"What's wrong with Max?" Jason asked.

He'd joined Lou in his motel room as the storm gathered outside. Lou would have preferred solitude, but he didn't imagine this was any time for wallowing in regrets or wondering what the hell to do next.

"What makes you think something's wrong?" he asked.

"She's acting differently this morning." Jason studied Lou for a second, then said, "So are you, for that matter. You two have a fight?"

"No"

"Misunderstanding, then?"

"It's between us, okay?"

"Sure, fine."

"Actually, it's just as well they took off without us. It gives us a chance to get out to that island without Storm going all haywire."

Jason shook his head. "Bad idea, Lou. Really bad." He looked at the dark, roiling sky. As if on cue thunder rumbled and rolled in. "Not that we could get out there, anyway."

"Look, sooner or later we have to check that place out, storm or otherwise. I don't want Max out there, and I know damn good and well she's out of patience. She'll get there come hell or high water. Unless we do it first."

Jason frowned and looked down at his feet.

"Besides, " Lou went on, "if we take Storm out there, God only knows what would happen. And you and I both know there's no way those two would let us go without them if they knew what we were up to. So clearly we have to go when they aren't around."

Jason rolled his eyes. "You think Max is pissed at you now, what do you think she'll be if you pull something like this?"

"I never said she was pissed at me."

"She's pissed at someone. I know it's not me. She's spending the day with Storm, despite the fact that Storm is a threat to her in her condition, so it must not be her. That leaves you"

Ignoring Jason's observations, Lou continued with his train of thought. "This guy's a vamp. He's not going to be any threat to us during daylight hours. So we have to go during the day."

"Yeah, and what about this storm?"

Lou walked to the window, looked up at the sky. "We're just going to have to deal with it."

Jason came to stand beside him, looked out at the same black sky. Even as they stood looking out, fat drops began splatting against the window. Just a few, then a few more. "Jesus, it's like he knows what we're thinking."

"I think maybe he does."

Jason swallowed hard. "I'll ask you once more, Lou. Don't do this. Don't go out there today."

Lou met his eyes, tried to read what was going on behind them. "Sorry, Jason. I have to do this. And not just for your sister and her friend. I gotta do it for Max. I need this thing over with so I can...focus on other things."

Jason nodded, his face grim. "I'll run back to my room. Grab a flashlight, jacket-cell phone, just in case they work out there." He looked at Lou. "There were no life jackets in that boat."

"Not a one, " Lou said. "Can you swim?"

Jason nodded, then opened the door. The storm came slashing in at him, and the look he sent back to Lou spoke volumes. No one could swim in this.

Then he left. Lou spent a moment checking his gun, making sure it was loaded and tucked under his clothes, where it would remain dry. He pulled on a coat and dropped a flashlight into the pocket. He carried his jack-knife and cell phone. As a final thought, he decided to leave a note for Max.

Those four lines took longer to compose than anything he'd ever written.

Finally he nodded, set the note on the nightstand and pulled on his coat. Then he stepped outside the door and went to Jason's room. Just as he lifted his hand to knock, he swore he heard Jason's voice. As if he were talking to someone.

Frowning, Lou moved to the window beside the door and tried to get a glimpse inside, but the curtains were drawn. A second later, he drew away as he heard Jason approaching the door. It swung open.

Lou pretended he'd been about to knock, all the while looking past Jason into the room beyond him. He didn't see any sign of anyone. The bathroom door was open, and he could see a good portion of the room beyond it. No one in sight there, either. Jason's coffee cup sat on the stand, right beside the telephone.

Had he made a call, then?

Lou swallowed hard.

"Let's go, " Jason said, stepping out and pulling the door closed behind him. He hunched his shoulders against the rain, and together they hustled around behind the motel, across the open field. The wind and rain seemed to ease as they entered the woods. The trees must be breaking more of the storm than he had expected, Lou thought.

