He opened his eyes slowly, the lids feeling heavy. The world around him was dark. The air still, quiet. He was outside but could not focus beyond that simple fact. It was another moment before he became aware that he was...upright, his knees slightly bent, his feet barely touching the ground.

  Blinking, he turned his gaze upward. His hands were cuffed above his head, the steal links running through a hoop that was attached to a pole which his numb body hung limply against.

  Wanting to stand, he moved his legs, trying to drag his feet beneath him. Pain sliced through him. It started at his wrists and slashed down his forearms. Into his biceps. Straight into his shoulder. He cried out through the gag in his mouth, the sound muffled and hollow.

  A sudden dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. He shuddered and let himself go slack again. Sweat stood out on his body. His muscles throbbed. He closed his eyes against the dizziness and willed himself to stay awake...alert.

  He struggled to clear his mind, to think, to remember.

  How long had he been unconscious? Not too long he guessed. He wasn't hungry and his thirst came more from the dry rag in his mouth than any actual need of water. It was dark so more than likely it was still the same night.

  He opened his eyes and squinted into the blackness around him, trying to make out his surroundings, trying to figure out where the hell he was. He wiggled his fingers, afraid to move too much but needing to bring some feeling back into his numb joints. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he realized he was in some sort of campsite. A lopsided picnic table and a rusted out grill sat to his left. Moonlight spilled across the tops of six small cabins, three on each side of a narrow dirt lane. Squinting, he could just make out the details of the cabin closest to him. No windows, the door hung at an odd angle to the frame and spray paint decorated the front and side. Abandoned.

  He shifted his gaze to the trees beyond the clearing he was in. No lights. Just thick, oppressive darkness.

  "Hey! Someone! Help!" The rag in his mouth muffled his voice and garbled the words, making them indistinguishable even to his own ears. He cocked his head to the side and listened. No footsteps. No one coming crashing through the brush to his rescue. No cars on a nearby road. Just the sounds of crickets and frogs. A feeling of dread pressed in on him.

  For the first time in three years, he was completely on his own.

  There was no feeling in the back of his mind like there had been with Lash that somehow Jim would find him. Whatever connection he and Jim shared had been severed. There was only Blair, handcuffed to a pole in the middle of nowhere. Helpless. Alone.

  Terror beat in his heart. The pounding filled his ears. His mind. Threatened to overwhelm him.

  Get a hold of yourself, Sandburg.

  He closed his eyes. Breathed deeply through his nose.

  This is not helping you. And it's not helping Jim.

  He knew his partner had to be feeling the same panic. The same sense of helplessness. He would be damned if he would let Jim go through the rest of his life blaming himself for Blair's death. Because he knew Jim would. He would spend the rest of his life hating himself for not being able to somehow perform the impossible and find him.

  So he had to survive. Escape.

  He looked once more to his confined hands above him. He pulled on his wrists, hoping maybe he could slip his hands through the metal ring that encircled each one. He twisted and pulled, ignoring the constant ache in his shoulder and chest. Maybe...if he just bent his fingers...he could just pull...

  Dammit!

  Warm blood trickled down his arms as he struggled but the cuffs held tight. He could not pull his hands free. But maybe... He studied the ring that the cuffs were looped through. It looked old, rusted. Was it possible--

  He hesitated another moment before making up his mind. Biting down hard on the rag between his teeth, bracing himself for the agony he knew would follow, he inhaled deeply through his nose, grabbed the ring the cuffs were linked through and yanked down hard. Razor-sharp shards of pain pierced his arms and stabbed down his back. He gasped, a muted cry escaping his lips. The ring did not budge. Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth and waited for the throb in his muscles to subside.

  "You shouldn't move around so much."

  Blair's eyes flew open. His gaze locked on Rebecca. He hadn't heard a car drive up so wherever this place was, it needed to be accessed by foot. Blair tensed as she walked toward him, stopping only inches away. He blinked through the sweat that trickled down his forehead and into his eyes.

