Gangbusters

GANGBUSTERS Daniel Tierney and his fellow I-Marshals take down the organizations producing the most dangerous substance in the Alliance. But reporter Faith Vedder turns up at the worst times, including Danny’s near-assassination. He’s had enough of her interference and requires her source of information. Faith won’t tell him anything that compromises her Pulitzerworthy story, not even under the magic of hot attraction. She doesn’t know she’s surrounded by fallen angels at war. Danny’s not finished making demands. She doesn’t understand until a giant, snorting, winged monster slobbers down her back, threatening to flay her. The gangbusters can’t delay in their mission to shut down gangs until Danny learns the new criminal kingpin of their world is a man who once held Faith’s heart. In the guise of a gangland executioner named Heretic, Danny will destroy him. Even if it destroys Faith. Angels are watching. Demons are plotting. Faith is the key.

GANGBUSTERS

Michele Hart

ROMANCE

www.BookStrand.com

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A SIREN-BOOKSTRAND TITLE IMPRINT: Romance GANGBUSTERS Copyright © 2011 by Michele Hart E-book ISBN: 1-61034-926-1 First E-book Publication: November 2011 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. PUBLISHER www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION To Mom, who raises the dead.

GANGBUSTERS MICHELE HART Copyright © 2011

Chapter 1 In the end, it’s either you or the demon that comes for you. Planet Valdeya, Draco System 4661 UPE (United Planets Era) “I’m not jazzed about killing women,” Heretic commented on the first assignment he drew with these criminal thugs. The chandelier-dripping suite smelled of the rich vanilla incense used to recycle high-end hotel rooms mixed with the magic smoke of expensive cigars. The scenery was antiques and gold-leafed appointments, opulent five-star penthouse stock. Picture windows oversaw a sky-rise city, still too sunny for his preference. Common technology lay about the big entertainment area, nothing he’d take note of. Everyone in the room was armed with black-market weaponry all the time, even to sit down and watch the biggest championship game of the year. Heretic and his friends would be gone in weeks. The gang’s top management now hiring him to kill a woman would be dead by then, their money diverted, their stock stolen. The surviving mortals would get lifelong prison sentences on a hell-planet named Null. The alter-life demons would be hunted down for destruction and drained of their corrupt blood. Same shit, different gang of scum.

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This trip it was the Juicers, the criminal organization arranging to become high-level distributors of Blindfold, the newest criminal-slash-drug plague about to infiltrate the Alliance worlds. “I came here to dust your rivals,” Heretic told the gang’s shot caller, “not plug women who turned you down for dinner.” Boss snorted in surprise of Heretic’s nerve. Momentarily abandoning the sports game played out on the wall-size computer screen, the other eight mobsters seated in the sunlit suite, all leaders of their own regional cartels, turned to witness Heretic’s gall, staring at him as if he were a five-eyed alien. One worthless scumbag shot caller after another, violent and egotistical psychopaths, but that’s what it took to run a gang. And it took an obsessed man to hunt a criminal psychopath. Heretic could hardly wait to see them eliminated and forget their names. He smirked back at them. He would execute most of them in a month or so. Falsely assured his superiority was guaranteed by numbers, Boss chuckled, forgiving of the disrespect. A hired gun who disliked exterminating women was an oddity, especially one of Heretic’s rank and reputation. “I don’t remember reading that in your bio. What’s your thing against taking hits on women?” “My mother’s a woman. And I still like her.” “I’d killed mine slowly…over years.” Boss stroked the scraggly chin hair he probably called a beard, and he appeared to struggle in his effort to reminisce what Heretic already knew was decades of murder. Boss took a couple of gulps of his beer, the backwash sloshing into the clear-glass bottle too warm for condensation. “I can’t remember when I saw her last. I guess she wasn’t very important to me, or I’d’ve noticed her gone before now.” Boss’s mother had died of cancer and probably a broken heart to see the child she’d raised become the psychotic demon he now was. Heretic would remind the gangster of it before he put a laser beam in his forehead. Not that bringing up the tragic death of his mother’s heart would move the monster before his destruction.

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“There’s a first time for everything, Heretic. Think of all the other women who’ve screwed you over, and wiping this one will feel great.” “Thanks for the advice.” Heretic rolled his eyes, bored. “I didn’t say I haven’t done my fair share. I’m just saying, I always compensate by using the payoff to buy my mother something nice.” “Buy her a summer resort home with this hit. This mark’s earned her early death. She’s a reporter with a big mouth and a history of causing trouble.” “Don’t all reporters have big mouths?” Freak, one of Boss’s big sellers, postulated around a soggy stump of a cigar, sitting opposite his employer around the marble-and-glass table, reshuffling the cards, and dealing new hands. “Isn’t it a prerequisite for the job? Don’t journalists get advanced degrees and prestigious awards for their big mouths?” Booted feet propped up on the antique desk set away from the group, the raven-headed man, uninterested in either game and studying numbers on a tablet computer, deadpanned, “Stop using big words, Freak. Every threesyllable word you say sounds stupid coming from your mouth. You don’t have the brain matter to pull it off.” Chuckles circled the big entertainment area Boss used for this conference of his high-level street apes. Freak shot the mathematician at the desk a jealous eye. There was no disguising the enmity between the men. Heretic wondered what went on with them. Several men sat around Boss’s table nursing drinks stinking like sewer water and puffing on high-priced black-market perfectos, their attentions returned to and split between the betting challenge in their hands and the brutal broadcasted game that demanded a wounded player with every score. There was blood on the field and testosterone-enhanced warriors roamed the goals, looking for the next smallest player to hurt. It wasn’t a game. It was gladiatorial-level entertainment in matching uniforms. Boss’s gold-wrapped sausage fingers took up his poker hand, keeping it to himself as though he expected his loyal minions to cheat. “Just make sure Faith Vedder disappears, Heretic. Time for you to put all that well-lauded, high-priced talent on display.”

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“You’ll never see her again.” That’s because Heretic planned to leave the mobster hanging and draining when he felt the timing was right. Usually silent, the numbers-cruncher at the desk peered over the desk’s lamp, catching Heretic’s eye. “This reporter believes she’s going to uncover the source of Blindfold on the market.” Was the woman crazy? She wouldn’t hang around if she knew this organization’s body count. Heretic considered how she’d even learned of Blindfold. It wasn’t common knowledge. “What trail she followed to Valdeya escapes me,” the accountant commented, seeming only half-interested while he pressed a button to flip a page on the tablet. “She’s been chatting with the street soldiers, and she may find some weak bastard who’ll spill his guts for her, if we let her keep it up. Someone weak like Freak.” “Fuck you, Snow!” Freak shouted, nearly spilling the cards. Snow glared at the nervous little hood for a stone-cold reply. There was dare in his eye. A steel-trap mind, Snow then sent his stoic green vision to Heretic and, with entirely different meaning for him than the rest of the room, he suggested, “Someone should put her out of the way before Freak goes on a bender and does something stupid.” “Fuck you again, Snow!” Heretic grimaced and pointed to the guy at the desk. “You. Were we introduced? What do you do around here?” Snow cocked his dark head, his very familiar face an unentertained wall. “They call me Snow. Because every time you ask me who I am or what I do, I’m going to lie to you.” “That’s catchy,” Heretic admitted, and burst into a grin. “So, what is it you do around here?” Snow went back to his tablet, uncaring to share. “I’m the pool boy.” “I want her gone, and I’m not the only one,” Boss growled, back to his subject of the woman he wanted disposed of. He dropped a photo atop the poker chips on the tabletop. Heretic picked up the image to see a professional portrait of a gorgeous

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copper-tressed hottie dressed in a short, clingy black dress and knee-high black boots. Plump, cherry-painted, cupid’s-bow lips afire immediately drew the male eye. Big brown eyes had cast a bedroom glance toward the camera. Glossy red locks reached a nice rack of breasts. She was all hourglass figure and juicy lips. Lips, lips, lips. Only a pious priest wouldn’t have noticed her steamy body. Heretic smiled. He was the opposite of a priest. He’d show up at her house tonight for an hour or two of fun before he got rid of her. “Any preferences on method? Do you want it public or private? Do you want me to torture her? Cause I could torture her…” Now he couldn’t make the smile go away. “I’ve heard you’re into that. I don’t care how you do it. Make it private. Just make her disappear, no bloody crime scene. I know you’re an expert at dumping bodies, so I’ll not expect to hear about her in the newsfeed being found months from now.” Heretic went back to the picture. “What a dish. I’m surprised you didn’t give this to Freak.” “Freak gets excited around beautiful women,” Boss complained. “He once screwed up a hit by paying attention to a mark’s woman.” Freak displayed a lazy drunken smile. “It wasn’t what she said, but she did do amazing things with her mouth.” “Yeah, while she blew you, you let the mark get away. And that’s why you don’t get the finishing work anymore. You’re lucky your people are top-sellers, or I’d put a beam in your head. Remember what I told you I’d do to you if you give my sister a disease that can’t be cured.” “You’d said you’d throw me a parade for shutting her harpy mouth. I’ve tamed her in the year I’ve had her. She doesn’t have the mouth she used to have. Besides, you wouldn’t off your brother-in-law, would you?” “Just let your receipts slip and find out. I can give my sister to the next best seller at your funeral.” Heretic didn’t blink. It wasn’t rare to see the big controllers of the criminal world trading absolutely everything, including people. Who’s to say Boss’s sister didn’t like being passed around as a salesman-of-the-year

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trophy? The door bell chimed, and one of the men tossed down his hand of cards, rose from the table, and checked the video security panel. “It’s Key.” The doorman let the new visitor into the suite, who proceeded to remove his backpack as he headed for Boss. He set the pack on the table and opened it, showing Boss several hundred brown vials marked with the word Blindfold printed on them, blue tops capping them, attesting to their origin. It looked like Sharpenal, an all-too-common black-market drug that screwed up the readings of the brain-tap, a forensics technology used by nearly every law enforcement agency in the Alliance. Fortunately, Sharpenal was detectable in the bloodstream. Until Blindfold. Somehow this cartel had gotten hold of an advanced formula of the substance which did not show up in the blood. Use of it rendered the guilty unreadable by the fMRI brain-tap system depended upon by the justice systems of fifteen worlds. If this juice were allowed to spread through the galactic sector, crimes would go unsolved, criminals unconvicted. Victims would not receive justice. Blindfold, the brand name for this new and undetectable drug, was about to be the gang’s big import. They were setting up a network of distribution now. Boss’s eyes darted from the backpack filled with labeled vials to Key. “Where had he hidden them?” “He’d stashed them in the crawlspace of the house next door.” Satisfied, Boss pushed the pack away from him. “Key, this is Heretic.” A cap spun sideways on his closely cropped, dusty-blond head making him appear like any other street kid, blue-eyed Key wiped his hand on his trousers, flashed the gang signs required on the streets to recognize one another, then he shook Heretic’s hand. “I’m Key. I do retrievable work.” Heretic gave Key a nod. Retrievable meant he was a thief. Heretic released Key’s hand, and the larcenist smoothly took Heretic’s watch with him. He wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t used to the trick. Heretic tapped his wrist, and Key smiled and gave him back his watch. “Heretic, huh?” Key nodded, still smiling. “I’ve heard of you.” He wasn’t going to say it, but Boss didn’t mind belting out, “Heretic’s

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our new problem-solver.” Problem-solver was gang-slang for a contracted killer. Faith Vedder was a problem. Heretic went back to the picture of the bombshell he held. What the hell was such a pretty girl doing chasing this story? She had no idea what she got into. Key laughed. “Glad to hear someone else is gonna take the murder rap.” “I don’t murder people,” Heretic stated, his expression casual. “If people die around me, that’s just nature. People die all the time. So they die around me. Doesn’t make me a murderer. I’ve never had a single person ever accuse me of murdering him.” “You’re kidding, right?” Key said it with a sudden straight look on his face. As though he hadn’t known Heretic for years. Heretic’s eyes went back to the picture in his hand. Key’s sight followed his, and he sucked in a big breath. “Sweet heaven, what a babe. Is she your new mark?” “I’m going to make her disappear.” “Will you wait a night? I wouldn’t mind banging that broad.” Heretic scowled at the request. “You gonna rape her?” Key frowned. “Hell, no. Rape’s got a lot of anger in it. I’m not an angry man. I’ll take her out to dinner, woo her with my charms, take her to her place, and bam! In seconds, I got her ankles in the air, and she’s moaning about my big cock.” The room exploded with laughter. Boss’s recognizable snarl decayed into a crooked smile. “Your first gang should have named you Romeo.” “Well, they weren’t acquainted with that side of my skill set,” Key replied with a stunning grin. The kid wielded his stealthily influencing good looks like a weapon, fortunate for his partners. Heretic shook his head and went back to studying the image of the steaming-hot redhead. “I’m not waiting a night so you can get your rocks off. Tonight…she belongs to me.” Faith Vedder. Hourglass and lips. Yeah, he’d be at her house. Waiting for her with the lights off. He planned to torture her until it was no longer fun. Then he’d get rid of

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her. **** Click. That was too easy. He might’ve beaten his own personal record for picking locks. He could’ve used the zap generator in his watch and scrambled the computerized lock memory, unlocking the door a little faster, but where was the fun in that? Heretic was a hands-on guy. He should’ve timed himself picking the lock so he could razz Snow about beating his time. Again and again. Of course, no one would ever beat Key at moving anything. He turned locks with his mind. Heretic slipped his lock-picking tools back into their case, unzipped the top part of the full-body super-soldier jumpsuit he wore, then he slipped the case inside and rezipped. With the turn of the knob, he walked right into Faith’s rented bungalow with no concern of having been seen by the neighborhood. He quickly explored the rooms to make sure he was alone, taking with him a stack of mail he found on a table, all addressed to Faith Vedder. It was nice to get confirmation he was in the right place, but if she were receiving mail here, she’d been here too long. It was a decent little domicile, shiny wooden floors and area rugs, high ceilings, fashionable furniture, all a little tired-looking for having had strangers in residence for years. Neatly kept, sunlight beaming from the windows. Common electronics were present, most noticeably a big-screen monitor mounted on the wall. He considered a video security system watching the room now, and he laughed. That wasn’t going to help Faith a bit. He spotted a laptop computer sitting on a cheap metal desk coupled with an ornately carved wooden dining chair out of its element in the main room, clearly her pieced-together workspace, and he smiled again. He would torture her there among other places. The couch, the bed. He’d find other ways, too. He would make sure she never returned to Valdeya for any

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reason, especially to chase a story. Damn. It was twilight, quickly falling into night. She could come home any time. He needed to work fast to set up his play for the evening. What would shock her the most upon opening the front door, but still leave no discernible evidence for the local police when someone noticed her missing? It was going to be a great night, better entertainment than the average boring evening hanging out with criminal gangs and listening to their chestpounding big-fish stories. He would put Faith’s reasoning abilities to the test. She’ll need to think her way out of her torment. He didn’t know how he would keep his laughter quiet.

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Chapter 2 She was running out of leads. Faith took the stairs of the porch and set her heavy shoulder bag on the bristly welcome mat before her door. The only lead that had yet to fall apart was about a guy named Freak, or Frank, something like that. The streets said his people sometimes dealt in Blindfold. One source called him a lowlife who’d probably take a few thousand in exchange for his grandmother. He was exactly what Faith wanted, someone easily compromised. She planned to meet him at a hotel room tonight at an obscene time, offer him big money, and see just what information he’ll part with. She’d take the bottle of brandy. Alone with Freak and alcohol in a hotel room, she might learn a lot. Hopefully, it won’t cost her much. She should probably take the pea-shooter she’d bought on the streets of Valdeya. Then she’d collect her Pulitzer for unveiling the source of what would soon be the number-one crime problem in the Alliance. Blindfold, the invisible drug that erased guilt, blinded law enforcement. She’d immediately write her editor and tell him everything she’d learned so far, and the money for Freak’s payoff would burst from the computer monitor. She crossed her fingers. What could go wrong? Exhausted from a long day of legwork that led nowhere, she tapped her passcode into the front door lock, but received an off-key punishment beep. She tapped the numbers again and received no better answer. Had she inadvertently upset the home owner? She’d paid her rent two weeks in advance. A third try at the number pad didn’t work. She’d need to dig for the key in the bottom of her bag.

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Ghostlike, the door opened itself, just a dozen centimeters wide. The lock needed service, or she’d simply fat-fingered the wrong numbers. Her mind was too caught up in the case. Collecting the handles of her shoulder bag, she pushed open the door with her foot, stepped in, and turned immediately to close the door and engage the lock. It was a bad neighborhood, Valdeya a dangerous planet, and she dealt with individuals who’ve been given the tough side of a gavel and would get it again. She knew to take her security seriously. Maybe she should carry the old pistol everywhere she went. Was she sure it even worked? “Main room, lights on,” she told the home service system, and the lights lit up around her. Just as she turned to relieve her shoulder of a ream of paper evidence jammed in her bag, she started in surprise to discover her living room furniture rearranged. She hadn’t left the couch against that wall. All the tables had been moved. Even pictures were relocated. It was a message. And if she thought it was a comment on her decorating taste, she’d be way off. Someone wished to frighten her into leaving. It meant she was getting closer to the right people. Closer to the truth. Faith armed herself with the letter-opener she kept for the mail on the table by the front door. She couldn’t leave Valdeya. She was in too deep with this story to walk away, and she’d already picked out her dress for her Pulitzer Prize acceptance speech. She’d never purchased anything so expensive, but she was sure of her sources. Designer dress sure. That was pretty confident. Anxious, she moved through the small house to the single bedroom, mentally preparing herself to stab at the first thing that rushed toward her. “Bedroom, lights on.” At the open door, she saw her bed now located on the north wall instead of the west wall where she’d left it, the chest of drawers out of place on the east wall. She quickly moved to the bedside table, opened the single drawer, and traded the letter opener for her gun, feeling safer with a stronger

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equalizer in her hands. The intruder had moved the furniture, but had not gone through her drawers. Ready to fire, she checked the shower room and the closet, just in case she wasn’t alone. The bedroom window was locked. Well done. Whoever they were, they’d wanted to shake her up. Shaken, check. She hated to be unnerved, and it just pissed her off. She’d put a boot up the ass of the bastard who did this, if she got the chance. The sanctity of the kitchen appeared unspoiled, but she probably should inspect the cabinets and coolkeeper thoroughly. What if her new decorator had poisoned her food? She was happy she’d already eaten out tonight. It sounded like a good strategy to dine out from now on while she was on this planet. When she finished searching every place a person could possibly hide, she sat on the couch and rested the old-style bullet gun on her lap. She wasn’t about to call the cops. The local badges didn’t know she was sniffing around their territory. They were bound to interfere with her work, if she called them in on this scene. Besides, what would be the complaint to the cops, breaking, entering, and redesigning? She definitely wouldn’t call in the locals. The intruder was gone now. Thirsty, she rose and went to the kitchen, ready to give it a harsh inspection, and she bemoaned having left her fingerprint kit at home. Any self-respecting professional thief wore gloves or had his fingerprints regrafted, anyway. After inspecting apparently untouched cabinets, she opened the coolkeeper and focused on last night’s leftovers and open containers of fruit juices. She didn’t feel safe drinking the juices, so she drained the containers and tossed them into the recycle bin. The leftovers went into the garbage, too. The only things that felt safe for consumption were the sealed bottles of water, about twenty in rows of four on the top shelf. She immediately removed the outside layer of bottles and set them on the table, in case they’d been contaminated. Of those left in the coolkeeper, she picked one out and inspected the seal around the top, and then she gave the bottle a squeeze in case the plastic had been penetrated by a needle. This bottle was safe. On

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habit, she went to the cabinet to select a flavor packet that would make the water more interesting and nutritious. She held a packet of fruit flavor up to the bright kitchen light, but she couldn’t test if the packaging hadn’t been penetrated without ruining the powder inside, so she passed on flavor. On alert, she sat on the couch for several minutes, listening to every small noise in the house. It took a while for her to feel safe in her borrowed home again after finding the fillers rearranged. That was it. The owner had entered the house and reordered the furniture without a forewarning or note to her. It was the only logical reason she could think of. That, or the people she investigated disapproved of her curiosity, and this was the warning her first instincts had told her it was. Setting her water bottle and gun beside her laptop computer, she opened a file and began to tell her editor everything she’d learned. Halfway into the letter, she smelled the distinct aroma of brandy and man. She stopped typing and sniffed furiously to gather more of the awesome smell, but it faded. She looked all around her for something that might have smelled like brandy, a candle or artificial fragrance device, but saw none. She rose and checked her liquor shelf to find her mostly full bottle of brandy there, but who could tell if some was missing. She didn’t pay attention to her liquor levels. Her stressed mind played tricks on her with the warming aroma. Maybe it was a message from her subconscious to take a swig of brandy and ease the tension. But she remembered her first taste of brandy. She’d thought at the time nail-polish remover probably tasted better. How something smelling so sensuous and appealing could taste so foul was a mystery to her. She went back to her report to Burt, the chief editor of The Capital City Eyeball. Burt would be proud he gave her the city crime desk on Pulitzer night. Just as she finished the seven-page blow-by-blow of what she’d discovered in Valdeya’s bad alleys, a loud snap came from her bedroom. The shock of adrenaline sharpening her, she fisted the gun, paced to the bedroom doorway, and ordered the lights engaged to see nothing different. Her sight over the barrel of the gun cruised the room for any oddity. Was it possible her decorator was still in the house?

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“If there’s someone here, just leave. If you stay, I’m going to use this gun, and it won’t be pretty.” Nothing, not a sound. Standing in the threshold of the bedroom door, she smelled it again, brandy and masculinity in a current of air passing by, but all the windows were closed. It could only have belonged to the person who’d rearranged her furniture. He must have dipped into her brandy and unleashed the smell. Could his scent linger in the room for longer than the half hour she’d been home? The suggestion seemed far-fetched, and she couldn’t believe her nose capable of that level of discernment. Unable to easily give up her suspicions, she gave the bedroom another careful look-over—under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain—then she spotted a branch of the tree outside the window scrape against the pane in a soft wind. She went to the window, opened it, and broke the branch so it could no longer make that racket. Relieved to see the noise of a nondangerous type simply eliminated, she relocked the window, pulled the shade, and returned to the main room. Her eyes shot to the desk. The water in her bottle was now red, an empty packet of fruit flavoring lain next to it. Not only was her report to the editor gone from the screen, the icon for the file on the desktop was missing. Faith presented her gun, and she scanned the place for the nth time. She was alone. Or was she? She’d never fired a gun, had bought it in consideration of its psychological benefits. Her sweaty hands regripping the pistol, she said aloud, “I’m not drinking the flavored water.” No reply. Think, Faith, think. She knew certain law enforcement agencies had possession of invisible suits. If cops had them, the bad guys did too, right? Her sight roved the room, this time for any visual giveaway, a ripple in the air, a spot that reflected dully, an area displaced. No invention was perfect. An invisible suit wasn’t public knowledge, and she knew little of the science, but all technology had weaknesses. It felt creepy to imagine someone might be in the house with her. How could she test her perception that she was alone? What was she, mad? Left paranoid from dealing with the low-down,

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worthless trash who dealt drugs on the streets of Valdeya? She sat down on the couch to gather her nerves. Her hand went to her forehead and rubbed the stress-wrinkles away. She was making mistakes. Why did she think of refusing the fruit flavor for good reason, but had used it anyway—and didn’t remember that? Driven by habit? Had she hit the delete button instead of the save button when she’d been startled by the noise in the bedroom? Her brain was too busy to keep her thoughts straight. A hot shower. That was what she most needed to revive herself. She couldn’t sleep if she was to meet Freak at the hotel in three hours. Or maybe she could take a short nap. She’d rewrite her report to her editor tomorrow and just sling wild numbers at Freak for a bribe. She was clearly too exhausted to get herself a bottle of water without a minor cognitive breakdown. A good night’s sleep would help a great deal. She wished she had the time for one. The gun in her hand, just in case she turned out to be saner than she realized, Faith rose, collected her bathrobe, and locked herself in the bathroom for a long, steamy bath. Wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe and feeling silly for taking a gun with her for a bath, she came from the shower room to find all the lights out in her home. She was sure she’d left at least some of the lights on. The only visible thing was a red digital readout of the clock mounted on the wall. “Bedroom lights on.” The room lit up, and she discovered the furniture arranged the way she’d left it this morning. The air felt different. There was no imagining this. She held up her gun for business. If someone were there to hurt her, why did he wait to do it? “This sooo isn’t funny,” she said to her unseen tormentor, not expecting an answer. She heard a deep masculine chuckle in the room with her. Then a resonant, seemingly disembodied voice said to her, “It’s funnier on my end, I know. The surprised expression on your face is priceless.” A shiver swept through her, and her trigger finger itched. “Who’s here?” “Who I am is less important than my mission. I’ve been sent to kill you, Faith.”

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It was a smooth baritone voice with a particular unnamable element that moved through her like a hot wind. She turned the gun toward the voice and pulled the trigger, only to hear and feel the click of an unloaded gun. She heard him laugh again. “Kitty has claws.” His voice sounded sinister. The letter-opener was not where she’d left it. “I couldn’t leave you ammo.” Dumping the gun, she scrambled to her side table where she picked up the lamp, pulled it free from its power source, and she brandished it as a weapon. Her sight swept the room for some hint of his position. She couldn’t see him in the two mirrors in the room. “You better believe this kitty has claws, buddy. If you’re planning to rape me, you’ll get the roughest time you’ve ever had.” “I’ll take your warning. Get dressed. We’re leaving.” Her brow crashed into her vision. Go somewhere with an invisible person? She was better off remaining on her turf than submitting to his. “I’m fine with getting dressed, but I’m not going anywhere with you, if you won’t show your face. If you plan to rape and kill me, let’s get it over with right here.” “I’m not a rapist.” “No, you’re a killer. You told me you’ve been sent to kill me.” She scanned the small room for a better weapon. There were knives in the kitchen. Could she get him to move this debate into the kitchen? She’d left her palm computer by the keyboard in the living room. Attempted murder was a great reason to call the cops. “I’m going to make you disappear, Faith.” The lamp was yanked from her grasp, and, before she had a moment to respond, he had her wrist handcuffed to the headboard of the bed. She didn’t have a split second to fight back. He moved faster than her tired brain operated. “Instead of killing you,” the voice, now beside her with brandied breath, said, “I’m going to relocate you.” Her dresser drawers slid out, and clothes flew from them onto the floor. “Mmm,” she heard, as she watched her lingerie held up for inspection.

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His choice sailed onto the bed. A lacy blue blouse hung in midair for a second, and he said, “Hmm…yeah.” Then the blouse landed in her lap. A pair of black jeans soon followed. “I’m not leaving, and you and your people can’t scare me away.” “It doesn’t frighten you, Faith…that I’ve entered your home and taken possession of you?” “N–No.” It terrified her. She hoped her shaking didn’t show. “It should.” His voice, closing in on her again but from a different direction, echoed through the old steel-frame cottage, further disheveling her. “I could easily overcome you, Faith.” “N–No, I’m not a child quickly frightened away. I have a decade of martial arts, and I could kick your ass!” Unable to see his expression, she couldn’t gauge if the ridiculous promise of a hard defense affected him. Maybe he was a small man, and she had a chance against him. “What kind of martial arts?” his deep velvet voice asked. “Onterie. The most deadly of the martial arts. And I have a black belt. How about that!” “Onterie doesn’t award belts. I doubt you’ve spent an hour in an Onterie class. People who master Onterie don’t talk about it.” The breath fled her lungs. “I’m still not scared!” “Then you’re stupider than you look or write. I’ve read some of your stories, and you’d sounded much smarter than this. You’re also a rotten liar, Faith. Remember that so you don’t get into more trouble. Stick to the truth. Get dressed.” A pair of boots came flying toward her from her closet, missing her by centimeters. She grew angrier by the minute that she’d be forced to leave. “Don’t call me Faith! You don’t know me!” A splash of papers came from nowhere and landed on the bed beside her. She picked them up and thumbed through report after report of her, information from family connections to her library loans. “Your full name is Victoria Faith Vedder. You’d switched from Vicky to Faith at age seven when there were too many Vickys in school. Your

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favorite food is kung pao chicken, extra spicy. Your favorite drink is goldlabel vodka with a splash of orange juice. Your favorite color is black, like your coffee and your comedy. Extremist, Faith?” She shot him a sour scrunch of her lips in the general direction of his voice. “As a child, you’d had a lot of ear infections. When you’d been ten years old, your family had lost your older sister Emily in the smallpox release of ’41. Your parents had divorced after that, and your mother and you had moved around a lot before you’d settled in Capital City on Draco Reigna, where your mother had worked as an electrical engineer on the many downtown projects. You rarely saw your father after that, though you wrote often. You’d been a high school cheerleader until the ear infections had returned, and you’d been forced to drop from the squad. It had been a great disappointment for you. A solid B student, you’d served on your college yearbook staff, and you’d added your name to the rosters of nearly every team that played for the school. As a joke. Funny.” She heard the smile in his voice. She hadn’t known that last one had been caught and documented for the society-shaking felony it had been. It was probably a good idea not to go back for a reunion. Miffed he knew so much of her, she gathered the spilled papers, her best tough-girl scowl on her face. The letterhead on every page had been ripped off, robbing her of his sources. “Your first kiss had come from your junior high school boyfriend, Harvey Lui, and you’d stalked him for breaking up with you. You hadn’t given up your virginity until your first year of college when you’d met a bad boy named Mako. He’d not been worth it.” Her intruder smiled again. She could sense it like a wave washing over her. How could anyone learn so much about her? Did he have a record naming every man she’d slept with? She should probably get a copy of that. “And you’re behind on your credit payment.” “Not much!” It was the designer dress. She could’ve saved for her retirement, but…it was the most beautiful dress in the worlds. They would love her wearing it in the homeless shelter, if this story didn’t work out.

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“If you cooperate,” the silky voice offered, “I’ll see to it the credit balance is paid.” “And if I don’t?” “You’re leaving, whether you’re cooperative or not. I guarantee you I’m big enough to take you without your approval.” He probably was pretty big with a voice that deep. That eliminated any foolhardy hope of overcoming him physically. He was too quick—and invisible—for a surprise attack. She sat there for a moment, unsure what happened here. “Am I being bribed to vacate my sources? It must mean I’m close to my goal.” “No.” The jeans flew from the floor into her lap, reminding her to dress. “It means you’re far from your goal and wandering aimlessly through dangerous territory. You’ve arrived here on this planet a week ago, and already someone wants to kill you. There’s no story here, Faith, but your quiet death. Evil eyes watch you.” He didn’t sound intent on hurting her. She’d take that as a good sign. She loved the smell of brandy and man he’d launched through the room. It seemed to flow between them like an energy exchange, warming her. “That makes you my savior for relocating me. Why would you save me?” A snicker rippled through the air from a different place than where she thought he stood. “I love beautiful women. And don’t like seeing them dead.” “What are you, a cop?” “I’m the Invisible Man.” “Why do you get to know so much about me, and I don’t even get to see you?” “Faith. Focus. Get dressed.” She tugged on her cuffed wrist. “You’ll have to unlock me if you want me to put on this blouse.” Did he hesitate? Had he left the room? But then, she felt his warmth near her, smelled brandy and man more potently again. She felt his gloved hands on her wrist, unlocking the cuff.

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She thought to clobber him, but found him too interesting. She took a long, quiet sniff of his brandy-and-man smell, and it surprised her when the scent caused a ripple of sinful pleasure through her. It probably shouldn’t have since he was her faceless captor. Her wrist hit the bed pillow, and she rubbed the cuff print from her hand. Maybe she should clobber him. “Have you been dipping into my liquor cabinet?” “Normally, I’d say no because I’m not a drinker. But I might have taken a nip of your brandy to make up for my lack of entertainment after redesigning your living space. Get dressed, Faith.” Just when he said it, she triangulated on his voice, brought her leg up to land a foot where she figured his gut was located, but he halted her attack cold, catching her ankle with a strong grip, his gloved fingers biting into her flesh. “What are you going to do, Faith?” “Get dressed,” she repeated his order in a tart tone. He released her ankle. “Don’t try it again. I will always be faster than you.” Not always. “I’m not going with you. Not until you tell me who you are. I want to know as much about you as you know about me.” “Forget it. If I have to dress you, it’ll be harder on you than it will be on me. I’m done playing games with you. I won because I’m faster and bigger than you. And invisible.” Doubting he would leave the room if she ordered him to do so, she gave him her back—or she thought she had, dropped the robe, and she quickly dressed herself. Then she sat on the bed to tug her boots on. Her eye caught the time posted on the wall. The clock said nearly thirty minutes had passed since she walked out the bathroom door, not the five minutes it felt like. She didn’t understand that, and didn’t like not understanding things. Her visitor must have erased her letter to her editor. If he screwed up the computer system in the house, the owner would hang her credit out to dry. When she turned back, clothed and ready, he said nothing. There was no indication he was still in the room. She strode to the door and was not

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stopped. “Invisible Man?” she called out, hoping he’d left or dropped dead. But then, she’d find him the hard way by tripping over his unseen body. “I’m in here.” This time the baritone voice came from the living room toward the couch he’d earlier moved. Had she known for sure he wasn’t in the room when she dressed, she might have made a break for it through the window, or attempted to find the bullets for the gun. Spotting the impression on the couch where he sat, she saw papers moving from her shoulder bag now leaning beside the impression on the couch cushion. He went through her leads and evidence. If he got to go through her stuff, why couldn’t she see his face? Who made the rules here? With no hope of stopping a man she couldn’t see, she paced to the fruitflavored water by the laptop and picked it up for a swig. “I’m going to drink it whether it’s poisoned or not.” “Poison is for the unimaginative. I only poison when the mark is boring. Drink it.” Why not drink the water? He could’ve killed her ten ways by now, if he wanted her dead. She took a big gulp, knowing she needed the vitamins. “I’m flattered you’ve decided I’m not boring. So why not tell me about yourself.” “Because you’ll never encounter me again.” “Then why not show me your face?” He didn’t reply, just flipped through papers filled with leads she’d busted her ass to get. Here he was, picking them all up for free. He could be another reporter. She should have clocked him with that lamp when she had a shot. “How about your name? Your first name? No one can track you by your first name. I don’t want to find out who you are.” “Then why ask?” “How about your gang name?” “You don’t want to hear my gang name, lady.” Before she knew what happened, she was swept into the air, the floor

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below bobbing in her sight, threatening to crash into her head. He’d picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. He must have been very strong and very tall to hold her so high from the wood-slatted floor. He wasn’t going to tolerate her questioning. Thinking she’d fall, she reached back to grab a handful of his clothes for balance to discover a hard helmet on his head. “No!” She kicked her feet impotently in protest. “Wait! Let me take some belongings! Let me take my leads! Come on, Invisible Man, it’s my paycheck!” “You get to take one thing with you, Faith. Your life.” Three seconds later, she found herself dumped in the public square of Capital City on Draco Reigna, about fifty light-years from her rented house on Valdeya. She recognized the place immediately, having grown up in the city. People rushed by, on to their day without noticing her, her abrupt appearance fazing no one. Planetary teleportation wasn’t a recent invention. She didn’t have a gold coin to her name. Who the hell operated an interstellar teleport? She hadn’t heard one with an interplanetary reach had been developed, but technology wasn’t her beat. Ah, shit! Was this the I-Marshals? She’d be damned seeking this story if forced to deal with a single I-Marshal. She’d seen softer brick walls. The IMarshals hated reporters, couldn’t be bribed, and felt no imperative to inform the public. She’d almost rather hear a violent gang possessed an interstellar teleport. Almost. Okay, maybe not. Criminals were so much more open to greed and revenge, making a lot of them forever hungry to sell a tip. There was no worry for the story now. The Invisible Man just took her off the hunt and deprived her of her leads, along with all her belongings. By the time she made it back to Valdeya, the trail would be cold. She was too broke to start the weeks-long space trip any time soon. That invisible bastard better not have her credit account paid off. What a technique to stop a reporter. The payoff would create false evidence of her taking a bribe to kill a story. She’d prefer having her heart cut out.