They moved fast, all the way through the woods, finally emerging at the top of a steep path on the far side.

As soon as they stepped out of the trees, Lou went still, lifting his head to the sky, swiping a hand through his hair. "It's stopping."

"What?" Jason asked.

"The rain, it's letting up"

Jason looked around, glancing up at the sky. "I think the wind's eased a little, too, " he said. "Hell, maybe we can make it out there alive after all."

Lou frowned, first at Jason, then at the sky. The clouds seemed thinner and in the process of breaking up. What the hell was this?

Swallowing hard, he walked down the path, all the way to the bottom, and approached the boat. No clouds appeared. No thunder rumbled. No wind blew. He glanced at Jason. "I don't like this."

Jason swallowed. "Maybe he's not in tune to us. Maybe it's just the girls."

"That would make sense if the storm had stopped when they left town. But it didn't. It kept getting stronger. Then it's like...it changed its mind." He glanced at Jason. "Or he did."

"Maybe we shouldn't go out there after all, " Jason said. "Lou, he's probably got henchmen lining the damned beaches."

Lou patted his side. "I didn't plan to go in there unarmed, Jay." But the look on Jason's face was anything but reassured. He seemed reluctant, but resolved.

Lou felt for him. Then he said, "You know, you're right. It might be risky going out there, even now that the storm has let up. And even during the day. Maybe it would be better to leave someone behind-someone who'd know where to send the cavalry if I should fail to come back."

Jason glanced at him. "You think I'm afraid to go out there, and you're giving me an out. I'm as much a man as you are, Lou."

Lou shrugged-frankly disagreeing, though he wasn't about to say so. "Look, it's up to you. I'm going. With you or without."

"With, " Jason said. "You need me."

"I do?"

"Yeah."

Lou nodded, gave the kid a grudging nod. He saw the fear in Jason's eyes. Hell, it wasn't suspicious behavior. The kid should be afraid. He'd never dealt with anything like this before. Still, Lou couldn't shake the feeling that there was more than just fear behind Jason's eyes. There was something else, some knowledge.

Briefly, Lou glanced back at the spot where he'd found Max standing face-to-face with the most powerful vampire she'd ever encountered, defending her friend. He recalled the way she'd looked when he'd gotten her back to the room. It killed him to think of the pain she must have been in.

And he'd caused her even more.

The best thing he could do for Max right now, he thought, was find the missing girls, get them the hell out of that place and take Max back to Maine . He didn't know what the hell would happen after that, how to even begin fixing what he had so thoroughly broken. But he had to start with this.

He grabbed the back end of the boat. Jason helped. They dragged and pushed it into the water, which meant walking in almost to their knees. Then they climbed aboard, and Lou lowered the motor into the water, while Jason used an oar to push them out a little farther. Lou pulled the ripcord, once, twice-on the third try the thing sputtered to life, and then they were off. And the weather did not change. If anything, it grew clearer.

Almost as if something had decided to let them come. Hell, did it really matter? He had to do this. He owed it to Max.

"Now, Storm, you are deeply, deeply asleep. Relaxed and safe. Comfortable and warm and perfectly safe."

Max thought the woman's voice was so soothing, so mesmerizing, that she might fall into a trance state herself at any moment. She tapped the woman's shoulder, tipped her head slightly.

Frowning, the woman followed her to the far side of the room. Max said, "I have to go. When she wakes, tell her-"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Max, " Martha said, keeping her voice low.

`But...she'll be all right. It's important that I-"

"She's frightened. We have no idea what the session might reveal. It could be very traumatic for her." Max frowned, sending a look back at Stormy, who sat, relaxed, her eyes closed, on the sofa. "Your friend needs you, Maxine, " Martha went on. "Besides, this won't take long."

As if to punctuate her words, Stormy whispered, "Max?" and lifted a hand, grasping at air.

"She needs you, " Martha repeated.

