The fact that she had never known Myst unintentionally to knock over anything she'd pushed aside; it was better believing that Myst had been clumsy than that their mysterious thief had struck again.

"It's not here," Patience concluded. "At least, I can't see it." Still bent over, she looked at Myst. "Can you?"

Myst blinked again, and looked past her. Then the sleek grey cat rose and elegantly padded out of the flower bed.

"Wait!" Patience half turned, but immediately swung back, struggling to regain her awkward balance. "There's a storm coming-this is not the time to go mousing."

So saying, she managed to straighten-which left her facing the house, looking directly at the blank bow windows of the downstairs parlor. With the storm darkening the skies, the windows were reflective. They reflected the image of a man standing directly behind her.

With a gasp, Patience whirled. Her gaze collided with the man's-his eyes were hard, crystalline grey, pale in the weak light. They were focused, intently, on her, their expression one she couldn't fathom. He stood no more than three feet away, large, elegant and oddly forbidding. In the instant her brain registered those facts, Patience felt her heels sink, and sink-into the soft soil of the flower bed.

The edge crumbled beneath her feet.

Her eyes flew wide-her lips formed a helpless "Oh." Arms flailing, she started to topple back-

The man reacted so swiftly his movement was a blur-he gripped her upper arms and hauled her forward.