up and pressed her cold lips to his.

"It was a lie," she said. "I saw it all, as you did. Felt it all. But she could not force the ending. It was a vision that Angelique forced you to see."

"You are not dead...?"

"I never fell," she said obliquely, and entwined her arms with his.

He studied her face for a moment longer, and she saw the dawning of hope in his eyes. She smiled. Her curved fangs gleamed in the moonlight. He bent down and kissed her parted lips.