Swallowing hard, Max returned to the sofa, closed her hand around Stormy's and sat down beside her. Stormy relaxed again, a sigh escaping her lips.

"You're safe, Storm, " Martha said, returning to her former position in the chair facing Stormy. "You're safe. Max is here, and I'm here, and nothing can harm you. Understand?"

"Yes, " Stormy said. "Safe." Her hand closed more tightly around Max's.

"I wish to speak now to the other. The being inside this body who is not Tempest Jones. Are you there?" Nothing. Stormy sat on the sofa, head leaning against the back of it, eyes closed, her breathing deep and even. "Please, talk to me. I wish to speak to the other." Stormy's head snapped up. Her eyes flashed open.

Her lips parted, and she spewed forth a stream of words that might as well have been Babylonian for all Max could make of them. Romanian? Jesus.

"Lath-ma in pace!"

Max saw Martha jump a little, saw her blink in surprise. "Look at her eyes, " Max whispered. "I told you they would change color."

Martha nodded, patting Max's hand as if to calm her. Her voice remained placid, though she was obviously startled. "You'll have to speak in English, my friend."

The person-it wasn't Stormy, Max couldn't think of it as Stormy-nodded slowly, seemed to think, then spoke. "Leave me alone."

"I will. Soon. But first you need to tell me who you are"

"I am she. She is me."

"You are Storm?"

"I am."

"Then who is the other woman inside you? The one with the blue eyes, the one who speaks English?"

"She is me. We are one."

"She doesn't know you."

"She doesn't remember. I am from before."

"From before?"

The person nodded. Amazing how different she looked from the Stormy that she knew and loved, Max thought.

"Why do you attack Storm's friends?" Martha asked, slowly, patiently. "After all, if you are Storm, then they are your friends, too."

"I protect my own."

"I see." Martha's voice remained calm, soothing.

"And they are a threat to something of your own?"

The person nodded again, slowly and totally un-Storm-like.

"Can you tell me what?"

"Him. Print meu." The eyes fell closed. "I'm so weak here. Take me back to the ocean."

"First, tell me your name."

"I'm sick. Sunt bolnav."

"Please, just your name. Then you can return."

The eyes opened slightly, the black color changing slowly, growing lighter. "Names mean nothing. I've had so many. Now, my name is Tempest. Once I was called Mina, and before that I was Elisabeta. But it doesn't matter. We are one and the same."

Her eyes closed again, then slowly opened, and when they did, they were bright, clear sapphire-blue. "Storm, " she said in her own voice. "My name is Storm."

Martha nodded slowly. Max couldn't take her eyes off her best friend. She was herself again, looking relaxed, normal. "Storm, tell me how you feel when you're near the ocean in Endover."

She smiled. "It's like coming home."

"Is that because you've lived in a place like it before? In your childhood, perhaps?"

"No. We moved to White Plains from Iowa when I was a little girl."

"And how do you feel when you experience the...the blackouts you've been having?"

Stormy's body stiffened a little. "It's as if I've been asleep and dreamed it all. Only in the dream, it wasn't me. It was someone else, doing things I would never do. And then, when I wake, I find out it was me who did them."

"So you can see the things you do, in these dreams?"

Her head lowered a bit as she nodded. "Sometimes. It makes me feel even more guilty."

"It's not your fault, Storm."

"It feels as if it is."

"When you do see these things, in the dreams, who is doing them?"

Stormy's brows creased. "A woman."

"And what does she look like?"

"She's beautiful. Skin like cream, wild golden hair, ebony eyes?'

"Do you know her?"

Stormy shook her head, then stopped in midmotion. "It feels as if I should. She's very familiar to me. Like when you run into someone you haven't seen in a long time and you know you know them, but you can't place them, or when you see your doctor's receptionist in the grocery store and don't recognize her out of context."

"I see."

"I wish I could remember her."

"I think you will, when you're ready. Storm, I want you to relax just a bit more deeply with me now. I'm going to count you down, all right? I'm going to take you a little bit deeper."