  "I'm sure moving around like that only increases your...discomfort. You must be very sore by now. I can't imagine it myself." Blair stared into her eyes, shuddering at the pleasure he saw there. She was enjoying this. "Sorry I had to leave you for a while but I needed to go pick up Jarred."

  Blair shifted his gaze and found the old man, sitting at the broken picnic table, his gaze locked on the helpless grad student. "I knew you could get him for me, Rebecca."

  She grinned, the look predatory, hungry. "I always get what I want." Reaching out, she ran her fingers through the curls of her prisoner's hair. "It's strange. I thought I'd have to wait until that warehouse was burning down before I'd get a chance at you. But the minute I started that fire, your partner was inside that place." She looked at Blair with growing curiosity. "Don't you think that's strange?"

  He stared into her cold eyes, keeping his gaze neutral, giving up nothing.

  She shrugged one shoulder. "I guess it really doesn't matter does it. After all, I did get what I wanted." Her fingers left his hair and trailed to the cloth in his mouth. "Now, Blair," she said, her voice soft, patient, "I'm going to remove the gag, but when I do, you will not cry out. You will not yell. You will not make any sound over the volume of normal speaking voices. In fact, you will not speak unless asked a question. Do you understand?"

  Blair nodded once, almost imperceptively.

  Her hand slipped to his left shoulder and squeezed. Blair gritted his teeth against the spasm of pain that rocketed through him. "I said do you understand?" She squeezed again. Blair cried out and Rebecca laughed, releasing him. "Yes, I think you do."

  Blair panted through the cloth in his mouth. Sweat trickled down his back. The muscles in his arms grew rigid. His hands fisted as his eyes locked on the woman before him.

  Rebecca's gaze shifted to Blair's bound hands, her expression one of amusement. "I know what you're thinking right now. If only you were free," she said wistfully. "The things you'd do to me." Her gaze returned to Blair's face, any hint of amusement gone, replaced with a look of malevolence. "Just keep in mind you're not."

  Reaching out, she wrenched the rag from between Blair's teeth and left the dirty cloth dangling loosely around his neck.

  Blair licked his parched lips but remained silent.

  "Very good," she said quietly. "You managed to keep from asking any questions. You follow directions well."

  "Come on, Rebecca, let's get this done," Jarred complained.

  She shook her head, then leaned in toward Blair and said in a conspiratorial tone, "My husband can be so impatient." She leaned back from him, her eyes widening. "You did figure out that he was my husband right?"

  "Yes," he breathed.

  "Very nice. Answering the asked question without saying anything more. I'm impressed." Moving away from him, she lit several small torches he hadn't noticed earlier. As the glow of the light illuminated the clearing, he could see more details...and found himself wishing once more for the darkness. On the far side of the clearing, he could see a raised platform with a large rectangular board secured atop it. Leather straps had been nailed into each of the four corners of the thick section of wood. They hung over the sides, flapping in the night breeze. Blair's mouth went dry as his mind finally put a name to what he was seeing -- a ceremonial altar.

  Rebecca followed his line of vision. "I prepared that earlier today. Didn't want to leave everything until the last minute." She crossed to the altar and grabbing one of the leather straps, pulled hard, testing its strength. "I'm surprised you haven't asked about the ceremony we have planned."

  "If you're going to kill me, I don't want the details first."

  She was on him in an instant, her hand fisting into the cloth that still hung around his neck. "Didn't I tell you not to speak unless I asked you a question?" Her hand twisted to the left and the cloth tightened around Blair's throat. "Did I ask you a question? No, I did not." Two more twists. "Until I do, you say nothing." One last twist, her teeth gritted against the effort. "Nothing!"

  Blair gasped, fighting to draw in breath as the cloth cut into his neck and savagely cut off the air supply to his windpipe. Panic laced up his back. His mind raced. Do something, his mind screamed. Do something or this nut is going to kill you!

  "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

  The pressure on his neck abated instantly. He gulped greedily at the air, coughing with the effort to draw breath back into his lungs.

