* * *

Sarah smelled sulphur. The scent was faint, yet it seemed to be all around her.

She could hear the bells, too. Tolling over the graves. Tolling for the deceased and the doomed.

Was she already gone? All she could see was darkness. All she could feel was cold.

“You need to wake up, Sarah.”

I can’t.

“Can you hear me?”

She opened her eyes. Tried to lift her head, but the effort made the room spin. She squeezed her eyes closed and remained perfectly still until the dizziness subsided.

“Sarah?”

Who’s there? She tried to ask, but no sound came out of her mouth. She licked her dry lips and tried again. “Who...”

“It’s Michael. Can you hear me?”

Michael. He sounded so far away. His voice was muffled and strained.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe she was, too.

“We have to get you out of here before he comes back in.”

And then Sarah remembered everything. It came back in a terrifying rush that left her trembling. Lukas Clay was Ashe Cain, and someone he called Jude Cole. And one or all of his identities had something terrible in store for her.

Sarah’s chin rested on her chest and it took all her strength to lift her head. The room started a slow rotation, and she instinctively tried to steady herself with her hands. Then she realized she was sitting upright in a wooden chair, her arms restrained by a cord that encircled her chest and the back of the chair, her ankles fastened to the legs. She couldn’t move.

She’d been placed in a circle of candles that had just been lit—she could still smell the sulphur from the matches. It was the scent she remembered from fourteen years ago.

There had been candles that night, too. She could see in her mind the way the flames flickered when the door opened. And then Rachel’s terrified warning. He’s right behind you!

Sarah had turned and stared into the palest of faces, the darkest of eyes. And then her gaze had dropped to the knife, still dripping with her sister’s blood.

“Sarah?”

The voice startled her back to the present. “Michael? Where are you?”

“Over here.”

The candlelight threw huge shadows over the walls and ceiling. It took Sarah a moment to find him.

And then nausea swept over her like a giant wave. What she saw...couldn’t be real. None of this could be real.

Michael was sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, his arms spread out and pinned in place by nails through his palms. He had been positioned so that moonlight flooding in through the window on the opposite wall highlighted the macabre tableau.

“Oh, my God,” she breathed.

Michael’s head lolled against the wall. His face was bloody and bruised, but his eyes were open and he was conscious.

“Michael...”

“Just listen to me, Sarah.” His voice was labored, so low she had to strain to hear him even in the silent house. “You have to understand what’s going on here. It’s the only way you’ll be able to save yourself when he comes back. The man who brought us here calls himself Jude Cole. He’s also Ashe Cain.”

“His real name is Lukas Clay,” she whispered.

“We’re dealing with multiple identities. Right now the dominant personality is Jude Cole, and his only purpose is to protect Lukas Clay. All of this...everything he’s done...is a carefully laid plan to protect Lukas...from you.”

“Why?” she said desperately. “Why now, after all these years?”

“Because you came back and started asking questions. The moment you began digging in the past...you became a threat to Lukas. Ashe Cain murdered your sister, but Lukas is the one who would be punished. Jude can’t let that happen.”

“Why didn’t he just kill me?” Sarah asked helplessly. “Why did he have to murder all those other people?”

“Because killing you outright won’t stop the questions. He needs a scapegoat. The past can’t be put to rest unless the killer is revealed. Everything he did was to that end. The tattoos. The satanic symbols. Even the victims were carefully chosen because of their connection to you. He’s making it look as if you’ve lost control...snapped because of what you did to your sister.”

“How do we stop him?”

“Jude is the protector. He’s devious, but he’s not a murderer. To kill, he has to trigger Ashe Cain’s wrath. But Ashe is connected to you, too, Sarah. For whatever reason, he was obsessed with you. He became what you needed in order to get close to you. That fixation...is how you stop him...”

His voice trailed off just as Sarah saw the candle flames flicker. Jude Cole came into the room, a set of wooden poles gripped in each hand. Foot plates and straps had been connected to the shafts, and carved hooves had been attached to the bottoms. As he walked the poles across the floor, the wooden hooves made a loud thump-thump-thump that sent a shiver down Sarah’s spine.

Homemade stilts. That was how he’d been able to make the cloven prints in the ground outside the farmhouse without leaving impressions of his shoes the night he’d killed Rachel.

He set the stilts aside and stood over Sarah as he removed a gun from his jacket and caressed the barrel. When he spoke, the voice that came from his mouth was not that of Lukas Clay. It sounded young and terrifyingly sinister.

“You’re going to kill him,” he said.

Sarah tried to shift away from him, but she couldn’t move. Her breath came shallow and fast as a scream clawed its way up her throat.

“I’m going to unfasten you,” he said. “I’m going to put the gun in your hand and you’re going to kill him.”

“You’re insane,” she whispered. “I won’t kill anyone.”

“You’ll shoot him and then turn the gun on yourself. What choice do you have? You’ve killed all those people. Even your own sister.”

His matter-of-fact tone was chilling. “No one will believe that,” she said.

He cocked his head, smiling. “Everyone will believe it. They already think you killed your father. It’s just like he said...” He nodded in Michael’s direction. “You’ve snapped.”

Sarah drew a shaky breath and lifted her head. “You’ve done all this for nothing, because I don’t even remember what happened the night my sister died.”

“He’s helping you remember.” Another nod toward Michael. “And now he has to die, too.”

