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Miranda scrabbled to her feet, knowing that she had purchased only a small respite. Once more, she threw her voice, this time to make it appear to come from the other side of the door. “Open . . . Jaames. . . . . let . . . me . . . in.”

Hastily, Ropwell shoved Miranda aside and fumbled with the key. He swung the door open to the dark. “Show yourself, Felicity,” he demanded, the liquor that he had consumed blotting out fear. “Come to me and tell me where you hid those jewels.”

Adam heard Ropwell’s voice and followed the sound upwards, slipping the jewel into his pocket as he stealthily took the stairs. Damien and Angel followed, but the very air seemed to grow thicker around them, like mud, sucking at their feet, hampering their progress.

“Beware, Brand,” Damien called weakly, but his words seemed to be swallowed by the morass that surrounded him.

Too late, he realized that the boundary to the world of souls had been sundered.

Feeling like a fool, he muttered the opening words of a warding spell.

However counter measures availed him nothing against the furious incorporeal force that flew up above them.

Whatever it was would brook no interference.

The essence of what once been Lady Ropwell laughed triumphantly as unconsciousness swallowed the Mage and his familiar.

Although a small spark of magic burned bright in the mortal who ran toward the chamber, the spirit quickly dismissed him.

He posed no threat to her purpose. She had finally received the summons that she had spurned heaven for, waited for with all the force of her burning hatred.

Even a disembodied soul could appreciate the supreme irony.

James, himself, had opened the door and invited his doom.

. . .

Miranda was about to make the “ghost” speak again when the air began to shimmer.

The room grew icy and she could see the frost of her breath as she panted air.

The candles danced and crystals of light coalesced into the wavering figure of a woman.

“You called, Jamesss dear?” the ghost asked, her face featureless except for eyes that glowed crimson as the heart of a glowing coal.

“Felicity.” Ropwell greeted her with drunken smile. “You make a beautiful ghost.”

The ghostly head turned to regard Miranda. “One of yours, Jamesss?”

“A witch,” Ropwell replied. “An heiress. I intend to marry her, Felicity.”

“Over my dead body,” Miranda said.

“That comes later,” the ghost said with acerbity. “But you seem a sssensssible child. How did you come to be in league with Jamesss?”

“He kidnapped me,” Miranda explained, rising to confront the incorporeal. “He believes me to be a witch.”

The ghost cackled. “You have no magic,” she said. “Not like the other I have touched tonight.”

A frisson of fear ran up Miranda’s spine. Who among her kin had the ghost encountered? It could only be Damien, but there was no sign of any trepidation on the spirit’s part. What had happened to her brother?

“Of course she is; you have come, haven’t you?” Ropwell maintained doggedly, pulling the vellum from his pocket. “I have a signed contract for my soul right here. So you had best show me where the jewels are, Felicity, before the cock crows.”

“Cheated the child, have you, Jamesss, with your paltry sssoul? Asss you did me? Then let me lead you to your jussst reward,” the shade offered.

“Come girl,” Ropwell said, his hand wrapping round Miranda’s like a vise. “We are going to the jewels.”

“Yesss,” the ghost hissed, beckoning with a skeletal hand. “To the jewelsss.”

Miranda looked into the burning core of the Incorporeal’s eyes and saw into Hades’ fires. The last thin shred of her courage frayed in the face of that merciless promise of eternal torment. She screamed.

Adam heard Miranda’s cry and abandoned all caution. He charged through the open door at the top of the stair to confront the unspeakable. A glowing supernatural figure challenged him, shrieking in anger.

“Do not think to interfere, man,” she warned with a stormy wail. “Ropwell isss mine. Too long have I waited, too long in the place between the worldsss. I shall finish my busssinessss.” The ghost advanced toward Ropwell and Miranda, shadow arms outstretched.

Suddenly, Ropwell began to understand the shade’s intent. “Your death was an accident, Felicity, I swear,” he said, backing towards the window, dragging Miranda with him. “She is angry. Keep her away from me, witch, keep Felicity away. . .”

“No!” Adam screamed, running toward the manifestation and reaching out, but there was nothing to grab, only bitter cold. “Miranda has done you no harm, Felicity. Leave her.” But his words did not stop the ghost’s relentless advance.

Ropwell wrapped his fingers around Miranda’s throat. “Stop her, witch,” he demanded. “Stop her, or else I will take you with me. Stop her, Brand, or else your witch dies, do you hear? She dies.”

“Are you so far gone from this world that you cannot discern innocence?” Adam pleaded with the ephemeral creature.

“Will you let him destroy again, as he destroyed you, Felicity? Will you kill me too, for your husband’s crime?

For if Miranda dies tonight, I might as well seek the Light myself and when I do, I swear that I will find you there and seek my justice. ”

“But she isss no witch,” the spirit said scornfully, moving relentlessly forward. “She is powerless. See how she cringes. Like I wasss. But now my hate givesss me power. She hasss nothing.”

“You underestimate Miranda, as you malign yourself, Felicity,” Adam shouted.

“It took courage for you to plan your vengeance, fortitude to hide those jewels. Miranda may not have a witch’s powers, but it does not diminish her, quite the opposite.

Her wit, her strength, the valor of her spirit, are all the greater because they come from within her, not from some outside source.

Even if she could command all the forces of earth, fire, wind and air, I could not love her more. Miranda is my life, my heart.”

The ghost halted and turned once again, a tear-like prism of light dripped from those ember eyes. “You love her that much?”