Gangbusters This wouldn’t be the end of it. If she could find some money…

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Chapter 3 Heretic buzzed the security computer in a specific song that told Snow who stood at his door. He probably referred to the security monitor and saw no one. But Heretic was there. Snow opened the door and waved him in. Heretic closed the door behind him, and he could see the apprehension in his friend’s eyes. Heretic and Snow could not be connected to one another. They weren’t friends. But Danny and Sean, Alliance I-Marshals undercover, had been close friends for more than a decade. “What brought you here?” Sean asked, and Danny could tell from the look on his friend’s face he better have a good reason to show up at his flat. Even if he was invisible. “I had a problem with the redhead.” Sean’s lips pinched into a line. “What do you mean, problem? If you’re going to talk to me wearing the super-soldier suit, at least remove your helmet, so I can see your face.” It was a reasonable request. Danny pried the tight helmet from his head, and removed the cowl that covered what the helmet didn’t to complete his invisibility. He shook his head to aerate the shoulder-length, prematurely gray hair that ran in his family. With the rest of the super-soldier suit intact, he knew he now looked like a floating head. “I mean, I had a problem, as in, Wow! I’m really hot for her!” Sean blinked at him a few times as though in begrudging tolerance for his friend’s wild and youthful ways. Then he started sniffing, and his eyes flared at a familiar smell. “Danny, have you been drinking?” “I had a shot of the national brandy she kept in her liquor cabinet. You know, wine’s Valdeya’s biggest export, and they give you a bottle when you

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land here. We missed that arriving by teleport. Worst thing I ever tasted in my life.” Sean shook his dark head. “Danny, you can’t drink. You don’t know what it’ll do to you, physiologically speaking. They constantly warn us, IMarshals can’t drink.” Danny waved a dismissive gloved hand they couldn’t see, and then he crashed onto the couch. “They say that because they fear it’ll slow an IMarshal’s responses. I only had one shot. I don’t even feel it. Nothing’s going to slow me.” Sean rolled his eyes, and then he moved into the furniture and took the seat beside the couch like a priest doing his time in the confessional. That’s what Sean was like, a priest. “So, you thought she was hot, you got to put your hands on her when you teleported her to Reigna, and now you’re drunk and giddy about it.” “I didn’t get to touch her much, but I watched her dress.” Sean slapped his palm to his head. “Danny. That’s quite an accomplishment. For a third grader.” “Yeah, the experience was too much for me. I had to leave the room.” Sean took a breath of obvious relief. “You had me worried you might have taken her to Pound Town. Did you learn anything else besides what type of lingerie she wore?” Oh… Danny imagined his hands threading through her silky-looking copper tresses and bringing her to his mouth for a ravishing kiss. His body reacted to the mind-picture, and he took a deep breath to calm the fever racing through him. Um. “Nice lingerie, lots of lace. I stayed long enough to learn her picture didn’t lie, and longer than that. She doesn’t know it, but it took her a half hour to dress.” Sean burst into a chuckle. “You have a capacity for petty evil, Danny.” He grinned. “She has a body made for mortal sin, and I had to look away…after twenty minutes, half hour, I don’t know. I never watch the clock. I left sometime after I mapped her entire curvy body in my mind. That was when I went through her bag of goodies and found a readout of

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gang chatter from the Net. She didn’t know how to decipher it. She’d written no interpretation underneath it. It mentioned you.” The door computer buzzed, and the security monitor came on automatically, but it was a black screen. Someone covered the camera, just to be a smart-ass. “That message wouldn’t have been a hit contract, now would it?” Sean nodded his head toward the door that shielded a new visitor. “It was. Boss must have discovered the surgery you’ve done on his numbers just hours ago. I’m kinda bothered he didn’t give me the hit. I could’ve terminated you.” Danny smiled brightly in jest. The door bell buzzed again. “Don’t take it personally. Should I open the door?” “Yeah, go ahead. Let’s see who’s getting business.” Sean cocked an eyebrow. “Are you going to save my life? Because I’ve saved your life four times more than you’ve saved mine.” “It’s like you to keep count.” “Just pointing out the deficit.” “I guess I’ll have to take a few hits for you, Captain Numbers.” As if another real consideration other than saving Sean’s life would cross his mind. Danny tugged on his cowl and his helmet, instantly rendering himself invisible again, and he engaged the readouts in the face mask. Red numbers appeared before his vision telling him everything he’d ever want to know about the room. Temperature, 360-degree visibility, infra-red night-vision tracking of every heat source in the perimeter, metal and radiation detection, location of all exits, laser guidance for the gun strapped to his leg. But it was the invisibility he liked the most. He unsnapped the holster on his leg, but didn’t draw the weapon. That made it visible. Snow opened the door to find Freak, so he leaned against the threshold, making it clear he loathed the creep’s mere existence. “What’s up, Freak?” “I’ve got a message from Boss.” Doom all around him, Freak looked both ways down the hall, skittish to

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be exposed to eyes. Only an old homeless man sat at the bottom landing of the stairs smoking ratweed, uncaring what Freak had to say. “He told me to give you the message in private.” As soon as Freak soundlessly entered the room, Heretic’s helmet identified a rifle-size metal source beneath the gangster’s coat. Heretic stepped in front of Snow without detection. The laserproof and bulletproof suit Heretic wore would cover Snow. Let’s see how much information the thug would give us. Freak cast his sight about the small urban apartment as though he were uncomfortable in Snow’s element. Heretic had just met the man today. At medium height, a deal smaller than both Snow and Heretic, he was somewhere in his mid-twenties and a deceptively good-looking kid physically, light hair, dark eyes, dressed in a longer coat than was normal for the weather and season. Most of the street-level distributors dressed that way so their own gangs of worker-bees wouldn’t see elimination coming. His darting eyes untrusting, Freak displayed the most common sign of Blindfold use. A constant undertone of anxiety, the kind that got on the nerves of everyone in the room after a while, and the kind that wiped out evidence of guilt gathered by the fMRI brain-tap system. Blindfold made Freak’s kind uncatchable. That’s what the gangbusters were after, the total destruction of Blindfold at its roots as its popularity amongst the highest level of black-market thugs rose. It was the flow of technology. The good guys developed the fMRI brain-tap to detect guilt in the human brain. The bad guys developed a drug to block the brain-tap’s powers. The good guys develop a screening test to detect the drug. The bad guys develop a drug that can’t be detected in the bloodstream. And now Blindfold was the most dangerous drug in the galactic sector, wiping out the direct detection of criminal culpability, the axis of justice in the Alliance. Embedded with this organization longer than Heretic, Snow had warned him Freak was a black-hearted son of a bitch, and Heretic had to agree after study of the creep’s rap sheet, a rainbow of offensive charges. Violent acts,

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drug dealing, breaking and entering, robbery, assault, escape. Not even sex crimes were a turn-off for Freak. The man was a walking psychotic crime wave. Now he was the leader of his own organization, and his street soldiers did the dirty work and the time behind bars. He would soon have his soldiers on Blindfold, and they wouldn’t be caught again. Some offenders committed crimes for money, some because they didn’t know any other way of life. Some committed crimes because they loathed society. Freak’s kind of criminal committed crimes because he liked to violate people. It gave him power. Maybe he was a supernatural being. Having had so little exposure to the hood, Heretic couldn’t tell. Seeing the presence or absence of souls wasn’t his talent. Snow wouldn’t entertain the thug for any amount of time. “Spill it, Freak. Give me your message.” “Boss took a look at the cooked books, and he has some questions about the dummy charity where you sent our money. He wants to talk to you.” Snow’s hand came up and stroked his shadowed chin, appearing to consider it. With the 360-degree visibility tech in the helmet, Heretic could watch them both at once. Freak looked like he couldn’t wipe the anticipation from his face to think Snow would get a ray beam in the head for cooling their bank accounts through financial tricks and shell game shenanigans. He’d been doing it for months without their notice. “So Boss’s unhappy, you say?” “Yeah, he chased the money and learned the dummy nonprofit corporation you’d claimed to have set up for the gang…was a real charity for kids. Boss told me to kill you, if you refuse to come along. You can explain to him he’d read the books wrong, how you’d made some kind of crazy mistake. And you have our money.” A dedicated student of Raphael, the angel of healing and science, the mathematician had a big heart for kids and always diverted the profits of every gang they worked for. Snow was there to take their filthy money. Key was there to steal their despicable property. Heretic was there to end their deviant lives, all in

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proper coordination. Boss’s discovery screwed up their timing. “It was a no-brainer to see unfortunate children deserved your filthy profits,” Snow told Freak coldly. Danny could see the uncharacteristic hatred his friend held for Freak in his body language, gritted teeth, clenched fists. “I don’t make mistakes with numbers.” Freak turned a burning anger onto Snow. “I figured you were too good to make a mistake. You’d looked like you grew gold in your garden, and all along we’d supported your favorite orphanages. I told Boss you’d done it intentionally, but he’d begun to put you in the inner circle, didn’t want to believe you wouldn’t have a good explanation…so well snowed you have him. Own the charity, do you? That’s how you did it, walked away with the gang’s profits.” Snow clenched his fists again. “I told you to stop thinking, Freak. You’re bad at it. You always assume every person in the room is as greedy as you. The money went to kids whose parents you’ve stolen with the poisons you peddle. Just like you thought the books said.” The visible I-Marshal squinted dangerously at Freak. “And Isabella left on her own. That’s why you came here. That’s what you’re here to see me about. You’ve lost your wife and your money, Freak. How long can you keep that quiet? What will you do about it when you become a secret joke on the streets of Valdeya?” “I know you were there the day she left, Snow!” Freak growled. “I felt the residue of your presence in my home.” That was as good as a confession to being an alter-life demon to Heretic. Snow shook his black head. “What you feel is the Blindfold addiction slowly eating at your brain. You want to imagine she left you for another man, Freak. But she probably left you for her own sake because you’re a beast. That has nothing to do with me.” Furious, Freak brought his big gun from his coat and up—it was an automatic shotgun!—to the center of Snow’s chest, and therefore Heretic’s. “I’ll just tell Boss you refused to come with me.” Before the convict trash could fire, Heretic reached out, taking a grip of the room’s time and slowing down the moment. Freak’s weapon on him,

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Heretic moved much quicker, raised his C-breaker, and put a laser beam into Freak’s head, ending his wretched criminal life. But not before Freak pulled the trigger. A blast of razor-sharp pullets struck Heretic in the chest with tremendous force, shoving him back into Snow. Both men flew backward from the power of the blast, landing in a pile on Snow’s leather couch. The windows behind them shattered. Half of the apartment’s contents exploded. Freak’s body hit the carpeted floor with a thud. Immediately, the supersoldier helmet registered his very incremental and growing loss of body heat. Sean and Danny rose to their feet, brushing shards of glass and furniture from their clothes, and Danny removed the helmet. “Are you okay?” he asked Sean, but saw no wounds. “I’m fine. He looks pretty dead. Thanks for the heads-up and cover.” “Just doin’ my job.” They inspected Freak with a hole bored through the thug’s skull. Shotgun pellets repelled from Danny’s suit were embedded in his chest. His face registered the shock, his dull eyes bulged open. “His eyes didn’t turn red. I could’ve punched him for a while until they did if he hadn’t been so trigger-happy to kill you, Sean.” “I’m sorry I robbed you of that. I know you love belting alter-lifes.” “It’s what I do. I arrest you in the name of the Draco Alliance,” Danny told the corpse, as his gloved fingers plucked the fractured threads from the jumpsuit made of meta-materials. The invisibility mechanism of the suit was crippled. He turned off its biomechanical power generator. “Anything you say can and will be used against you…repeatedly as I beat the hell out of your expired body.” No reply from the dead man. “That was wasted breath,” Sean pointed out. “His ears might still work. Who’s Isabella?” “Freak’s wife, Boss’s sister.” “Yeah, I caught that part. You’ve been embedded with Boss’s posse for months now. I just walked into the drama today. Why did Freak detect you

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in his house when his wife went missing?” Sean pinched, flattened, and scrunched his lips. “The degenerate probably imagines things all the time.” “Then why do you hate him so?” “Just an average repulsion for evil. You could’ve dialed back time a little more and avoided the blast altogether.” Danny smirked. Few things impressed Sean. “I can’t dial time back. I can only manipulate a forward moment in which I’m living, stretch or shrink it and do what I can with it. That’s it. Some people would be astonished with the trick.” “Those people didn’t just have their apartment pulverized. Maybe the brandy slowed you down.” “Maybe you’re a little unappreciative of my visit. You’re lucky I got a little drunk and came over to tell you about the woman I just fell in love with.” “You fall in love every week. And out of love, the next.” Danny couldn’t deny that. It didn’t take much more than a hot body to make him fall into boning fascination. He seldom felt it after the bedding, so he guessed it had never been love. That wasn’t what he’d been looking for. Sean gave Freak’s still body a hard kick that seemed personal. “You should be thankful the brandy didn’t tweak your head enough to make you touch a witness. It would come out in court, believe me.” “I’m thankful.” There were too many other women in the Alliance who knew a good time when they saw one. Touching a witness one fingertip over necessity was career-suicide. He just didn’t do it. If he really considered it, the angel who watched over him might slap him upside the head. And he’d deserve it. Watching a witness dress when the I-Marshal was invisible was an entirely different thing. And a lot of fun. Although it was his first time doing it. Completely explainable since, technically, he wasn’t supposed to take his eyes off her, the hostile, endangered witness. Plus, when he really needed to, he exited the room in time to save his soul from corruption by her beautiful naked body. He could explain why he stayed and why he left. Thumbs-up,

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he was in the clear. “Faith’s a couple dozen light-years away now.” Sean tossed him a smirk that said it was a fortunate thing. “Along with your binge drinking, I hope.” “It was only a shot of brandy.” “But look how it made you miss.” Danny frowned. “Miss? You’re alive, aren’t you? I don’t see a drop of your blood spilt.” His friend moaned again over his shattered apartment. “Well, Boss has busted my cover. He might’ve busted your cover, if he didn’t give you the hit on me.” “That was too fast. He has no reason to doubt me. Maybe he sent Freak to you, hoping you’d kill him.” “That’s a real possibility.” The shotgun pullets had ripped through Sean’s apartment, destroying all they hit. The walls were pitted. Antique Saurian-glass lamps were shattered and reduced to shards. The new collection of Valdeyan landscapes on canvas was shredded. All of Sean’s expensive tastes, gathered over a lifetime of missions, lay in ruins on the carpet. Sean shook shards of glass from his shoulder-length black hair. “I don’t think even Boss liked the guy. But every organization needs someone willing to do the street work. Freak’s people are top sellers. I can’t see Boss giving up a tool like Freak.” “Maybe Boss didn’t send Freak, and he was here of his own accord. I got the impression earlier today Freak didn’t see all your best qualities.” “He knew about the charity.” “He might have opened the books and saw too much he couldn’t interpret. He might not be so stupid. He figured out something was wrong.” Danny watched Sean fist his hands at his side. “He’s stupid in many more ways.” Dismissing the weird subtext of hatred Sean held for Freak, Danny took the shotgun from the punk’s stilled hands and gave it a look-over. It was an old-style streetsweeper, not an antique, but newly made from an ancient

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Terran design. Freak wanted to over-kill Snow. Still, Sean maintained he held no knowledge of any reasoning behind it. “Too many projectile weapons on Valdeya.” “I can tell it’s your first week on this planet. When you see the cost of laser fuel and ray gun power-packs, you’ll know it’s cheaper for someone to swage ammo in a back room. Projectile weapons are a comical anachronism, but they still kill people. The government traces fuel purchases, as well. The authorities haven’t noticed it hasn’t stopped the killings in the streets.” “Faith had an old-style revolver, which I went back for, along with her notes after I dumped her on Reigna. I didn’t tell her the revolver was made of steelkret and wouldn’t last longer than eight, ten shots. She probably had no idea.” “She was no doubt overcharged for it, too. Some greedy manufacturer is pushing the streetsweepers through the Valdeyan market as fake antiques. We better get out of here before that loud blast draws the locals.” Danny searched the hood’s coat for more weapons or evidence. Then he examined the body’s frozen face. “Do you think Freak’s an alter-life?” Sirens sounded far away, approaching at a vigorous speed. “Spotting alter-life demons is a gift I’d like to have. I can never tell factually until they reveal themselves. Doesn’t matter if he’s an alter-life demon or just a mortal gone wild. Kill all these scumbag shot callers. Let the Maker sort them out. Give him the treatment.” It was Sean at his harshest. Few times Danny had seen the healer with no mercy. Something about Freak turned Sean over to dark thoughts, and his head didn’t belong in shadows like Danny’s did. “Let’s find Key, in case Boss has broken his cover, too,” Sean suggested. “We’ll go after as much of the gang’s Blindfold stock as we can reach. Then it’s time for your gig, angel of death.” Danny grinned and drew his blade from his boot to finish Freak in the prescribed way that would end his haunting of this realm, in case he was an alter-life demon. “I love it when you call me that.”

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His eyes closed, Freak awakened to the familiar damp smell of his underground lair, and he breathed in the mildewed air. The rock walls were cracked and leaking water, producing a particular rotted smell he knew apart from other rotted smells. Ahhh… Who said you can’t go home. He opened his eyes, but his now weak vision couldn’t make out the curses carved in angelic script into the low rock ceiling above his bed. He reached up, found the rock, and felt the engravings there at his fingertips, giving him relief of their continued presence. Pleased, he rolled onto his side and surveyed his familiar cozy pit lit by just one low-watt light bar, his disciple Benny skulking in the corner of the basement, his back to him and loading a jet injector to feed his daily hunger for chasing the dragon. Freak heard the hydraulic pop of the injection into Benny’s arm. All appeared normal. Freak’s mind flashed the last thing he remembered. He’d accused Snow to his face of having stolen Isabella. He’d drawn the streetsweeper on the accountant who’d been his adversary almost since his arrival. Then blackness. He didn’t recall killing Snow. Freak wanted very badly to remember, craved to mark that specific murder on his mortal shell for a trophy, to bask in that particular triumph. Whatever had prevented him from painting Snow’s blood on his body in victory would be reversed. As long as Isabella lived, Freak would covet the blood of any man who held her. And Snow had her. Freak knew. How had the bookkeeper killed Freak when the alter-life demon had the jump on him? Freak didn’t remember now, but memory of his destruction would in time come back to him like video, sharp picture, clear sound. He sat up on the bed, his head no longer grazing the rock above, like it usually did. He brought his hands up to see gnarled and wrinkled fingers, blotchy, withered hands in fingerless beggar’s gloves. He wore rags, layered

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and shabby clothes, his pants held up by worn rope. His shoes were weathered boots that had seen better decades. Freak closed his eyes again and felt a creeping cancer in his new polluted lungs. He felt arthritis in his joints, the atrophy of aged muscles, malignancy spreading from the pancreas. But this body wasn’t addicted to Blindfold like his previous body, and that was a relief. He rose to his feet, walked up behind Benny, and slapped the dragon he injected from his hand. Calling upon supernatural strength this pathetic body did not supply, he grabbed Benny by the neck, slammed him into the rough rock wall, and squeezed. The addict’s red-veined eyes bulged in fear of the demon. As they should. “Why,” Freak growled, “have you put me in this decrepit shell?” Benny shook beneath his skeletal knuckles and didn’t dare fight back. “It was the only body available at the time, Freak! Honest! Just an old homeless man. There hadn’t been another soul around when I found you in Snow’s apartment!” “Had I killed Snow, or had he just killed me?” “I—I’d only found your fresh body, drained and hanging in the shower room. So, I—I’d done what you told me to, I’d mopped a rag through your blood, and I’d taken the old man I found in the hallway. I’d given him a transfusion with your stored blood filtered and mixed with the blood on the rag. And here, you’ve returned. How does that work, master?” “Life is in the blood. You would know that if you were up on your scripture, Benny.” Freak did so like breathing the moldy air, even with cancer-flavored lungs. “You’ve put me in a dying body.” Freak pulled his pathetic sycophant from the rock wall and slammed him into it again. Then he put his face right into Benny’s and huffed hot air. He could see the reflection of the light bar along with the terror in Benny’s bugged mortal eyes and his shriveled mortal soul. Isabella’s face drifted through Freak’s mind, making him angrier. When he was done with his business, he would find Snow and kill him. Because Freak knew what Snow had done. Then he’d find Isabella and hurt her, too. “Take me to Draco Sylanta. Right now. There’s a body there I want,”

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Freak told his putrid excuse of a minion. “Or I’m going to take your body, Benny. And since you’re a worthless junkie, good for little but serving a demon, I won’t keep you for long. It’ll just seem like a very long time to you. You’ll suffer greatly before I discard you…and you finally die. Good riddance. I’ve seen you with your pants down, and you have nothing to live for.” Benny broke out into a sweat, probably feeling the street high he’d injected take effect. The stupid mortal was convinced, every time he used the drug he craved, it opened his mind more to the demon that terrorized him. And he still did it, driven mad by pain and addiction. Each injection was his broken soul attempting suicide to flee the demon’s influence, only to be brought back full circle to hell’s control. There was no escape for Benny. That’s the way Freak liked it. As long as he had Benny, the alter-life demon had resurrection.

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Chapter 4 Planet Sylanta, Draco System 4662 UPE (United Planets Era) A month later Working her last lead. Faith seemed perpetually stuck working her last lead. Perhaps this was the moment she should consider she wasn’t a very good reporter. One thing was for sure. She wasn’t a very good driver. She hated visiting other planets, was used to Draco Reigna’s high technology and awesome public transportation. Most Alliance planets did not have their technological acts so together. Like Sylanta. Faith drove a rented hovercraft, something she has done exactly twice in her life. And not well. The craft rocked over the hilly country road, and it wasn’t supposed to do that. Hovercrafts were meant to be smooth rides. If she hadn’t had her seatbelt engaged, she’d have been bucked from the seat and slammed into the windshield a few times so far. She didn’t want to count the incidents. The craft had broken stabilizers, and she was too far from the rental office to turn around, go back, and complain. Maybe she’d just pull over and call a wrecker. It meant another day wasted with her no closer to her goals. Curses! Away from the closest coastal city, the countryside couldn’t have been more beautiful, sarcastic for how crappy the day went so far. The sky was a peaceful shade of bluest blue stretching forever, occasional cottony clouds adding evolving art along the vista. It was summer here, and hills in endless shades of growing green stood strong in every direction. Farms patch-

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worked with produce went on as far as the eye could see on a high hilltop. Tall crops often blocked the roadside sights for a dozen kilometers at a time. It didn’t look like a place that might have been run by criminal cartels, but, according to Freak’s lead, this was where the product began. Any barn or home she passed could be a Blindfold lab carefully hidden and in production. Any crop could hide the genetically altered plants that produced the chemicals that made Blindfold what it was, the biggest danger in the Alliance. Did she have a death wish to be driving through this land? Or a hot, hands-on date with the Pulitzer Prize Award nomination board? She checked the rearview cam to see a hover-bike coming up behind her at a tremendous speed, and she realized she didn’t know on which side of the unmarked road she was supposed to be, or what speed or altitude, or how to make a change. She decided to hold her position until he passed. But he didn’t. He slowed down, rode up beside her craft, and they gave each other look-overs. He rode a fast bike, built low to the ground painted in black with neon green highlights. He wore racing leathers and a helmet that matched his bike. Sexy. She could see no feature through his shaded face shield while he got an eyeload of her. Dark salt-and-pepper hair fringed the neck of the helmet and fluttered in the wind. He probably made fun of her driving in his thoughts. The slick-looking biker made a sudden jabbing stab with a gloved finger at the roadside, like he was ordering her off the highway! Well, to hell with him! He might look hot in tight leather, but he didn’t own damn streets! It wasn’t like she slowed him down. Faith blasted him the warning horn and launched the unholy middle finger. Her sight drew again to the rearview cam to see two more bikers working to catch up with him. Concerned more for the first biker in her danger range, she saw him wag his bike, dip very low from side to side. At first, it startled her, thinking she was witnessing an accident, but she realized he’d executed the move perfectly. Sexy. He must have been signaling his friends.

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The bike and its rider shot up ahead, trailed by his two shadows. The lane quickly narrowed and went back to twists and turns around the hills in which she traveled. She was pretty jealous they were on such maneuverable vehicles when she drove a hovercraft the size of a city cab. And poorly. But then again, she’d kill herself on a hover-bike, probably in seconds. The road took a sharp turn, and she spotted a road hazard, a big black hovercraft wedged the width of the skinny road. She hit the brakes, the safety belt snapped, and her head went flying into the windshield. Crack! When she lifted her head, she felt a little dizzy, but heard in stereo the hover-bikes pass her by on both sides of her craft. Stars in her vision, she glanced up, over the navigation levers, to the hazard and saw the big hovercraft that had blocked the road seconds ago, spinning around and leaving the scene. Then her vision sharpened, and she saw the first biker lying in the road in an awkward pile, his bike thrown into the hillside. Shocked into action, Faith grabbed her palm computer, climbed from her clumsy ride, and ran to the downed man. His helmet was busted, just fragments hanging on to one another and revealing his face beneath the twist of plastics. His head bled. His body was a mass of blood and twisted bones. Good gawd, how fast had he been moving when he’d needed to hit the brakes? She turned back to the road, both directions. The other two bikers and craft had left him there. Did they go for help, and how far away was help located in farm country? She dialed the emergency number as quickly as she could. The man looked horrible. His body was sliced open in more than one place, his legs crushed, bones exposed. Blood covered him, and a crimson puddle grew beneath his broken body. She didn’t know what to do. First aid wouldn’t work here. The emergency dispatcher asked if he was alive. Oh, why did she have to ask that question? Trembling, Faith stretched her arm at its full length to feel the pulse at his blood-spattered neck, working to keep from seeing the poor guy’s guts

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cut open. When she touched his hot flesh, he opened his eyes and blinked up at her. “He’s alive!” she shouted at the emergency operator, just from sheer surprise. The operator assured her they’d get air rescue right away. She shoved her palm computer into her pocket. Soft gray eyes focusing on her, the biker tried to speak, so she unsnapped his collar to give him ease. He must have been in unimaginable pain. “Faith,” he muttered, and she started backward, stunned he knew her name. Was her mind playing tricks with her that he spoke her name with a resonance in his voice that brought back her one-night adventure with the Invisible Man? Yeah, it’s definitely my vivid imagination. Compassion overriding awareness of the gore, she took his hand, sure death would take him at any moment. She looked around, her eyes tearing. What could she do with major injuries? He needed a skilled surgeon, if he were to live. He bled in too many places to attempt to stop the blood flow. Where would she start? “Faith,” he whispered again, weaker this time, and choked. Struggling, he tugged her closer with a weak grip. “Faith, get off this planet.” She heard him wrong. It almost sounded like he told her to get off this planet. “Don’t worry. Help is coming.” Should she say that to a dying man? Unless medical help got here in thirty seconds, he was done for. She cupped his hand in both of hers, and gazed into eyes calm, not panicked. Maybe he wasn’t in unimaginable pain. Maybe he didn’t feel a thing. His hand was on fire instead of turning cold. “Hang on. You’re going to make it.” The sky ambulance hadn’t made it here in twenty minutes, and he hadn’t yet died. Should she remove the fragments of his helmet? It might kill him. Blood mixed with his hair. His breathing shallow, he moved in and out of consciousness. Every time he reawakened, he choked on a breath, beheld her with ghostly gray eyes, ignored what must have been tremendous agony, and he mumbled, “Faith, get off this planet.”

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Then his big eyes shut, and he was gone again. She gently set his hand down, then ran to his wrecked bike, searching for ID, a palm computer, anything that would help her now. She found only a wallet, shoved it into her pocket, and dashed back to him. Scooping up his hand again, she kept her eyes off his wounds to keep from retching. Multiple breaks and lacerations. She never saw a more horrific sight up close. Tears streamed down her face, and she sang an ancient nursery rhyme aloud so she wouldn’t have a nervous breakdown. Maybe something familiar would give him comfort. There was nothing she could do for him, but be there so he wouldn’t die alone. What was the second verse of that flipping song? Mockingbirds? Diamond rings? He kept coming to life and telling her to leave this planet, then falling back into unconsciousness. Every time he said her name, she recalled the Invisible Man’s voice ordering her to get dressed. She’d sealed the sound of his voice in her head. It was the only thing of him he’d given her. Now this dying biker kept bringing the Invisible Man back to her as he lay in a mass of fatal injuries, suffering enormously. Everything around them was a blur. Faith scanned the empty road for any intelligent life at all. Only the winding hill on one side and tall crops on the other side filled her sight and tilted a little. Where were his friends? Where was the hovercraft that had caused this accident? A slow bell went off in her head. Could she have just witnessed an ambush? Innocent people gone for help would have returned by now. Time…her perception of it sitting on the ground with an expiring man to whom she could give no help, seemed to crawl. How long they waited for rescue, she couldn’t guess. She sang the same fractured lullaby over and over, her brain stuck on automatic to avoid panic. She couldn’t remember the next lyrics of the song, so she just kept repeating the same lines until her lips sputtered the words incoherently. The hill and crops surrounding the accident site spun every few moments, grew to outrageous heights, then shrunk beside her. Still singing, she thought she might have been hallucinating when the

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sky ambulance appeared overhead and landed on the open country road. The deafening warp of the blades whooshed through her ears in long drawls, making her dizzy again. The tornado of air sent dust into her eyes. She watched a medical team, gear in hand, rush to the biker and nudge her aside. She felt a great relief that someone could make him more comfortable in the end. Feeling oddly detached, she sat on the side of the road and watched the team pitch a tent around the biker in two seconds, right in the middle of the road. It protected him from the rising dust. What they did in there to save his life, she couldn’t guess. Time dragged one second, flew by the next. She couldn’t quantify how long they worked on him. It seemed like a long time. Too many moments she caught herself holding her breath. The world spun again. Finally, she watched them carry him from the tent and carefully pack him into the sky ambulance, her thoughts numb. They hurried, so he must still be alive. “You’re going, too,” she heard a voice beside her say, and she looked up to see a man wearing a shiny badge taking hold of her arm, bringing her upward. “No,” she mumbled, thinking her rescuer confused. “I’m not hurt. Take him to the hospital, go!” “You have a head wound,” the man countered her claim. She wiped her forehead and found blood. When she stood, the tall plants edging the road around her fuzzed up. The last thing she saw was the hardpacked dirt road coming up to meet her. The last thing she felt were the hands that caught her. **** Faith awakened to white curtains separating her into a small cubicle from a much larger room. The scent of antiseptic was strong. A scan of her space spotted medical electronics at the gurney’s head, and she remembered the medical team working above her, bright lights behind them. Recall was more like blotchy still pictures than actual moving memories.