  "That's better." She smoothed the cloth where her fist had wrinkled it. "All I want is a little respect. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

  A light sheen of sweat covered Blair's body. His heart beat an irregular rhythm in his ears. Was that a question? Was he supposed to answer her? If he didn't, would she choke him again? "No, it's not too much," he rasped out.

  "You are bright, Blair. I knew that right from the beginning." Her fingers traced a line across the now tender skin of his neck. He flinched against the probing but remained silent. "That first day we met, in the library, I watched you for a long time before I approached you."

  His mind flashed back to that first moment with her. He'd turned and his initial thought had been that she had the softest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

  She raised her eyes to his but there was no softness in them now. Just an eagerness that sent a chill through him. "You were going from shelf to shelf," she continued, her fingers leaving his neck to travel up his throat, over his chin, "pulling out books, reading from each one before deciding if you wanted it or not. You had those cute little glasses on and I thought you looked so smart." She sighed, her gaze dropping to his mouth as her fingers traced lightly over his lips. "I really liked that, watching you when you had no idea I was there."

  "You better not have done any permanent damage to him," Jarred called from his perch at the picnic table.

  "He's fine," she yelled over her shoulder. "I'm not going to damage the goods."

  Confusion mixed with Blair's fear. Damage the goods? What the hell were they planning?

  "Don't worry, Blair. It will all be over soon." She stood back, her hands on her hips. "You really want to ask something, don't you? I can see it in your face." She sighed heavily. "Okay, you've been good. I now give you permission to talk. You can ask whatever you like."

  "What are you going to do to me?"

  "We're not going to kill you if that's what you're worried about." She stopped, her brow creasing slightly. "Well, that's not exactly true is it. I mean, no, technically we're not going to kill you but you won't be you anymore." She frowned. "I'm really not explaining this well. You see, we're not going to kill you. Jarred's going to become you."

  "He thinks he can what?" Jim blinked several times, sure he had heard Frank Croft wrong.

  "My brother believes he can trade places with your young friend. That his soul will leave his body and enter Blair's." He crossed to his bookcase and pulled out an ancient looking text. "There's a ceremony," he said, flipping through the pages. "Very old. Very dangerous."

  Jim crossed to him, rage pounding through his body. "You've known all along this was a possibility?"

  Croft nodded, his eyes never leaving the book. "In theory, it could work," he said absently. "It's just--"

  Jim knocked the book from his hands and grabbing him by the front of his shirt, slammed Croft hard against the wall. "Why the hell didn't you tell us this earlier? I would have never left Blair alone if I thought for a minute they would try and abduct him."

  "I didn't know for sure," Croft said, his eyes wide with fear.

  Jim released him, shoving the man away. "Where would they take him?"

  Croft pulled his shirt back into place. "If I tell you where they are, my brother will go to jail for kidnapping and attempted murder."

  "If you don't tell me and Sandburg dies, I'll lock you up as an accessory to murder."

  "He's my brother."

  "He's a murderer!" Jim shouted. His hands fisted at his sides. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to reach out and beat the information he needed from this man. "How can you continue to protect him when you know what he's planning to do to Blair?"

  Croft stared at Jim, regret etched in the older man's face. "He hasn't always been this way. My mother died when I was four. Jarred was only twenty but he took me in, raised me. I owe him my life. I can't just betray him."

  "Your brother needs help," Jim said through clenched teeth. "I can get that for him but not if he kills my partner."

  "No, you don't mean that. You'll say anything if it'll help you find your friend."

  "That's true, I will. I don't think Blair deserves to die like this. Do you?"

  "Please, just go," he begged. "I can't help you. I'm sorry but I just can't."

  Frustration gnawed at Jim. He had no idea where Blair was. Whether or not he was even still alive. The connection he had with his Guide was gone and he had never felt so alone, so helpless in his life. But this man had the answers he needed, was the only hope he had of finding his partner. Jim struggled to come up with a way reaching Croft, making this man see the true value of Blair's life.