Jason settled onto the bench seat and snapped the oar back into its spot-there were holders mounted to the inside of the boat, one on each side. Lou sat on a smaller seat in the rear and used the handle on the motor to steer the boat away from the motel.

"So where do you suppose this boat came from?" Jason asked.

"I don't know. I suspect it's Gary's, but that's just a hunch."

" Gary? The motel manager?"

Lou nodded as he guided the boat around a bend in the shoreline. He spotted the lighthouse ahead and aimed toward it. When they got a little closer, the island appeared on the horizon. "There it is" The island rose from the sea, a dark shadow against the lighter sky, swathed in mist.

Jason looked out over the bow, his back to Lou. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Gotta do it. You want your sister back, don't you?" And he wanted Max back. The thought whispered through Lou's mind like an errant breeze. He didn't even try to analyze it.

"I'd do anything-will do anything-I have to, to get Delia back, " Jason said. He turned to glance back at Lou. "You would, too, wouldn't you? If it were Max?"

"I would."

"Then you understand."

Lou frowned a little, wondering what he was getting at, but then Jason faced front again and said, "So how we gonna do this?"

"I think I see a roof. On the far side of the island, see it?"

Jason nodded. Trees blocked the structure, but peaks and gables were coming into view.

He said, "Why don't we beach it on this side, so we can't be seen from the house. Just in case."

"Good idea." Lou slowed the boat as they drew closer, guiding them around to the west end, where their arrival would be concealed from the house. Then he cut the motor and grabbed the oars, rowing the rest of the way.

Near shore, they both jumped out and dragged the boat up onto the pebbly beach. Lou had landed it near a clump of scraggly brush, and they wedged the boat into its cover as far as possible, to keep it concealed.

Then Lou straightened and looked around. The island was dense with pines, large, old trees that towered high and kept the ground swathed in shadow. Pinecones littered the ground, along with a thick blanket of browning needles. The scent was amazing. Max would love this place, he thought as he started walking. She would absolutely love it.

He and Jason picked their way beneath the giant pines. Birds were singing, flitting among the trees, startling him every time they took off. He kept walking, eventually finding the place where the trees ended and the house stood, glaring down at him as if in silent anger. It was built of huge rough-hewn blocks of white granite, with rounded turrets at the corners, flanking the giant arch-topped wooden entry doors. It looked like a church, Lou thought. Or a castle.

"Doesn't look like getting inside will be easy, " Jason said.

"Getting inside won't be any trouble at all." Both men spun around, because the voice came from behind them.

Chief Fieldner and two other men stood with weapons drawn, trained on Lou, every one of them. Lou reacted instantly, years of training kicking in without thought, and clocked the closest thug in the jaw, grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back and took his gun. In the space of a heartbeat, Lou had the guy in front of him as a human shield and was holding his gun on the others.

"You two, drop your weapons, or your friend here is history." They stared at him, then at one another.

"Do it!" Lou barked, moving the barrel toward his hostage's head.

They looked at Jason. Jason nodded at them. "You'd better do what he says."

Each man dropped his firearm on the ground. Lou shot Jason a look. "Get the guns, Jay."

With a nod, Jason scrambled to gather up the guns. He tucked two into his waistband, kept the other in his hand. Then he hurried to stand beside Lou.

"You'll be sorry for this, " Fieldner said. "You were supposed to bring the women out here, not the man!" he shouted at Jason.

Lou's alarm bells went off, and he swung his gaze and his gun around toward Jason-only to find the gun Jason held pointed right dead center at his forehead.

"I told you on the phone, I couldn't stop him from coming, " Jason said. "But it won't matter. The women will come. If he's out here, they'll come."

"Jesus, Jason, just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Put the gun down, Lou. I told you, I'll do whatever it takes to get my sister back. Unfortunately, that includes hurting you."

"Me, yeah. I get that. But Maxie? And Storm?"

