Dance with the Devil

now, of course. But later.”
        “Never.”
        “When you've seen Him, when you've understood Him, you will thank me, Katherine.”
        She ignored his rantings and said, “I fail to see how you can force me to become a member of the family against my will. When the ceremony is over, what's to keep me from leaving here and going straight into Roxburgh, to the authorities?”
        “You won't.”
        “Will you-kill me? Like you killed Yuri?”
        “Of course not! Yuri got in the way when he wasn't supposed to be. You're different. We want you. And once you've danced with Him, you'll be happy to belong to the family, to be constantly possessed by Him and to face the future as His.”
        “I don't believe I'll feel that way at all.”
        “Just wait.”
        She saw, in Michael's eyes, the flame of the fanatic which cool reason could never hope to quench. Why hadn't she seen that same flame before? Why had she only seen love, affection, understanding and good humor in those incredibly blue eyes? Had he been a tremendously good actor or-and she felt this was more likely-had she been too blind to see anything but what she wanted to see?
        As hard as it was to face, that last must be true, for she had not only misjudged Michael Harrison. She had misjudged his friends. And she had apparently misjudged Alex and his friends also. And, finally, she had misjudged Yuri, poor Yuri. She had been so certain that he had been playing a role that she had easily overlooked the real man. He was a college graduate who still believed in ghosts and demons and vampires. That had seemed like such an odd combination that it had to be false, and instead of trying to understand why he should be a man of such conflicting facets, she had discarded the notion that he might really be what he appeared to be.
        How could she have been so wrong, so often? In the back of her mind, a tiny grain of an idea began to form, so small she could not make much of it. But she knew that, if she survived this night, she would see that idea flower and would come to understand herself better than she ever had before.
        “Already,” Michael said, “you seem softened to the idea.”
        “No.”
        He looked beyond her, at the members of the family who were making the arrangements. As he did so and his eyes seemed to glaze for a moment in a curious look of mindless anticipation, Katherine steeled herself to break through any interference she might receive, and she ran past him toward the edge of the forest and the open expanse of the ski run which she knew lay just beyond.
        She got a dozen steps before someone shouted.
        She kept running, pumping her legs up and down, came out of the trees and plowed into the thick blanket of snow on the run, bulled her way ahead despite the resistance she received. Fear drove her, and that might give her an edge over the rest of them.
        Hands grasped desperately for her, snagged at her clothes but were torn loose as she ran even faster, sending up a thick, white spray of snow in her wake.
        “Damn you!” someone hissed close by her right hand.
        She looked over as she ran, and she saw Kerry Markwood keeping pace with her, his face strained tight, lips skinned back over a set of white, even teeth.
        When she looked to the left, she saw another young man on that side. He was tall and muscular, easily over six feet and over two hundred pounds, and he did not seem to mind the chase at all. Indeed, he seemed to be enjoying it, because he nodded his head and smiled at her as he put on a burst of speed and pulled ahead of her.
        Suddenly, the ground turned up, rolled above her, slammed down hard upon her face, placing the sky at her back like a heavy bowl of water.
        She shook her head, blew snow from her nostrils and got her hands under herself, palms flat on the snow. She sucked in a deep breath and pushed herself up.
        Kerry Markwood and the muscular boy took hold of her, one on either arm, and they would not be shaken loose.
        “Damn you,” Markwood said, though not as furiously as he had when he was giving chase.
        “Easy girl, easy,” the muscular boy said. His fingers dug into her arm nice spikes into soft wood.
        They lead her back to Michael who stood at the edge of the woods, his hands limp at his sides.
        “Almost,” she said.
        She felt better for having tried