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Now she sat on a gurney, her back propped up, alone in the emergency room of a medical facility. Voices beyond the curtains spoke low, but she couldn’t make out any conversation. Clutched in her hand, she found the biker’s worn leather wallet and her palm computer. She dropped the wallet into her lap, sent her hand to her forehead to an aching spot, and discovered a bandage. She lived, she realized. The biker must have died. No one could have survived his injuries. A tear puddled in her eye for having witnessed the last moments of a stranger’s life. That they’d been on the same planet, the same hill country, the same spot of road at his tragic last breath, made her mourn. She opened the wallet to find a citizen ID card from Draco Reigna, her home planet. His name was right there, Daniel Tierney. His picture showed a thick head of shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair, but the ID said he’d been in his mid-thirties, too young to die. His expressive gray eyes had been the best feature of a high-boned and masculine face with many nice features. He’d displayed a wild and playful grin for the ID picture, something for which most people frowned. He’d been very handsome, and notice of that made her heart flutter. He must have had family who needed to know he’d been hurt, or was dead. The wallet was practically empty, save a lone note with the name Sean and a comm number. Her throat tight to deliver such devastating news, she dialed the number, and a man answered. “Is this Sean?” she asked the deep voice. “Yeah, it is.” “Sean,” she muttered, “Daniel’s in the hospital. He’s hurt. Pretty bad.” Sean hung up. He hadn’t asked what hospital Daniel was in or what had happened. He just hung up. Apparently, Sean was no great friend of Daniel Tierney’s. With no other number to call or indication of any employer in the wallet, she gave up and wept. It had been too traumatic to watch a man die before her. His blood was on her clothes. Faith heard his name spoken by a soprano voice. She reached over and slowly pulled the curtain away, working to focus sharpening vision and hearing.

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“Tierney, in Intensive Care three-oh-three,” said a woman wearing surgical scrubs standing at the care station. A medical microchip would have given them his medical information, maybe up-to-date contacts. Most people didn’t keep theirs up to date. “I swear, I’ve never seen a more broken man live. He’s a hangnail away from death. They’re assembling a team now for emergency surgery and planning a strategy for putting him back together, but even the surgeon doesn’t look hopeful. He’s surprised the guy’s still breathing. His present heartbeat shouldn’t be enough to keep him alive. Don’t bother finding him a room. He’ll die on the table.” The nurse behind the desk went back to her computer work. “There are times when I don’t bother to ask for a miracle. All these bikers…organ donors.” “Not this one. I saw his organs, and they won’t be helping anyone. No kin to call here on Valdeya. The woman in cubicle seven is from the same accident, has a mild traumatic brain injury grade two concussion. Fourth floor’s prepping a patient room for her. Maybe she knows him.” No family or friends to wait with him. Faith couldn’t stand the thought of him dying alone. Stiffening for strength, she jammed the wallet and her palm comp in her skirt pockets. Then she slid from the gurney, and she passed through the curtained cubicles, squeezing around medical equipment until she slipped unnoticed from the emergency department into a main infirmary hallway. A directory posted on the wall told her where the intensive care unit was located. Attempting nonchalance, she stepped into the lift that would take her there. Another woman dressed in common office attire boarded the lift, and she gawked at Faith’s blood-smeared blouse, her bandaged head. Afraid she’d mention her to someone on hospital staff, Faith managed a big fake grin. “Looks much worse an accident than it turned out to be.” The woman’s brow bent into one skeptical line, but she offered a pleasant smile. “Congratulations.” Faith released a held breath when the woman took her leave on the second floor.

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The elevator doors parted for the third floor, and, out of sight, Faith held the open-door button, spotting no one manning the ICU desk. Stealthy, she moved to room three-oh-three, and she slipped inside the door. Then she dashed to the windows open to the ICU desk, and she dragged the curtains across them to conceal her presence. Finally she turned to face him. His legs and one arm were in casts hung in traction by steel cord. Bandages wrapped his head and torso below his arms. A ventilator rose and fell, forcing oxygen into failing lungs. Bags feeding him blood hung in batches. Machines surrounded him, and if the occasional peep she heard measured his heartbeat, it was dreadfully slow. Flushes of weakness and compassion moved her to see him again. Wishing to give him a final comforting presence and touch, she ransacked the cabinets of the room, seeking gloves or a robe when she cleverly smacked herself right in her bandaged head with the cabinet door, but she came across surgical masks and gloves. Faith quickly tied a mask over her mouth and nose and snapped on gloves. Then she filled the empty seat beside him and gently took his one uncasted hand to let him know someone was there for him. Chances were not good he could feel anything. Her eyes roamed his casted and gauze-wrapped broken body. How could he be alive? How could he still live? What kept him from the seldomyielding jaws of death? “Daniel?” she tried, but didn’t know what she expected. His flesh bore the paleness of the grave. His lips were bluish. He must be in a coma. Was she supposed to tell him to pass into the light, to let go? His hand still felt hot to the touch when she thought he should be colder. “Daniel, you’re not alone. I’m here for you.” His deep voice still echoed through her head, reminding her of her savior. When the Invisible Man had dumped her on Reigna, she’d purchased a nice bottle of brandy. Every now and then, she’d smelled that same brandy-and-man scent. She’d sought a sign of him to find nothing, so she’d fantasized that he’d been invisible in the room, watching her. The thought of it sometimes had made her dress a little quicker. Sometimes thought of him watching her had made her undress a little slower. He’d never responded to

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it if he’d been there. She’d check the bottle of brandy to see if the level had sunk. It had, a little. She’d never believed he’d been there, but the memory of the sensuous smell had often driven her to enjoy a great whiff of the brandy and imagine the rest of him. She’d gone to sleep with the open bottle beside her bed many nights. Not to drink it, but to fill the air with the aroma and sustain her fantasy of him. Shameful. She’d never even laid eyes upon the man. The shattered man before her wasn’t her Invisible Man, but if he were, she knew she’d wait with him until he drew his last breath. So then, she would wait with this man for reminding her of him. Expecting the staff to discover her and throw her out any minute, she felt a drip taking a slow dive from her bandage on her forehead. The strike of the cabinet door had reopened her wound. Perturbed to be taken from him for even a minute, she rose, slipped into the bathroom attached to Daniel’s room, and lowered her mask. She hadn’t turned on the light, the small room lit by the patient room’s strong illumination. She lifted the bandage in the mirror to see a superficial but bloody abrasion, and she used some gauze from the counter of supplies to stem the bleeding. But her attention still went to Daniel through the open door in the mirror reflection. He lay between the brightness of life and the darkness of abyss. Her heart broke, thinking of the handsome young man in the ID so full of life, he’d smiled in his government photo. She hurried so she could get back to his side. Just as she affixed a fresh bandage and stripped her gloves in favor of fresh ones, she saw in the mirror’s reflection a dark-headed man standing at Daniel Tierney’s bedside. She hadn’t seen or heard him walk into the room. Despite the bandages wrapping Daniel’s head, the new man placed his hands atop the patient’s crown. Faith first thought he might be one of the doctors, but she noticed he wore no gloves or surgical cape. Her mouth dropped open in stupefaction. She listened to the visitor call upon Raphael in prayer. She didn’t recognize any other word he said, which might have been in any one of fifty-six living languages in the Alliance. Or his speech

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had been obscured by his back to her. Was this how they did it on Sylanta, when the priest gave last rites? Raphael, Raphael… A local deity? What if this man were one of the people who’d ambushed Daniel? Faith was about to kick the door open, jump on the man’s back, and scream her bloody head off. Suddenly, Daniel came alive. Meters and beeping machines sped up, registering a swift and dramatic improvement. If the meters found his body failing, alarms would sound at the nurse’s station, bringing a wave of staff, but would alarms sound if the patient instantly improved? She couldn’t see what the dark-headed man did to Daniel, but he appeared to remove the breathing tube that kept a broken man alive. The sight chilled her. Before she could react to what she saw, Daniel sat up in bed under his own power. Faith lost her breath! Her hands flew to her mouth to keep a shriek from ripping out. Stunned to the point of forgotten oxygen, she watched both men whisper to one another. The dark-haired man drew the IVs from the patient’s wrists, and both men began to break away the casts. The new man drew a big knife for the job and sawed through the cast materials. Faith’s sight shot to the panic button in the bathroom that would draw nurses and doctors. If she punched the button, she’d interrupt a miracle in progress. But it would make a great story. She knew a Pulitzer when she saw one. She punched the button, setting off an alarm. Hurrying, the dark-headed man yanked the metal cords and traction weights holding the patient there from the ceiling mounts. Daniel ripped the bandages from his head, revealing a head of gray hair, a small shaved spot with stitches. Faith gasped again. She’d seen his guts hanging out of his body! Her reaction was too audible. Both men’s heads snapped to the bathroom to catch Faith standing there and witnessing the impossible. They appeared equally surprised to see her! “Faith!” Daniel exclaimed, his gray eyes bright with recognition.

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Footstomps coming down the hall sounded seconds away from busting through the door. Still with one leg in a cast, he pointed at her and ordered the dark-haired man, “Take her!” The dark-haired man took several steps, and he just kept growing bigger as he closed in on her. She took a swing at him, but he stopped her fist effortlessly in his big palm. Dissembling her defense, he snatched her up by her waist, kicking and screaming. As the medical staff burst through the door to save a life, the entire room disappeared from Faith’s sight. The two men teleported her away. And one of them had been dying before her eyes just seconds ago.

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Chapter 5 “Unhand me! Don’t touch me!” Faith shouted at the very tall, darkheaded healer, and she jerked from his grip. Unaffected by her fight, he disappeared down a hallway as she looked around to see Daniel Tierney in his hospital gown hobbling to a chair and returning to the task of freeing his leg from the remaining cast. Good. She’d just seen a dying man rise, and she thought she should give it a moment’s consideration. Her head spinning from the travel, Faith examined her new surroundings, a bright, white-walled apartment or house furnished tastefully in a masculine modern design. Outside large windows, a sunrise had broken an hour ago, or it was an hour away from sundown on any one of the Alliance’s fifteen worlds. All she saw out the window was flat desert for kilometers, a few brown scrub bushes to break up the desert’s beige environment. Far away stood a humongous mesa jutting from the flat plains striped in earthy shades from rust and brick to the resident tan plain all around it. That huge rock and a few others far away were the only things in this direction. She couldn’t imagine so little to see outside her door. Sending her eye back through the home, she studied the smooth and molded walls to determine she stood in a gigantic shell, a one-piece structure parked in the desert. It was a terrific place to live, if one didn’t wish to be entertained by one’s environment. Or be found. Ah… Not be found… She watched in silence as the dark-headed healer returned with clothes and a tool, and he joined Daniel in removing his last cast. She could hardly believe she watched the biker breathe, move without extreme medical assistance. The silent purpose with which they worked said they’d done it

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before. Who were these guys? What just happened back there? Where was she? How could she make this pay off for her? How much would her editor pay for a story packed with secret invisiblesuit technology, an interstellar teleport, and an authentic healer? Ka-ching! She smelled a book deal! She’d make the interview rounds on all the best news channels throughout the Alliance for months. Now she needed three hundred pages of brow-raising adventure. Well, really about one hundred fifty pages of adventure. She’d detail that into three hundred pages, and land the Pulitzer that went with her fancy gown. How could she get these guys to reveal their secrets? She bet she hadn’t seen their last bit of magic. As soon as Daniel’s foot was free of the last cast, he sprang from the chair, spanned the big main room, and ended up before her. He was very tall, more than a head taller than her, and broad at the shoulders, the rest of him shrouded in the surgical gown. She craned her neck and stood on her toes, and still didn’t make close to his eye level. She felt small in front of him, his sudden proximity dangerous, spotting the fire in his eyes. He put a long finger of accusation in her face. “What the hell were you doing on Sylanta, Faith, in the middle of the Blindfold fields? Who put you there at the moment of my ambush?” Who put her there? She’d been following Freak’s directions, but he hadn’t given her a timetable. She didn’t know how she’d convince the biker it was only a coincidence of timing. That they knew about the Blindfold fields was disheveling. “If you, Daniel Tierney, think I will respond to your bullying, you can forget it. That’s right! I know your name!” He put up his hands in a mock self-defense. “I better back up before you whip into a whirlwind of Onterie and kick my ass!” Her eyes swelled in surprise. She often used that little ditty in needy situations. Sometimes it gave a stupid attacker pause. She wouldn’t have bothered with that showstopper the first night, if she’d seen the Invisible Man’s size. She’d have better luck bringing down a sequoia, even with

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Onterie, which she didn’t know and couldn’t even fake well. He’d laugh at her, if she tried. Yes, the more he spoke, the more his voice and attitude sounded like the Invisible Man’s. She had committed the ghost’s every word, every tone, every inflection in her head for replay. “Don’t be so rough on her,” the healer admonished Daniel in a soft voice, sorting items beside a tablet computer positioned on a glass-topped, wrought-iron table before the big leather couch that could have sat six people. “She has a concussion.” “Well, heal her of it!” Daniel ordered. “She won’t let me touch her, and I can’t heal from here.” Daniel turned his ghostly eyes back onto her, and calmly suggested, “Let him touch and heal you.” “I don’t know him!” “You know me,” the biker risen from sure death insisted. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t.” “I’m the invisible man you met up with on Valdeya. And you know it, or you wouldn’t have stayed by my side on the road.” “Healer, did you say Daniel’s completely healed?” she asked the man at the table. “He’s whole and in order,” the healer replied, his attention on his project. Faith slapped Daniel’s face. “That’s for watching me dress!” Stung, he rubbed her print from his cheek. “How did you learn I watched you dress?” “You just told me.” “Oh, blitz!” the healer exclaimed, and he belted out a hearty chuckle. Daniel sent her daggers with penetrating eyes. Tricking the admission from him felt great. What else could she maneuver him into doing, admitting, or giving up? He looked like a Pulitzer to her. “Now, where the hell am I? And where’s the nearest police station so I can press abduction charges?” Daniel laughed in her face. “You can walk out of here right now.”

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“Into a desert?” “No one here will hold you back. Go west to reach Capital City. Beware of the reptiles and the arachnids for the next few thousand kilometers. They’re very well camouflaged and have no fear of humans. Watch out for the ants, too. They can swarm you in seconds.” She did the calculations in her head to figure she was located in Sacred Sand Desert on planet Reigna, three thousand kilometers from any big settlement of civilized life. A death trap, for sure. She didn’t want to leave. That was good because leaving by foot didn’t sound feasible. She wanted to look Daniel over and convince herself of his wellness. Blood no longer soaked his thick mop of gray hair. He still wore the patient gown ending above his knees and exposing moderately hairy, muscular legs. She’d seen them crushed. Witnessing them whole and functioning for him caused a shiver through her. She’d watched him dying, and the present view of him before her, standing and waving his arms, yelling at her, made her break out into an unwanted emotional display. She started weeping. “I thought you were dead. You were dying all around me, in my hands, before my eyes!” “Don’t worry,” the healer informed them, “Emotional instability is just a symptom of her concussion.” “I thought that was a symptom of womanhood.” She considered stomping Daniel’s foot for the smart remark but she figured he’d been through enough injury today. Daniel looked like he didn’t know what to do with her outburst, so he took her into his warm arms and pressed her against him. His body heat seemed abnormally high, but the warmth eased the turmoil. The smell of him was familiar. She tried to stop the blubbering, but the stress of the event just erupted onto his gowned shoulder. She’d never been so close to seeing another person’s death. He patted her on the back in half-committed sympathy. “I’ve never had a woman slap me, then walk into my arms,” he told his talented friend. “Had it the other way around a few times.” The healer replied, “You probably whispered something dirty in their

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ears.” “That sounds like me.” “Were you invisible and watching those women dress then?” Faith smarted off. “No, you were my first on that.” Drying up crazy tears with his gown, she parted from him, and worked to recover from the outburst, relieved not to be picking out a funeral dress to say good-bye to the stranger who’d spilled his guts in front of her. “I doubt any of them watched you die. Unless you do this often.” “Danny actually does nearly kill himself with regularity,” the healer put into the conversation. Danny groaned at his friend, and then regarded her. “Well, you can tell my healer’s a really good healer, can’t you?” “I can honestly say, I’ve never seen better.” “Then give him a try.” “I feel fine.” The healer looked up from his work, his lips an uneasy straight line, and she noticed his extraordinary peridot eyes. “You really do have a concussion. I could tell when I caught your fist. But you’ll probably live without intervention. Take it easy and get rest.” “I’ll stick with that.” She held her hand out to him in a proper greeting, something the ICU room scene lacked. “I’m Faith. Thank you for healing Daniel.” The handsome healer burst into a funny smile and shook her hand. “She sounds like she owns you already, Danny. Maybe she’s earned a little part of you for suffering along with you through your little bike accident. Which you probably prolonged because you liked her attention. Hello, Faith. Danny’s spoken of you. My name is Sean.” “You’re Sean! I wanted to reach through the palm computer and punch you in the nose when you hung up on me.” “Sorry about hanging up on you, but time was precious.” Sean sent his light eyes to Daniel. “And I’ve no gift for stretching time.” “Danny’s spoken of me? He no doubt told his friends his tale of

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harassing me, watching me dress, and dumping me on Reigna.” Danny disposed of their frivolous conversation and went right for the jugular again. “Faith, why were you on that road at that moment?” She wasn’t going to part with her one lead from her one source. She was lucky she had that. After the Invisible Man had tossed her back on Reigna without the leads and sources she’d built, her chief editor had busted her down from city crime desk to the home crafts blog. Home crafts blog! It was too far a fall for a good investigative reporter. When Freak had found her again to sell a lead, she’d emptied her bank account to get to Sylanta. There wasn’t anything Daniel Tierney could do to her that would make her part with that lead. Only God could make me part with that lead. “It was a total accident,” she swore, crossing her fingers behind her back. “A weird collision of fates.” “Just two people coincidentally running into one another again in the fifteen Alliance worlds. Total accident.” She straightened her shoulders and held her ground. “Who the hell are you, kidnapping me? For a second time.” Danny stepped aside, showing her the door. “Call a taxi.” Damnit. Every dollar she owned was in a bag sitting in that hovercraft on Sylanta. Once again, the Invisible Man had cost her everything. She held her hand out expectantly. “You’ll need to compensate me for your multiple abductions.” “Relocations,” he reminded her. “Necessary to save your life.” Her sight roamed him under the guise of anger. Damn, he was goodlooking for a guy who was dying minutes ago. Or any guy at all. His eyes could have her for dinner. He made her a little weak. “Maybe the first time on Valdeya. I’d asked questions of gun-toting Neanderthals. I might have pissed off some people… But this time I wasn’t in danger. This time I saved your life.” “You think so?” “Yeah, I do!” His lips curved into a superior smile. “Who do you think the police have

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assumed hit the guy on the bike? Your hovercraft and belongings have been found at the accident site and traced. Back on Sylanta, they’re writing a warrant for your arrest now. Vehicular manslaughter, Fleeing-responsibilityfor-an-accident will be the charges.” She crossed her arms over her bosom. “They have no body. No body, no crime.” He shook his head, his mane of salt-and-pepper hair skimming his broad, hospital-gowned shoulders. Sight of the mundane motion gave her a shot of sexual thrill to which she’d never admit. “Oh, they’ll wish to take you into custody just to get an explanation about what happened back at the hospital before reliable witnesses. That warrant will soon circle the Alliance. At any port, you’ll find arrest orders and escorts awaiting you when you take your first step from a shuttle. I’ll see to it that it happens just like that.” Ah, shit. He sounded like a cop. Only the I-Marshals had that kind of interplanetary criminal jurisdiction throughout the Alliance. These guys weren’t going to identify themselves as I-Marshals to her, a reporter, but she might learn something hanging out with them. Cops or no, they’d caught her rubbing elbows with street soldiers on Valdeya and touring the Blindfold farms on Sylanta. At least three people had set a trap on a lonely road intended to kill Danny. Perhaps a bigger story than she’d ever imagined lay beneath the surface. Danny and Sean wanted something from her, but they’d be disappointed to learn she only had the thinnest of leads from an unfamiliar source she couldn’t reach at will. What if these guys were dirty cops, and they protected the product by keeping her from her goal? Or a rival cartel? What if Danny’s attempted murder was just average gangland territorial bullshit? She drilled her vision way up into his ghostly sight barreling down on her. “You’re a liar, Lazarus. That’s reaching too far. Show me a badge, and I’ll buy your story.” He gave her no reply on his identity or his miracle-working friend’s. “I am going back to Sylanta.” His eyes lazily, sarcastically blinked down at her. “On what, your good

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looks?” “They were enough to make you take a gander when you were invisible.” A venomous scowl on his face for her challenge, Danny marched to the chair where his friend had laid some clothes, and, with little shame to slow him, he ripped off the hospital gown to dress himself, daring her to turn from him naked in front of her. Faith kept her eyes above his broad shoulders, imagining her spine filling with steel so she wouldn’t wuss out and turn away. It wasn’t like she’d never seen a naked man. She’d seen plenty of them! Maybe none so fine as Danny. His lustrous salt-and-pepper hair grazed his big, pale shoulders in his movement. His alpha-male gray eyes were fixed on her. His mouth was pursed into a miffed pout. Sean passed Danny a pair of scissors, and in her peripheral sight, he cut through the bandage wrapping his stomach. Then he pulled the sleeveless cotton muscle shirt over his head in a temperamental jerk. If she let her vision fall, she knew she will have lost the battle of wills. “There,” he declared, zipping up his jeans. “We’re even.” “No, we aren’t, because I never gave you permission to watch me dress. You undressed willfully before me. And I didn’t peek.” He seemed displeased to have failed at exploiting a weakness in her. When he turned back to the chair to retrieve the hospital gown, her sight fell all over him, taking in the breadth of his hard-packed shoulders, sinewy back, and tight, sculpted abs in a very snug shirt. His fat, naked, weight-built biceps rolled and tensed with his every reach. Oh… It launched another unbidden shot of hunger through her body and soul. He had to stop doing that to her. The army-green T-shirt he wore read, Semper Fidelis, Always Faithful. Except for his almost shoulder-length hair, he looked like he could be a Marine, damn biggest Marine she’d ever seen. Noticing the long length of his legs wrapped in tight, dark-blue, cotton jeans made her mouth water. He had the nicest round ass she’d ever seen. He might be the most fabulous thing she ever laid eyes upon. She watched him pace down the hallway of

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the home and vanish behind a door. Oh, he was fun to look at. Whew…. Didn’t they have temperaturecontrol in this shack? Was she sweating? What planet grew the men that big and good-looking? She’d head there right away and do an exposé on their mating rituals. In-depth analysis. She realized her mouth hung open, and she closed it, glad to see she hadn’t drooled. Sean started snickering on the couch. She regarded the healer, a sour purse to her lips. “What’s so funny?” “The two of you.” “What’s so funny about us?” “You two will hit the sack in record time.” “No, we won’t. I hate him already, and he has nothing I want.” “Your eyes betray you, Faith.” Sean gave her an insightful examination, the kind wise men give their ignorant students. “If you didn’t care about Danny, you would not have gone to his ICU room. You would not have stayed with him on the road.” “I had compassion for a stranger in trouble.” The healer disagreed, as though he knew her better than she knew herself. “Some deep part of you recognized that you’d seen him before. Maybe not seen…but you knew him. Now and then, souls recognize one another when conscious minds do not.” Defiant, she sat on the overstuffed brown-velvet chair beside the long leather couch, and she dropped her go-go boots atop his table, recrossed her arms over her bosom to be reminded of Danny’s blood on her clothes. She untied the forgotten surgical mask and flung it across the room. “Yeah, well, he owes me for all the money he’s cost me in traveling expenses.” Her hand rose to her forehead, remembering her injury. “And now healthcare costs. And wear and tear.” Sean rose and tossed her the extra shirt draped over the chair back Danny had left behind so she could discard the bloody top. “I’m guessing there’s more wear and tear to come,” he commented with a conspiratorial grin. “Yeah, great. That’s the last time I stop for a bleeding man.”

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“I don’t think it will be the last time. If you want to get rid of him, give him your source. If you don’t…then don’t.” “Aren’t you the little devil on my shoulder.” “I’m the angel, honey.” His faceted eyes glittered above a playful grin. “Of course, giving Danny your source might keep him from ICU again. The longer it takes for us to learn who ambushed him, the longer he has to stay in hiding until he produces the body of his would-be killer. We don’t have time for that. The longer he has to stand still, the stronger he’s going to come after you.” “That’s not comforting, Sean.” She found the shower room at the healer’s directions and was happy to change out of the blouse. Thankfully, she wasn’t squeamish at the sight of blood. She rinsed the garment and hung it over the rack in the shower. Of course, the T-shirt Sean gave her was his size and hung from her shoulders like a sack. In the mirror, she saw letters of a foreign language turned backward and didn’t pay it any attention. When she returned to the living room, she combed her fingers into her long red tresses, grasped the shafts, and told herself not to pull her hair out. “Who are you guys?” she asked Sean, busied with his computer project. “People you should listen to, Faith. You’ve twice put yourself in dangerous territory. Why don’t you tell me what your lead is about? What do you seek in the grow fields of Sylanta?” His potent peridot sight rose to her, infusing her with a compulsion that she could and should confide in him. Unnatural for her to trust strangers, she was instantly aware of the inducement, and still felt her opposition to his will slip. She got the feeling if she gazed into those eyes too long, she might find a reason to tell him what Danny and he wanted to know. And that would blow her story out of space. Her Pulitzer shelf would remain barren, her Pulitzer gown unworn. That seemed criminal to her. Faith’s palm computer, jammed in her skirt pocket, began to ring, breaking her slow slide into cooperation. She tugged the device from her pocket, and caller ID told her it was an unknown caller, but she recognized

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the number as the one Freak had given her for contact. Danny came from the hallway, drawn by the ring, and he saw her holding the computer. “Who’s calling you, Faith? Someone on Sylanta?” Danny menaced her with his size and expression. That was when she noticed he was dressed in full black racing leathers, similar to those he’d worn when he’d crashed, except these had jagged neon-blue claw marks down one side of his chest. Gawd, he was sexy in leather. Oh… Her thighs warmed on sight of him. She really had to stop reacting sexually to his presence. He really had to stop turning her on with a sexy scowl, a warrior-perfect build wrapped in leather that made her tremble. Everything else about him scared her to death. She pretended to reread the palm comp’s message, stalling for a good answer. “It’s my mother doing a check-in. I haven’t spoken to her in a few days. She probably wants to know when I’m coming home. When am I going home, Danny?” “Tell her you’re leaving here ten seconds after you give up your gang contacts.” He held his palm out and wagged his fingers. “Give me your computer, Faith.” Get dressed, Faith. Get off this planet, Faith. Give me your computer, Faith. She shoved the device back in the front pocket of her skirt. “No, you don’t need my comp. You can just believe me.” Determination on his face, he crossed the room to get to her, and, afraid of him, she snatched the comp from her pocket, opened it, and broke it in half, disabling the display. He snatched the two pieces from her hands and ruefully examined them. Then he passed them to Sean. The healer inspected the bottom piece, pulled a cord from a small box of cords beside his computer, and he began to download its contents. “Sean’s going to cross-reference every number he finds in your comp,” Danny warned. “Would you like to save him the time?” “No.” Clearly disgusted with her, Danny marched back into his room.

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Faith scrutinized Sean, typing away at his computer. “I thought you were reasonable.” “No more reasonable than Danny. You have to give up your source, Faith. If you don’t, Danny will torture you until you do.” “Torture?” “Of a sort.” Danny came from the hallway, two crash helmets and a leather jacket in his hands. “Heads up,” he said, and threw a helmet into her hands, nearly knocking her off-balance. She rolled the scuffed white helmet in her grip. “Oh, no. You’re not putting me on a bike.” Danny tossed her the black, studded jacket. “I go biking when I’m frustrated.” “Have a fine time. One would think you’d had your fill for the day, having spread your guts over the street. Why should I have to go?” “Because you’re the thing that frustrates me. Put on that jacket or I’ll put it on you, and I’m going to make it hurt.” Sean started snickering again. “Aren’t you going to stop him?” she snapped at Sean. “Couldn’t he give me brain damage, hauling me around like this?” “If you get brain damage, you’ll have no problem with me healing you. You’d better put that jacket on. It’s cold on that bike the way he drives.” “The way he drives?” She stared at Danny, standing there in cool black leather, his helmet under his arm, his salt-and-pepper hair awry. He wore thick-soled biker boots that had seen a lot of spills in their day. He looked extra super-sexy to the extreme. Growl. The scowl on his face was steamy. “What if I refuse?” He pointed out the window to the big mesa in the open desert. The sun sank behind it. “You either get on that bike now, or I’ll teleport you onto that bike as I’m on a vertical launch up that rock’s side. If you don’t have a concussion now, it’ll give you one.” She cast her sight again out the window to the rock. It had to stand as

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tall as a skyscraper. “You’re…going up that thing?” “No, we are going up that thing.” “Don’t make Faith throw up, Danny,” Sean advised. Her mouth dropped open to see the healer would offer little more sense than a casual advisement. “Yeah, Danny!” she exclaimed. “Don’t make Faith throw up! Faith hates throwing up!” He rushed her out the door before her words found rest. He was too big to argue with. Her eyes focused on the mesa several kilometers away, the fireball sinking behind it, as she donned his large, heavy jacket. It was already getting cold. Was there a ramp to the top around the other side of that oversized rock? Vertical launch? He had to be bullshitting her. She watched him engage the ignition of a ratty old hover-bike that looked like it had seen ten crashes too many. The casing had been removed, exposing the dirt-caked hardware and machinery, revealing to all what a piece of crap it was. The air-jets brought the bike off the ground atop a cushion of forced air. He reached for his helmet and jammed it onto his head, only to grit his teeth for reasons she didn’t see. Then he snatched her helmet from her hands, tugged it onto her head with caution for her bandage, and strapped it on as if she wouldn’t do it without him. He zipped up her jacket like he dressed a five-year-old. Then he mounted the bike, kicked the stand, and popped the clutch. The bike surged forward, but the brake held it in place. “Climb on,” he ordered. Not knowing how she’d get out of it, she climbed onto the bike behind him, assuring herself it would soon be over. When she grabbed hold of the bar behind her to hang on, he snapped, “No, wrap your arms around my waist.” She huffed a relenting breath and wrapped her arms around his midsection. He was lucky she hadn’t eaten in a while. “You gonna hang on?” “Yes, I’ll hang on.”

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“No, you won’t because it’s impossible for you to hang on.” She felt the metal of cuffs capture her wrists, and couldn’t pull from his reach before he had both her hands cuffed around his waist. He was so fast! “You’ll thank me for that.” “I doubt it.” Then he released the brake and hit the acceleration. The jerk pulled her hands apart, and would have dumped her hard on the ground, if the cuffs hadn’t prevented her buck. Before she knew it, they shot toward the mesa like a bullet, gone from zero to blur in seconds. She fought the wind and clutched her hands again for dear life. Leaning forward close to the shield for more aerodynamic shape, he drove like a demon on the fast track to hell. The wind battered her face shield, and the desert zipped by. The cuffs around his waist made her lean forward with him to see the wind less abusive, so she lay against his back for the least resistance and tightened her hold around him. For too short a moment, the closeness felt intimate. The wind was freezing. She didn’t think she’d ever been on any vehicle driving this fast that wasn’t headed for outer space. She stretched over his shoulder and watched the speedometer soar past normal numbers. Three hundred Ks per hour, five hundred Ks per hour, seven hundred Ks per hour. She stopped looking when the numbers soared past eight hundred. Her sight darted to the rust-striped mesa up ahead and closing in at a heart-thumping speed. Going faster. Getting closer. Did she sit with him on the roadside just to see him splatter both their bodies onto a desert rock? If he had a ramp to make, he’d better start slowing down. But they gained speed, the wall of rock he aimed for rushing up to them. There was no escape for her. They traveled at such a drastic speed, she could see no detail of anything near them, only more mesas in the distance. Five kilometers to go, and Danny didn’t correct their path. There was no way to stop him. The mesa fast approached. Faith clamped shut her eyes, tightened her arms around his gorgeous hard body, and awaited the smack of

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Chapter 6 Instead of being smeared against the mesa, she felt a huge gravity shift, and the cuffs caught her fall again. Hugging Danny for dear life, she opened her eyes to see the ground gaining distance below them. They scaled the wall of that rock so fast, gravity didn’t get the chance to drag them down. In less than two seconds, very suddenly, they were atop the caprock. Danny hit the brakes, sending the bike into an abrupt stop he was ready for, but she wasn’t. Her helmet crashed into his. “Isn’t this nice,” he said, killing the air-jet engine and tugging off his gloves. The sunset colorized the clouds above the faraway horizon. Faith gasped for air in a panic attack. Danny quickly released the cuffs confining her arms around his waist, leapt off the bike, and grasped her helmet with his big hands. “Breathe long!” he ordered, and Faith forced herself to take long, slow breaths, no matter how shallow. It wasn’t easy at first, but it started working, and she soon felt the panic subsiding. Her heartbeat pounding in her chest began to slow. Livid, she yanked off her helmet and sent venomous confrontation in her eyes squinted for murder. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” “No.” He tugged his helmet off, releasing his mop of dark gray hair, and he winced, ignoring her plight. Then he pointed to the purpling horizon, the sun a bright disk sinking into the flat desert land far away. Pastels colorized the smears of clouds skirting the sky. “I didn’t want to miss the sunset. It helps me think.” Once she popped the quick release of the remaining cuff and caught her breath, she could see why he didn’t wish to miss the desert sunset. The view was awe-inspiring. The clouds looked like hunks of cotton candy spun in the

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sky and hanging for a child to pluck and enjoy. The clusters swayed, morphing despite the stillness of the breeze at the ground. The desert air smelled of parched sand and life reflection. “Are you going to be a little-sissy-whiney-britches now?” “Little-sissy-whiney-britches?” She was slapped indignant by the remark. “I regularly go bungee jumping!” “I bungee-jump in my sleep. While I’m dreaming of doing something else more exciting. What do you have against reverse-gravity?” “Nature! That’s what I’ve got against reverse-gravity!” “Oh, I get it.” He rolled his eyes. “Brave enough to chase gangs, but can’t take a perceived violation of physics.” He reached for her hand and began to tug her to the edge of the mesa. She slammed her brakes, skidding against his motion, afraid he would throw her off the flipping rock, but that was worthless work. He was big, strong, and determined to haul her around like a ragdoll. When they reached the ledge, he released her. She glimpsed down to find herself several stories in the air, and she appreciated that he’d cuffed her hands around his waist, but wouldn’t say it aloud. She would have fallen off that bike. She couldn’t have held on. She backed up from the edge, nervous of slipping, but Danny sat down on the ledge, dangled his boots over the side. He turned around to see her caution. “You don’t have to sit, but you do have to remove my stitches.” She blinked a few times, watching him draw a small kit from his jacket. He opened the case to display a manicure kit. “Stitches?” “Yeah, stitches. You know, I was just in a little accident. The doctors put stitches in my head, and they make wearing the helmet uncomfortable. Sean makes me wear the helmet because he doesn’t like to look at my brain. In pieces. Plus, the helmet of my super-soldier suit must have a snug and comfortable fit to operate. Take the stitches out.” He passed her the kit. The super-soldier suit. That was a sweet story right there. What were the chances he’d let her see that suit? She stared at the instruments, nail clippers, tweezers. “I don’t know how to do this. Can’t Sean do this?” He smirked up to her standing above him. “Yeah, Sean can do this, but

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he’s not here. I’ll have him take out the others, but I need you to take the ones out of my head for the helmet.” She pointed in the direction from which they’d come since she couldn’t see the house they’d left behind at this distance. “Sure, I could get him to do it, but I want you to do it. You’re more fun to look at.” She had to call him on it to point out the weakness. “Did you just hit on me?” “Yeah, I did. Take it like a pro, little-sissy-whiney-britches. Use the tweezers to lift the stitch, then clip it with the nail cutters. Please.” He parted his thick gray hair to reveal ten, fifteen stitches. Did she have a choice? He had used the magic please word. “What if you get an infection from unsterile instruments?” Sean. “Oh, yeah, never mind.” With the sun spilling its final shafts of light, she carefully lifted each stitch, cut it, and eased it from flesh that had been ripped open and bleeding, now whole and unscarred. “Let me give you a woman’s perspective of your friend’s looks, buddy. Sean’s damn easy on the eyes. The man is flat gorgeous.” Danny turned his frown up to her to punctuate his mild annoyance. “I hadn’t noticed since he’s not my type.” The scowl gave her something with which to tease him. “Well, he’s my type. Tall, dark, handsome. And the healing thing could come in handy from time to time. If he mentions me, give him my comm number.” She just said it to irritate Danny. His scowl tightened—bull’s-eye!—and he turned back to the sunset so she could work. “Good luck on beating your competition. He’s my best friend, and no one knows him better than me. Sean’s like a priest. He’s in love with the Maker. He can’t be distracted from that.” “I’ve known many men of the Church, and there are two things guaranteed to take most men’s minds off God.” She pointed to her C-cups. Danny stared at them for about five seconds.