"I'm sorry, Lou. Just put the gun down."

Lou hesitated.

"Don't make me shoot you." Jason thumbed the hammer back on the revolver.

It was a goddamn .44. A .44-caliber round would blow the back of his head off on the way out, Lou thought. There was no chance he would survive if Jason fired, and then Max would be at his mercy. Trusting a friend who didn't deserve her trust. He had to stay alive. For her. For Max.

He dropped the weapon he'd taken from the man he held, and the man jerked himself free.

"Your own gun, too, " Jason said. "I know you brought one."

Nodding, Lou took his gun out carefully and dropped it on the ground. "Don't do this, Jason. He's not just going to let Delia go just because you do what he says."

"He's gonna kill her if I don't "

"How do you know he won't kill her either way?" Lou took a step toward Jason, but no more. Someone smashed him in the head from behind with something hard. He dropped to his knees, and they hit him again.

Lou went down and stayed down. No point getting back up, not against four of them. He lay there, clinging to consciousness, but pretending to be long past it.

But he heard the impact of fist on flesh, heard Jason grunt and swear.

"You stupid fool! You were told not to bring him here, " Fieldner was doing the talking, but it was the other two beating the hell out of Jason.

"I tried to stop him-I called to tell you-"

"Bull. You went back on your word!" Another thud, another grunt, and then Jason was on the damp ground not far from where Lou lay.

"Enough, " Chief Fieldner commanded. Lou peered through mostly closed eyes and saw the police chief standing near Jason. "We'll have to make the best of it. Having Mr. Malone here might work to our advantage. Take him inside."

"What about this one?" one thug asked, looking down at Jason.

"He's going to have to go back. Tell the women Malone's being held here, lead them back to rescue him."

Lou opened his eyes. He fixed Jason with a glare that told him in no uncertain terms not to dare follow those orders.

The chief went on. "It'll have to look like he fought us, tried to save his companion." He nodded at his two henchmen. "Make it convincing. Just not so much that he can't make it back to the mainland." He shrugged. "Then again, if you do, you can always take him back yourselves."

They smiled, actually smiled, and closed in around Jason, who curled in more tightly around himself before the first boot landed. When they finished, Jason was lying still in the dirt. They grabbed Lou's arms and began dragging him toward the house.

Martha proceeded to guide Stormy into a deeper state of hypnosis. Then she told her that she, Storm, was in control and the other part of her psyche must not take over again. She gave the other permission to speak to Stormy and told it to listen as well, and again reaffirmed that Stormy was in control. Then, slowly, she brought Stormy back out of the trance state, telling her to remember everything they had discussed, even the things said by the other, and to awake feeling refreshed, in control and safe.

By the looks of things, Stormy did.

Martha poured fresh tea, this time a cinnamon-and-spice blend she said would lend energy. She instructed Stormy to eat some of the cookies she'd brought in, whether she wanted them or not.

"So? What do you make of all this?" Max asked. It had been killing her to keep quiet and watch for so long, without speaking or injecting thoughts or opinions. Killing her, too, that her plan to slip away and head out to the island alone had backfired. But there was still time. "Is it a case of possession?"

"If it is, " Martha said, "it's by someone who is convinced she really is a part of Storm." She looked at Stormy. "Do you remember the parts of the conversation when I was speaking to the other?"

Stormy frowned, and then her brows rose. "I do. I remember all of it."

"And what did you sense from her when she was speaking to me?"

"Honesty. Sincerity and a kind of... almost a desperation."

"Then she really does believe what she's saying, " Max said.

"Either that, or what she's saying is really true, " Martha put in.

"How could it be true?"

Martha sipped her tea, set the cup on the saucer thoughtfully and met Stormy's eyes. "What I have to say to you is purely theoretical. You must know that, and understand that no one can be certain about what happens to us in the spiritual realms. My opinion is no more valid than anyone else's. It's one possibility, out of many. All right?"

