Witchcraft

instinctively lashed out at him with it, he faded to the side. Kimberly swept past him, toward the open end of the bar. He whirled, slashing the dagger through the air in a violent arc. Kimberly picked up another bottle, still holding on to her first weapon. She hurled the full wine bottle toward the man who, in turn, ducked. The glass cracked on the counter behind him and liquid poured onto the floor. "YOU bitch!" Kimberly was throwing every bottle she could get her hands on now and more than one of them found its target. The bulky robes seemed to provide protection, however, and none of the blows proved devastating. With a roar of rage, her attacker sprang forward, intending to throw himself into one final rush that would plunge the dagger deeply into her body. Kimberly turned to run and then heard the scream of fury behind her as the robed figure slipped on the wineslick floor. She heard the thud as he fell to the tile, and without stopping to think, Kimberly picked up one more bottle of wine.
    She brought it down on the back of the cowled head with every ounce of force she possessed. "Kim!" Cavenaugh came through the door, a dark lethal shadow in his evening clothes. The glint of metal caught Kimberly's eye as she stood over her victim. Cavenaugh held a gun in his hand. Starke was right behind him, grabbing for the light switch on the wall. Cavenaugh reached her as the lights came on, yanking her away from her prone attacker. She felt the taut violence in him as his hand closed over her shoulder. Then he was bending down beside her victim, turning him over to feel for a pulse beneath the heavy hood. Starke stood tensely, waiting for the verdict. He, too, was armed. Both men, she thought dazedly, looked very comfortable with a gun in their hands.
    Cavenaugh straighteeed slowly, shoving his weapon out of sight beneath his elegant evening jacket. "He's out," Cavenaugh growled. His hard, emerald eyes raked Kim from her head to her bare feet. "She knocked him unconscious."
    "S mells like it took half a case of wine to do it," Starke commented as he examined the situation. "Looks like it took half a case, too. We've got a regular swimming pool in here."
    "I didn't know neatness counted," Kimberly managed, her stunned eyes never leaving Cavenaugh's . "Lady," Cavenaugh grated harshly, "the only thing that counts in a situation like this is who's still standing when it's all over. My God, woman, you've taken ten years off my life tonight!
    Are you all right?" She nodded mutely, unable to move. Still clutching the jagged blade she had created from the first bottle, Kimberly faced him. Then, with a groan of savage relief, Cavenaugh reached for her.
    She dropped the bottle and fell into his arms. "You're bleeding! If that bastard ... "
    "It's all right. I just cut myself a little on the glass in the door. Oh, Cavenaugh , I thought you and Starke would never get here," she whispered from the safety of his hold. "Doesn't look like you needed us too badly," Starke said. "You seem to have handled things pretty well on your own. The next time we find ourselves in a barroom brawl, Dare, we'll have to make sure she's along to back us up."
    "She'll be there if that's where I happen to be. I'm never going to let her out of my sight."
    "How did you find me?" she interrupted hastily. There was still a fierce tension flowing in him. She could feel it as he held her close. "Starke's beeper went off when you crossed the wall. We excused ourselves to go check the control panel, thinking the alarm must have been set off by an animal. Somewhere along the line we noticed that you were nowhere to be found," Cavenaugh explained. Very gently he disengaged himself from her tight hold and turned the water on in the small sink. Then he thrust her bleeding arm under the flowing tap. "I told Dare I'd last seen you on the patio," Starke put in calmly, bending down to yank back the hood of the attacker. Beneath the mysterious cowl was the face of a dark haired young man in his early twenties. "Neither of us could believe you'd be stupid enough to actually take a midnight stroll over the wall, of course," Cavenaugh went on. "I didn't exactly go strolling over that damned wall, you know. I was in the garden, about to start back to the house when this turkey got in the way. I knew I couldn't run past him. So I tried to run away from him, hoping that when we went over the wall, the alarm would go off. Ouch.
    Cavenaugh , that hurts." He ignored her and