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Faith pointed to her face. “I’m up here.” He cocked a brow and a diabolical smile, then he went back to his sunset. She held the last stitch up, clipped it, and tugged the thread from his skin when she really wanted to run her fingers through his thick mop of soft hair grazing her palms as she worked. Didn’t she have the perfect excuse? So she did it, ran her hands through his hair a time or two, and stopped before it became obvious she’d stolen a thrill from the act. Even worse, before it turned him on. She collected the tools back into its case and passed the kit back to him. A sparkle in his eye, he rubbed his hand over the place the stitches had been. “Good job, thanks. I’ll get Sean to remove the rest of the stitches.” Of course, he had to have more stitches. “Let me see them.” Danny pulled up his shirt, revealing railroad tracks of stitches, a long track down the middle of his torso, a track across the bottom of his ribcage, one around his bellybutton disappearing into his jeans. She gasped, having missed seeing them when he’d changed before her, when she’d refused to look below his broad shoulders. Seeing him lying with his guts spilt on the road came back to her. “Oh, gawd, Danny! There must be…two fifty, three hundred stitches here! Or more.” “Sean, Faith,” Danny said to remind her of the full and dramatic healing she’d witnessed. “It’s over, and I’m not hurt.” She inspected a little closer to see the skin was indeed whole beneath the black knots. The healing was nothing less than a miracle, and Danny seemed to treat it like it was all in a day’s work to smear his vital organs over a road and call upon a healer to fix the damage. She was never riding that bike with him again. He reached up for her hand and pulled her down to sit beside him and watch the sunset, just now disappearing below the horizon. His big hand was very warm and didn’t let go right away. A golden and fading sheen cast upon everything in the desert receded into the faraway land. “They are damn nice boobs.”

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“Yeah, well, you’ll never see them again.” She watched a slow grin rise back to his kissable mouth. “I wouldn’t bet on that.” “Gonna sneak invisible into my house again?” He held his grin. “I might.” “Isn’t that against the law? Are you cops allowed to break the law?” He didn’t answer the questions, smartly. Because she wanted to trick him into admitting this was an I-Marshal production. Come on, Danny. Tell me the truth. But he did say, “I’m gonna break whatever law it entertains me to break. If it’s fun, I’ll break it twice.” Damn. “Well, why not? You break Newton’s Laws.” He just grinned. Sherbet shades of clouds crowned the sinking sun. She never thought the desert could be so beautiful with the colorful mesas standing like faraway soldiers at attention in the twilight. The temperature dropped quickly. “Are you going to take me home?” “Yes, right after you share your source with me.” “You can put that request where the sun doesn’t shine.” “It wasn’t a request.” He climbed to his boots and started walking toward the bike. She panicked, rose, and dashed after him. “You’re not leaving me here!” He stopped, leered down at her like she was a bug, then he tugged on his helmet. “Damn right, I am. You can spend the night up here. Think warm thoughts. The desert gets near freezing this time of year. I hope you don’t roll a lot in your sleep. In fact, I wouldn’t move at all once darkness hits, or you could fall right off this rock. I don’t think the vipers will crawl this high, but I could be wrong about that. Definitely avoid the spiders. One bite will stop your heart.” “You wouldn’t dare leave me up here!” He grabbed a hold of the oversized jacket she wore and hauled her to his suddenly angry expression, frightening her. She tried not to show it, but she

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felt her eyes bulge at thought of him throwing her off that rock. “Lady, this is a story to you. But it’s my life. You ended up on the very spot of my attempted murder. I want to know who put you there. You’re giving me your source, or you’re spending the night here. In the morning, I’m going to come for you and do something else terrible to you. You aren’t going home until I get your source. Why? Because I’m a bad person with few boundaries.” He released her but kept the promise in his ghostly eyes. He didn’t say he’d hurt her, but he appeared to leave the option on the table. When she gave no response, he spun, mounted the bike, and engaged the hover-bike’s air-jets. He would leave her there in dangerous terrain with poisonous creatures, not a drop of water for company. He was that bad a person. When he kicked the kickstand, she yelled, “Wait!” He cupped his hand over his helmet where his ear was below the padding and plastic. “I’ll tell you everything I know if you get me off this damned rock and take me home.” Danny kicked the stand, cut the air-jets building pressure, removed his helmet, and sat on the bike, faking patience. Oh, she loathed to share it with him. “I got a lead on Valdeya. To meet a man who was supposed to be connected with Blindfold shipments originating from Sylanta. I didn’t meet him because some invisible thug kidnapped me from my home that night.” Danny’s bored expression bounced the guilt-arrows right off him. “What do you know about this man?” “Nothing, not even his name. Never laid eyes on him, never spoke to him. He messaged me weeks later, and told me about the grow fields on Sylanta. I don’t even know how he found me.” “You do write a popular home crafts blog.” Oh, gawd, she wanted to belt him for reminding her “The source had given me general directions to the area, and a date but not a time. I assume he’d planned to call me when I’d reached the property with specific directions to his place. So he couldn’t have intentionally put me at the place

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of your ambush at the right timing.” “Give me the coordinates of your meeting.” “I’d abandoned them in the hovercraft to be by your side.” He rubbed the light and dark shadow on his chin. “I’ll get your belongings from the evidence locker of Valdeya’s authorities.” Wow, how could he do that? Oh, yeah, invisible suit. “Get my money, too. My current life savings was bundled for a bribe offer.” “You’re not likely to see the money again.” She threw her hands up into the air. Pursuit of her Pulitzer had twice cost her everything. “Do you know anything else about this source?” “That’s all I know. I doubt he’ll even contact me again since I’ve blown two meetings. Now take me home.” Danny shook his head, sending his lustrous hair into his vision. “Not until you agree to contact me if he reaches out to you again.” Faith threw her hands into the air a second time. “Sure. I’ll just give you every lead I get so you can crush my career.” “Have you run out of doily patterns for your blog?” Gawd, she wanted to punch him. “You know, you have to give me something. You have to make it worth my time.” Entertained, he shook his head again, wearing his sly little smile for her to dread. “I don’t think I do. I hold all the power.” “Not so. I’ve seen your healer in action, and that’s a story right there. Who is Raphael?” Visibly moved by her threat to drop his grin, he put his demanding finger in her face. “I’ll be reading every word you write, Faith. If you write your name, I’ll learn of it. If I come across a story about Sean, I’m coming to your place. And I’ll be rip-roaring angry.” Faith gave him her hardest assessment. “That’s right. You’re a killer, aren’t you, Danny? Are you going to kill me?” His stare grew colder in answer to her evil eye. He kept that finger in her face. She didn’t know what he was thinking, and she feared the

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possibilities. Whatever Sean and he were about, it would probably proceed more smoothly if Faith sank into the ocean in a nice pair of concrete go-go boots. To her surprise, his hand reached down and grasped her wrist, and a blink later, she found Danny and herself standing in her small home, still daylight in Capital City. She didn’t know how he did it, all this planethopping. Anyone with enough money could do it locally, but not over lightyears. When she twisted her wrist from his grasp, he took a step up close to her, menacing her again. She could smell the sweat of the long and eventful day on him, and it sent her blood into a rush. “How are you teleporting us with no device?” She had to know. “I have a chip in my head that contacts a computer in my pocket. The computer contacts the teleport with travel orders.” She grimaced, repulsed. “You let them crack your skull open and fiddle with your brain?” “Faith, focus.” He blew off her question to firmly tilt her chin up to him, causing her to expect his harsh gaze. But his gray eyes weren’t frigid or domineering. They were concerned, maybe even a little disturbed. “Don’t let me catch you in the grow fields of Sylanta again.” Then he was gone. Damnit. “Don’t let me catch you dying on a roadside again!” He better start getting sweeter to me… She rushed to her computer at her desk and researched the memorized address listed on Daniel Tierney’s citizen ID, only to find a dreary apartment building. A call to the management office and a clever lie confirmed an apartment was rented in Daniel Tierney’s name, but the manager had never met him. Next, she researched the name Raphael for which she found dozens of references from an ancient painter to a pastgovernor of Alpha Draconis to a mythological creature. The sheer number of entries halted her search. After that, she searched for everything she could find on the I-Marshals, which was surprisingly little when she waded through the few vague,

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repeated facts and sexy headlines of tremendous busts and Most-Wanted arrests. She called a friend assigned to the Alliance beat desk at the paper and sniffed around for clues. The friend warned her to get another hobby and not ask again. One thing was obvious. The I-Marshals were mysterious ass-kickers unlikely to put up with her. Faith boarded the cross-town trolley to the address on Danny’s ID. During the ride, she held up a mirror to her wound, and she lifted the bandage. Her scrape was gone, and she remembered shaking Sean’s hand after the discussion of her concussion. She had to assume he’d taken care of the concussion, as well. Stepping off the trolley in front of Danny’s apartment, she spotted a maintenance worker digging through a dead flower bed, and she begged him to allow her to retrieve a college book she’d left in Danny’s apartment just last night. The superintendent unlocked the apartment door to reveal an empty apartment. No furniture, no personal belongings, nothing but dust floating through sunbeams pouring through the windows. The worker glared at her for the lie, so she spun and ran for her life. That’s what she liked about chunky-heeled go-go boots. They were easy to run in. All the way home on the maglev trolley, she pondered the identities of the men she’d met. Were Danny and Sean cops? They sounded like they were, but hadn’t admitted it. There was no reference to their names in any I-Marshal or media document she could find. Her friend at the paper hadn’t recognized Danny’s name. Cops don’t call themselves killers, but Danny had used the word in reference to himself and had made it clear he’d be very dangerous to buck. The men could just as easily be a part of a rival gang with the goal of stealing the Blindfold formula, and they were jerking her around. They used an interstellar teleport, and Faith couldn’t explain that, but to be sure, what the good guys invented, the bad guys would soon steal. Sean was a healer, the miraculous kind, and there was no denying that when she recalled the three hundred stitches in Danny’s gut, and the

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constant dying on the roadside he did. But who said Sean’s intentions were good? Done with the wild-goose chase, she went into the shower room and drew Sean’s shirt over her head to change into sleep clothes. She spread the shirt over the sink to see an advertisement in another language, but there was a hover-bike unobviously designed between the unfamiliar symbols she hadn’t earlier noticed since Danny hadn’t yet taken her on his little hell ride. It was Danny’s shirt, not Sean’s. She clutched the shirt in her fists, swore he’d never see it again, and put it back on. It felt like she donned armor. Changed into her favorite pajamas over Danny’s shirt, she returned to her laptop computer and spent an exhaustive three hours writing her story about Sean healing a near-dead man. Just as she relaxed, reveled in the power she felt in knowing their truth, and looked forward to a good night’s sleep, she noticed the inbox icon blinked. There was the slippery Freak in the form of e-mail awaiting her. Not a fat lead, but a want ad for a laboratory position at a chem lab on Sylanta. What luck! Faith had taken chemistry in high school and had failed miserably. She immediately booked passage aboard a space shuttle headed to Draco Sylanta. What was another thirty thousand atop her credit debt? A Pulitzer would make that go away.

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Chapter 7 Under the entranceway light, Danny kicked his boots against the pod steps, sending the caked desert dirt from his treads to the parched ground. He felt a mixture of relief and despair to have put Faith back where she was safe and away from this case. She had a confusing effect on him. His notice of other women had become blunted and unsatisfying since he’d first met her weeks ago. Atop her pretty face and steamy bod, he loved her spunk and couldn’t help but fantasize of her. Every time she challenged him, he just wanted to overcome her. And it was about a lot more heat than just bullying her around. She was cute looking up at him with burning brown eyes, her fists dug into her hips, an over-brave mouse confronting a tiger. The fire in her eyes demanded his attention, begged for his taming. She just needed a good spanking, and he’d enjoy the hell out of his hand on her hot ass. Living that scenario would put her beneath him. Burying himself in her tight, feminine body was a wet dream he’d have to file in the drawer of the impossible. Heavy sigh. He’d really like hearing Faith’s moan. He’d return to her home later when she slept and erase the hard drive of her computer, having no doubt she’d immediately commit the interesting day to her journal while the details were fresh, like every good journalist is trained to do. After having collected her on Valdeya and delivered her home, he’d returned that week to her house on Reigna. Yes, in the invisible suit. He’d let himself into her home, tossed down a gut-wrenching shot glass of brandy, and awaited her. She’d come home and conducted her nights. Unbeknownst to her, he’d sometimes sat near her and watched everything she’d done. She was so hot in her little go-go boots. She owned pairs in six

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colors and wore them every day. They were a part of her fashion statement and attitude. How could he get her to parade through her living room wearing nothing but her go-go boots? He wished he could make that happen with her consent, but then he’d end up between those boots. That couldn’t happen. Her second appearance in this case made her a witness. Danny didn’t touch witnesses because he liked his career. Actually, when she’d taken off her clothes, he’d gone home. Using the suit to watch her naked was a violation he could not, in any way, justify this time. He might be a fault-filled mortal, but he could make the right decision to remain a fairly decent man. A semi fairly decent man. A mostly semi fairly decent man who’d sneaked into a particular woman’s home and watched her end her day, just a time or six. That had been all he’d wanted to do, gaze at her clothed beauty during the most mundane hours of her day. Since she hadn’t yet laid eyes on him then, he’d already knocked off those shenanigans and planned to knock on her front door, bemoan a misbehaving hover-bike, and wrangle a legitimate dinner date. It wasn’t like he could tell her the truth. Hi, I’m the Invisible Man. Will you go to dinner with me? Her unfortunate appearance at the crash made her a witness and offlimits. Today’s shared adventure had completely wrecked his plans for her to scream in his ear. When she’d briefly run her elegant fingers through his hair, he’d needed to concentrate on nuns and calculus to keep from busting his zipper. An impulse had made him want to pull her down to the caprock, kiss her hard, and take her right there. Good thing for her he was the master of his drives. She probably had no idea she’d given him a steel hard-on with the intimate touch. It might not have, if he hadn’t already wanted her with the constancy of oxygen in the air. Could beautiful Faith imagine herself beneath him as he put them both in rapture? Mm… The mind-pictures threatened to bring back the erection. It would, if he fantasized about it much at all. He would need to turn off what she turned on inside him. Danny opened the door of the large pod housing, and was surprised to

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find Key and Snow standing in the living room, face to face, their eyes hard on one another as if locked in a battle of wills. Danny felt heat in the air, and it wasn’t from the desert or fantasies of Faith. Sean turned to Danny. “Where’s Faith?” “I took her home,” Danny replied blandly. He no longer wanted his interest in her to show. Sean already knew. Danny didn’t see the point in emphasizing the fact to Kasey. They were not as close as Sean and he were. Kasey, a mega-talented telekinetic hotshot a decade younger than his partners, was the best thief on any planet, and in more than one way. Danny sometimes pondered Kasey’s level of trustworthiness. “What did you learn from her palm comp?” Danny asked Sean. “The person who called abandoned his cloned comp soon after the call. No ID.” Danny was disappointed to hear it. Kasey aimed his blue-eyed squint Danny’s way. Whatever conversation his arrival had interrupted between Sean and Kasey couldn’t have been good. “Why didn’t you put her in the hold?” Danny dropped his helmet onto the brown-velvet overstuffed chair, sensing an interrogation coming on. “I didn’t need to. I made her uncomfortable enough to learn she isn’t linked to the ambush.” Kasey cocked a pale brow upward. “Sean told me what happened on Sylanta. How do you know for sure she wasn’t planted there for a purpose?” Danny tugged off his leather jacket. “She was never given a time schedule for her trip.” Apparently satisfied with that answer for the time being, Kasey turned hard eyes back to the healer. “Sean has something to confess, Danny. Sit down…because he’s in confession right now.” The healer stared straight ahead into a wall, his jaw set. His posture stood strong for an inquisition. Sean was perfect, the model of a fucking great cop who has never failed in his job. A straight-shooting, compassionate, and honest man in all his dealings above the black-market world. A better man than Danny felt he was. Working undercover within the black-market world, Sean was a steel-

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trap investigator, sharp to human nature and the criminal mind. Numbers obeyed him. Danny and he had been best friends since the I-Marshal Academy. What secret had the healer kept from the buddy who would always have his back? Kasey and Sean had been embedded with the Blindfold growers in Sylanta for weeks while he’d had time off. Danny had just moved back into the home pod to start his work on Blindfold. He’d been touring the groves to get a feel for the setting when he’d been ambushed. “Sit down, Danny.” This time the words came from Sean, and the mood was ominous. Every man took a seat, and Kasey’s sapphire eyes burned through Sean. His tensed lips never relaxed. It felt like he stayed in the room to force Sean’s admission. “It’s about the Juicers,” Sean started off, “Freak, in particular.” “I’d put Freak to sleep in your apartment when he came to kill you. He’s in hell now.” Sean looked like he wanted to believe that, but just didn’t. “A few months before that, Kasey and I had put on the super-soldier suits, ready to go through Freak’s home for evidence. Kasey had taken the first floor. I’d taken the second. “I’d come to a room where I found a woman sleeping in a bed, a chain coming from the covers and locked to the footboard frame. Instead of staying on-goal, I hadn’t denied the compulsion to sneak into the room and investigate. I’d thought first just to unlock her so she could flee, but as I’d approached her, I’d spotted an empty pill bottle clutched loosely in her hand. “I’d sprinted to her side, ripped my gloves off, and laid hands upon her for her life signs without thinking of the repercussions. She’d been close to death. I’d healed her, and she’d awakened from her death sleep to see no one there. But she’d sensed me there, had felt my hands on her. She’d risen from her bed, dressed in black for a funeral, and she was so beautiful… Beautiful enough to have made me forget to don my gloves again. She’d seen my hands and had known she was not alone.”

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Danny put his palms to his eyes, rubbing desert dust from his sight, his considerations reeling. “Tell me you hadn’t identified yourself to her, Sean. Please.” “No, I hadn’t. I’d quickly put the gloves back on, and the hands had disappeared to her. She’d pleaded for the ghost in the room to stay with her. I’d hesitated to leave.” Danny watched his friend’s distant expression, worried their covers with the market might have been compromised. It was the worst thing that could happen, aside from having their heads blown off, all their gang experience and connections snuffed out. The Alliance could not easily replace the three of them. “I’d imagined if I freed her,” the healer explained, “she’d run and escape Freak’s house of horror. But, unlocked, she’d darted to her bedroom door and had slammed it shut, trapping me in with her.” “Had there been no breakable window in the room, Sean?” Danny snapped. The healer gave him his sober green gaze. “Yeah. There’d been a window in the room, and no, I hadn’t smashed it and made my escape. Have you ever seen me abandon someone in need? It’s the opposite of my job description. I’d stayed to make sure she was okay.” Danny ran his hands through his hair, regarded Kasey’s ongoing perturbed expression, and understood now. He knew he wouldn’t like the end of this story. “Seeming confused and sleepy, she’d paced the room and had babbled on to an imaginary friend without any reply from me. I’d thought at first she might have been mentally ill. Most of what she’d said hadn’t made sense, but she’d spoken a wish to be free, as though she’d thought herself still shackled to the bed. Each time she’d passed me, the low-cut back of the black dress she’d worn revealed the scars of past beatings. After a while, she’d figured she’d survived her suicide attempt, and I’d been a hallucination. Finally, she’d opened the door and left the room, so I’d followed her. She’d gone into the kitchen where Kasey and I crossed paths, and we’d

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watched in silence as she drew a bottle of water from the coolkeeper. I’d signaled to Kasey that I’d figured she’d take flight, but instead witnessed what I’d least expected to see. She’d returned to the bedroom and had relocked the shackle around her ankle. She’d opened the drawer of her bedside table, drawn another bottle of pills, and had begun to swallow them, determined not to live through the day. I’d slapped the pills from her hand, unlocked her, picked her up, and taken her to Reigna’s sanitarium.” “What was wrong with that picture?” Danny asked. “You’d done nothing wrong. You’d made all the right calls.” Kasey growled, “He’d made all the right moves up to that point.” Danny took a deep breath and exhaled. “How’d you screw up, Sean?” “I’d gone back for her.” “You’d done what?” “Gone back for her,” Sean made clear in a voice that supplied strength and gave away no hint of weakness. “I’d visited every day, at first, to see her recover, hoping she’d give us some leads on the Juicers’ management and distribution, but I’d soon learned she was just a victim who held little in-depth knowledge of the gang’s operations. Her DNA check and testimony had told me she’d been abducted as a child and sold on the market, purchased by Boss’s father as a gift to his mother since they’d had no daughter, only a posse of sons to whom the family drug empire would pass. When Boss had felt like it, he’d rewarded one of his lieutenants with his adopted sister, uncaring much what became of her. That lieutenant was Freak.” “Take her to her true family,” Danny suggested, the tolerance in his voice steady. He had sympathy for the woman and supported Sean’s actions at caring for the wounded in this war. “I’d read the incident report of her abduction twenty-five years ago,” Sean informed him. “Her family had been found murdered in the park, the youngest daughter taken. We could find cousins, but they’re as good as strangers to her.” Damn. Danny tried to be a hard-ass bastard focused strictly on the case, like Kasey did so well. Freak’s words accusing Snow of stealing his wife

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came back to Danny when he didn’t want them to. His sight went to Sean and knew the story would turn worse. “So, you’d made a friend.” “Not exactly,” the healer replied. “I’ve watched an abused creature, now freed from her life of pain, blossom into a beautiful woman, and I’ve fallen in love with her.” Criminy. It was bad news turning uglier by the moment. “So…” Danny muttered, suppressed the urge to tap his foot, and didn’t want to be there. “She’s at your place.” “She had been. Until my place burnt down last night. She’s here now, in my room.” Danny stood up and jammed his hands into his pockets. This was why Kasey was so pissed. Danny paced the room to burn anxiety. Then he stopped in front of Sean. “Why not take her to your mother’s?” “Because I don’t believe the fire at my place was an accident. I’ve sent my mother to Isimer under a false name. I don’t want Isabella with her if the fire’s about her.” Danny roamed the room again, working it out in his head. If Sean had been caught with this woman while they’d been working the Juicers case, it would have blown his badge sky-high. The repercussions for the I-Marshals would have been irreparable. And still might be. “Who are you looking for over your shoulder, Sean? Freak? We’d left him hanging and draining at your place. Five days later, I’d popped all the lieutenants before Boss’s eyes, and then I did him. Who do you think set the fire?” Sean shook his head. “Whoever the arsonist is, he had great timing with the guys who ambushed you. I brought Isabella here just before Faith called about your accident.” “Well, Isabella has to go somewhere else, Sean. She can’t stay here.” The healer shook his head again. “She’s not going anywhere if you want to end this case. She’s carrying my child, and it’s a high-risk pregnancy. I’m not leaving her side for long. The alternative is, I drop out of this case and take Isabella far from here.”

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A cold sweat hit Danny, and Kasey turned a detectable ashen gray. They couldn’t close their most important case without Sean’s skills. What choice did they have but give in to the healer’s requirements? “You both have kept this from me,” Danny said to Kasey and Sean, but his vision pressed his best friend with a quiet disappointment. Sacked into the couch, his tone of voice resentful, Kasey stated, “I’d been fine with getting the girl help. I hadn’t known Sean would return to her. I’d have never guessed he’d use her to blackmail us.” “I’m not blackmailing you.” Except that he was. Sean was already doing the books for the Blindfold labs. There was no turning back. “This is the only place I can put Isabella where I can monitor her health. She needs me, and I won’t leave her and my child behind, in potential danger, for the sake of this case. This investigation goes on with her here, or I drop out and move her. It’s really in your hands and your decision.” The telekinetic regarded the time wizard. “I don’t see that we have a choice at all.” Danny hated to agree, but whatever Sean needed would happen just the way he wanted it to. “So,” Danny’s hands gave a single clap of finality, “introduce us to our new housemate.” “Yeah,” Kasey encouraged, apparently attempting to do the right thing, whatever that was. His underlying tone was a bit spiteful, but he sat up in his seat more respectfully for a lady’s company. “Bring out your little bride.” Obviously cautious of the bad attitude in the room, Sean disappeared down the hall. Kasey and Danny regarded one another, but had nothing to say for a while. “Sean tells me, when you recognized Faith on the road with you, you started playing with her. You could’ve called for Sean right away, but you set Faith up to do it. Why?” Danny shrugged. “Because it was fun to have her attention. Why are you so hostile?” Kasey’s eyes moved to the hallway to see Sean was not yet coming

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back. “I suspect Isabella could get us all killed.” “What makes you say that?” “It’s just an instinctual impression, but one I can’t shake. I think nothing will stop a demon from seeking a soul it believes belongs to it.” “You a prophet now, Kasey?” “No, it’s not my talent.” “You earn a big degree in demonology you’ve kept quiet?” Kasey smirked a negative reply. “Mine’s no bigger than anyone’s in this house.” “Well, shake your instinctual feeling,” Danny advised. “Freak is destroyed. We’re doing what Sean needs us to do while accomplishing our mission.” “The Alliance will put a stop to this investigation if they learn we have a civilian involved.” Kasey snorted. “Never mind her needful circumstance. The Alliance will crucify Sean when the truth gets out he met her on assignment. She’ll look wonderful testifying at his court-martial knocked up.” “It’s why the Alliance won’t find out.” “Oh, I don’t know, Danny… Your super-hot redhead reporter has been pretty successful at getting all up in your business.” “She’s just that, my problem. I’ve scared the hell out of her and robbed her of funds. She’ll go back to potpourri recipes and kitchen hints. If she shows her face again, I’ll ground her jets.” Sean emerged from his bedroom, his hand locked in hers. From behind him, he brought out a small-built and bashful brunette with engaging and intelligent almond-shaped hazel eyes, smooth and glowing ivory skin, and a heart-shaped face. She barely outweighed a big pile of feathers, but didn’t appear undernourished. Sean was right. She was stunning, a bit fragilelooking, and she clutched Sean’s hand until his fingers were white, wary of Danny and Kasey and the judgment she probably expected them to heap upon her. She wore a billowy summery dress, had nice legs, an ample bosom, soft-looking shoulders, and Danny couldn’t tell on sight if she were pregnant.

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There was no questioning the fact that she was. Sean’s diagnostic touch would’ve told him if she were pregnant the first time he touched her. That same talent must now tell him he would soon be a father. Freak had somehow known Sean had taken his wife. Danny was glad he’d drained the gangster long past dead, in case he’d been an alter-life. They’d never see Freak’s face again. So who burned Sean’s Capital City apartment to the ground? Was Isabella the end of all the progress they’d made against the gangs? Maybe Freak wasn’t as stupid as Sean wanted him to be. He might have sent someone to hurt Snow and Isabella before his destruction. It better have been Freak’s last reach before the dreg had met his eternal grave.

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Chapter 8 Faith was hypnotized by the light. Ending her first day on the job at Face Pharmaceuticals with a little snooping around, she ducked within the tall crops of corn camouflaging the wonnetogrus, one of three plant species engineered to serve as organic factories supplying the Blindfold recipe with essential chemicals. The soothing aroma of rich soil rose from the crops and filled her nostrils, offering a momentary calming pleasure. She experienced a primal desire to bury her fingers in the dirt, to go back to the roots of her kind as farmers, custodians of the land drawing life and sustenance from Mother Earth. Inhale… Exhale… Ah… Note to self. Plant something. Luckily, there wasn’t much moonlight tonight, shielded by shifting clouds. She wore a dark blue jacket over her dark blue blouse and a reasonably short black skirt over her standard black go-go boots, planned for skulking around the various buildings of the vast Face Pharmaceuticals complex. The organization’s headquarters wasn’t one central office, but a series of buildings spread over acres of crop-loaded farmland disguised as average barns for the unknowing eye. Visitors could drive through the countryside, unaware they passed by the laboratories creating a substance that enabled crime, multiplied victims, and stole lives. She didn’t care about the prickly wonnetogrus plants at her chunky boot heels. Not yet. She was interested in the barn before her, glowing with light. It wasn’t one of the disguised buildings, but one of dozens of authentic barns built to dry the plants, its slats spaced widely for air flow. There were six hovercrafts parked outside the huge double doors of this one. Maybe Face Pharm processed the product after hours for some reason, and she wanted to know what that reason was. She patted the pocket of her jacket to

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check for the presence of her trusty new camera palm computer. Tonight, she’d worked late at the main labs located on the northern complex, catching up on the work accumulated since someone else had filled her position, and she had decided to see where the back roads of the complex led. After a few kilometers’ drive of darkness and inactivity, she’d spotted this barn built far from the main road, the slats of the barn walls casting the light within the structure outward like spotlights aimed awry. It was time she start exploring the complex, if she wanted to find a story here. Maybe a plump, juicy Pulitzer hid in the glowing barn, awaiting her collection. Faith moved as covertly as she could through the plants, difficult not to stomp the rows of wonnetogrus planted between the rows of corn and cast in shadow. The rough corn leaves stuck to her clothes, and it was barely possible to move through the tall plants without creating movement atop the crop. She was lucky the crop was too tall for someone to see the movement in the middle of the plot from outside it. Why couldn’t this be a night when Sylanta’s moons were fully risen? But then, someone might spot her. Finally hiding just within the floppy leaves of the crops, she heard harddriving music and examined the gray and weathered barn about seventy meters away. The light glowing from the three-story structure was soft, muted, and billowy, indicating firelight in addition to artificial lighting. Along the barn wall farthest from the road was a giant stone hearth stretching the length of the back wall, probably drying ovens. Attached to the barn was a row of horse stalls. That was where she could get a look-see into that barn without being spotted. After a boring moment of surveillance to guarantee she was alone, she shot from the corn, sprinted the seventy meters, and darted into the horse stalls, thanking herself for wearing her go-go boots with good running tread. Soft neighs of protest rose from the stalls. She leaned against the plank wall and quietly released her held breath, praying she wasn’t seen. One light-bar at the other end of the stables provided dim illumination. The smell of horse manure was just lovely. Violent music thumped a loud bass beat from the barn’s main room, shaking the wood-frame building like a

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heartbeat. The angry singer spewed hateful lyrics about life in the dangerous inner cities. The night was cold enough to defeat the heat rising from the main barn and make the livestock comfortable. The throbbing music probably got on their horsey nerves. Anxious, she scanned the cubicles and counted a couple of horses in stalls up against the big barn wall where she wanted to be. The presence of horses stepped up the anxiety for her. She didn’t have much experience with the animals and feared them. They were too big and scary and unpredictable. They sensed her fear of them. She’d choose a poorly maintained hovercraft over the beasts any day. The faraway failing light wasn’t enough to illuminate the stables well, but the firelight bleeding through the slatted barn wall aided a bit. Choosing courage over capture, she moved into the stall of the whitest horse, better seen than the other in the semi-dark. The large horse immediately backed up toward her, so she flattened herself against the steel gate of the stall, her body shot with dread. Was she seconds away from a horseshoe in the head? Head injuries clashed with go-go boots, so she was automatically wary of them. She recalled what Danny had said to coach her from her panic attack. Breathe long. So she did, quietly concentrating on long breaths, no matter how shallow. In a moment, the biting panic eased. “Whoa now, Princess,” she whispered to calm the beast before her, understandably skittish with an uninvited guest in her home. Pressed against the rails of the stall, Faith squeezed around Princess and took command of the wall. “I’ll be cool, if you’ll be cool.” Princess gave a soft neigh. Who knew if it was an eviction demand. Faith pressed her face to the slats of the barn, peering through the airflow spacing. A small, bubbling fire was set in the oversized hearth. Men dressed in black and wearing three-holed face masks wandered around, drinking alcohol, patting one another on their backs, and jamming along with the music as if they celebrated some great event. One man, the recipient of hugs and backslaps heaped upon him, was not masked. Three people masked and robed, unlike the others, sat in seats near the fire,

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observing the celebrants. They seemed detached from the lively scene. Princess complained again behind her, but her neigh was hardly audible over the thumping music booming from large speakers. “Relax, Princess,” Faith cooed, just above a whisper, her eyes sweeping the party for more detail. Glancing up, she spotted the plants suspended above by a tracked apparatus built into the second and third stories of the structure. Studying it for a moment, she hypothesized, when engaged, the machine moved the drying plants around for equal exposure to the fires set in the big hearth. It was too dark to catch a good photo shot of the plants. She’d need to come back for a day shot of them. Her sight went back to the celebrants who danced raucously and sang along with the gruesome lyrics. Maybe low-light shots of the party were possible with the new cam. She reached into her pocket for her camera when she felt a hard glove clasp over her mouth. An arm seized her waist, dragging her backward from the wall. “What are you doing here?” she heard a mean whisper right next to her ear. She was in trouble. She thrust her bent arm back, landing an elbow into what felt like a metal plate. The move didn’t budge his grip. She bit the glove that held her mouth, and her assailant yanked his hand free, moaning bitterly, but didn’t give up his hold of her waist. Seeing her opening, she tried to wrestle from his grip, but he tugged her back against him. She kicked at her captor’s legs until she brought them both down and rolling in the hay. Somehow in the tumble, she ended up on top and straddling his hips, but he had her trapped against his big body by his bent legs. A steel grip on her wrist, his other hand over her mouth, he was determined to keep her quiet, despite earlier punishment for it. She couldn’t see him in the shadowed stables. Where was Princess? Faith had a head for her horseshoe. The horse was gone! The one time a damn horse could do her a favor, and Princess bolted. “Let me go,” she barked at her aggressor over the pounding music.

