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a tragedy all in himself. Born with the curse of the gift and not its blessings, he had died horri bly and shortly been followed in death by his Earther sweetheart and blood donor. She had loved both of them.
    Would Michel be like that, requir ing endless supplies of the blood of her people and yet unable to supply the needs of his own kind?
    Then she put it all together. “They’ll be going back to New London to take more of our youngsters.” Strange how she still thought of them as her own, even though they had spent only days together back at the beginning.
    She shivered slightly, remembering those days when they’d begun to vanish one by one until it was herself who was taken away by the Gare.
    Jamie and the others had been captured eventually as well and used as hostages to force the deal she’d made with Mathiah to wed him and produce children with the dual heritage of Earth and Aremia in hope that the gift would be passed on and the curse left behind.
    In return the small colony in New London was to be left unharmed. But now Mathiah was dead and the contract ended.
    “Grandmere planned to use you first,” her oldest daughter said. “ You would have died. That’s why we had to flee.”
    S he blinked tears from her eyes, brushing them away angrily. She got to her feet, “I must go tell the captain there’s been a change of plans,” she announced and left the cabin without further explanation.
     
    Jamie couldn’t have been more proud of his friend. Isaiah Michaels, the boy from Washington State who had the most subtle mind of them all, wasn’t always a particularly good speaker. This afternoon, however, he had risen above himself as he presented the accumulated information on the state of the Aremian Empire that so affected them all.
    He was quiet, calm, matter-of-fact, holding tight to his control and refusing to yield when the more bombastic Mayor Kevin Hartley tried to shut him up. He continued quietly making his points even as the chubby, bald-headed mayor shouted for him to sit down, that he was upsetting the people.
    Without raising his voice, Isaiah went on, “With the death of the emperor everything changed. Mathiah the tenth was our powerful protector, but now there is no one in government to fight for our interests.”
    The first words were lost in Kevin’s shouts and the responsive roar of the crowd, but forced to silence by the need to hear what he had to say, the last words were clearly understandable.
    Isaiah went on, his eyes seeming to stand out against his light skin. He used to have freckles, but now his skin was the unrelieved white that would not tan no matter how much he stayed out in the sun.
    His was not a physical presence to inspire confidence, but over the years the people of New London had come to love the gentle leader who worked so tirelessly in their interest.
    Instead of keeping his eyes focused on Isaiah, Jamie allowed his gaze to drift to the face of young Alice. A pretty, delicate girl with fine, light-brown hair and her father’s eyes, she was almost as intense as he was. Now she sat unmoving, taking in every word he said.
    He looked back again to Isaiah, who had obviously concluded his presentation. His friend was not one to belabor the issue; he would not go on and on just to sway the crowd. He’d told them the facts as he knew them, trying to force them to logically see the danger coming and react to it.
    Now he quietly thanked them for listening and went back to his seat.
    The people of New London sat in silence broken only by the sound of a wailing infant. Then Alice stood, evidencing her support of her father without a word. Immediately the others of their party—Mack, Karen, their sons and others right around them also rose to their feet.
    Jamie wasn’t quite certain Isaiah would benefit from his support, but after a few seconds passed, he too got to his feet.
    Throughout the crowd only a sprinkling of others did the same.
    Isaiah might be loved and respected,