Edge of Twilight by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page B

time—time to mull over what she’d learned about Edge the night before.
    Dante and Morgan had turned one spare bedroom into a kind of “search-central” headquarters. Two computers with cable modems attached, a telephone with a line splitter, and a fax machine lined the room. If not for the bed, which had been shoved up against the far wall, it would have looked more like an office than a bedroom.
    Amber spent a couple of hours there, reading the pages of information Dante and Morgan had gathered. There were file folders full of it. Nothing solid, though. Several out of focus photographs that might have been the scar-faced Stiles or a thousand other men. Numerous eye witness accounts that dragged on in painful detail and told her nothing. She found no pattern to the sightings, no one geographical area where Stiles seemed more likely to be. Paris, Albany, San Diego, Houston. She glanced up at the world map that was mounted to a corkboard and hanging on the bedroom wall, understanding now what all the colored push pins signified.
    She went online, searching for clues about Stiles on her own, but again she came up empty. Finally she gave in to the sleepiness that was creeping up on her. She didn’t require a lot of sleep. Had never needed the eight hours most people needed. And maybe that was part of what she was, or maybe it was the result of growing up with parents who were only awake by night. Whatever it was, Amber’s habit was to nap, an hour here, two hours there. Her body seemed to know just how much sleep it needed, and she always woke up once she’d had it.
    Right now, it was telling her to go to bed. So she did.
    She slept soundly, and she dreamed erotic dreams of her and Edge, writhing and twisting around each other, with him whispering declarations of undying love along with all manner of dirty talk in her ear.
    When she woke, Amber was sweaty and her heart was racing. She got out of bed, grateful that she’d had a dream about Edge that didn’t include overwhelming feelings of grief and loss, and the presence of death looming over her. She headed straight into the shower, noting that the sun was still up and beaming brightly. Then she made herself a bowl of bran flakes with a sliced banana on top and sat down to eat it in her robe with a towel on her head.
    â€œThat looks good. Think I’ll join you.”
    She looked up to see Willem limping into the kitchen. He wore jeans and a T-shirt. His feet were bare and his hair rather tousled. She got up immediately and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his strong neck, noticing the broadness of his shoulders and chest. It was hard to believe he was sick. Except that he looked haggard this morning, as if he’d put in a particularly rough few hours.
    â€œIt’s good to have you back, Amber. We’ve missed you. And I gotta tell you, it gets lonely being the only human around here. Especially during the day.”
    â€œTell me about it.” She turned and pulled out her own chair, nodding until he took it. “Eat that, I’ll get another.” He started to argue, but she turned to the counter to fix a second bowl of bran flakes with banana slices, and since it took only a few seconds, he shut up and ate.
    Returning to the table with her bowl of cereal, she sat down. “Of course, I’m not exactly human. Technically.”
    â€œYou’re awake and it’s daylight. That’s human enough for me.”
    She smiled, understanding that he was trying tokeep the conversation light. “You should get yourself some mortal help around this place. I don’t know how I’d have survived without Susan and Alicia to keep me company.”
    He smiled. “They’re a unique pair, though. You’re lucky to have found people you can trust the way you trust them.”
    â€œThey’re family.” She ate some cereal, let the comfortable silence stretch between them. Then they both said