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“Or you’ll what?” replied a whisper from the shadowed hay. “I rather like having you in my lap.” “Oh, I can do a whole lot more than this, bad boy.” She reared back with her free fist and punched him in the face as hard as she could, surprised to find a helmet. She gasped at the shadow beneath her. “Danny, is it you?” Then her fist exploded into pain. She sucked in a big breath and held it to keep from crying out and causing their discovery. She felt him recover her mouth with his big gloved hand. “Stay quiet, Faith!” he warned her in a tension-laced murmur. It was definitely Danny’s deep voice. She nodded and sucked in another big breath. He wrapped his arms around her, engulfing her, and he rocked her, whispering, “Way to go, Faith. Take the pain. It’ll pass. You’re bigger than the pain, baby. You’re bigger than the pain.” She released the breath in a violent shudder, and then sucked in another breath. “That’s how to do it, Faith. Keep fighting the pain. Fight the pain.” After a long, painful moment of her pressed into his safe arms, his gloves slowly roving her back in a comforting gesture, he finally released her. She felt his ungloved hands on her wrist, gently probing to see if she’d broken a bone. She couldn’t stop the tears from tumbling down her cheeks. Red bursts filled her sight, and her hand throbbed. “Your wrist isn’t broken. You’re okay. Oh, Faith…” he muttered just above a whisper. She felt him struggle with and toss the headgear aside, and then she felt his lips kiss the tear tracks on one cheek, then the other. It must have been her imagination that the pain began to recede with his sympathy. She became more aware of her thighs straddling his hips. She still couldn’t see him in the shadows, but feel his hot loins against her? Yes, aplenty. Heat began to build. “What are you doing here?” he asked over the loud music, close to her ear. His arms were still loosely around her, as though they were lovers. “What are you doing here?” she volleyed back, cradling her wrist between them and taking notice of his sexy smell. Hay and man, another

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great combination. She could see his head in silhouette but not his body. His face was in shadow. It would have been macabre if she hadn’t recognized his deep voice so thoroughly. “I’m here to contribute to the party. Either the party in there, or the party we’re going to have between your thighs if you don’t let me up.” Oh… The apex of her legs tingled when he said it. Only the thought of them getting caught having sexy, sexy sex in the hay deterred her. That and the Pulitzer Prize awaiting her seizure on the other side of that wall. “Are you following me?” she whined in whisper. “No, but I will from now on. I just happen to see you sprint from the corn to the stables. You almost knocked me down.” The pain sighing to an ignorable throb, she rose to her boots, nursing her arm, and she went back to the story in the barn. A few seconds later, she felt his warm presence behind her. She turned and couldn’t see him in a finger of light cast from the faraway light-bar that should have crossed his body. He’d put his helmet back on. She spotted her camera comp in a slat of light at her feet, so she snatched it up and pocketed it before she lost it. “Where’s your transportation?” he asked, as she refocused on the partiers. “Up the road.” “Go back to it, and leave the Pharm.” “I’m not leaving until I get a story.” “You won’t like this one.” Suddenly, one masked man in the party pulled back and slugged the unmasked man, landing a hard punch to his jaw. The unmasked man hit the ground with a thud. To Faith’s shock, no one made an issue of the violence. The three robed spectators sitting near the ovens watched without intervention as the men formed a circle around the victim. When he unsteadily climbed to his feet and gained his balance, another man stepped forward and gave him another hard fist, sending him back to the dirt. It was pretty clear they aimed to beat him. He rose again, a little more punchdrunk, but made no effort to escape or even plead for his relief. A third man stepped forward and smashed him in the gut, dropping him again.

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She slipped her hand into her pocket and raised the camera comp to the violence, but Danny took the palm computer from her hand and put it back in her pocket. The beating continued. “No pictures here,” he whispered. “Aren’t you going to do something to stop it?” she asked Danny. “What do I look like, the cavalry?” He was invisible. “Of course, you don’t look like the cavalry.” She sent her attention back to the fight, taking in every detail. The surging soundtrack pounded with angry curses against the Establishment. She felt the beat below her feet and through the wood slats of the barn. Blood drizzling from his mouth, the victim slowly rose again and awaited the next blow. He wasn’t screaming, begging for his freedom, or speaking at all. “Why isn’t he trying to escape?” “He doesn’t want to leave. This party’s for him.” “Why don’t you clue me in to what I’m watching instead of making it a guessing game?” “You don’t know what you’re witnessing, Faith? You wander into this terrain, unprepared? It’s a gang initiation. The victim’s a high-ranking shot caller, and he’s joining the Blindfold ranks. His good friends are beating him. It’s the sealing of a promise that if he betrays the gang, his best friends will not hesitate to kill him.” Ah…she should’ve recognized the moment. “I haven’t expected it in a legitimate business. That’s why you aren’t going to interrupt this.” “Not until after the branding.” All the masked men jumped onto the victim, beating and kicking him mercilessly. She had to turn away. “Branding? You gotta be kidding me. How do you know?” “Because that was me two weeks ago.” She turned to him again, saw nothing but air, then chastised herself for it. “They’d branded you?” “Hurt like hell. I’m used to fights. I don’t get branded much.” She snarled his way. “You’re full of shit, Daniel Tierney, or whoever

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you are.” “Am I? Keep watching.” The men finally broke the circle, leaving the battered gang member unmoving on the ground. No blood was visible on his dark clothes or his assailants’, but his face was a mass of swelling and lacerations. One of the robed spectators rose, went to him, and appeared to check his pulse. The music was too loud to hear what was said. Instead of calling for an ambulance, the spectator gave a signal that brought the men back to him. “So Sean had healed you of the brand, and you’ve no sign of it.” The attackers lifted the weak man by his arms and dragged him to the hearth. The spectator pulled a red-hot iron from the fire while a gang member stripped the victim of his shirt. She hated that Danny was right, that he knew exactly what he talked about and she really was out of her depth chasing such a dangerous story. His voice an erotic whisper, even through the headgear, he said close to her ear, “Healing the brand would’ve defeated the point, wouldn’t it? I’d taken the beating and the brand. Sean couldn’t heal me of the beating without healing the brand. And you know Sean doesn’t leave scars behind. So, I’d healed the old-fashioned way to retain the brand.” Her wrist gave a sympathy throb to break up the dull agony. The pain of the injury faded from her mind, faced with a sexy-voiced night-stalker wearing a super-soldier suit. She watched the robed spectator with the glowing iron approach the man. “You say you’ll intervene after the brand?” “I’ll put a stop to things. He won’t be in pain long at all. I’m giving you one more chance to make it to your ride, Faith. If you stay and witness this, I’m going to make you sorry you did.” “Turn off that damned suit if you want to speak to me.” He appeared beside her dressed entirely in a dark jumpsuit and helmet, but she still couldn’t see him in any detail in the shadows, couldn’t see his face at all beneath the visored helmet. The orange-glowing brand came down on the man’s bicep and, despite his acceptance of a brutal beating, he let out a scream that broke the beats of

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the pounding music. It was painful to watch. The horses let out a few disturbed neighs. “Now go in there and save the day, and I’ll have a story.” “I didn’t say I’d save anyone. I said I’d interrupt.” Danny drew the pistol holstered on his thigh and sighted it between the very wide wooden slats. Then she watched holes appear in heads and bodies drop to the hard-packed dirt floor. One right after another one, the gangbangers hit the dust, excluding the robed spectators, leaving them to witness the silent massacre before them. The I-Marshal’s killer laser left six corpses before the hearth. “Blindfold’s newest shot caller isn’t in pain anymore.” Her vision snapped to Danny. Who the hell was he that he could murder before her eyes? “Now,” he said to her standing stunned beside him. “Let’s see how fast you can make it to your hovercraft.” Faith tore out of the stall, across the field, and dove into the corn stalks. She didn’t need a second to rise again. Danny yanked her by her clothes to her feet and hauled ass, dragging her by the hand behind him. Through field after field, they darted. She didn’t know she could run that fast. They were three plots away from her parked hovercraft before they were stopped cold by a security man carrying a long-stocked ray gun. “Freeze, or I’ll fire!” he shouted, the rifle moving to sight them. But Danny took orders from no one. He drew his pistol on the man when the guy already had him beat, and the I-Marshal’s beam struck the guard in the chest, sending his bulky body to the fertile soil. Before Faith could think up a good reaction, Danny spun around, regained her uninjured hand, and dashed into the cover of the crops. Long out of air, she panted and tried hard to keep up with him. Had the guy been a track star in college? Big guys weren’t supposed to be this fast. She expected him to sprout wings at any moment! He halted them in the middle of a crop, and he dropped to his haunches, dragging her down with him. He held a finger to the helmet face shield and to his lips behind it, and he scanned their surroundings. Only weak

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moonlight lit them. The blaring music had stopped. People shouted from the direction of the barn. The hum of hovercraft was in the air. A searchlight swept over the tops of the crops. Faith sweated bullets, so out of style in the day of lasers and lightning blasters. “What do we do now, Danny?” she whispered, catching her air. Her wrist pain was nothing compared to the hurried breath burning her lungs and the dread rising from the mind-picture of a ray gun disrupting her nervous system. “Can’t you teleport us out of here?” “That’ll get us out of trouble for about ten minutes…until they find your hovercraft. We need to make it to your hovercraft and get off Pharm’s land, preferably before they kill you.” “Me?” she squeaked. “You just fried a dozen brains back there!” Danny lifted the visor of the helmet to say, “Six brains and one heart. And they were very deserving.” “You’re going to have to prove that to me!” His gray eyes glistened silvery in the moonlight. “Later.” He stilled them and listened to the night. To her shock, he made himself invisible, and then he tackled her. She was about to read him the riot act when guards came rushing through the clear paths cut between crops, shouting orders and sending search teams after them. Faith hadn’t heard them coming. Danny lay still, atop her to camouflage her with a reflection of their surroundings coming from the suit. His broad, long, and heavy body made her contemplate being crushed by him. So close, the male smell of him affected her. Neither said a word as they listened to security guards infiltrate the crops. The men thrashed the plants to find them and didn’t see them a few meters away, thanks to Danny’s quick thinking and the slick technology at his engagement. When the guards had passed, Danny, unseen, rose from her, snatched up her hand, and took her on another mad dash through the crops. This time she couldn’t see him dragging her behind him, only suffered his demanding pull. They made it to the edge of the corn field by her hovercraft when they saw another hovercraft marked as corporate security cruising up behind her

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ride. They paused in the greenery, and Danny drew his weapon again. She couldn’t see him, but she could see the gun. “Don’t kill anyone else, Danny,” she begged him in a rushed whisper. “This man will identify your craft. The people who watched their gang beat the crap out of a member of their own…will physically torture you until you tell them who you are and who I am. Bodies will be buried before sunrise. When they learn you’re a reporter, you’ll be one of them. Or would you rather switch with this man?” The gun pointed at the security guard, eyeing her hovercraft from his ride. How could Danny be right? She’d met many of the Pharm’s employees and management today. Scientists, project managers, agricultural specialists. They seemed like ordinary, law-abiding people working on confidential projects for a small pharma company, nothing at all unusual. But it was just her first day. It was no lie the path leading here had been fraught with dangerous people and shadowy whispered subjects. She didn’t know if she’d just witnessed a gang initiation, as Danny testified. The scene defied any other explanation. It was a damned fact she’d just watched Danny kill seven people with slippery ease. She gritted her teeth, watching an imposing man in uniform rise from his craft with a gun on his hip and holding a GPS tracking device she knew would identify the craft. Someone with good connections could have her identified in minutes. “Do you promise me he’s a bad man, Danny?” “Faith, there’s one way to find out.” Under the weak light of a nearby streetlight, Danny hauled her into the street, exposing her, and the security guard spun and drew his weapon on her. Where was Danny? She threw her hands up, fear flooding her body and soul. “Glad to see help is here! I broke down driving through—” “Don’t move,” the guard warned her rudely, his gun fixed on her, and

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then he brought a communicator to his mouth. “Roberts here, on the north road. I have a rat in the crops.” A voice on the other end of the comm line replied, “Do what you do to rats. Exterminate it.” “Wait a minute!” she shrieked, stunned cold-blooded at the summary judgment against her. Had Danny thrown her to a wolf? Her eyes swept the area for him. “I haven’t done a thing! I’m a Pharm employee trying to get home. You can’t just shoot me in the street!” Where was Danny? The security guard didn’t care that he had no proof she was more than an employee with a disabled vehicle and too big a curiosity for back roads. He pulled the trigger of his weapon, and an electric bolt shot from the barrel aimed straight for her chest.

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Chapter 9 The ray beam struck and splintered into a hundred tiny lightning bolts a meter before her, so close the loose electricity made her hair stand up. “See what I mean?” Danny’s voice hollered, and she realized he stood in front of her, his super-soldier suit having absorbed the shock of the bolt. He became visible, already presenting his laser, and he pulled the trigger, burning a hole in the man’s head so fast, it all seemed like a blink to her. The big man hit the pavement of the road, and his communicator rolled from his hand. A voice came from the box with new orders. “Hold your prisoner, Roberts. We’ve got six bodies here at Pharmhouse Thirty-eight, and Charlie’s not answering in the north fields. We’re going to make your prisoner wish you’d killed him.” Too late! Thanks to the Invisible Man. Danny pulled the helmet from his head. “Get in the craft. I’m driving.” Faith wasted no time racing for the passenger door. Flinging open the door, she found Danny already seated and igniting the air-jets. “What makes you think you’re the better driver?” “I’ve seen your driving.” She climbed into the plush seat as quickly as she could move. “I’ve seen the aftermath of yours.” “You’re injured, remember?” He had to remind her. The fear of death was a pretty good painkiller. It did take two working hands to run a hovercraft, so he had her there. Just as soon as her door was closed, he hit the acceleration, and the hovercraft shot down the dark street at a height that flew over current scattered traffic. “Besides, I can handle higher speeds.”

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Her eyes went to the speedometer to see the Ks climb. She gripped the handrests, doubting if the craft was meant to go this fast. The handsome and deadly I-Marshal saw everything coming and maneuvered in time to miss likely collisions. He was a lot better at handling high-speed escapes. His experience showed. Their obvious successful escape brought back the pain. “Where did you get your competence for speed?” “It’s not so much a competence for speed as it is a tweaking of time.” He had to be pulling her leg. “Where did you learn to alter time?” Straight-faced, he deadpanned, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She snorted at his answer, but the evidence of his talent unfolded before her eyes. He made other speeding hovercrafts look like they stood still. In minutes, maybe the fastest minutes she’d ever lived, they arrived at a public storage site in a populated area she hadn’t yet learned was close by. Passing through the gate, he drove the hovercraft straight into the opening cubicle and he killed the air-jets. A gorgeous red racing bike was parked in the otherwise empty stall. He hopped out, went to the front of the vehicle, and popped the hardware hood. Reaching in, he ripped a tiny slot card from the electronics and tossed it to the concrete floor. Then he stomped his big boot on it, sending its pieces scattering. It was probably the GPS relay. She paced the storage chamber, took a big breath, and blew it out. “That’s going to cost me at the vehicle rental office.” “Not as much as if you leave it in.” “You should have to pay for the damage you wreak.” “Baby, when I’m done, you won’t be able to put a cash amount on the damage you’ll see.” She smiled, liking it when he called her “baby.” It changed her mood immediately. In the moderate light of the storage chamber, she sent her sight over the darkest-blue skintight jumpsuit he wore that worked the Alliance’s best technologies. It hugged his big, muscular body, revealing every roll of sinew over frame. With the helmet, he would have been frightening to see, the armed, faceless, and unstoppable stealth agent. She could easily watch him

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the entire night but would get busted for it. Her eyes fell on that hot bike again. Gawd, the candy-apple finish of the sleek body was glittery with delicious depth to it. She could see their reflections. Damn, the machine was sexy. She wanted to see him on it. She wanted to sit behind him, her thighs hugging his hips, her arms wrapped around his hard torso. Even her hands up his shirt. Oh…that bike and Danny were so hot, they made her fantasize. Then she remembered the holes he’d put in eight bodies tonight—six gang members, a roving guard in the crops, and the security officer at the hovercraft—and a chill moved through her, erasing the smile. Danny hadn’t lied when he’d called himself a killer. What would she do with him? What plans would he form for her? “If the Pharm figures out you were on that road the same time I gave all their distributors lobotomies, they’ll come for you.” She leaned against the craft, exhausted, now that the moment caught up with them. Her mind again began to register the pain of her injured arm. “To think I look this innocent.” “If they don’t come for you tomorrow, it means they don’t have cams pointed at the streets, most likely because they don’t wish to create evidence against themselves. Another sign something unsavory is going on inside the Pharmhouses.” “What happens if they do have cams on the streets?” “They’re going to come for you and kill you.” “Great.” She didn’t fully understand what went on here, but the situation was damn-well risky. “What do we do now?” He closed the hardware hood, closed the roll-down door of the storage cubicle, and collected his helmet from the back seat of the craft. Watching him pace around in the second skin, she weakened to a fast fantasy of peeling the slightly reflective super-soldier suit from his lithe body. Wow… Had the danger turned her on? “Time to go home.” His smooth, deep voice melted her. Something about the sound of his voice caused her to thrum with sensation of his power.

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Relieved to no longer be a target for murder, she wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand. “Home…as in, Reigna?” “Yes.” “Oh, good gawd!” she exclaimed. “Sleeping in my own bed! Cuddling into my own sheets! I never want to see this world again.” “One good mass killing before your eyes, and you’re out of this game?” She was disheveled to recognize the ease with which he could kill and wanted to get away from him, even though he was a finalist for being the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. “Yes! I’m out of the game. I’ll never bitch about my home crafts blog again.” Danny seized her hand, and they appeared in the pod house. She’d never get used to teleportation. Sean and two people she hadn’t met sat on the big leather couch and overstuffed brown chair before her, clearly boggled at her specific appearance. Faith scowled at Danny. “This isn’t home.” “It’s your home until we solve this case. Would you rather be easily located if the Pharm gang has cams and comes after you?” Danny turned toward the people on the couch. “Guess who I found at the initiation.” Sean’s peridot sight went to the wrist Faith cradled in her hand. “What happened?” “I’ll let Faith tell you. I must return Princess to her stall.” “You teleported the horse from the stall to here?” Faith marveled at the ways he used his complicated technology. “How else was I going to sneak up on you? Princess told on me the moment I showed up at the stall, but you were too entranced with the party to catch the hint. I needed to get rid of Princess before you figured out you weren’t alone or caused a stir in the stables.” Sean watched them like he pieced together a puzzle. “Princess…the horse?” “Yeah,” Danny replied. “You put her outside?” “The stallion crowded the living room. Kasey complained.” “Yeah.” The terribly handsome young man with blond hair and piercing

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blue eyes spoke up. “I can’t stand it when a guy in the room is hung better than me and won’t stop showing it off. But only barely better hung, I should point out. It was either take the horse outdoors or put pants on him.” Sean and Danny hooted at his answer. The pretty woman with long ashbrown hair curling around her soft face blushed and tried to hide a mortified smile. “So, Princess is a stallion?” Faith repeated. “Yeah,” Danny replied, standing before her, very close, and gazing sensually down on her. “Turns out, you’re not as great at details as you should be for a good reporter, Faith. A big beast can stand before you without you noticing his gigantic cock.” Sean and his friends burst into another round of guffaws, holding their stomachs. She felt the blush she couldn’t suppress. Danny grew a sly smile at embarrassing her. Was it a come-on she should answer? She didn’t know what she’d say to a comment like that. As large a man as he was, he probably was blessed in that area, as well. “Oh, ha. You’re funny, Danny. Even more so since I’ve seen your work.” “Remember that last one.” His salt-and-pepper brow rose in a smug exclamation of his victory over her. “Because he nearly put a bolt of electricity in your heart.” His friends must have known what he did with his evening, if he wasn’t hesitant to share that part. Faith’s eye drew to Kasey’s ripped muscle shirt that read, Anything Worth Fighting For Is Worth Fighting Dirty For. On his fat bicep was the gang brand. Her feet caught up with her curiosity until she was beside him. Unable to resist, she put her finger on the rough scar and traced it, a main line that met a crossbar and branched into three sharp pikes. Kasey cast her sparkly bedroom eyes. “Don’t touch, if you don’t mean it.” She lifted her finger, wary of his mind. “It’s a trident.” “It’s a pitchfork.” Danny belted out a bitter correction. “And the day we put these devil-dogs behind us, it’s coming off my arm.”

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She wanted to see Danny’s brand, but he looked locked into the damned super-soldier suit. The helmet tucked into the curl of his arm, Danny strolled to the door. “I’ll return in minutes, so don’t go anywhere, Faith.” His smug smile grew wider at the reminder of untold hundreds of kilometers of desert surrounding them. He enjoyed salting a wound. The smart-ass, he passed through the door, and she released a breath she didn’t realize she held. “So,” Faith addressed her new company with a friendly smile. “Who are you people?” Sean’s dark brow bent. He wore a sky-blue T-shirt that read, It’s Not Just a Job, It’s a Heavenly Calling. “Danny hasn’t told you who we are?” “No.” The healer went to her side and examined her wrist with a gentle probing. “Then we can’t. What happened to your wrist?” “I punched Danny in the face, which turned out to be a helmet.” “Why did he let you do that?” She sputtered a laugh as she noticed the adrenaline of the night wearing off and the pain reasserting itself. “He didn’t let me do anything. He surprised me. We were rolling around in the hay, and I couldn’t see my attacker in the shadows. So I drew back and punched where I figured he was. I was right about his location, wrong about his skull density.” Sean placed his big palms over her swollen wrist and busted knuckles, and the area tingled and felt warm. The pain faded like volume turning down, then off, and the swelling began to shrink, the redness fading. When he lifted his hands, the ripped flesh was closed, the swelling gone. A smaller miracle than raising the near-dead, but it impressed her. The healer smiled. “Believe me, Danny let you do it. Probably to teach you a lesson not to do it again.” “Lesson learned. Thank you, Sean. When will Danny turn nicer?” “Don’t show up at his gigs. Looks like he’s put an end to that by bringing you here. Stop fighting him, and he’ll turn nicer. Take a seat.” Faith took the open spot at the end of the black-leather couch. Her eyes

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roved over the house. It wasn’t exactly a big place. Who were these people? Would she ever get a straight answer? “Introduce me to your friends, Sean.” The healer returned to the lovely woman’s side, sat, and took her hand. Her gaze on him was worshipful. “This is my partner, Isabella.” She was willowy with the delicate beauty of a doll framed by shiny, ashbrown locks of wavy hair that reached her waist. She smiled very kindly, and took Faith’s offered hand into both of hers. “Good peace,” she said sweetly to Faith. “And welcome. It’s good to have another woman around.” Sean turned to the blond-headed man seated at the other end of the long couch, the one with the pumped arm and the pitchfork brand showing, “This is Kasey, the progenitor of all genitalia jokes.” Kasey grinned, took her hand, and kissed it. His sapphire eyes were the kind that enchanted if one gazed into them very long, but Danny and Sean seemed to have that subtle power, too. “Danny has great taste in witnesses. Say the word if he bores you.” A proud flirt, Kasey winked at her and flashed her a pumped bicep like a promise of endurance. Shivers. Danny was a lot of things, including a mass murderer, but he wasn’t boring. Her sight wandered toward the front door through which he’d left, and she must have looked like she longed for him. Small talk took up the time. Danny returned by teleport in the living room, pulled the helmet and cowl from his head, and removed the gloves. “That was fast,” she commented. “Never forget, Faith, I’ll always be faster than you. Except for one thing.” Sean and Kasey turned their heads to conceal their obvious laughter at the sensual and too-vague tease. Isabella blushed. Danny arrested Faith’s hand, tugged her from her seat, and addressed the group. “We’ve had a helluva night. We’re going to bed.” Faith’s eyes swelled with surprise. “I’m not sleeping with you!” His grip moved up her arm to her shoulder, and he aimed her down the

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hall. “Good night, everyone.” They smiled and waved good night. “I’m not sleeping with you!” No matter how sexy he was, he was still a stranger and her captor. Despite her obstinance, Danny firmly escorted her down the hall to the second door on the right, into his bedroom, and he shut them in. She scanned the big bedroom, and it wasn’t much to see. The room was arranged neatly and rather impersonally, like a hotel room. A king-size bed with wood-carved boards big enough to sleep a man his size was the focus of the space, a plain ceramic lamp on a bedside table. The open closet contained four pairs of shoes, including his bike boots and combat boots, several T-shirts, and pairs of jeans hung tidily. A sleeping computer monitor sat on a desk scattered with papers. A large, old-style wooden trunk with metal handles stood in a corner of the room, along with a four-drawer dresser. There was a clear window fused into the wall of the room, providing light but no escape. The oatmeal carpet was fresh and newly cleaned. Bad at details? He wished! The accusation irked her. She didn’t see much she could label as his personal belongings besides clothes hanging in the closet. There wasn’t much to tell her more about him. Wary of him—he was just so damn big, and looked scary when he wanted to—she crossed her arms over her bosom for a barrier. “Your hearing must be impaired, and I have sympathy for that, so I’ll repeat, I’m not going to bed with you.” She watched him set the super-soldier helmet in the trunk, no loss of confidence in his eye. Then he peeled away the suit’s bulky protective layering and left the soft-looking dark blue cotton shirt below it, sheathing his tight and muscular torso. His sleeveless shirt read, A Legion of One. Oh… The sight of his iron-sculpted physique launched a flush of heat and adrenaline surging through her. Her legs tingled, remembering the feel of him between her thighs in the hay and on the bike ride up the mesa. She spotted the pitchfork brand on his arm, and she denied a compulsion to trace it, like she’d done Kasey’s. Danny set the upper portion of the suit in the

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trunk. Then he sat on the bed, pried the super-soldier boots off his socked feet, and set them in the wooden chest. “Don’t take off your pants in front of me. If you do, I’ll scream loud enough to shake this cubbyhole of a house. I can’t imagine your healer allowing you to have your way with me.” Danny threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t have my way with women. I let them have their way with me, and I just enjoy it.” He was really cute with a mischievous smile when he said it. Then he gathered papers from the desk and side table, and he tossed them into the open chest as if he hid them from her. Several other unidentifiable items went into the box. He slammed it shut, preventing her perusal. “I’m not going to bed and leaving you without a babysitter, and I’m tired. You don’t get free roam of this place.” She propped her fists on her hips. She could have more easily wept, but tough girls didn’t do that. When people were looking. She’d cry when she got home. “Where the hell could I possibly go in the middle of Sacred Sand? It’s a death trap. I’m not going back to the Pharm after what I’ve seen tonight. You’ve won and got me to quit, champ. I’ll not follow this story another centimeter. Take me home.” His tease past them now and a frown to replace it, Danny sat on the closed chest, rested his elbows on his knees, and ran his hands through his glossy and thick salt-and-pepper hair. “Can’t do it, Faith. I can’t take you home. I’d done my best to dissuade you from this case when the going had been good. Now you have a job inside Pharm’s labs. I don’t know how you did it, but you put yourself exactly where we need eyes and hands.” Now she regretted telling him about her new position during the speedy hovercraft getaway. “Did my overimportant job title deceive you? I’m the lab-supplies manager. That’s city-talk for beaker washer. I couldn’t give you inside information if I did know who the hell you are.”

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“You’re the closest eyes we’ve got to the Blindfold recipe. You’re staying where you are. We plan to erase the Blindfold formula.” She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You must be kidding. Erase the formula? How in all of the Alliance is that even possible?” “The recipe and supplies haven’t left the planet. Sylanta has unique soil, and the Blindfold plants have been designed specifically for it. No one can steal Blindfold from this world, which gives us only a few scattered targets on one planet instead of every street corner in the Alliance. We’ll destroy every letter and byte of the formula, and eliminate all eyes who’ve seen it.” “That means killing more people.” “It means removing the perpetrators who would open the Alliance to unchecked crime and victimization.” Those were the words of a cop, but cops weren’t experienced hit men. Cops weren’t supposed to take up the goal of killing everyone in the room. If Danny had a badge, he was more than just an average sniper. Clearly, he was an assassin. “So, you’re just plugging every face that parties on Pharm land?” “I know the name and rap sheet of every man I set out to tap. Taking them out saves the lives of future victims.” How clever of him, if he were a part of a rival gang, to craft his words and sound so altruistic. It appealed to the soft woman inside her. He had to know it would. “How could you have identified the men you killed tonight? They wore masks and dark clothes.” Danny stood, opened the chest, and retrieved his super-soldier helmet. Then he went to the sleeping computer, sat before it, and awakened it with a tap on the screen. A desktop picture of the mesa outside the pod filled the computer screen, along with several icons. Setting the helmet by the monitor, he double-tapped an icon of a helmet, and the computer went to work. The video of the entire barn scene downloaded from the helmet and appeared before their eyes. She saw the masked men dancing around, heard the music playing. Beside that was a side view of Faith watching the scene. Danny had full-circle sight in the helmet. What else can he do in that suit?

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Walk around invisible, shoot people without witnesses, take lightning blasts to the chest. Danny cut the sound from the speakers. “Face Pharmaceuticals is more than meets the eye, which, I suspect, is the inside joke. The labs that produce Blindfold look just like any other small pharmaceuticals corporation. Where Pharm differs is in the distribution. Since their ultimate product is illegal and their clients criminals, they turn to the street gangs to put their product to market with no discernible connections back to the Pharm. Legitimate business on top, gangland distribution on the bottom.” He pointed to the initiation on the screen. “From many Alliance worlds, each of these guys was responsible for taking Blindfold to their world’s dark streets. Taking them out gave the Pharm a few problems. For every man who doesn’t rise, they must make the decision to give the open position to his lieutenant or create a fresh network and invite new gangs to the party.” Faith gaped at him in disbelief. “You expect any of them to rise and recover from holes you burned in their skulls?” “Some will. And that will tell us something important of them.” She gawked. “You must be kidding. So, how did you identify these men?” “The unmasked man was Diego, the shot caller for a worldwide gang on Draco Omina. They control the human-trafficking trade there.” Slavery, one of the most despicable crimes intelligent creatures were capable of. It was outlawed and heavily punished throughout the Alliance. Faith couldn’t keep the wince from her face. Diego deserved the beating. She wished she could’ve leveled a good kick. “Before his termination, Diego had planned to take home enough Blindfold to fill a space shuttle.” She worked to keep a straight face this time, but wanted to grimace. The fact that Diego the slaver was now dead comforted her. It was a red-letter day for Omina. “I’d identified the masked distributors by hints other than faces and clothes.

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“This man”—Danny pointed to one of the many indiscernible masked men—“is known as Territory. He has a slight limp you may not have noticed. Among the many crimes he and his gang have pulled off, he’d personally murdered an entire family living at his storehouse because he’d thought they’d stolen stock from him. But no witnesses would testify against him, and the fMRI brain-tap couldn’t determine his guilt. He’d taken Blindfold before his arrest, and had walked on all charges.” “Strategic thinking by that one.” “Not a good citizen. See this guy? Notice the white-tentacled dreadlocks falling from the neck of the mask he wore. He’s Detonator, a terrorist leader on Ceyina. He takes delivery of a freighter of Blindfold in the next few days. It’ll go to his cult who believes he is a messiah. He mesmerizes his people with cosmic talk of coming apocalypse, tells them they are the superior of their race and chosen to survive. His followers are called the Explosives because they enjoy blowing up big things for him like bridges and populated buildings. They’ll sell Blindfold on street corners until they pass out from the lack of sleep. His zombies commit every manner of crime to keep him in luxury and finance his attacks on the global institutions. With help of the Pharm, he has his government on the run.” “He’s a stomach-turner.” “This man is Calderon. See his jewelry? He hasn’t removed the blood ruby school ring from his finger since graduation. He’s the criminal kingpin of Reigna, about to become the exclusive distributor of Blindfold.” She knew who Calderon was, had done stories on him and the street kids hooked into and lost within desperate cycles of crime. It had been a motivating firecracker burning her to focus her reporting on what the gangs did, how they ruined lives, how hard they were to smash. Calderon was more than just a shot caller of one of Reigna’s many cartels. He was a multinational corporation of crime beyond the law. The media had shown Calderon exiting jail and laughing all the way to an awaiting limo. He’d destroyed the lives of people she’d met. She credited Calderon for stealing a lifelong friend of hers, but she didn’t want to think of that person now. The loss was too great.