Stormy nodded. "All right."

"All right. I believe that each of us has...a spiritual self. A higher self, if you will. I think that when we pass on from our lifetime, the person we have been, the soul, leaves the physical world and goes into the spiritual realm, where, if all goes well, it merges with the higher self. Are you with me so far?"

Max was nodding. Not sure she agreed, but as a theory, it wasn't bad.

Stormy just stared at Martha, rapt.

"So the higher self is made up of each person we've been in each and every lifetime. And the higher self generates a new soul, made up of the combined experiences of all the old ones, to be born into each new lifetime."

"If you buy into the theory that we live more than once, " Max said.

"Yes. Now, you're familiar with the idea of ghosts-of souls that refuse or are for some reason unable to move on and remain in the physical world instead."

Max nodded. Stormy said, "You think this is a ghost?"

"Not exactly, " Martha said. "I think most souls do move on, leave the physical realm and go on to the other side. But I think once there, some might be unable or unwilling to merge with the higher self. So they remain an individual, even though the higher self generates a new soul, that is reborn and living a new lifetime. Do you understand?"

"I understand, " Max said. "Not sure if I buy it, but I understand."

"Storm?"

Stormy nodded but still didn't speak.

"Now, " Martha said, "before we began, you told me that when you were in the coma, you left your body. You spoke of the experience of being lost. Even meeting someone else you had never met before, but whom you met later in real life. And she remembered this meeting, too."

"Yes, " Stormy said. "If she hadn't, I'm not sure I would believe it was anything more than a hallucination."

"Too often we mistrust our own senses, " Martha said. "Suppose that while you were there, wandering, a soul that had failed to merge with its higher self saw you and somehow attached itself to you, so that when you returned to your body, there were two souls, rather than one."

"I think we're getting a little far-fetched here, " Max said, reaching for her tea, shaking her head.

"But, Max, that's exactly how it feels, " Stormy said, her voice louder, her face more animated, than it had been before. "Who is this other soul? Why did she want to come back with me?"

"I can't say for sure, Storm. She kept telling me she was you. I think there's a possibility-and mind you, only a possibility-that she might be part of you. Another soul that was generated by your higher self."

Stormy frowned, puzzled, but Max saw where this was going. "You think this other is one of Storm's previous incarnations?"

"I think it's one possibility she ought to consider."

Stormy closed her eyes. "It's not fair. I just want to get rid of her. How can I do that? What does she want from me?"

"Now, that's the relevant question. What does she want? Why did she return? It may be that she left unfinished business in her own time. It may be that there is something here, in the physical realm, that she wants and can only claim by being here herself."

Martha slid a hand over Stormy's. "I believe I have opened the lines of communication for you. I tried. If it worked, then you'll be able to find out. Talk to her, listen to her, feel what she feels, and maybe you'll come to understand."

"And if I can't?"

Martha lowered her eyes. "I don't know."

"Wait a minute, " Max demanded. "Are you telling me there's no way to get rid of this...this intruder, this interloper? What about an exorcism? Could that work?"

"It might. Or it might end up banishing the wrong soul."

Stormy shivered visibly at those words.

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?" "Max, don't raise your voice. She's doing the best she can, " Stormy said.

Max rolled her eyes and paced away. "I'm sorry, Martha. I'm just worried about my friend."

"I don't blame you. You know, I've long suspected that what I've just explained to you is the cause of many cases of multiple-personality disorder. I believe older souls may step in to protect a younger one who's experiencing severe trauma, to save them, and it works, but ends in the creation of many individuals inhabiting one body. Whether that's true or not, the symptoms are much the same, and so the treatment could be, as well."

"And what treatment would that be?" Max asked.

"There are two schools of thought on that. In one, therapists lead the patient through guided meditations in which they imagine finding and killing the other parts. I seriously doubt this is the best course. Other psychiatrists have had great success with merging the individual personalities into the whole, which I feel could be a far healthier solution."

