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There was something in the air that night. I sat in my grandparent's Simi Valley backyard and tried to meditate, but I couldn't relax. My whole body tingled and twitched, like a storm was coming, though Southern California was in the middle of a drought. I'd come up here for advice, but all I'd gotten was more questions. I had three days left to make a decision about my future, and all I knew so far was that something was in the air. I felt it coming just like most people heard a freight train roaring towards them down the track. I couldn't tell what was looming, but I was pretty sure it was going to hit me just as hard as the damn steam engine.

"You going to stay out here all night?"

I jumped at the voice, then I smiled. Not many people in this world can sneak up on me, even when I'm moping. My grandfather is one of them. Even at eighty-eight, he still has the stealth and psychic power that made him one of the most successful Navajo intelligence operatives in World War II. He put his arm around my waist, and I leaned into his shoulder, just like I'd done since I was a kid.

"No, Granddad. No answers in the wind tonight. I think I'm going to head up to the cabin for the weekend. Maybe the spirits will have more to say to me up there." My grandfather had moved to LA to be a cop after the war, but he'd always needed to spend some time away from the city, so he'd built a cabin up in the Sierra Madres. Any of the family was welcome to use the place when we needed a retreat. And I needed one right now - big time.

Granddad nodded. "You be careful up there. Something - someone - is coming. I'd go with you if I could, little one, but you need to face this challenge alone. Call once in a while, and let your grandmother know you're alive."

I nodded. We both knew it wasn't necessary. Nana was a Romany Gypsy. During the war, Granddad had rescued her from a German death squad who'd planned to burn her as a witch. Her psychic touch hadn't faded in all these years. But calling to check in was only polite, and Nana would expect it.

"Listen to the winds, girl. Listen with your heart as well as your ears." With that cryptic bit of advice, Granddad turned and walked back towards the house, whistling a tune. Damn, if it didn't sound like Aerosmith. The old man never failed to surprise me.

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"The law of the village states that if no volunteer comes forth, a general lottery is to be held..." The mayor broke off as someone interrupted.

"I think one of the Burns girls should go," offered a familiar voice.

Thank you Mrs. Jones, Georgie thought bitterly as she saw her supposed housekeeper's pinched face look coldly around the room. "They've nowhere to go, and no money. Nothing but a burden on the village, otherwise."

"These would be the daughters of the late vicar?" his lordship inquired.

Georgie stood, refusing to be talked about as if she wasn't there. "Yes, my lord."

"Good day, Miss Burns." A smile flitted momentarily across his lips. "And what say you?"

"While it is true that we find ourselves in somewhat desperate straits, I can assure you - all of you - " She glared at Mrs. Jones. "That neither of my sisters is presently for sale."

Lord Weir's intense grey eyes flashed with what might have been humour. "Very well, then. Does anyone have any other suggestions?"

There were more murmurs and head-shaking until the mayor cleared his throat and spoke from the pulpit. "In that case, I shall require that every maiden above the age of sixteen be present in the village square tomorrow for the lottery. If anyone is not present, she will be chosen by default. Miss Burns, that includes yourself and Miss Henrietta. Now if there is no further discussion..."

Georgie gulped. A lottery? At fifteen, Willa would be safe, but both Georgie and seventeen-year-old Hetty would be subject to it.

"Aye, like there are any maidens left in the village," one old woman near Georgie chortled. "Every girl in town knew the sacrifice was coming, and jumped the fire with her beau last Beltane. Going to be a bevy of infants come February."

That bit of information dramatically changed the probable outcome of tomorrow's lottery. Georgie and Hetty hadn't known. Could they be the only virgins left in Draigmor? Even if they weren't, she didn't trust anyone in this town not to manipulate the outcome so that she or Hetty was chosen. She couldn't lose Hetty, and if she herself was taken, there'd be no one to care for the children. Lord Weir had a sister, or so she'd heard through village gossip. Surely he'd understand that her siblings needed her. Although...

"Wait." She barely heard herself call out. An idea began to form in her mind, but it was so improbable, she could hardly bring herself to articulate it.

"Miss Burns?" Lord Weir raised one dark eyebrow.

"You're really going to allow this - this - travesty?" He seemed like such a rational man.

He shrugged, those broad shoulders rippling beneath his superfine coat. "It is part of the village charter - an agreement one of my ancestors signed centuries ago. If the villagers insist, then all I can do is offer my assistance to the family of the girl."

Unbelievable. Georgie's plan was a tenuous one at best, but it was the only road she could see out of a bad situation. So much of it would depend on his lordship. She sensed, somehow, that he was a man of honour. That honour might well be her family's only chance. She swallowed hard, then stood and looked up at his lordship, gazing straight into his remarkable eyes. "I will volunteer to be the sacrifice - under certain conditions."

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"What do you mean he can't make it in?" Ted Wayne wiped his palms on his jeans and swallowed the panic rising in his throat.

"Sorry, Ted," his boss's voice crackled over the static on the phone connection. A vicious winter storm had blanketed Detroit, leaving the office all but empty. It was also seriously fucking with communications. "Whoever is already in the office is going to have to do today's nooner. And it looks like that leaves you, since Gray will have to work the camera."

"I - I can't, Martin. I'm just a computer jockey - no good in front of a camera."

"You're young and in great shape. Our subscribers will love you." Men for Men was one of the hottest gay e-zines in the business, with tens of thousands of subscribers. Many of those tuned in to the daily live-feed "Lust in the Afternoon" spots, and even more went back and downloaded the clips for a hefty fee.

Ted admitted he liked to watch the feed as he uploaded it to the site, had even downloaded a few at home for his personal viewing, but he'd never even considered being the on-air talent. "Don't we have any back-up for when things like this happen? A couple of clips already on disk?"

"We used the last of those over the holidays," Martin said. "When so many were out with the flu epidemic. Now we're stuck. The weather reports say it will be at least two days before the roads are clear. That leaves you and Gray as the only two who can get into the office, besides Nathalie."

Nathalie Perot was an incredible receptionist, and a pretty little lipstick lesbian, but not what Men to Men's subscribers expected to see on screen. Art director Grayson Jeffries, on the other hand, was a fucking sex god - tall and muscular with a smooth shaved head and a trim goatee, milk-chocolate skin and dark chocolate eyes.

"I can work the cameras," Ted practically pleaded. "Gray will look much better on camera than me." Understatement. Gray Jefferies was a walking wet dream. Over the last month, Ted had jacked off night after night just imagining Gray's strong, toned body naked.

"You'll be fine."

The deep voice from behind his shoulder startled Ted, and he spun around in his chair to see Gray leaning against a filing cabinet, his arms crossed over a tight black turtleneck and an encouraging smile on his handsome face. Three gold rings glinted in his right ear.

"If you're really freaked about someone recognising you, I can fuzz the image so nobody sees your face."

Ted rolled his eyes and sighed into his Bluetooth headset. He knew when he was outnumbered. "Fine. I'll do it. But you owe me, Martin. I want an extra week of vacation for this."