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Faith said low, “Thanks for executing Calderon, Danny.” “My pleasure.” He tapped on the screen for a close-up, and the picture of one dancing masked man zoomed in to show his eyes, and one was still. “This is a guy from Beta Draconis they call Tension. He’d lost an eye in a knife fight several years ago. According to witnesses too terrified to testify against him, he’d butchered his attackers. When he’d come out of the hospital, he’d hunted down and slaughtered their families. He hasn’t been busted yet, no rap sheet. That’s because he’s a slick sonuvabitch who remains isolated by his gang and stays on Blindfold full-time so he can commit crimes on call. He’s set for a big shipment of Blindfold, the biggest ever, to hit the streets of Draconis.” What if Danny lied? “This guy here, the one with the red laces in his high-tops. Everyone in his posse earns their red laces with knives and blood. That’s Gamble, a gangland hit man who records his hits on video, preselling bets on how long his victims will beg before they cry and he kills them.” That was appalling. “What an entrepreneur.” “After he’s made gold on the bets, he sells the videos to snuff-film Net sites where he is a star. People request his videos by name.” “I don’t want to hear any more about these monsters.” “Believe me, these tales are only a small taste of the massive crime for which these monsters and their gangs are responsible.” Faith leaned back on propped arms on the bed, feeling a weird displacement. How could she call Danny a killer? He was the cancer surgeon cutting disease from the body of a sick society. “Who are the people in the robes?” “Your bosses, high-ups at Face Pharmaceuticals.” “How do you know about the purchases?” “Sean’s already in their books.” Faith took a deep breath, and let it out with doom settling in her soul. “You’re I-Marshals.” Danny didn’t deny it.

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“I quit. Take me home. I’m a home crafts blogger with no business here.” Danny considered her from the chair of the desk, his gray hair falling away from his worried gray vision. “Not only can I not take you home, I can’t let you out of my sight. You’ve proven to be an agent of chaos, and I can’t trust you outside the room.” “Take me home, and I’ll contact no one from the Pharm. I’ll give up Sean’s story and this one. I’ll leave you to do your cop-work.” Danny shook his head. Then he closed the video, taking the computer monitor back to the picture of the mesa they’d scaled at a bizarre speed with her shackled around his waist. What had she done to herself, chasing a story too big for her britches? She thought she could get away with spouting some tough talk, waving a pistol in the air, paying off some dregs, and she’d write a story that would knock the socks off a Pulitzer board. Then she’d be living a sweet life, get choice assignments and respect. But she’d let her imagination run away with her. Now she was under the thumb of the I-Marshals, placed in what might as well be a prison, an I-Marshal assassin glaring down at her. Thank heaven he was so hot, muscles atop muscles. He wore a pouty face when he was intense. Oh! Growwwwl! She loved the look. Maybe this wasn’t so bad… “Will you take me home for some of my belongings?” she asked, finding no sense in fighting him overtly. “You can earn possessions with good behavior.” “I’m not sleeping with you. No means no.” He smiled widely this time. She could see the evil thoughts moving through his mind. “I wouldn’t have sex with you in this house with people here. You’d scream too loudly.” She felt herself blush. Either he’d learned she was loud in bed or he was supremely confident in himself. She couldn’t even look him in the eye now. “Tonight I’ll bunk with Kasey and give you the room. Let me know when you decide to manipulate me with sex ’cause I’m totally down with that.”

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She fought down the corners of her mouth, and found herself nibbling her lip, imagining the scene. “So that works on you?” “It hasn’t yet, but you should try. There’s a first time for everything, and you never know what might work on me. Do what you gotta do.” She anticipated her best attempt, but she had no goal in mind other than to enjoy his sexy body. “How did you leave Reigna without me knowing it?” She could hear the miff in his voice that she’d slipped his eye. “Watching me, huh?” “I told you I would.” “I used Emily’s ID.” He frowned again, deflated. “Emily, the sister who’d died when you were young. I’d underestimated you, Faith. I didn’t speculate you’d use your sister like that. Anyone else, and I’d have seen it coming.” She cast her sight down into her lap. When he said it like that, it sounded like a violation of her sister’s memory. It felt horrible. He must have detected her shame. “I guess I better get to know you better.” “Hell, I’ve seen the intel you have on me. My mother doesn’t know me that well, and she was there nine months before Day One of my life.” He grinned slyly, and she thrilled to the power of being able to do that, take the frown from his face. He rose to his feet, set the helmet back in the trunk, closed the lid, and placed an electronic lock on it to dull her curiosity. She’d probably never get a good look at that suit. “Do you need something to sleep in?” “No,” she replied, her sight rolling over the mostly empty room. She’d jump on that dresser the moment he closed the door. “I’m supposed to show up at the lab in ten hours on Sylanta. I don’t suppose you’ll let me out of that.” “Not a chance. Get some sleep.” “I have no fresh clothes.” “Isabella can lend you some clothes.”

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Faith clucked her tongue. “She’s thin as a twig. I won’t fit in her clothes. I’m a bit more substantial than she is.” “She does look breakable. Give me your clothes. I’ll take them to the cleaners on the sunny side of the planet. You’ll have them by morning.” He posted his hands on his hips like he’d wait right there as she stripped the garments from her body. She pointed toward the door. A disappointment on his face, Danny went to the door, opened it, and stepped over the threshold. “Leave your clothes outside the door. I’ll get them where they need to go.” He closed the bedroom door, and she shot across the room to the dresser and carefully, as noiselessly as possible, slid the biggest drawer open to find empty space. “There’s little in the dresser, Faith,” he announced through the door, and her shoulders fell in defeat. Not even a pair of underwear. He must go commando. His lack of much in the way of personal property said he didn’t live here most of the time. Was there a camera in the room, or did he just have good hearing? If there was a cam on her, she couldn’t go for the computer. After unzipping and discarding her go-go boots, she peeled away her dark and tailored suit jacket. Then she unbuttoned her high-collared, darkblue silk blouse, and shed her short, black skirt, leaving herself dressed only in Danny’s huge hover-bike T-shirt. He wasn’t getting that back. She wore it every chance she got and was glad to have worn it today. The shirt was now elevated to lucky-shirt status since she didn’t die tonight. She opened the bedroom door, threw her clothes into the hall, and closed it. Then she went to the trunk, grasped its old metal handle, and she dragged the heavy piece of furniture over and pushed it up against the bedroom door. “The door opens outward, Faith. Good night,” he said through the door. Bad at details… Maybe he made her a little foggy when he was near. Maybe he did it on purpose. Stupid door, opening in the wrong direction. With nothing to do, she climbed into bed, tugged the sheet over her bare legs, and sat there. She could smell him in the sheets, and the musky

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masculine scent warmed her thoroughly, more so in certain places. She recalled when she’d injured herself punching his helmet, how he’d immediately responded with sympathy. He’d shed his helmet and kissed her tears, had embraced her tenderly. Then he’d risen to his feet and assassinated almost everyone in the barn. How could he have done that? It was a significant shift in speed. Hadn’t he said the trick was time and not speed? She’d wondered how they’d beaten word of the bodies to the security officer at the hovercraft. They’d outrun radios. If her participation in this investigation would be forced, she’d write a story about it, all right. A story about how the I-Marshals wielded the power to conscript behind closed doors, how they’d withheld an authentic healer from public knowledge, and how they’d shot suspects dead with no immediate review. That wasn’t right, even if the targets of those shootings deserved everything they got. A Pulitzer waited in the wings of this adventure. Her desire for it wavered when she considered the cost. The memories of the night, of all the killing she’d seen Danny do, made her shudder.

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Chapter 10 Faith eyed the green digits of the time floating across the computer screen, anticipating the ticking down of another minute taking her deeper into the night. Three hours had passed since Danny had placed her in this room. She counted on him being too tired to watch her every move. She’d tried three times to call the newspaper, but some interference prevented the calls from connecting. She probably needed to get out of this house. Seeking a tool to compromise the dead-bolt and doorknob locks on the bedroom door, she rummaged through the whole desk, only to find a pen worthy of the task. She broke into its casing and delighted to find a metal ink stem. She scuttled to the door, slid the pen stem in the lock, and wiggled the doorknob. The door sprang free, and her eyes bulged at the surprise that neither lock had been engaged. Danny had not locked her in. He trusted her to stay, a bad decision on his part. Or he figured she couldn’t escape countless kilometers of desert in every direction. Perhaps he thought she wasn’t stupid enough to try. Well, he was wrong about how dumb she could get in an attempt to be clever. She zipped her boots onto her feet and reached for the leather jacket she’d worn on the motorcycle ride. It was probably freezing out there. Her palm computer fisted, she stepped over the hulking chest blocking nothing but free movement over the threshold, and she moved silently through the dark hallway and living room lit only by weak emergency illumination. Not a soul was in sight. So far, so good? That remained to be seen. Her knees knocked. She pictured wide-beam lasers sweeping the perimeter of the house pod, striking and incinerating her. It would be a fast death. Did Danny count on a security

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system taking her out if she escaped the pod? Probably so. She turned the doorknob of the pod as quietly as possible and encountered a bright entrance light on the other side. Slipping out, she softly closed the door, and took off sprinting into the moonlit desert, in case one of the housemates looked out his window or discovered her absence. For all she knew, opening the door may have triggered a silent alarm. No other building but the pod stood in sight. Where did Danny keep his air-jet death machine, anyway? There must be a building or two behind this structure. She didn’t want to lurk by a window and be caught, so she ran straight into the cold desert a little farther than she figured anyone glancing out a window could see. Afraid of the creatures of the night, she scanned the terrain for rattlers and chewers as she moved, and she conditioned herself not to freeze from shock if she spotted one, but to run. Nasty, slimy, crawly, scaly, slithering, bite-y, repulsive monsters. Shiver. It was a bright night on Reigna with a moonrise reflecting on the sun-bleached desert sand, and she could see much of her surroundings, but that gave her little comfort. Nervous, she opened her folding palm computer and dialed The Eyeball, knowing whoever picked up the call, she would get help. She ducked instinctively, as if so little effort would keep her unseen. Two rings of the call was two rings too many. “The Capital City Eyeball. Casper Lubbick,” Casper answered energetically, his country accent curling the vowels of every word. “City crime desk!” Lubbick, really? Had they given Casper her old beat? That boy couldn’t untie his shoes with brownies on his shoestrings. During a hunger strike. She’d regain the city crime desk on Pulitzer night. “Casper,” she blurted low, but probably didn’t need to, skulking this far from the house. She watched the pod entrance door, anxious it would open and Danny would come through it, catching her. He’d devise some psychological torture for her. “It’s Faith. I need your help.” “Ah, Faith…” The boy sounded as though he cornered an adversary. “You’ve been gone for weeks! Are you working on a story? Because Becky

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doesn’t know about it.” Becky, that old battle-ax, was her blog editor, and she’d inherited Faith with her demotion from the city crime desk when she’d lost all her leads to the Invisible Man. Burt, The Eyeball’s chief editor, couldn’t fire her outright. Smile. Faith’s uncle owned the paper, and she was his favorite niece. Luckily, none of the staff knew that. Only Burt was aware of her family tree, plus he liked her, had confidence in her talent, so he was inclined to put up with her. Faith had produced scathing reports on the gang crime on Reigna, and Burt wanted those headlines, so he darted his eyes from her wild activities and kept her on the payroll. Faith hoped Casper wouldn’t remind her of how much the old battle-ax hated her. “Becky hates you, you know. The only thing that’s saved you is the fact that you’ve sent in a blog entry every day.” Faith rolled her eyes. She couldn’t walk into the newspaper headquarters without some reminder that her new editor thought her incompetent. Can any journalism major with a triple-digit IQ screw up reporting on basket-weaving techniques and country craft shows? Luckily, Faith had an endless number of doily patterns to post as blog entries. Her calendar program would automatically send the newspaper a blog entry of cross-stitch patterns and hobby store recommendations every day for a month after she was dead, keeping a weak paycheck coming in. Oh, the sweet paycheck a pretty Pulitzer would bring in…and possibly a laser beam to the head. “I’m knee-deep in a scorching story, Casper, hotter than I’d wanted. It’s time for you to get me out of here. Track this call, and call the city teleport with the coordinates. Get me out of here.” “City teleport will cost big money. Why don’t I just go pick you up?” “No!” she nearly shrieked into the device. He only wanted to steal her story. She forced thoughts of calm, blue oceans. Calm, blue oceans! “No, Casper, I don’t care what it costs me to get out of this one. Just get me out of here as quickly as possible.” “Hold on.”

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A few nervous minutes passed. Finally Casper came back on the line. “I can’t get a fix on you.” Brownies on his shoestrings during a hunger strike. “The GPS tracking program says your signal is coming from Sacred Sand Desert, but there’s a satellite blackout of the region.” Well…that wasn’t his fault. What an odd thing. Was the blackout to protect cops living in the desert? “What are you doing in Sacred Sand, Faith?” “Failing miserably. You can’t tell where I’m at?” “Don’t you know?” “No.” “Sacred Sand’s a death trap, Faith. Thousands of kilometers of sand, scorching sun, and snakes.” Her eyes scanned the sand around her again, expecting the reptiles to be well camouflaged. “Thanks for the reminder, Casper.” “Get out before sunrise if you aren’t under shelter. You’ll roast in that place. Go back the way you came!” “I’d been brought here by teleport without my permission.” “Kidnapped?” Casper gasped. “I’ll save you, Faith, but you’d better share the byline!” She snorted. Vulture! His kind ruined the reputations of muckraking reporters everywhere! “There’s no story here!” “There’s a story if you’ve been kidnapped. Describe your surroundings, any landmarks around you.” She cast her sight around, taking in nothing but darkness, a few pathetic scrub bushes, and needle-plants until night covered the monotony. The frigid air was eerily still. “Figures you would ask for a sight. It’s about seven hours past sunset, and I can’t see a thing around me. I know there are a few mesas within view during the day, but those are all over Sacred Sand.” “Yeah, they’re everywhere. If you want a pick-up somewhere in Sacred Sand, I’ll have to drive it. You’ll need to share some details of your story to get my interest, Faith.” Rotten siren-chaser. Should she tell Casper she’s discovered I-Marshals

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playing killing games with gangs on other planets? She’d need to give him something, if she wished to leave the desert vertically on her feet and not horizontally in a box. “Casper, take notes. I’ve found I-Marsh—“ Suddenly, she felt odd tickles at the top of her boot. She looked down to see a long-legged black spider crawling onto her knee from her boot. She shrieked, dropped the palm computer, and swiped the pest off her, but not before it bit the crap out of her! She did the yucky-bug dance to shake the heebie-jeebies. Slapping one hand over the painful wound and one hand over her mouth, she spun to the pod door a couple hundred meters away to see if her shrieks had given her away. No light came from any window on this side of the house, but Kasey’s bedroom where Danny slept had to be on the other side of the pod. The bite began to itch and swell. She eyed the inflamed spot in the faraway light of the front door, not knowing what to do. Then she gave in to the itch and scratched the red growing bump just above her knee. It was the itchiest thing she’d ever felt. Was it a poisonous bite? Couldn’t there be a few spiders in the desert that wouldn’t kill her? Not with her luck. If she went back for Sean, she’d be telling on herself for escape. If she didn’t go back, they might find her dead and pantsless in the desert. Knowing Becky, she’d make sure the world learned of it. Her personal blog headline would read, Talentless Home Crafts Blogger Found Pantsless and Dead and Pantsless. Humiliation of her adversaries, even in death, was Becky’s specialty. “Faith!” Casper’s voice repeated from the palm computer now lying in a huge ant hill a meter away and covered with the bugs. She backed up, putting some distance between her and the mound, astounded at their size and number. She didn’t think anything got that big in a desert. Should she try to snatch the comp? What were the chances the ants would crawl up her arm en masse and debone her? She was Faith Vedder. Chances were pretty good. She backed up some more.

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The bite began to throb. Danny’s warning of the desert spiders wielding a bite that could stop her heart came back to her. Or was that the serpents? Great. She couldn’t remember. If the vipers provided a faster death, where could she find one? Her eyes went back to the pod that held an authentic healer. The lightbar above the door flared, winked, fizzled out, then flared again. The house seemed to grow and shrink before her eyes, reminding her of her concussion hallucinations on the roadside of Danny’s accident. Her stomach turned, and the desert spun. Death or humiliation of having failed at escape? It was a tough choice. If she died, there’d be no more humiliation. After all, she wouldn’t have to live through Becky’s headline. Hopefully, her uncle would fire the editor for it. If Faith croaked out here with the tiny monsters of the desert, she wouldn’t have to face Danny and his scowl. Her leg began to swell, turning purple at the puncture wound. She wanted to unzip the boot, but paranoia of the spider’s return with a dozen family members to finish the job kept her boots on. Maybe the pain wouldn’t get worse. Slow-thinking, she cast her sight into the still desert and saw a white glow breaking the dark at the horizon. She followed it around to discover the house and herself surrounded by a distant circle of light. The more she struggled for detail, the more rings of light filled her eyes, and she was sure she hallucinated. Every second the ring grew a little brighter and a little closer until she made out individuals forming the ring and approaching. Luminous individuals…with wings. A wave of nausea hit her as the darkness receded. She lost strength in her legs, landed on her rump, and didn’t have the energy to rise. Was she down for good? If only the world would stop shifting. Feeling her heartbeat slow, she looked up to see one of the angels of Sacred Sand approach and halt before her. Garbed in light, he was very tall, his thick hair a sandy-brown shade and cascading over wide shoulders. Shouldering powerful and pearlescent white wings stretched like a highcollared cape over his shoulders, he looked down at her with mercy in clear

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eyes so light, they looked white but not startling. His flawless face—softlooking, androgynous, and appearing no older than a pubescent boy—wore a concerned frown. Heat pulsated from him like a campfire, warding away the desert chill. It wasn’t every day an angel visited her, especially a frowning angel, which seemed ominous, but she didn’t want to look totally inexperienced, so she tried playing it cool and unsurprised. Many had reported seeing angels in this desert before, and Faith hadn’t believed those tales. Did the desert life bite everyone, bringing on heavenly hallucinations? She found herself staring down the proverbial tunnel of light. “Am I dying?” she asked, peering up at the handsome angel. “Yes, Faith.” His voice was supremely comforting. “If you don’t return to the house, you will die.” He offered her his big hand to lift her up, and she took it, slowly rising on wavering legs. It seemed rude to stay seated before an otherworldly creature. She felt her lungs draw less air than her previous breath. “Are you here to save me?” “No, Faith, not to save you. I am here to tell you a story.” Islands of blur floated before her sight, and the dull pain moved up her leg again, her muscles cramping. “Do you think it’s the best time, angel? Since I’m dying?” He ignored her measly no time for a story, I’m giving up the ghost complaint. “Long ago, when the dimensions of the spiritual and mortal realms touched, the Maker had charged a certain race of angels, the Watchers, to descend from heaven to the mortal worlds and instruct mankind.” The desert before her became bright as day, shadows and fog rolling back into the night giving way. A bright vision unfolded before her, stars in the sky falling from the heavens. Beams of the most glorious aurora broke through the clouds, arrived on earthy soil, and became magnificent, winged corporeal spirits, haloed, magical, and holy. Peoples of green and virgin lands abandoned carts and fields, and gathered at the arriving messengers’ feet, gazing up worshipfully to the beings.

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The angel did say she was dying, didn’t he? Clearly, he felt she had time for a flashback. Did everyone imagine angels in their last moments? She thought it odd he wasn’t there to console her in her death, command her to repent her transgressions, rain a little hellfire down upon her soul. No, he had a story to tell. Everyone has a story to tell. “Unaccustomed to physical existence, its pleasures and weaknesses, the angels had been tempted from their spiritual assignments and had fallen in love with the beautiful mortal women. They’d taken wives and made families, having seen no sin in love.” The throb in her leg reached her hip and kept rising. Ache infused her muscles, pumping through her veins. Her eyeballs felt dry. Again, she thought of the miraculous healer sleeping in the house pod a few hundred meters away. “Soon after, in a blink of their immortal lives,” the spirit beside her continued, his narrative alive before her eyes in 3-D visuals, “the Fallen had watched their mates taken by mortal death’s blade, leaving each of them lost and far from grace for having turned from the light. They’d hungered for heaven, but had found the gates of the Kingdom locked for them. The Watchers had turned their backs on their Maker for the enticements of the physical worlds, and for that, they’d been separated from paradise.” The desert spun again, and Faith felt herself rock on her heels. Her entire body broke into a dripping sweat, despite the desert chill. She no longer felt the heat radiating from the spirit beside her. If it was rude to interrupt a person, she figured it was probably rude to interrupt an emissary from another dimension. Her lips tingled, and she tried to remain awake during his trip down Memory Lane. “Without the grace of heaven for which they’d been created, the Fallen had grown resentful. Forgiveness lay within reach for mankind, but not for the fallen angels. Vengeful, they’d forgotten what families they’d still possessed, had lost all warm touch with humanity, and had determined to drag their Maker’s favorite creation into separation from glory. The Watchers had begun to feed upon the mortal realm, to cause the corruption

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of life. Their jealousy had twisted them into monsters.” She witnessed the fallen angels in her ongoing hallucination push away the people, cause havoc and destruction as their beauty dried up. Villages burned. People were abused. “The light of the Creator had faded from their beings, their goodness turned to cruelty and evil.” The story sounded familiar, like an old myth she’d read once. Focusing on the angel’s story kept the blossoming full-body ache below screaming level. She glanced back at the house a third or fourth time, she didn’t know, and she began to wonder if she could make it back. Faith widened her eyes to keep from fainting, and the pain from her knee crested to a nearly intolerable state. Everything stung. She felt like she floated. There was probably a test after this story. “The Watchers had become demons, hadn’t they?” “Demons are what your kind would call them.” The angel wore an expression of unhealable grief in his beautiful and compelling eyes. “It had been a great sadness in heaven to have lost our brothers. The hosts still weep.” Now she’d gone and depressed an angel by mentioning demons. Was there some sort of spiritual penance to pay for that? “The Watchers had joined others fallen from the Maker’s grace, and they roam the physical worlds, influencing, promoting the fall of Man. The dimensions now well separated by the Maker, there had been few in the mortal worlds to defeat the Fallen, to break their hold. As life reached out to the stars, so had the evil ones seen great opportunity to drive souls away from the good light. Once they’d been unleashed upon other worlds, not many stood capable of weakening their power in the multiverse…until your science uncovered the sons of the Fallen among your people, Faith.” She tasted metal, even though her mouth was bone-dry. Licking parched lips just to speak, she repeated his last words now circling her brain in an endless loop. “Sons of the Fallen… You mean, the sons of demons?” “No!” the angel broke his peace to exclaim, glaring down at her to make clear his meaning. The ground below her feet trembled. The shock sent a

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chill through her to counter the pain her body experienced from the spider’s poison. “They are the Nephilim, far removed from their fallen fathers so many millennia ago and clean of their sires’ transgressions. Ultimately, they are children of angels, sons of fire.” Sounded like sons of demons to her, but she wouldn’t argue with an angel hallucination. Nephilim. She wasn’t familiar with the term. What she wouldn’t give for a working palm computer about now. How could she experience a hallucination about the Nephilim, a word she’d never before heard? Why couldn’t she concentrate on getting back to the house pod for Sean to work his magic? She was grateful to have hallucinations for company, if she were going to die in the desert. Why, in the moment of her death, she imagined an angel revealing heavenly history, she did not know. If it were true, it would make a pretty good story. “You say we found the Nephilim?” “Your sciences have indentified those with the blood of angels flowing through their bodies. Those of the highest calling have stepped forward to serve heaven and the multiverse by keeping at bay the massive corruptive influences upon the mortal realm. You are among them, Faith, and must help them. Especially Daniel.” Her attention sharpened. “Daniel…you mean, Danny?” The angel reached out to her and touched her forehead, as if to bless her. The poison suddenly stiffened her lungs, and her head throbbed with such agony, she clutched her temples. Just when she thought her brain would explode, she saw black around her. In slow motion, she turned toward the house, willing to ignore the angelic vision to save her life, when she ran into a wall of a hard body between her and the pod. Then she headed to the desert sand for the Great Dirt Nap. **** Daniel. Danny’s eyes popped open to immediately recognize he slept on Kasey’s couch and not in his own room. He turned to see his buddy

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undisturbed in slumber, so he rose, crossed the hallway, and opened his own bedroom door to find Faith gone. He huffed a breath of endurance and ran a hand through his hair, then stared upward at the ceiling. He knew where she was and understood why such a hellion as she had been put under his watch. It was payback for the decades of hard work he’d forced upon his guardian angel keeping him alive. He sat on his bed and tugged on his combat boots, having suffered through his share of the desert crawlers sinking their fangs into his feet. He’d lived through so many, he hardly needed Sean’s intervention to get through the toxic bites anymore. Faith would need help, though. Danny marched through the hallway, banging on Sean’s door as he went. “Sean! Heads up! Faith’s off her chain!” Danny heard a muffled curse word from behind the healer’s door. Faith thought she was getting smarter and would put one over on him. No doubt, she discovered his friends in high places. He opened the entry door, spotted Metatron’s specific light in the distance, Faith standing small by the very large angel’s side, their backs to him. She must have made the situation dire for one of the guardians to have stepped forward from the spiritual realm and attended her. Ridiculous as it felt, Danny smiled. The tame ones bored him. Faith was a young woman blessed—or cursed—with a lot of energy, and she was interesting. He’d discovered that watching her for the short week he’d shown up at her place wearing the super-soldier suit. He’d better keep up with her or wear her out. Good thing he was a thrill-seeker. But then he frowned, knowing how easily she could blow everything with all her energy. If only he could trust her ten meters from his side. Readying for the task, no matter its difficulty, he began the walk to retrieve her. As soon as he arrived behind her, she collapsed, sacking into his arms outstretched just in time to catch her. Scooping up her limp body, he looked up to the angel and frowned again. “Good evening, Daniel,” the highest of angels said to him, his booming voice sending sound waves through the desert that would travel for

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kilometers. “Good evening, my lord Metatron.” Danny turned her into the light flowing from the angel to see her soaked in sweat on a cold night, her leg swollen blue. “Has Faith caused a problem?” “Oh, yes.” The angel pointed to a nearby mound of ants, and Danny spotted a palm computer being consumed by the mound, circuits bared, metal and plastic disappearing beneath the feasting insects. “She nearly exposed the I-Marshals.” “How did you convince her not to?” “I told her everything.” “You told her what, my lord?” “I told her everything. Now it is your task to keep her from revealing all.” Danny gazed down again at her, delicate and unconscious in his arms. Her flesh was inflamed, and the swelling was spreading. Her long copper hair hung wet. Still beautiful. “She’s a journalist. She’ll rat us out for a headline and destroy the IMarshals’ mission. What will stop her?” The sustainer of mankind replied, “As it stands, Daniel, nothing will stop her. But the heavenly hosts expect you to change her perspective.” The I-Marshal shook his head, but was not about to lecture the angel on human ambition and greed. Metatron had observed their births firsthand since the dawn of mankind. “Have faith, Daniel, in your own goodness to turn this around.” Danny shook his head again. “We both know I’m a dark soul. I cannot inspire another to become a lighter being.” But Metatron had scripture, as always. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things undetected. Faith does not wait to learn of a possibility of a thing before faith believes it.” “I’m an undercover cop, my lord, at most times, the sworn enemy of the reporter. I must believe the evidence presented, and she’s proven herself untrustworthy, just by being out here and having drawn your notice. I can’t influence her to keep her mouth shut.”

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“Sometimes, Daniel, you have to place a bet on someone. It was only a blink ago in time when the sons of fire bet on you. And were rewarded for it.” That was true. Angels had ventured on his rehabilitation. He remembered what it was like to look out steel bars and see nothing but hell. If the I-Marshal program hadn’t intervened in his life at the exact time it had, he’d be doing four life sentences on Null right now. Or dead. Probably dead. He gazed down on her again, recalling the exposé she’d written on Sean. And that was before she’d watched Danny put beams into the heads of the galactic sector’s biggest crime syndicates. He’d rather put his money on the chance she’d do an Alliance-wide live media conference with tour souvenirs sold in the lobby. He didn’t know why he’d let her witness the executions. He just hadn’t wanted to send her away, like he should have done. He didn’t know what to do with her. But he knew what he wanted to do with her. “I can’t believe I hold the power to change her mind,” Danny regretted having to say. “But now I need her for this case.” “I will put my trust in you, Daniel, to make Faith conscious of the price the mortal worlds will pay if she informs the unknowing of the war against the Fallen.” Danny looked out to the ring of light surrounding them, and he contemplated his fortune to have been given a chance to redirect his life, though he’d never cleansed his soul of the darkness he used to do his job. He sent his gaze back to Faith, unconscious in his arms. He needed the source of her lead and access to the Pharm labs. She didn’t have to know his soul teetered more toward hell than heaven. Somehow, he’d convince her not to write the story unfolding before her eyes. Would Metatron assign him a task he had not in the future completed? “I’ll do my best to keep her quiet.” “You must protect her from the Fallen, Daniel. She is an instrument of their use.” “I’ll protect her, my lord.”

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“Her life belongs to you. Good evening, Daniel.” Danny looked up to find Faith and himself alone in the moonlit desert, the ring of angels and his heavenly mentor receded into the night. Only moonbeams and the light above the house-pod entrance door lit the night. Up the steps and through the door, Danny hauled Faith into the living room and stretched her across the couch, Kasey catching the door behind him. Isabella stood by the couch, her brow bent in concern. Sean held a pillow for his patient. “Please tell me you’ll smother her.” Sean smirked at Danny, then the healer put the pillow beneath Faith’s head. “You aren’t fooling anyone.” Danny eyed him for murder for his smart remark. “How much longer does she have?” The healer placed his hands on Faith’s crown to read her life signs. “Maybe, two or three minutes, depending how strong her heart is.” “Bring her to consciousness.” Sean called upon his angelic power, and Faith awakened with a scream of pain. Danny bent low to her ear. “Faith, who is your source?” She huffed breaths to endure what must have been tremendous pain. Her leg was so blue and swollen, it looked as if it would burst open. “I’m not telling you!” “Yes, you are, or Sean won’t heal you.” Sweat rained down her face, and she clenched her teeth. “I’ll take it to my grave.” “Are you willing to take billions with you, Faith? When Blindfold hits the streets and crime has few barriers?” Sean acquired a pair of scissors and began to cut away her boot now cutting off her circulation. He told Danny, “It’s a black climber spider bite. Its venom will soon attack her heart. And dissolve it. It’s already in the muscles all the way up her body.” Danny didn’t feel great taking her so close to the moment of her coma, but he did what he had to do to get the answers she withheld from him.

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“Your grave is not far. Why, Faith, are you protecting criminals and demons?” Sean interrupted, “Danny, there’s no time to interrogate her. She could suffer a massive cardiac arrest at any moment.” “Do you hear that, Faith?” Danny growled to her, driven to unveil everything she kept hidden. “You’re going to have a fatal heart attack. If you don’t tell me who your source is, I can’t stop the shipments of Blindfold heading out to the allied worlds. Your death will be for nothing. Crime will explode, misery will multiply, and it’ll all be on your soul.” Her bloodshot eyes bulged. He was glad to see she cared about something beside her name in the news. Her soft heart, the one that was about to explode, gave him a weapon against her. “I know nothing but a common nickname, something a million gangbangers could go by.” “Give me the nickname, and I’ll have Sean save your life.” “Fine, Danny!” she shouted at him. “You go find him! His name is Freak!” Danny’s mouth dropped, and glass shattered. Sean froze in his care of the bite, and his eyes darted to her in disbelief. Isabella was sheet-white, the glass of water she’d brought for Faith busted at her feet. Even Kasey looked shocked. “I thought you said you’d destroyed Freak,” Kasey questioned him. “Yeah, I did,” Danny replied. “He’s destroyed. This must be someone else.” Faith went into a convulsive seizure that looked awful. Sean reached down, placed his hands upon her head, and called upon his patron angel to restore her health. The seizure ended, and she fell into a calm sleep. When the anxious moment passed, Danny found Sean, Kasey, and Isabella staring at him. “Don’t speak to me in that tone of face.” “You shouldn’t have taken it that far.” Sean’s peridot eyes were sharp on him. “You put her in more pain than was needed.” “I did what I had to do. She wasn’t going to tell me without drastic measures.”