  "How old is your brother?" Jim asked as a new tactic sparked in his mind. "Sixty? Sixty-five?"

  "Seventy-two," Croft whispered.

  "My partner is only twenty-eight. Twenty-eight," he repeated, hoping to drive home his point. "You've met him. Don't you think he deserves a life beyond that?" Jim could see the war behind Croft's eyes. Knew he was listening, debating. "Blair told me that a Shaman walks gently upon the Earth and that he believes...he believes..." Jim struggled to remember the rest.

  "He believes in the right of all life to walk their soul path in peace and harmony," Croft finished for him, his voice whisper soft.

  "Does that describe your brother?" Jim asked matching his quiet tone. "Because it sure as hell describes my partner." He took a step toward him, closing the distance between them. "Please, you must have wanted to help him. That's why you tried to warn him." He reached out and placed a hand on the man's arm, squeezing tightly. "Help him now."

  Croft turned moisture rimmed eyes to him. "There is an old camp," he began, his voice shaking. "We used to take students there to train them. That's where he's taken your friend."

  Insane. That was the only word to describe not only the two people before him but the entire situation Blair now found himself in. Rebecca had moved to the picnic table and now sat beside her husband reading through an ancient looking text.

  Desperation gnawed at Blair, mingling with his fear.

  Rebecca had outlined for him what they planned to do. Through a ceremony Jarred had found, he and Blair would trade places. Once Blair's "soul" was inside Jarred's body, they would kill him, bury the old man's corpse and she and her "new" husband would run off together to a better life.

  Blair tried to think...tried to come up with something he could say or do that would get him out of this.

  "My partner will never believe I just took off," he blurted out, the words sounding lame even to him.

  Rebecca looked toward him. "You're young. Impulsive. That's what young and impulsive people do." She returned her attention to her work.

  "He'll look for me until he finds me."

  She shrugged, unconcerned. "So he finds you. So what. It'll be Jarred and he'll just tell him to get lost." She giggled at that. "In fact, maybe we'll just do that. Maybe when this is all over, we'll go to your friend and tell him to get lost." She laid a hand on Jarred's hunched back. "Wouldn't that be fun? Wouldn't you just love to see his face?"

  Blair swallowed hard. He didn't like the idea of these two getting anywhere near Jim. He didn't believe for a second that they could actually do what they claimed, yet he didn't want to take any chances where his partner was concerned. "You go to Jim and he'll know it's not me."

  Rebecca looked at him again, her eyes narrowed slightly in thought. "You're that close?" Slowly, she rose from the table and crossed to him. "Like...brothers?"

  "Yes," he said, his throat constricting around the word. Brothers, yes but so much more.

  "Then we won't go see him. If you're as close as you say you are, then I like the idea of him going crazy wondering what happened to you." Rebecca ran her fingers along the side of Blair's face, tracing his jawline. "I was thrilled when I first saw you. Did I tell you that?" He remained utterly still, his nerves stretched taut. "Those blue eyes, knowing I'll be looking into those for the rest of my life." She leaned in close and whispered in his ear. "You're the best one yet."

  Cold realization settled in Blair's stomach. "You've done this before?"

  "Three times," she said with casual indifference. "First there was Tom. He was older, almost forty. I had my doubts about him from the beginning. Next was Sean. He was younger than you but in the end, he just didn't have the stamina. He died before we were even a quarter of the way through the ceremony."

  Blair shuddered at her words. At the thought of the ceremony. His gaze shifted once more to the altar. What were they going to do to him?

  "And just two months ago was Bill," Rebecca continued almost wistfully. Blair dragged his attention back to her. "I just didn't like him," she said, her fingers playing with a lock of Blair's hair. "He just wasn't my type. Too serious. Too reserved." She turned and glanced over her shoulder at her husband. "Maybe that's why it didn't work before, my love. Deep down, I don't think I wanted it to." She turned back to Blair, her eyes shining with excitement, anticipation. "This time I do though."