"You're telling me she's stuck with this thing? You want her to...to adopt it?" Max shook her head. "I say we go with option one. Kill the goddamn thing and get rid of it."

"No." Stormy rose to her feet as she said it. "No, I don't want to do that. Not yet, anyway."

"Stormy, are you out of your freaking mind?"

"Maybe" Stormy met Max's eyes and smiled a shaky smile. "But I need to know who she is, why she came back, and what she wants from me."

"Storm, I hate like hell to bring this up, but this bitch attacked Lou. She attacked me. She's dangerous."

"She's a part of me. And I think Martha let her know that you and Lou are friends, and mean her no harm. I don't think she'll become violent again."

"I agree, " Martha said. "And there's also what she said about the sea. Meaning Endover." She sighed. "I don't want to frighten you with gossip, but it's not the first whisper of strange goings-on I've heard in relation to that place. Still... she's stronger near it, weaker farther inland. You can use that to remain in control."

Stormy nodded. "Thank you, Martha. You've given me a lot to think about."

"Yes, thanks;" Max said, though even to her own ears it sounded less than sincere. Frankly, she'd been happier to believe this was some foreigner, a ghost or even a demon. To think it was some long-lost part of Stormy's own higher self-that was just too much. And it was tough to reconcile her love for Stormy with her hatred for this other. If it were a part of her, how could Max feel both those things?

In the car on the ride back, Stormy was silent.

Finally Max had to break the tension. "Honey, I adore you. You know that. If this is the way you want to handle this thing, then I'm with you."

"I feel like I'm letting you down. Betraying you, even. Embracing your sworn enemy."

"Next time she comes around, I'll try to make friends."

Stormy laid her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. Max glanced sideways and saw tears squeezing out onto her lashes.

"I don't have to take you back there, you know, " Max said. "If this other is stronger there, maybe the best thing would be for you to go in the opposite direction."

Stormy shook her head. "I have to go back. I'm not going to find the answers anywhere else." She offered Max a weak smile. "Besides, we still have Delia and Janie to rescue. It's okay, Max. Really, it's okay."

"It's not. But it will be. I promise, Storm, I'm gonna find some way to make this okay." She drove on in silence for a long moment. Then she said, "You know, Storm, it's entirely possible Martha is dead wrong about all of this. Even she admitted as much."

"I know. It just...it feels true. Everything she said put a knot in my belly that told me it was true."

Max nodded. "I guess we have to trust your instincts. Hell, this doesn't impact anyone as much as it does you. It's your life, your body, your soul."

"My higher self." She sighed.

"Should we go back, then?" Max asked.

"Lunch, then back, " Stormy said. "I'm starved for the first time in days. It's a good sign, don't you think?"

"I'm hungry, too, " Max said, though she was worried about the time. She had to get to that island today.

"You're always hungry, Max."

There was a glimmer of the old light in Stormy's tired eyes. It did Max's heart good to see it there. Then Stormy took her hand.

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry. You're in crisis, and I ought to be there for you, helping you through it, and instead I've developed a crisis of my own to contend with." She shook her head. "And you're there for me, even though your heart is breaking over Lou."

"And you're there for me, too."

"I want to be."

"You are, hon, " Max told her. "Just being here with me is a big help, you know that. Besides, what more can you do? Lou and me-that boat's been torpedoed. It's a lost cause."

"Don't give up on him just yet, Max."

Max glanced at her friend and lied through her teeth, to Stormy and to herself. "I already have."

Then she drove them to an out-of-the-way diner for a quick lunch before heading the car back toward the cursed little town of Endover . And the farther they drove, the more urgently she felt the need to get back there. She hadn't reached any conclusions about how to reclaim her friendship with Lou, how to deal with the heartbreak of realizing he would never love her the way she wanted him to. But she had to see him, to be with him. The need was almost crippling, and growing with every mile.