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“You got nothing from it but the name of a dead punk.” Sean stood and took Isabella’s hand, who stood in stupefaction to have witnessed Danny playing bad cop to deadly lengths. “When will she awaken?” Danny asked. “Sooner than you wish. She won’t stay asleep if she doesn’t wish to remain unconscious.” “Can you make her forget what just happened?” Sean grimaced. “If I could make people forget, I’d make you forget I’m a healer, Danny. She might not remember as delirious as she was. Why don’t you make her forget what you’ve just done to her?” Danny took a deep breath, sorry to have garnered his friend’s disapproval. “Thanks for fixing things, Sean.” The healer said nothing else, but led Isabella by the hand back to their room without a good-night. Danny’s eyes went to Kasey, whose harsh judgment glared at him from his seat. “Had you already tried sugar and failed?” “I’m not playing games with a witness who has information of my nearassassination.” Kasey frowned, then looked down to the broken glass. He held his hand over the mess, and the shards of glass levitated before he sent them into the trash. “I must have been mistaken to think you had feelings for her, for all the talking of her you’ve done. I know you’ve taken off with the super-soldier suit to visit her.” “That was before my guts were smeared over a country road and she was there. She’s a witness now, not a woman I’m working on bedding.” Kasey broke from his scowl and chuckled. “Maybe that’s where you’re going wrong. Why torture her? Other than for your love of torture.” “Because she’s already refused to give me info, and I don’t trust her. She’s just a witness, not a woman,” Danny repeated, sitting close to her, watching her and wondering when her pretty brown eyes would open. Her color was back. His lips remembered the softness of her flesh when he’d kissed her tears shed after she’d punched his helmet. He wanted to run a

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tendril of her spicy red hair through his fingers. His inspection moved down her body dressed in nothing but his spare riding jacket sagging away from her and his perspiration-soaked T-shirt clinging to her. Her nipples were stiff and showing. Her breathing now was even and unlabored, but his breath was affected. Her leg appeared untouched by the most poisonous spider on the planet, not even a scar for the bite. Only her wet hair and clothes testified to any odd thing occurring to her. Kasey cast him a challenging smirk. “You just want to hear she knows nothing, and are constantly disappointed to learn she does know something, and she’s withholding it. Seems to me you’ve dealt with demons too long, Danny, and you now lack a gentle touch. Maybe I’ll play good cop and be nice to her. I’ll stand before her and teach her how to recognize a big beast with a gigantic cock.” Danny put his finger in Kasey’s face and was about to insist he reconsider that last remark when Faith’s eyes opened. Instead, Danny took her hand, his fingertips caressing the soft flesh without conscious order to do so. Her sight swept over her position on the couch with both men’s sights on her. Her spare hand immediately went to her leg, and she rubbed her healed knee, clearly recalling the bite. Would she remember the angel? “What happened in the desert?” she asked, rising onto her elbows. “What desert?” Kasey replied, and Faith shot him a perturbed look, then regarded Danny for a decent answer. A decent answer he wasn’t going to give. “I heard you call out in my bedroom and found you with a swollen spider bite. They sometimes get into the house. You were already delirious when I found you. I brought you to the couch, and Sean healed you.” She scanned the room as if she sought Sean, so Danny told her, “The doctor said you’d awaken when you chose to, and Isabella and he went back to bed.” “Getting between the sheets sounds like a great idea to me,” Kasey said, his tone ripe with double meaning. A nod went to Danny. “I trust you’ll

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secure this situation without breaking war conventions.” Danny scrunched his lips. “I don’t hold dear any war conventions, but I’ll keep her out of trouble. I’ll sleep with her tonight.” Kasey flashed her a toothy smirk. “He’s a lucky man. Good night, Danny and Faith. Sleep well. I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight in your positions.” The good-looking blond, clearly always slick with the females, disappeared down the hall. Danny rose from her side, went to the hall closet, drew a towel, and tossed it to her. “You’re soaked in sweat.” “I meant to ask you about that.” “Black climbers do that to you. Shower down. I like my bed partners lily-fresh. Let me know if you want your back scrubbed.” She put that venomous look in her eye again. “I’m not sleeping with you.” “Sleeping with me? Oh, yeah. You pretty much are. After your close brush with death, you’re eating with me, sleeping with me, calling your mother with me, writing in your diary with me. And I’ll defend you from wandering spiders.” “Why can’t I sleep with Kasey?” Danny’s sight shot to her, and Faith’s wicked grin was born again.

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Chapter 11 In and out and in and out and in and out until Faith could take no more! Oh! She felt like screaming. The crusty deposits caked in nearly every beaker had her scrubbing bottles with the stiff, long-necked bottle scrubber for hours, and her back hurt from leaning over the lab sink. Some of the bottles wouldn’t come clean no matter what chemicals she used nor amount of abrasion she applied. And there were still hundreds of bottles to clean. What the hell did they cook in this glass, anyway? The Pharm should’ve hired a new lab-supplies manager two months ago. The pinch of Isabella’s dainty shoes, at least a half-size too tight on her feet, sent her eyes crossing. Kicking them off sounded like nirvana. The hydraulics of the lab door whooshed, and she leaned to see who entered, grateful for any company. She’d been alone all day in the building they called the supplies closet, which was really a stockroom the size of a small warehouse, rows and rows of shelves holding beakers, burners, and test tubes. But no companionship. In walked Dr. Jasmine Dacoya, the head of Face Pharmaceuticals’ research and development department and the woman who’d hired her. A doctorate of sciences Faith couldn’t spell, Jasmine was tall, ebony-tressed, with exotic ocean-blue eyes that drew notice. She was dressed in casual clothes, snug and faded jeans and a feminine button-down blouse, buttoned down a bit too low for business, opened by the sheer weight of the company identification clipped to her collar. A veritable feast for the eye, she was gorgeous and sophisticated, a natural sensuality about her, a hungry man’s portion of everything Faith was not. She smiled, cheering her luck to have landed a position from which she could pluck a Pulitzer. She tugged the rubberized gloves from her hands,

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snagged a lab towel and wiped her sweaty palms dry, and then she shook the doctor’s offered hand. “Dr. Dacoya, welcome to the supplies closet.” Too gracious to point out her clammy handshake, the chemist returned her pleasant smile. “Please, Faith, call me Jasmine. We are very informal here. Makes for a nicer place to work.” “Of course, Jasmine. That does sound nicer.” The scientist leaned very close to Faith, and took a great whiff of her air. Her eyes closed, Jasmine seemed to enjoy the smell of Faith a bit too much. Uncomfortably so. It almost felt sexual. Faith was freshly bathed, her attire cleaned. She knew she didn’t smell bad, but couldn’t conceive of the possibility she smelled so good, someone could enjoy her aroma. She tried not to seem offended by so intimate an invasion. “What perfume are you wearing, Faith?” she asked, as she returned to a professional distance. “You smell…delicious. And familiar. I caught the scent when I opened the door.” The door located the width of the warehouse? Where Faith hadn’t been in hours? Jasmine had a bee’s nose for nectar in the sniffing department, a good ability for a chemist to possess. “I’m not wearing a fragrance.” Faith turned back to the sink and dirty beakers, more to remove herself from Jasmine’s immediate sniffing range than to go about her work. “I can’t explain the delicious part, but the brand of laundry detergent is common enough. No doubt you’ve used it before and the smell now triggers your memory.” Jasmine’s ocean eyes twinkled with a corrosive intent. “Perhaps. It must be so.” She looked Faith over to see her wearing the same blouse and skirt from yesterday, hopefully hidden from recognition below the lab coat, and Isabella’s low-heeled, leprechaun-size pumps. “Feel free to dress casually and comfortably, Faith. We are an environmentally friendly company, and naturally in farm country, we find our community more comfortable to see us dressed like good neighbors and not a chemical company.” Faith smiled amicably. It seemed the safest response. What did the

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neighbors know of what the Pharm did in their farmhouse-shaped labs built behind tall crops? She remembered having been told about the casual dress, but Danny had refused to take her home for clothes, so she pretended she had forgotten before Jasmine found something odd about it. Faith actually had forgotten the casual nature of the company, dealing with I-Marshals and crime kingpins. What could be next? “What a wonderful job perk. You’ll see me in comfortable clothes tomorrow. I’ve reviewed the current inventory, Jasmine, and I’ve found several discrepancies. I’m preparing a complete and updated inventory list for you. I’m afraid I’ve discovered the counts way off.” Jasmine waved away Faith’s concerns. “The chemists break supplies and do not bother to write memos to the supplies manager of it. Don’t let it disturb you. Let me know what supplies you need to replenish the stock, and I will give you a budget to do so.” “I’ll conduct a full inventory count right away.” “More importantly, I’ve come to take you to a dinner meeting of the corporate officers. It will be a bland affair, but a good meal is provided. It’s your chance to meet most of the science staff, who are seldom in one place, and you can begin to retrain them on their equipment requisites.” Faith smiled. “I can’t miss an opportunity like that.” “It beats scrubbing beakers all afternoon.” Leaving Faith’s lab coat behind and exiting the small warehouse, the women turned the corner to see a tall, saddled, white stallion roped to a post and awaiting its rider. The creature snorted at Faith and, terrified, she backpedaled a few steps, figuring Princess remembered her for the stall invader she was. Jasmine must have recognized Faith’s delay as fear, and she patted the horse’s long neck. “This is Kilo, my Thoroughbred.” Faith tittered nervously and shifted from heel to heel, grinding her toes into Isabella’s shoes to keep her feet from turning and running. “I would have guessed him to weigh more than that.” Hell, his tool weighed a lot more than that. And she tried not to look at it.

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“I often ride him around the work complex. Are you a horse woman, Faith?” Steeling her spine, Faith stepped forward to pet the animal, but it just danced and snorted at her again, causing her to take another leap backward at the thought of Princess’s revenge. “N–No, I regret I don’t have much rapport with animals.” Jasmine put her foot in the saddle stirrups and swung onto the leather roost, and then she offered her hand to find Faith’s reluctance. “Do not be afraid. Kilo is a gentle ride.” The horse snorted and pranced a tight circle, shocking Faith into a wince and sending her into an enthusiastic refusal. The beast planned to stomp her dead. She could see it in its big, watery eyes. It was too obvious she feared it. Retracting her hand, Jasmine relented with grace. “No matter. I’ll send a hovercraft for you right away.” Faith’s eye was drawn to the road, and she saw Danny on his shiny-new candy-apple air-jet death machine turning off the main road onto the driveway of the lab-supplies building. A titillation swept over her at sight of him. There was something about the sight of Danny in leather sitting on a speed machine that made Faith’s heart drop, her body ache, and her temperature rise. Umm. Her thighs ached to have him between them. Riding the bike, of course. “I can catch a ride from Danny.” Standing a couple dozen meters away and uphill from the parking area, Jasmine and Faith watched him dismount the gorgeous bike and pull off his helmet, shaking air into the shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair. Faith recalled last night, how he’d dead-bolted the bedroom door so she couldn’t escape, and then he’d climbed into bed and fallen dead asleep in five minutes. The moonlight from the molded window had shined down on him, glistening his thick head of hair scattered over his hard-muscled shoulders. His naked back to her caused her shallow breath. Sleeping beside him in the big bed—which he’d insisted upon—she’d made a giant effort to keep from bumping him at all through the night. His radiating heat caused

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her legs to throb. Her fingers had tingled with the compulsion to get lost in his hair. Oh, the tingles… Jasmine turned back from admiring Danny and winked at Faith with a knowing smile. She said too low for Danny to hear, “And you claim you have no rapport with animals.” “Animal, aye? Rapport is a strong word in this case. I just met him this morning. The bus dropped me off at the stop at the Highway 10 complex entrance. He said he was going my way, so I took a ride from him.” That was what Danny had told her to tell anyone who saw him drop her off. He didn’t wish them caught at teleporting around the Pharm on a planet that didn’t own a local teleport, so he stored a bike in the same storage center into which he’d parked her rented hovercraft. But he didn’t mind them being seen together. “Danny was kind enough to bring me a sandwich for lunch, so I spent my lunch hour with him. Been a perfect gentleman so far.” But he hadn’t answered her drill of questions she’d proposed about who he was or details about the case that had brought them both to Sylanta. The women watched his every move in dark jeans, his scuffed biker boots, and a leather jacket. He tugged the leather gloves from his hands and stuffed them into the helmet he left on the bike, then he yanked down the zipper of his jacket, revealing a plain black shirt, and he began the uphill trek to meet them. Any kind of closeness with Danny sounded exciting. He had sexual magnetism. That hadn’t bypassed Jasmine’s notice. She gazed upon him like a starved person watched an eating competition. “What about him is animal?” Faith had to ask. Was it the fact that he was a killer? Animals didn’t exterminate everyone in the room like Danny did. Tall, dark, and handsome. The darkest. “Heretic has cat-speed and instincts. He knows who to trust and who to betray, senses trouble coming. And he’s very…very good at his job.” Heretic. It was a dark gangland moniker. Faith replayed Jasmine’s words in her mind, especially the name the scientist had called Danny. And

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how very good he was. She sounded like the voice of experience. “And he smells good. Familiar.” Wow, had Jasmine been as close to Danny as she’d gotten with Faith a few minutes ago? She couldn’t see any man not taking her boss’s close-up enjoyment of scent for a come-on. She wasn’t all that sure it wasn’t meant as a sexual advance to her. “That must be the familiar scent. You smell Danny’s scent on me from the motorcycle ride.” The scientist made no comment on the hypothesis, just watched the steaming-hot guy in leather approach. He had a way of blanking the female mind. Danny sauntered over to Jasmine on her horse, and he patted the horse’s withers. Princess seemed to hold good feelings for the man who had teleported him to another planet and back, but not for the woman who’d asked him to scoot over a little. The horse must have taken the gender confusion for an insult. “Good morning, Jasmine,” Danny greeted the chemist with a congenial smile, and then his sparkly eyes moved to Faith. And stayed. “Good morning, Daniel. I hear you’ve already met Faith, our new labsupplies manager. She tells me you gave her a lift this morning and provided lunch. Thank you for your hospitality to our associates.” “Yes, thank you again, Danny, man of mystery.” Faith flared her eyes at him out of Jasmine’s view. He’d said he’d taken the brand for the Blindfold gang, but had never defined that working relationship. “You hadn’t mentioned you were a Pharm employee in all that time.” “Actually, I’m not.” An amused gleam danced in his eye for having told her so little about his connection to the company. “I’m a problem-solver.” Jasmine elaborated, “Daniel is a temporarily contracted employee, here to do a specific limited job.” Faith’s toes curled in Isabella’s tight shoes to put Danny in a position where he had to answer a question or two. “A problem-solver?” “An ax-man, really. I’m an efficiency expert. I study the company and show them where to cut out the fat, tighten the process. If there are

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employees, suppliers, distributors who aren’t fulfilling the company’s needs—” “You cut off their heads?” Faith interrupted. He chuckled coolly. “So to speak. I let the company know so it can find others who will fulfill the production and distribution needs.” He fired people. Or, retired them…with a laser to the brain. But efficiency expert was an interesting cover story for what Heretic did. Heretic was a hit man. Danny was an I-Marshal. He had some interesting personalities. Faith wondered which was the real man. His attention shifted back to Jasmine. “I heard about the company-wide meeting, so I came to pick up Faith and take her. I planned to offer her a ride to work every day so she wouldn’t have to take public transportation.” “That’s a very kind offer, Daniel,” Jasmine replied, her voice throaty. There wasn’t much about her that didn’t carry a sensuous essence. “I’m sure you can provide a much more enjoyable ride…on your hover-bike than the public transportation system. What do you say, Faith? Offers don’t often get better than that.” Whew… The doctorate with the big honkers wasn’t kidding. Danny looked especially sizzling today with a gentle breeze blowing through his hair, the sun twinkling his soft gray eyes. Faith hadn’t noticed his appeal this morning, having lost too much sleep to a spider bite and the standard Sacred Sand hallucination of angels. She’d been a little bitter. An offer of a ride to work every morning with her arms wrapped around Danny’s waist, his hips between her legs? Offers never got better than that. Faith cast him a challenging smile. He falsely assumed she’d go along with his every plan. If there was no escaping this investigation, then she was here for her own goals, and she shouldn’t let him think she would bend whichever way he preferred. “I’d be a fool to say no to that, but all mama raised was fools. I’ll pass on the offer.” The smart-ass smile fell from his mouth. “Come on.” He hiked an eyebrow. “You really want to rethink that.” “No thanks.”

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“I’ll give you time to reconsider.” She feigned contemplation, rolling her eyes from east to west. “Nope. Still not gonna. I’ll rent a hovercraft. I’ll need to get around on my own.” Gotcha. She won. Any further coercion from him in front of Jasmine would carry a stalker-like quality to it. His slightly miffed expression in his eyes said he recognized that. Gawd, she loved beating him. Jasmine found no entertainment in their banter. “I’m sure you two will work it out. Perhaps Faith needs to be teased into it. The meeting starts in a half hour in Pharmhouse Twenty-two on the south road. I’ll see you two there.” She cast Danny an overly hot eye. The beautiful white horse trotted away in a show step with his mistress aboard. “That woman wants you,” Faith said aloud, and wasn’t sure why she told him. Anyone with any degree of sexual awareness could see it in the libidinous scan of Jasmine’s eyes over Danny. It was almost tactile for everyone near to detect. He watched Jasmine ride away, his gaze stuck on her. He sucked his bottom lip into his teeth and bit it. “I want her in the worst way…” Then he turned to Faith, his ghostly eyes serious. “…put inside a cage hanging over a lake of fire. Forever.” The visual of a hellish punishment brought last night back to her. Kasey and Danny had lied to her about getting the spider bite in Danny’s bedroom. The house was a solid shell with no seams for spiders to exploit. She remembered sneaking out, calling Casper, being bitten, and shown a revelation by a winged and glowing creature. She’d experienced an amazing hallucination tripping on the spider venom. She thought of everything the spirit had told her before she’d sunken into the desert sands to die. Fallen angels had turned into demons. You are among them now. Those were the last words she remembered the angel having said, but she’d been pretty out of her mind with pain, toxins swimming through her body and brain, and she recalled only blotches of memories after that. Was she among…demons? Angels? She feared where Danny placed on the scale

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from saint to sinner. He didn’t seem like a saint. Luckily, the vision had only been her imagination gone wild. “I thought you were going to remain in hiding until you found your would-be assassins.” “Things changed with your spider bite.” Boy, had they. Before her flight into the desert, she’d dealt in IMarshals and drug dealers. Now, if a hallucination were to be believed, she juggled angels and demons, and whatever the hell Danny was. A mass murderer, in the least, a government assassin, at best. And that didn’t seem like the best of anything to be a killer. She felt compelled to believe the hallucination had something to do with this case. And Danny. He must have seen doubt of him in her eye. “I need your ability to enter any science building in this complex. What do you want, Faith, to make you stay and work through this investigation?” His eyes were heavy on her, as if he intended to exploit her doubt. He was good at reading her. “If you won’t let me leave this situation, then I want a story that will get me the respect I deserve as an investigative reporter. Preferably not posthumously.” “I’ll give you the story. Autographed pictures, unimpeachable evidence, firsthand accounts. If you give me what I require first.” She didn’t believe him. I-Marshals did not give up cases to the media, especially with autographed pictures. She just wanted to sleep in her own bed tonight. “What do you require, Danny?” “I’ll let you know.” He snatched up her hand and led her down the slope to the parking space where his hover-bike awaited. At the bike, he tossed her his extra helmet and mounted the machine. “That was clever how you made it look like you hate me.” “It wasn’t clever,” she told him as she put on the helmet, hiked up her skirt, and climbed onto the seat of the big, shiny bike, her bare thighs hugging his leather-clad hips. And she lied. “I do hate you.” He pressed the ignition, the air-jets quietly sucked in air, and the bike

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rose from the dirt. “What have I done to you…in the last two hours?” Nothing in the last two hours, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge that. When she didn’t take a verbal swat at him, he turned around to her, and she gave him a pernicious sneer. “Tonight, you’ll change your mind about hating me, Faith. You’re going to ask me to kill a man for you. And I’m going to do it.” She clucked her tongue in disbelief. “I doubt that very much. I’m not the kind to take a hit out on someone.” “Just last night, you thanked me for killing a man.” She thought of Calderon, the gangster who’d owned the dark streets of Capital City, feeding the addictions of unfortunate souls, inciting crime, cutting down people in the streets over territories and profits. He was her archenemy. Her hatred for him held no bounds. Calderon had stolen someone she’d loved from her years ago, and she’d never forget that. In search of stories, she’d befriended Calderon’s victims, held their hands in hospital beds and alleyways, watching them suffer. She’d hugged children who’d just lost their last parent and would spend the rest of their youths in the foster home system because of the gangster’s enterprises. She’d seen the aftermath of street shootouts, bodies shrouded and taken away in coroner’s vehicles. It had felt good to discover the too-familiar gangster had been among the men Danny had hit. “I did thank you. You had already killed Calderon. He’d been a monster, not a man. You’d killed him of your own volition, and I’d thanked you for his victims’ sakes.” “He’s far more of a monster than had made it to the news, I assure you, Faith.” “I still won’t ask you to kill a man. It’s not the person I am.” “Never doubt, Faith, that everything can change in a heartbeat.” She launched her most powerful scowl at him. “You should consider how I might turn on you, if you don’t get me a new palm computer.”

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Chapter 12 Pharmhouse Twenty-two was an office complex built far off the road and behind tall crops to evade a visitor’s casual eye. There must have been fifty transport vehicles parked before the entrance and a few horses housed in stalls. Princess was in attendance. The beast snorted at Faith when he saw her again. Danny pulled his corporate ID from his jacket pocket, and then he opened the door for her with a smile that said he was about to one-up her. How was he going to win? What looked like a farmhouse on the outside was offices and a meeting hall on the inside. Round, skirted tables spread out over the hall, a buffet table along the side set up by uniformed servers. One hundred people— mostly men, Faith noticed—milled about in social circles, drinks in hands. Sean stood within a group of people she didn’t yet know. His peridot eyes spotted her then moved over her like she was a plant. Danny and Faith took seats at a sparsely filled table and watched as Jasmine was escorted by her husband and head of Face Pharmaceuticals, Dr. Brady Manheim, a short, balding, and tired-looking man much older than his overly attractive wife. No wonder she stared at Danny like he was a double-dip ice cream cone she wanted to lick. Seating his wife on the dais that contained a podium, the brilliant but morally compromised doctor took the public-address microphone and told the settling room, “Good morning, Face Pharmaceuticals. Please feel free to mingle after the meeting and during dinner. I want to point out our lovely new lab-supplies manager, Faith. Please make your way to her sometime during dinner and introduce yourself, make her feel welcome.” All eyes turned on her, and she fidgeted and smiled. Too many male eyes and grins looked too attentive. The company’s odd emphasis on using

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only first names provided a measure of anonymity, a good indicator of something illegal hidden in the layers of the company. Usually scientists wanted to know one another’s backgrounds, reputations, and accomplishments, but not here. She zeroed in on Kasey sitting in the back of the audience, leaning back in his chair, his grin entertained at her embarrassment. The degree at which his chair teetered seemed likely to send him crashing to the carpet, but strangely didn’t. When the room’s attention returned to the speaker, she slipped her hand beneath the tablecloth and gripped Danny’s knee. She felt an extraordinary warmth rising from him—even through his jeans—that moved up her arm and heated her entire body in a cold room. She whispered to him, “If you abandon me in this meeting, I’ll trash your bedroom.” He leaned closer to her, and whispered back through her hair, “Is that a metaphor for wreaking your sexual vengeance? Because your hand on my knee is really turning me on. Why don’t you promise me to trash my bedroom if I stay? Because you’ve got me interested in that.” She moved her hand immediately from his leg to her lap. His hand slid over, took hers, and pressed it back onto his knee, his hand atop hers and trapping it. She kind of liked her hand held hostage by his. “I’m taking you home tonight.” That was a surprise. “To my home?” “Yes.” “Why would you do that?” “Because you’re going to choose to stay with me for the long run and not cause problems.” “If I had a choice, I would choose not to die.” “But you do want a Pulitzer.” She turned to him and cast him a shocked look. “How do you know I’m after a Pulitzer?” “You’ve nominated yourself twice.” How did he get all this information on her? “No one paid attention. Besides, a Pulitzer’s no fun if you’re dead.” Dr. Manheim then said, “I regret to say, there was a hovercraft accident

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in town last night, and we’ve lost three of our major distributors.” An eerie hush moved over the audience. Three? Danny had left eight bodies behind. “The board has yet to make decisions on their replacements, but when we do, you’ll receive a memo on it.” No rest in peace, God bless their families, or flowers will go to their funerals? She found that odd for such a warm and fuzzy company. “Three?” she whispered to Danny. “Hadn’t you opened up on six distributors?” “I’d told you some would rise.” She gawked at him in disbelief, her mouth hung open. She’d watched the I-Marshal blast holes the size of an egg in their heads. There was no coming back from that. A shift of his eyes told her to turn back around and appear to pay attention. An hour of boredom passed, filled with departmental updates and discussion of chemical processes. She tried to pay attention, but the big Latin words lost her. They had lost her in chemistry class, as well. Then a discussion of interstellar distribution ensued of which she knew nothing. The corporate disguise of a massive legal-drug network was a good one, but not an original one. A lot of pharmaceutical corporations throughout history had been little more than suit-wearing drug producers and suppliers for the chemically addicted populations they targeted. The law could hardly keep up. Some of the companies disguised their drugs as specialized treatments for ailments, but those legal regimens often led to addiction, and the companies then had clients for life. Some companies, like Face Pharmaceuticals, produced a few safe treatments for common ailments as a cover for their illegal productions. Deaf to the dry speech given from the dais, she scanned the tables and spotted a tall man with black-as-pitch flesh, his hair knotted in long dreadlocks and caked in dried white paste like the voodoo islanders of Draco Ceyina wore. It gave him a spooky, supernatural look. He wore jeans and a sleeveless shirt, revealing the gang brand and other ritual scarification.

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His earlobes were opened and stretched almost to his collarbone. She felt the blood drain from her face as she recalled the video Danny’s helmet had taken. This was Detonator, the leader of the Explosives who blew up buildings when their careers as drug dealers became monotonous. He truly was scary-looking in the light of day. She bet he probably held a frightening power over his victims. And, despite the fact Danny had burned a hole through Detonator’s head last night, he appeared surprisingly alive. She turned her vision onto the IMarshal seated beside her, who had already traced her sight. He issued a lifted eyebrow. Danny was starting to win. Again. She could feel his triumph walking up to her and tweaking her nose. And she feared once he started to win over her, like an avalanche, he couldn’t be stopped. Hell, he was always winning over her. He’d defeated her before she’d ever laid eyes on him. By the time the meeting broke up, she’d earned the free dinner for her patience alone. Just when she considered leaping upon the buffet table, Dr. Manheim reminded the guests to introduce themselves to the new labsupplies manager. She’d hoped most had forgotten, and Danny and she could sneak out the door early, but it wasn’t to be. The line formed quickly to shake her hand, so she stood and put on her best professional front. Danny stayed seated at her side and didn’t wander, and she was glad of it. Detonator did not step into the greeting line, and she was relieved for that, too. He didn’t look friendly, but rather unpredictable. His prison muscles, permanent scowl, and the apparentness of no one willing to speak socially with him punctuated that theory. Good, then it wouldn’t stick out that she didn’t wish to speak to him, or even stand close. Wishing a newly introduced fellow science staffer a good day, she turned back to find a tall young man with raven-black hair cut short, dark and lively eyes, and olive-toned skin standing before her. “Good day, Miss Faith,” he greeted her in a pleasant tenor voice interlaced with a thick Sylantan brogue. He was an enticing, come-hither kind of handsome. “I’m Stefan, and I work in distribution. I hope you’ll do

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me the honor of having dinner with me soon. I can give you a complete picture of the distribution plans over a nice bottle of wine, and in a less boring fashion than the stiff doctors.” His hand stretched out to take hers. His smile was really attractive, and his dark-chocolate eyes had a puckish, beguiling element to them. She sensed he didn’t intend to talk about the company’s systems when he got her alone. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Who’s to say she couldn’t meet a nice guy while chasing a story? Danny hated her, if the constant frown on his face was any clue. The little bit of flirtation between them was probably only meant to cool the loathing. Passing Stefan her hand, she repeated his name to seal it in her head, but when she glanced downward to shake his hand, she spotted red laces in his court sneakers. It was Gamble, the depraved murderer who killed people on gang orders and video-recorded it for perverts to watch. On reflex, she yanked her hand from his as though she’d been stung, and she shuddered against her will, unable to suppress the reaction. Cautious of raising suspicion, her eyes darted back to him, and she smiled then complained of the chill in the room. He didn’t look the way she’d expected him to look, dead, but didn’t know what she’d expected. What did a hit man look like? Dressed in a finely tailored suit, the man before her seemed like the kind of guy who held down a middlemanagement glass-office job and visited his mother once a week, met the guys on pizza-and-beer night. Surprisingly handsome and pleasant-looking for a sick killer, he passed her his card with his comm number on it, and she thanked him for his warm welcome without committing to a date. She cast Danny, sitting quiet and seemingly disconnected beside her, another unobvious expression of awareness of the room’s walking dead. When she turned back to her receiving line, she found her hand caught up and at the lips of a sun-toasted and greasy man her height with slickedback black hair and wearing an expensive suit, diamond studs in his ears, and gold on his fingers. Before her eyes, Calderon, the nightmare of her planet, stood before her, pressing his psychopath lips to her fingers.

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“Good evening, Miss Faith,” he said to her with a slight inner-city accent that flavored his speech, and she needed no introduction to this man. His ruby-and-gold class ring gleamed under the hall’s bright lighting. They’d never met face-to-face, but there was no doubt this man knew the names and faces of every reporter who had ever written much about him. There were 60,000 Faith Vedders living on Alliance planets. And still very small odds he would run into one who wasn’t the reporter always putting her nose in his business. He must have read her chronicles of his exploits at peeling the law like a banana. A flash-picture of Sheska Labreezi and her two children came to mind. Once Calderon’s mistress, Sheska had witnessed the gangster ordering hits on a competitor’s family among many other crimes. Having had reached her saturation point for violence and worried for her children, she’d contacted Faith through the paper to surrender to the Feds. Faith had convinced the frightened woman to testify at his upcoming trial, one of the few conspiracy charges he couldn’t shake. Faith hadn’t spoken to Sheska in weeks, busy following the leads the mysterious Freak had provided. Before Faith could gather the peace of mind to pleasantly return his greeting, Calderon looked down to Danny seated beside her, and the kingpin said to the undercover I-Marshal, “Heretic, it’s been a while. I’d expected to see you at the initiation last night.” With a lazy impudence, Danny cast his gray sight up to the kingpin from his seat. “Calderon. I’m not much for ritual and tradition. I heard the party got rougher than usual.” Calderon’s hand went to his forehead, and he rubbed the spot the IMarshal’s beam had incinerated. “It was a good one to miss. The night had given me a killer headache.” The shock of learning these men knew one another sent stars into Faith’s sight. And, oh yeah, Calderon was alive. Where was justice? ****

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Danny and Faith materialized in the house pod, and she had a lot to say. She watched him enter the back bedrooms gathering stuff along the way, and she just stood waiting, thinking of Calderon and wondering why he was alive. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t just. It wasn’t decent. Danny had killed him fair and square. Isabella came from the back room with an e-reader in her hand, her doeeyes seeking Sean. As if she worried for him each time he left her. “I saw Sean at the meeting,” Faith told the young woman to alleviate her obvious anxiety. “I’m sure he’ll be home soon.” “Thank you,” she said quietly, sat on the couch, and returned to her read. Without Sean at her side, she seemed a little lost, a little distressed. Danny came from the hallway, hauling a big duffle bag on his shoulder, and he took Faith’s hand. “Are you ready to go?” “Go where?” She tugged her hand from his grip. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you made me think you’d killed these men. Or tell me how Calderon had taken a beam in the head, yet he still lives.” She found Isabella’s eyes on them, big with surprise. Danny took a hold of her upper arm, domination in his grip. “You’re going home, like I promised.” Before she could launch a protest, she found them both standing in the living room of her Capital City home. Soft twilight filtered through the sheer-curtained west windows, revealing a layer of dust on surfaces. Everything looked the same as she’d left it weeks ago to travel to Sylanta. She kicked off Isabella’s painful shoes. Danny sat at her desk, drew a palm computer from his jacket pocket, and set it on the sync pad. The computer awakened and presented the contents of the device. “Don’t tell Isabella anything,” he deadpanned. “I don’t know that we can trust her.” “What can I tell her? I’m insisting upon answers because I know nothing.” Faith felt a little faint from the teleportation, unused to it. “Who’s trustworthy in this?”