“I love her, Felicity,” Adam begged the spirit. “Surely you remember what it was to love? I am told that it is the only thing that survives death.”

“Yesss,” the ghost whispered, her tones dropping to the sweetness of a summer zephyr. “I remember . . . I loved you Jamesss. Do you recall how it wasss? You were handsome.”

“Handsome,” Ropwell repeated, his voice rising to an odd pitch. “I was, wasn’t I? And you were so beautiful. Men couldn’t keep their eyes off of you, but you were mine.”

“Alwaysss yoursss, Jamesss,” the ghost declared, weaving a siren spell. “Faithful.”

“I had to keep you,” Ropwell said, a peculiar glassy look in his eye. “The thought of losing you was unbearable, do you understand.”

“Poor Jamesss, ssso you had to confine me.” The ghost declared.

Fingers of loathing crawled up Adam’s spine at the undertones that lay beneath the spirit’s simple statement. His eyes went to the chain upon the floor in horror.

“So you do understand!” Ropwell said. “Who let you loose? One of the servants?”

“I fasssted, Jamesss. . . fasssted until my wrissst wasss tiny enough to passs the ring. T’wasss then that I hid the jewelsss. Do you want them Jamesss? Take my handsss.”

Miranda quivered as she suddenly understood the meaning of the manacle in the stone. This room had been Felicity’s prison. She fell to her knees as Ropwell released her, his hands stretching toward the shimmering conglomeration of ether.

“I did not mean to kill you, Felicity,” Ropwell said. “I did love you, but they all wanted you, you see, and you were mine.”

Adam plunged into the chill heart of the shade, braving the dark core of the image in order to reach Miranda. He hoisted her into his arms and shrank against the wall as the spirit took Ropwell in her ghostly embrace. Ropwell was transfixed, surrounded by the swirling evanescence.

“I waited, waited ssso he might die in terror, as I did, but I will ssspare him from awareness for now, for the sssake of your love, man. For I sssenssse your feelings are true,” Felicity’s spirit explained as she addressed Adam “But remember thisss man, hate sssurvivesss death more than love ever doesss. Jamesss will pay for hisss crimes and endure my loathing for all of eternity.” The glowing eyes turned toward her victim.

“Come dear Jamesss, and we shall find the jewelsss together in the Thamesss.”

“Together,” Ropwell murmured, turning toward the window, stepping arm in arm with Felicity’s ghost toward oblivion.

Miranda buried her face in Adam’s shoulder as the glass splintered, sending moonlit shards falling like tiny shooting stars into the night. A horrified scream rose, as if in that last second, Ropwell realized the full magnitude of what Hell had in store for him.

Adam held her tightly against him, affirming the reality of the woman in his arms. “Miranda,” he murmured not quite daring to believe the evidence of his senses.

He felt her body tremble and when she at last looked up, there was a darkness midst the blue, a latent horror.

He wanted to chase those shadows from her eyes, wished that there was some way to cleanse away the terror that had touched them both.

He whispered to her as he would to a child, promising that all would be well.

But he was more than conscious that this was no infant in his arms. His cheek brushed the golden silk of her hair, kindling a nascent spark of desire.

“Miranda, my love,” he whispered. “My love, you have nothing to fear.”

His words were a benediction, stronger than any spell.

Miranda’s eyes met his and she knew without doubt that he had told the ghost the truth.

Adam loved her, loved her enough to defy both heaven and hell on her behalf.

He had drawn her back from the Light, shielded her from the Shadow and now, she was at last where she truly belonged.

Indeed, all her fears and feelings of inadequacy were banished.

“Adam,” she whispered, her fingers reaching up bury themselves in the dark softness of his hair.

His heart pounded beneath her ear, swift and steady as a ritual drum weaving a rhythm that echoed the rapid tattoo beating beneath her breast. She drew his lips down to meet hers, kissing him with a new certainty.

An assurance sprung from the pledge he had made, a promise that was far more than any bond or vow.

Adam had given her the gift of herself. For the first time in her life, she was more than whole.

She was seeing herself not as a witch that might have been, but as a woman worthy of the love reflected in Adam’s eyes.

Comfort flowed from her, as if Miranda sensed the sudden need in him.

Despite her ordeal, Adam felt the strength in her kiss, a gift of soul, as if she were presenting him with the essence of her being.

He tasted her, savoring every second, taking all that she had to give.

His memory scribed every sound and scent; his body recorded every nuance of touch, feasting before the famine.

But while Adam received, he also gave in silent adoration, cradling her with tenderness until her trembling ceased.

Without words he told her of the emptiness inside him that was now filled to the brimming, setting aside his fear of the void that was likely yet to be.

Even as he spoke with his heart, he knew that he was being a coward.

If he had an ounce of integrity, he would not make these silent promises, oaths that were bound to be broken.

But Adam could not help himself, any more than his namesake could have resisted the taste of that fatal fruit.

Miranda was offering him full knowledge, of her, of himself.

Though he knew it a sin, Adam feared that he would soon be banished from paradise.

But when he looked into Miranda’s eyes, trusting and full of love, he traced the line of her profile, trying to keep the regret from his smile.

She was promised to another man and even were she not, he had made a binding oath of his own.

The Mage was due his payment. Adam would abide by Wodesby’s decision. He knew what it would be. He did not care. Miranda lived. That was enough; it would have to be, he told the remnants of his shattered heart. Magic had its price

“Your brother is downstairs, my love,” he said softly, taking the emerald from his pocket and fastening it tenderly with a gentle farewell kiss to the back of her neck “‘Tis time we were bound for home.”