“To protect Lukas. That’s why you killed those people.”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Then who did?”

Another smile. “You already know the answer to that.”

She closed her eyes. “Why did he kill my sister?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

She drew another breath. “Make me understand. Let me at least have that.”

“Lukas’s father thought he was so smart and clever, but he couldn’t find the killer even though he stared him in the face every single day. That case stripped him of his pride. Took away the one thing he valued the most.”

“But why Rachel?”

“Because she was the perfect victim. She was the thing your father valued the most. He did it for you.”

Oh, dear God.

Sarah swallowed another scream. “You were both at the crime scene in New Orleans, weren’t you? You and Ashe. You both tattooed that poor woman.”

“He wasn’t very good, so I didn’t ask him to do it again. I’m glad I don’t have to let him out anymore. He was always a lot more trouble than he was worth.”

“He’s not like you, is he? You have many talents, don’t you, Jude?” This from Michael.

He turned with a cagey smile. “You can’t trick me with flattery, Dr. Garrett.”

Sarah watched him in the candlelight. He was devious, clever and sly...all the things that Michael had described. But he was also immature. He made mistakes.

“There’s a big problem with your plan,” Sarah said. “I’m not going to kill Michael, and I’m sure as hell not turning the gun on myself. So you’ll either have to do it yourself or let Ashe come out one last time to do your dirty work for you.”

“She’s right,” Michael said weakly. “You protect. You can’t kill. That’s not who you are. That’s not why you were born. Only Ashe can kill.”

“No,” Jude said angrily. “I know what you’re doing, but it won’t work.” He knelt and loosened the rope around Sarah’s body enough to free her right hand. He moved around behind her so that he could hold her in place while he tried to force the gun into her hand. Sarah clenched her fist tightly. She had no idea she had so much strength.

“Stop it!” He sounded like a petulant teenager now.

“You have to let Ashe out,” Michael said. “Let him come out to do what he was meant to do.”

Suddenly, Jude stood and, still clutching the gun, put his hands to his ears. “I said no!”

“Ashe wants to come out, doesn’t he?” Sarah said. “Let me talk to him.”

“Shut up!”

Sarah had no idea if he was talking to her or one of the voices inside his head. He spun away and started to pace.

“Ashe?”

He stopped and was silent for a moment. Then his expression altered dramatically. The killer had been let out to play.

The pacing resumed, but now his movements were those of a predatory animal.

“Ashe?”

He wouldn’t look at Sarah. He continued to ignore her when she said his name a third time. Instead, he strode over to Michael and put the gun to his head.

“Ashe, listen to me,” Sarah said desperately. “Do you recognize my voice? Do you know who I am?”

His finger was on the trigger.

“Do you remember what you once told me? You said we’re the same. Our souls are like mirror images.”

He turned at that, and his gaze met Sarah’s in the candlelight. She saw something in his eyes, a look she remembered from the past, and for a moment, she thought she had him.

Somewhere in the house, a door opened and closed very softly. Ashe turned toward the sound, and a moment later, he disappeared up the narrow stairwell.

Sarah had no idea who else was in the house. She didn’t take time to think about it. The cord around the chair was still loose, and she worked frantically to free herself before he came back. Arms first, ankles next, then find a weapon.

Hurry. Hurry!

* * *

Sean’s only weapon was the element of surprise.

He crouched against the wall, listening for the telltale footfalls on the wooden stairs so that he could time his attack. He’d only have one chance. A bullet would most likely take him down before he could regroup for a second assault.

But the man in the stairwell knew exactly where to step. He came up silently, just as he had earlier. Sean didn’t hear a sound until Clay was right outside the door.

Sean swung the drawer he’d pulled from the wardrobe as hard as he could. The wood was flimsy and rotting, but the blow caught Clay in the chest and he stumbled back. Before he could regain his balance, Sean lunged, and the two men tumbled down the stairs, landing with a hard thud at the bottom.

Sean’s head cracked against the floor, and the impact left him dazed.

* * *

“Sean!” Sarah screamed his name as she saw Ashe reach for the gun. Sean slammed the man’s arm against the floor and the weapon went flying into the shadows.

Sarah’s hands were free, and she quickly loosened the rope around her ankles. She dove for the shadows, but she couldn’t find the gun, and Ashe’s hands had closed around Sean’s throat, squeezing tighter and tighter...

Her gaze lit on the stilts. She grabbed one and swung it as hard as she could against Ashe’s head. He turned, eyes blazing, and lunged for her.

Sarah had no idea which persona he was now. All she knew was that she had to somehow stop him. She hit him again, this time with the end of the pole. The cloven hoof pressed deeply into his face before he jerked the stilt from her hand, and then he lowered his head and rammed into her with an enraged roar. They went flying back against the wall, and the impact knocked the breath from her. Sarah fell like a rag doll to the floor.

And that’s when she spotted the gun.

He saw it, too, and scooped up the weapon before she could reach it. Sean was behind him and, sensing he was cornered, Ashe pressed himself against the wall, his gaze darting fiercely from Sarah to Sean.

As the anger drained out of him, he dropped to his knees, still clinging to the weapon. Not Ashe, not Jude, but finally Lukas Clay.

Horror glinted in his eyes, along with a terrible realization.

He lifted the gun to his mouth and fired.