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to be barely comprehensible.
    She cringed. “When is the next train leaving?”
    “Where do you wish to go?”
    “It doesn’t matter. I just need the next train.”
    He turned to his computer. “There is a train leaving for Rome in twenty minutes.”
    “I’ll take one ticket.” Nikia fumbled for the stack of Euros she had tucked into the pocket of her pants, along with her passport. She didn’t need it to pass from Milan to Rome, but the station required picture ID. It was easier to give it than try to manipulate the man’s mind with her head pounding so ferociously again.
    When she had the ticket and knew she was supposed to go to Platform Four, Nikia left the line and went to one of the small shops. She purchased a carryon bag and ducked into the nearest ladies’ room. In the largest stall, she transferred her clothes, money and all identification into the suitcase, save for the items in her pocket.
    She took time to freshen up briefly before leaving the restroom. She had just enough time to grab a sandwich from a vending machine before making her way to Platform Four. She had been onboard less than five minutes when the train pulled out. She had been so focused on the passing time and of Atar’s impending arrival that her shoulders seemed to have frozen in a permanent clench. It took several deep breaths for her to relax even a little.
    She sighed, knowing there was little she could do for the moment. Perhaps in Rome, she would have a greater head start and be able to give him the slip long enough to board a flight for Minsk.
    She opened her sandwich and took a bite of the stale white bread and graying roast beef. She tried to pretend it was as satisfying as a glass of Corsovan “wine” would have been but the sandwich did little to curb her appetite.
    She covered the sandwich and put it on her tray, intending to dispose of it in the trash when she got up. She leaned back in the seat and tried to ease the pounding in her head. She should spend the four-and-a-half hour journey resting but was too keyed up with the hunger growing by the minute.
    After an hour, Nikia could no longer think about anything except feeding. The need was so compulsory that she wondered if Illiana had magnified her appetite in an attempt to weaken her. She couldn’t risk getting fragile enough to allow Illiana to take over. She had to feed. When a young woman two aisles down got up and made her way to the restroom at the end of the berth, Nikia followed her, hoping she would have a chance to sup lightly from the girl.
    The swaying of the car from side to side made Nikia lightheaded as she walked down the aisle. By the time she arrived in the facilities, she had to rest against the door. Her hand brushed the knob and she was relieved to find a lock on the main door. She found the strength to stand straight and walk forward, ducking down to look for feet in any of the three cubicles. Only one was occupied—presumably by the woman she had followed into the bathroom.
    Nikia returned to the door and clicked the lock. Then she went to the sink and pretended to be washing her hands while the girl finished up. When she opened the stall door and emerged, it was all Nikia could do to keep from attacking her. Instead, she forced herself to remain by the sink, until the woman was within easy reach.
    She grabbed her quickly, pulling her close. Nikia pushed the girl up against the wall, clapping her hand over her mouth. She caught the girl’s eyes. “You aren’t going to scream, are you?”
    Slowly, the girl shook her head. Nikia eased her hand away from the girl’s mouth. “What’s your name?”
    “Kieta,” she said in a distant voice, as if drugged. Her eyes were out-of-focus and she seemed to be deep in the dream state Nikia imposed.
    “Kieta, I won’t hurt you.” She spoke in a soothing tone, even as she lowered her mouth to the young woman’s neck. She breathed in the mingled scent of floral perfume and blood. Her head spun. She