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“I am,” Danny stated solidly. Faith couldn’t have faith in that declaration. A few keystrokes applied, the printer began to spit out page after page. The task accomplished, he picked up the duffle bag and disappeared behind her bedroom door. As if he knew her home well. She eyed the churning printer. She was home and wasn’t ready to be. She’d been given hints of a huge story, only to have it snatched away. Had she just seen the dead walk, or had she been tricked into thinking she had? The man who could explain it, who’d said he needed her, finally dumped her where she’d been begging to go for the last day. She just stood there, not knowing what to do next. What the hell just happened out there? What the hell would happen next? A lot of hell going on… Hauling the duffle bag, Danny came through the bedroom door again, dressed in the bottom half of the super-soldier suit and boots, his hardmuscled chest, bulging arms, and chiseled abs exposed to her sight. Notice of him sent her heart into a harder thump, spun her thoughts spiraling away. Her flesh shivered with awareness of his physical power. He tugged a thin and tight cotton T-shirt over his head and down his half-naked body, and she was relieved when all that man was covered up. His dark-blue T-shirt read, Often Mistaken For the Wrath of God. Her sight drew to the half-covered pitchfork branded into his bicep, and she denied another urge to trace it with her fingertip. Weight-built sinew flexing and relaxing at the task, he dragged the super-soldier jacket over his torso, zipping it halfway up the left side of his body. Watching him dress stirred her, and she suppressed the fireworks of excitement he set off in her before the stress aged her. She was supposed to be angry, not gawking at his ripped physique. He took up the palm computer from the sync pad, slipped it into an inside pocket of the jacket, and zipped it the rest of the way for a snug fit. Didn’t he say he needed that palm computer for teleportation? Suited up without the cowl and helmet, he took her gently by the arms

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to gain her undivided attention, as though he thought she’d ignore him. His half-naked body on display had cooled her fire. His gray eyes followed his thumbs slowly stroking her shoulders for a moment, and then they shifted to her. “There’s something I must do for you.” “For me?” she squeaked. “Yes. But I’ll return, and I’ll explain more. I need you to promise me you won’t leave or communicate with anyone until I return. Do you remember what the angel had told you?” She blinked a few times, unsure of what he spoke. She hadn’t told Danny about her desert hallucination. “The angel?” “He’d spoken of the Watchers, Faith, angels who’d fallen from grace and become creatures of corruption. He’d told you few could stop them. Those who can are on the job.” She remembered the entire imagined conversation with the glowing spirit. He’d mentioned the sons of the Fallen found among her people. Sons of angels, sons of demons. The Nephilim, whatever they were. She might have forgotten it all if he hadn’t reminded her. “I don’t understand, Danny, what a hallucination of angels has to do with why you’ve gone to great lengths to make me believe you’d killed these men.” He collected the papers from the printer and returned to her. “It’s not yet time for you to understand, but you’ll soon see how it’s interwoven. Just read this. It’ll change your perspective. And promise me you’ll stay here and contact no one. If you disregard my wishes, Faith, you’ll get no story. And you might put yourself in grave danger.” She sure as heck wanted this byline. The headline would be spectacular. Calderon Gets Beam in Brain, Arrives on Time for Business Meeting. Danny promised her pictures and interviews. She wanted the Blindfold story and the undead criminals story. She just wished she didn’t have to put her life on the line for it. A story wasn’t worth her life. But a Pulitzer Prize-winning story was. Undead criminals… Angels and demons… Was Danny attempting to

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muddle the story with paranormal red herrings to throw her off the scent of this investigation? “Promise me, Faith,” he said more sternly this time, his deep voice infused with a subtle emotional component that pled for her compliance. If she didn’t vow to silence, would he again take her into custody and drag her back to Sylanta? A part of her wished to focus on her home crafts blog to the exclusion of supernatural beings, but that chicken-hearted coward was smaller than the courageous investigative reporter in her. “I promise.” He dug into the duffle bag, retrieved his gloves, and tugged them on. He pulled the laser from the holster built into the suit’s cover, and he checked the fuel level. Finally, he pulled the helmet from his bag. An easy smile brightened his eyes. “A kiss for luck?” A rash of titillation raced over her. She looked him over, dressed in the very dark blue, slightly reflective skin, the best tech the Alliance could produce. After the Invisible Man had dropped her back home, she’d researched what little information there was on the super-soldier suit, long ago announced early in its development, then never again mentioned to the media. But she did learn enough to be blown away. In a few seconds, he could turn invisible, take a beam, bullet, blast, blade, or blaze. He could lift an elephant, if he gripped the animal right. He could outrun a common hovercraft for a short length of time. Coupled with an interstellar teleport, he was invincible. Wasn’t he? Hooray for technology. Oh, she wanted to kiss him. Right now. But she was afraid he’d have to stop her. And she didn’t think she’d want to stop, once she was in that moment, her hands all over him. “I don’t think you need luck.” “I don’t. I’ll bring you back a gift worthy of a kiss.” “Well, you better impress me.” As if she wasn’t impressed with him already. But she couldn’t let him know that. “Hey?” “Yeah?” “Do you really want to kiss me?” Her lips tingled with the words. She wasn’t sure she could stand it if all that man kissed her. She’d forget what she was there for.

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What was she here for again? Danny unleashed a brilliant seductive smile that rushed her blood and made her light-headed. “I want to earn your kiss.” She flushed under his concentrated sight. She hadn’t blushed in years before she’d met him…or felt so much sexual lightning for a man. His smile bloomed bigger as he tugged the cowl over his head and the helmet over that. Then he disappeared. It occurred to her, she didn’t know if he went invisible or teleported from the room. He hadn’t explained a thing, just left mysteries at her feet. Faith stared at the document he left on the couch cushion. She didn’t want to read it. She had the unnerving feeling that collection of papers would change her life. Instead, she sat at the computer and wrote Casper for a deep news search on any person with the alias Heretic. The puppy journalist had babbled about having an informant in the black market, most likely the cousin of a friend of a low-ranking side character on the periphery of something mildly threatening. The claim had probably been a big factor in Burt giving him the city crime desk. It was time to test the kid on that boast. When she finished her letter and sent it off, she researched the word Nephilim, confirming what the angel of her toxin-based hallucination had said. They were the children of the fallen angels and the mortal women they’d taken as wives. They’d been giants, evil and destructive. The early writings had called them monsters, and many had been killed in the planetwide flood. In time, the luminous creature had told her, the descendants of the Nephilim had faded into the populations of the mortal worlds so many millennia ago. They’d been identified. She was among them now. Was it the IMarshals or the Pharm’s walking dead? Were the descendants of the Nephilim good or evil? Finding little else but non-corroborating myth of the Nephilim, she gave up. A few hours of research netted her next to no information on the IMarshals, ever the very secretive organization. They only showed up in the

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news when a high-profile outer space bust went down, and that was probably a deterrence message for criminals everywhere. Other than that, there weren’t three people on Reigna both knowledgeable enough of the space cops and willing to speak of them. That was the way the Alliance wanted it. Exhausted from chasing this story, she took a shower with Danny’s soft gray eyes on her mind. She still felt his hot hands on her arms, the caress of his thumbs, even though she’d worn two layers of clothes beneath his hands. Her palm pulsated, her hand remembering the heat of his knee at the meeting. She might not see him again after his final visit tonight. He could more easily control every aspect of the story by sending pictures and interviews rather than visit her and allow her some level of direction over the piece. When the story was done, she’d probably forget him in the preparation for her Pulitzer. Nah, no one won a Pulitzer for sitting on the sidelines, awaiting e-mail. And it was pretty unlikely she’d forget him. Daniel Tierney was a lot of things. That one thing he wasn’t? “Forgettable,” she said aloud because the truth forced itself out. How does a woman forget a guy, once she’s seen his vital organs in vivid color? Once he’s driven her up a rock wall at the speed of sound? When he’s taken a bolt of lightning for her? I’m interested in seeing that investigative report. She wished she’d kissed him. Ever since he’d said the word, just three audible sounds, her body endured a slow-burning fuse for his lips touching hers. Had he cast a spell with the sexy suggestion? She promised herself she’d find, she’d create the opportunity to kiss Danny. She came from the shower, and it was long past dark outside, so she dressed for bed, happy to be home. As she vowed never again to chase a story off her own home planet, she washed laundry, cleaned an already neat kitchen, did everything she could to keep from reading the report he’d printed for her. She no longer wore the T-shirt she’d swiped from Danny. She’d been too upset to remember to steal it again, and now she had to do without a part

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of him. The separation of her and that shirt was more difficult than she’d envisioned. Now that she’d thought of and done everything she could to get out of it, she settled on the couch with a glass of warmed brandy to scent the air. Danny floated through her mind when she smelled brandy. They were one and the same thought now. Apprehensive, she turned the papers over and began to read. It was a confidential report on Calderon, not only his rap sheet but the law enforcement dossier on the crimes for which he was thought responsible, but could not be proven. No one outside law enforcement ever saw the dossier sheets, privileged information. Calderon’s took up thirtyfour sheets of paper. She studied every would-be charge in depth and recognized many of the unsolved crimes for which no one had been arrested, crimes for which only small potatoes had been busted. Those gangland kids would do time in juvenile penitentiaries that served as crime colleges, and they’d come out more efficient criminals. Calderon was a monster who brushed away lives like ants at his picnic. He went all the way every time. And a little bit farther. It was the very last suspected crime that struck the breath from Faith’s chest. Last week, when she’d been hopping freighters, the slow and cheap way to return to Sylanta, Sheska Labreezi and her two children had been gunned down in a safe house, her guard slain. Faith struggled to breathe and could find no room in her lungs. She’d talked Sheska into testifying against her lover Calderon when the woman had wanted to flee for her life. According to the report, Sheska’s murder had been gruesome and neither painless nor quick, a message in her blood written dozens of times on the walls, Don’t try it again, clearly a personal note to those who had come together—cops, prosecutors, journalists—to see Calderon given a hot cell on prison-planet Null. Faith burst into tears, and nothing could make it better. She’d cost a family their lives and had given them a horrible end. Now Sheska’s blood, and that of her children, was on Faith’s hands.

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Not a single fingerprint or witness had been left behind, so law enforcement could not prove the gangster had been present or even called the shot. But Faith bet he had been there to personally punish Sheska for her betrayal. It was Calderon’s style to face his victims and let them know how they’d failed him. It must have been a horror-filled passing for Sheska. The murderous scumbag had kissed Faith’s hand. She scrubbed the back of her hand over the fabric of the couch to remove any remaining germ that might have come from the bastard’s mouth. Danny was the key to something extraordinary going on here, and her journalistic instincts now told her nothing she saw was faked or staged. He’d predicted some of the dancing gangsters would rise again. If he knew his beams would put holes through their foreheads and not kill some of them, he had much to explain to her. She saw holes in their brains. Calderon had confirmed he’d attended the initiation, and he’d spoken of a killer headache. Killer, indeed! Danny had been right. He was dead-on. She would ask him to kill a man, but not just any man. The leading crime kingpin of Draco Reigna. If she didn’t see to Calderon’s death, his every victim after Sheska and her family…was Faith’s fault, as well. Why was the monster still alive when she’d seen Danny burn a hole through his skull? She spent the hours before Danny’s return weeping. **** Danny spent the hours tracking and destroying Calderon.

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Chapter 13 Wherever Calderon went, he opened a gun shop, even on the planets where guns were outlawed. It was his fuck-you to the authorities. The I-Marshal had a fuck-you for Calderon from the entire Alliance, hand-delivered. Danny paced into Calderon’s gun store just off the main drag of the coastal city bordering the Pharm on Sylanta. Unseen, he walked right past the gangster’s bulky guards and into the firing range. It was a private indoor range with no windows revealing those within to those in the shop, so Danny didn’t have to kill the guards to keep them from spotting his talk with their boss. The oily Calderon stood alone in a shooting booth, firing a variety of firearms, both projectile and beam weapons. The mobster’s range time was the only time he was without his posse in attendance or women on his arm. The familiar smell of gunpowder made Danny smile. He watched for a while to see if Calderon was a good shot. He was. But it wasn’t going to help him. When Danny felt like it, he walked up to Calderon unsuspecting, and he clocked the mobster, sending him to the concrete floor. Minutes later, Calderon awakened to find himself hanging upside down a half-meter in the air at the target-end of the shooting range, his hands cuffed behind his back, his body wrapped in and suspended by the cables that operated the target-retrieval system of the range. His eyes rolled upward to find Danny’s gold I-Marshal badge jammed in his mouth and no one in the room. No one visible. “Go ahead,” Danny spoke loudly into the gangster’s ear. “Scream all

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you want.” Calderon did. He screamed as much as he could, his mouth stuffed with a big eight-point star, and it wasn’t enough to penetrate the soundproofed range. He looked terrified. Good. When the criminal scourge of Reigna wore himself out squealing like a pig, Danny plucked the badge from his mouth and wiped it on Calderon’s expensive suit. “I’m here for a few reasons, alter-life demon. First, to avenge the wholesale death, corruption, and misery you’ve caused the mortal worlds for millennia. I’m going to visit all your brothers connected to the Pharm…and I’m going to destroy every one of you.” Calderon thrashed in his bonds to no avail. He only swung for his efforts like a pendulum blade. “Secondly, I’ve been sent to avenge Sheska’s murder, and that of her family.” “Who sent you?” the gangster spat, livid to find himself in this position. “Faith Vedder. You remember her, the reporter who’s on you like…blasphemy on a devil’s lips. You met her today.” The crook snorted. “The new company bottle-washer. I recognized her right away.” “I thought you might have, which is why I’m here to dismantle you. She actually hasn’t asked me to kill you yet. But she will. That you will be dead before she calls the shot is just a trick of time. Going against you.” Calderon shouted again for his boys, and rocked himself in an effort to bring his body down from his bonds. When he tired, he gave up, still swinging from side to side. “Keep calling for your buddies. I’ll pick them off like duck targets.” “Why are you waiting to destroy me, Marshal?” “I want some information from you. What do you know about a street manager on Valdeya called Freak? Lie to me, and I’ll call upon Metatron to get the truth from you. If you make me call upon my lord, I’ll cut your tongue out, and he’ll have a hard time understanding your answer. You don’t wish to give the highest of angels a difficult time, do you? He will consign you to the Fifth Heaven where your punishment will last an eternity.

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He has no mercy for corruptors.” Calderon sweated like a turkey shown the chopping block. “Freak… He’d been a high-level employee of the Juicers. I’d sold him the job of killing Faith Vedder. He’d told me he’d taken the contract to Boss, who’d given it to Heretic.” It didn’t surprise the I-Marshal. Contract killings were often passed through a chain of criminals to erase the true originator. “Clearly, Heretic hadn’t done his job. I found him at the woman’s side earlier today.” Danny disengaged his invisibility, and he removed the helmet and the cowl beneath it, and set them down beside him on the floor. The gangster sucked in a slow breath of shock to see him and put it together that his longtime black-market associate was an undercover I-Marshal. “I always do my job. You’re not making any more plans for Faith. She’s fantasizing of your destruction now.” “Is a third-rate reporter calling your shots now, Heretic?” “Keep mouthing off, and I’ll put my C-breaker down your throat and cook you from the inside out. When was the last time you heard from Freak?” The click of Heretic’s switchblade rushed him into saying, “Weeks ago.” “Before or after Boss’s crew got hit on Valdeya?” “B–Before,” Calderon stammered. “A week before, I’m sure of it. I’m guessing Freak died in that hit.” Heretic knew Freak had survived his destruction somehow, and he knew Calderon lied. “So you didn’t kill Faith Vedder…and you’re screwing her now… Isn’t that against I-Marshal rules?” “Don’t provoke me, demon. I’m not a man of limits.” The gangster’s vision roamed the target range and his position in it. “Are you planning some shooting practice on me?” “What good would it do? We both know that won’t end your sick existence. You’ll just regenerate in a day or two in that body. Unless I give

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you a thorough destruction.” Calderon nervously chuckled, his peace disturbed. “You’ve a bit of a reputation as a torturer, Heretic. Wouldn’t you rather take your anger out on me and let me live, giving you a source of information?” “I really would like to take my anger out on you. Especially since I saw you put your grubby demon lips on Faith today, attempting to defile her. I’d like to carve my initials in your scaly chest for that. Maybe force you to transform completely, let your wings sprout…so I can slip my blade beneath them and cut them from your demon back. Carve the horns from your demon skull. Pull the fangs from your demon face.” Calderon shuddered, probably imagining himself stripped of his evil tools. “But letting you live for what little info you could provide violates my mission to destroy you and your kind. I’ll do what I must to end your existence. Drain you of every drop of your blood. I’ve planned for it, so we have all the time in the world.” He pointed his blade to the drain grate just below the gangster’s head, the sloped floor that funneled spent bullets into one point for collection. “And you won’t leave too big a mess for your friends to clean up. By the way…” Heretic lifted the gold chains hanging around Calderon’s greasy neck with his blade. “I arrest you in the name of the Draco Alliance. I had to say that to make it official.” “Stop pretending to be a cop, Heretic. You’re formed from the same dark and wicked flame as me…son of fire.” “I guess it’s in my nature to see you suffer.” “It’s a sin you love too much.” “Darkness,” Danny murmured an order, his teeth gritted in momentary restraint, and he pushed the vision of desolate loneliness, of coldness, emptiness, and blindness into Calderon’s thoughts. The absence of light and warmth were the things a son of fire most feared. The I-Marshal rolled his big switchblade into his best grip to do the job he loved, recall of the demon attempting to defile Faith eating through his brain.

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**** Danny teleported into Faith’s home and found her asleep on the couch, wearing satiny red pajamas that matched her hair, the report clutched in her hand. A bottle of Valdeyan brandy sat on the side table, a half-full rocks glass beside it. He set the helmet, cowl, and gloves into his duffle bag, then he quietly stepped over to her, and eased the papers from her slack grip. The ink was smeared. Wads of crumpled tissue lay on the floor before her. She’d wept half the night. Setting the report aside, he sat down on the chair beside the couch, reached for her glass, tossed back the brandy, and winced. Then he put his face in his hands and rubbed, but the guilt of having manipulated her wouldn’t go away. When she awakened, she would ask him to kill Calderon, just like he’d arranged. Had Danny destroyed a monster early, just for Faith’s kiss? Demons told lies every day, but the truth Calderon had spoken before Danny had ended his ghoulish existence rang through his head. The same dark and wicked flame… It was too profound an observation for Danny to deny. He met the devil inside him each time he caught up with one of them. Instead of dispensing with the alter-lifes in the most efficient way, he took pleasure in stretching out their destruction, listening to them curse their creation, watching the terror of upcoming eternal torment—or no existence at all—in their spooked eyes. He loved beating the hell out of demons, and making them regret their betrayal of the Maker. His drive for winning against the alter-lifes had twice blown his boundaries in dealing with Faith. He’d made her suffer to benefit the mission, and she wasn’t the enemy. He’d never earn his wings at this pace. Good genetics and a shocking failure of the prosecutorial case against him had prompted a judge to pluck him from the jails of Capital City and save his ass from a well-earned life behind bars at age fourteen. He’d been worthless criminal vermin then. His fate placed in the hands of angelic forces, he’d been put through the Alliance Marines and the I-Marshal

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Academy to reach new heights of his talents. Now, he lived a sterling life, carried the strongest badge in the Alliance, tracked down and destroyed the greatest threats to the mortal worlds, but he was still dark inside. He’d never been successful at replacing the hate in his heart with justice. Fortunately, he did his job just as well with hate. He gazed at Faith sleeping, her knees tucked up close to her bosom, her long copper hair curling over her closed eyes. Her lips looked so very kissable. The curve of her breasts rising and falling with her slow breath under red satin moved him, made his mouth water and his body react. He couldn’t actually see any particularly sexy part of her, well covered in PJs and socks, and he still felt a strong pull toward her, a want of her, any little part of her at all. She looked like a shiny red present he wanted to unwrap. He decided he’d better make good his pledge to become a better man. Forcing the name of her source from her when she lay dying, tricking her into implicating herself in Calderon’s end, and insisting—with his badge— she stay and help the gangbusters, were plain wrong. He couldn’t choose to think the ends justified the means when she could get very badly hurt or killed. What the demons did to unwilling women was an abomination. He couldn’t take the chance a demon could gain control of Faith. When she awakened, she’d ask him to kill the gangster, and that was a line over which he should not have shoved her. She would beg him to take her with him, let her help the other alter-lifes fall and destroy Blindfold, and allow her to report on it. That last one wasn’t going to happen under any circumstance. Every moment he gave her hope for a word of a story was a complete, bold-faced lie. The I-Marshals’ mission in the mortal worlds could not be compromised. Before, he’d been very willing to use her as another inside link to the Pharm. But seeing Calderon’s lips touching her had given Danny a sudden surge of repressed rage. The sight of a demon’s lips on any part of her had made Danny crazy in the head for a few minutes there. He would have put off Calderon’s destruction, if he hadn’t seen it. Damn! I hate demons!

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But Danny did see Calderon attempt to compromise her, and the gangster had to face destruction for that. Not to mention, the contract the gangster had put out on her. Calderon had to die to keep Faith safe. Damn… I want Faith… Letting her stay on the case was an invitation to chaos. She’d be in great danger, and most often from Danny. He didn’t trust his attraction to her to behave well. An hourglass figure made him weak. And so did kissable lips. And long, soft, hellion-red hair tempered by caramel eyes. And shapely thighs that made him hard when he thought of how he’d love to lick them. See? I’m not trustworthy. That’s why he would leave her cute ass on Reigna. He had a way of talking himself into bedding beautiful women that always seemed cool in the moment but sometimes wasn’t among the best of his decisions. Sleeping next to her last night had poisoned the professional distance he was supposed to maintain. He’d get rid of her before the feeling she gave him drove him to do something really wrong. More wrong than torturing demons with visions of emptiness before their destruction. Which didn’t seem all that wrong to him, but got no one’s approval. Why was torturing demons wrong, anyway? He reached for the bottle of brandy, filled the small glass halfway, and guzzled it all in one slam, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It was the worst thing he ever tasted, but he deserved the pain for having made her suffer. His sight took in the wads of tissue on the floor, and he imagined her tears at discovering Calderon’s latest massacre. He wanted her forgiveness. For Danny, reordering time was a cakewalk, getting a woman to forgive him was a wire walk. Look at her lying there, her shiny hair tossed and dried stiff from tears, her knees tucked against her chest as if the mourning drew her up into a ball. There were salt tracks on her cheeks from weeping for Sheska and her children. Faith might have drank all night, and that was his fault. He checked the time on the living room clock, and did the math to get the time on Sylanta. It was minutes before she was supposed to arrive at work on the

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Pharm, but she’d seen the last of this case. She was bound to have a hard hangover…unless he tickled time into a little adjustment, like he’d done with Freak’s attack on Sean and he’d done at his ambush, prolonging the arrival of medical services just so he could gaze at Faith again and experience her concern for him. Extend time, like he’d done when he was fourteen and had butchered three rival gang members in retaliation for the assault of a close friend’s sister. He would have drawn life sentences for that, if things had gone the way they should have. If Danny adjusted time around her, could he cause her to out-sleep the hangover? He could stretch out the hours for her, and her liver would have more time to filter the alcohol and impurities from her blood. She’d awaken with less trauma of a drinking jag. He’d have to stay there, in the house the entire time to maintain the time-cast. She wouldn’t have to know he stayed so long. Danny held his palms out and imagined the place in a bubble where he defined temporal space. He closed his eyes and ordered time to his measure, stretching seconds of reality into minutes, minutes into hours, giving her time to recover from her binge, and giving him what time he needed to make up for the wrong he’d done. His eyes opened to microscopic snaps of light, tiny flashes in the air of the home letting him know he held command of time for as far as the pops of light extended. Tiny paparazzi. It appeared as though the air combusted on a molecular level, tiny atomic blasts blooming and disappearing. It was the spiritual fire in his body and soul consuming the air. It could be a long while before the news of the kingpin’s death hit the streets. It was the kind of secret that stayed quiet for as long as possible in the underground criminal world. Changes in management caused gangs to battle for turf, so Calderon’s death would not be announced until his lieutenant was placed on the kingpin’s throne. Danny owed it to Faith to let her know the gangster was gone, and to emphasize the safety of blogging about home crafts and staying alive. He would do that when she awakened. If he were wise, he’d do that in a letter.

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He drew his palm computer from the unzipped super-soldier suit jacket he still wore, and checked his mail for messages from Sean or Kasey, only to discover his decision to intercept Faith’s mail a good one. She had attempted to contact the outside world, and had done it seconds after he’d left. Reading her message, he was dismayed to see her seeking info on Heretic. It had been Calderon who’d addressed him by that name in front of her, and Danny couldn’t destroy him twice for that now. How would he explain who Heretic was? Why did he feel he had to be honest with her? He was booting her off the case, and when he left this house, he would have no reason to see her again. Of course, that might change with his mood. Nothing could stop invisible visits from time to time, though he admitted to himself it was a pretty creepy thing to do. Maybe he could find a way to step back into her life when the Blindfold gangs were dissolved. Truth be told, he didn’t know how to stay away from her. That first week, he’d gone to her place wearing the super-soldier suit and had spent quiet nights with her, invisible but there to see her in her PJs, stuffing her face with chocolate, watching her cuss up a storm at news reports for good reason. She lobbed a small stuffed toy at the video screen when the mood took her. He loved all that in her. Sometimes she’d made him crazy with want of her just braiding her long, lustrous, red hair. Watching her slender fingers weave the fiery shafts of her tresses into a beautiful design that made him want to unravel it. He’d never forget the first night when she’d pulled out her Pulitzer dress and had tried it on. It was long and made of black lace laid over a fleshcolored sheath. Any distance at all made her look as though she wore only the black lace. The gown had thin straps, and the bodice that pressed her breasts into a delicious show of cleavage and enhanced her already hourglass figure, and then it flared into a nipped skirt midway at her hip. She was gorgeous in it. He’d been unable to take his eyes off her. That dress was worth every credit she’d paid for it. He’d wanted to take that dress off her so badly, he had to leave her house. But he’d gone back to spend every evening with her for five more days

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after that, unable to wipe the vision of her from his mind. Most nights he’d watched her read or type the entire evening, and couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do. After the sixth night, he’d torn himself away from her. The guilt of it, the violation it really was, had troubled him. Being unable to speak to her weighed heavier with each passing night until he couldn’t take the torture. He didn’t go back after that, but she seldom left his mind. Danny might have confessed one day to someone outside the I-Marshals that Heretic was his black-market identity, but the gangster-demon had reminded him he couldn’t claim they were separate entities when the IMarshal enjoyed the gangland hit man’s job so much. When it came down to it, Danny could make no more than a weak case against the argument that Heretic and he were one, even on the inside and to a disturbing level. He’d been the hit man longer than he’d held a badge. Faith’s appearance in his life might make him ready to destroy Heretic. But for now, she’d be much safer light-years away on a different planet, sorting oven mitten patterns and dispensing drape-pressing hints. He deleted her request for information in his inbox. She’d broken her promise not to communicate with the outside world the moment he’d turn his back. But he did deserve it for his torture and manipulation. He wasn’t going to hold her broken promise against her, chose instead to have faith in her. Kasey had made a valid point. Vinegar had worked to gain Faith’s secret source, but that hadn’t softened the obstacles he really wished to defeat. It was time for sugar. She’d see Sylanta no more. Now he wanted a different result than being hard on her got him. She wasn’t a training Marine or an Academy student or a demon cruising for destruction. He’d been cold subconsciously to avoid what he felt for her, to keep his distance so he could do his job. She was off the case now, and he needed to make up for his meanness. He wanted to be nice to her. In fact, he knew he’d like it a lot. Hot in the suit and a little sad he had to put her away like a new toy at dinnertime, he peeled off the top of the super-soldier suit shell, tossed it into the duffle bag, and bent to her, intending to pick her up and put her in her

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own bed. When he slipped his arms beneath her and hoisted her up, she awakened. He saw stars for a second, probably from the brandy, an amount new to his unique physiology. And much stronger than he thought.

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Chapter 14 Faith’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked up to find herself in Danny’s arms. In his big, beefy arms. He smelled of brandy, and her first compulsion was to press her nose into the hollow of his neck, take in the sensual pheromone storm he was, and enjoy him and the brandy together. Her thighs throbbed with sensation. Her hand went to his chest to steady herself in his arms, and the pulse of his heartbeat moved through her, correcting her own. “Are we going somewhere, Marshal?” she asked, because she didn’t want to go anywhere. She had him right where she wanted him. Alone with her, in her territory. “Good morning, sunshine,” he said to her, and the corners of his mouth rose into a gorgeous smile, not a common occurrence on his face since she’d met him. When Danny smiled, none of the groans, scowls, or frowns of the past mattered. “Is that the first time you’ve called me Marshal? I think it is. Not many people call me that. I was just moving you from the couch to your bed before I left.” The thought disappointed her, and then it alarmed her. She began to squirm before he reached the bedroom doorway. “No, you can’t leave yet. You can’t leave!” He set her to her feet, and she splayed her hands across his T-shirted chest, her eyes big with panic. The feel of his hard muscle beneath her fingers set off a whirling flush of tension and yearning. Brandy flavored his breath, melting her into weakness. His musk filled her air. She ached to kiss him that second. “You can’t leave, Danny. Why are you leaving? Last night, when I was so unwilling, you said you couldn’t pull off this gig without me. Now I’ve changed, just like you said. And I want to be in on whatever you do with

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Blindfold. No matter how weird it gets.” He sent his hands to hers and pressed them more firmly against the hard curve of his chest as if he hungered for her contact. “I changed my mind, Faith, when I saw you in a room of criminals. We’ll find a way to get what we need done. We always do. You need to turn your back on all you think you’ve seen before you attract the attention of an ugly someone.” “Not until an ugly someone is dead. You’re right, Danny. I’m going to ask you to kill Calder—” Danny produced the mobster’s ruby-and-gold class ring. The sight struck her speechless. Heretic had slain a man for her, and she hadn’t thought it would feel so good. Calderon was dead, hallelujah, and their planet immediately became a better place with the loss of the ruthless bastard. How ruthless was Heretic? Her eyes landed on the purple shirt he wore, not the same shirt he wore earlier. He’d changed somewhere along the last eight hours. His new T-shirt read, Destruction before Dishonor. She’d sure like to believe Heretic, and therefore Danny, was honorable. Oh, she really wanted to. He gently brushed her copper bangs from her eyes, and his touch titillated her. “Take the ring and have the gold melted down into a nice setting for the ruby. It’s a victory for you, Faith. He died sooner because of you, and no more people’s lives will be crushed in his fist.” Danny didn’t mention Calderon’s lieutenant would inherit his kingdom and step into his shoes with no break in the misery at all. But she knew, and in a very personal way. She took the ring from Danny’s hand and put it on her thumb. It still hung too big. Calderon had had big hands with which to do his evil. It felt dirty-good to know he was gone. And that hit just made Faith invaluable to Danny, though he didn’t yet know it. “Let’s see…” She pretended to calculate. “This death puts Super-Max on the throne of criminal Reigna. He’s not a whole lot better, and he’s

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bound to want in on the shipments of Blindfold.” “I’m sure he’ll contact the Pharm in a day or two. But this is your stop to get off this roller coaster.” “I owe you a kiss for your good work.” His eyes brightened with the reminder. “I wouldn’t wish to take advantage of a drunken citizen. You don’t look very drunk.” “I hardly took a sip.” Should she tell him she loved the smell and it had everything to do with him? “I enjoy it more for its aroma than its taste or effects.” “So, you’re not drunk at all, you say.” “No. I’m fully awake…though I may be intoxicated in other ways.” Sabotaged by his sexy smile, she stood on her toes and brought him down to her. Then she placed a soft and inviting kiss to his mouth. He participated, taking her over, his embrace pressing her against him all the way down to their knees. His possession of her amplified his physical advantages over her, his overwhelming size, his power. She thought for a second she should be afraid… His rough hands rose to stroke her face, then sank into her hair, trapping her and holding her there…like he wanted more of her than he thought she wanted to give. His experienced kiss tasting of brandy blanked her mind of everything but the soft ravaging of his hungry mouth sending sparks through her mind and body. Her hands pressed against his T-shirted chest felt compelled to touch the flesh beneath. When she parted from him, she breathed to calm the tidal surge he gave her blood. That was no ordinary kiss. He was far from an ordinary man. What she wouldn’t give to make his kiss a regular occurrence. She imagined she saw flashes of light in every corner of her vision like fireworks. Her eyes went to the glass on the side table by the couch. It was empty. She just hoped the kiss and alcohol compromised his stand against her. This might become her most pleasurable pitch to convince someone to move her way. Danny’s soft gray eyes focused on her, the emotion behind them indefinable. She felt his gaze like a light caress.

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“That’s the kiss I owe you. It was too short. Incidentally, Danny, ridding the worlds of Calderon is worth much more than a small kiss. You’ll change your mind about leaving me here after you make love to me.” He laughed aloud then became instantly serious again, his lips in a tight pinch. “Faith. Making love to you would ruin my career.” She drew her palms down his chest and over his tight stomach. She wanted to cast the T-shirt he wore into the trash for keeping their flesh apart. Her thumbs dipped below his beltline and into the waistband of the supersoldier suit. He closed his eyes, and his head rolled back with the challenge to his strength. If it turned him on half as much as it turned her on, she would win this round. “Make love to me, Danny,” she said in a breathy voice, sounding hungrier than she wished to reveal, but it was true. He made her want him, just gazing at her, touching her, when she was supposed to make him want her. “I’ll never tell a soul you put me between the sheets and had your way with me.” His sight fell to her breasts. His chest rose in quicker breaths. She could see him considering it. He must have thought about having sex with her before if he reacted so quickly to the offer. Or the alcohol wiped away his boundaries. “I’m supposed to say no.” She began to unbutton her pajama top before his reason overcame him. “Look, you just said no. It was your job to say that. Now that it’s past, just think what I might tell you in the afterglow of passion.” His eyes shifted to the movement of her fingers through her buttons. “Faith. This crosses a line that shouldn’t be crossed.” “That’s cute.” She sent her hands around his waist, stepping closer to him, and she sent them down his hips and thighs, stroking them. He battled a small smile growing on his face, and she could see his work to banish it. His big hands went to her shoulders. But he didn’t push her away. He didn’t step back. He didn’t forbid her touch. But he did say, “No means no, Faith.” “You couldn’t even say that with a straight face. If you’ve decided to

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leave me here, then I’m no longer a part of the case. And you can make love to me.” He burst into another playful smile. “That was pretty good.” “Did you like that?” “Yes, it was very entertaining, and I do like the pseudo-logic you employed. If you insist upon taking your best shot at manipulating me with sex, you can make me give that to you, but I still won’t take you with me.” “Danny,” she whispered, tugging the T-shirt from the super-soldier suit pants. She slipped her hand beneath the material and splayed her fingers against his bare abs. His muscles contracted with the unexpected contact. Her thumb followed the thin line of hair down to his navel in a prolonged stroke that shot her body with thrills. If it did to him what it did to her, she was going to win. His sinewy body stiffened to hard steel beneath her hand at her sensual assault. “Make love to me before I tell you why you’re going to take me with you.” He snorted a breath of frustration over a growing smile. “I can feel myself making the wrong decision. I warned you, I won’t take you with me, and you can’t expect better than a warning. I’ll make love to you, if you demand it of me, but don’t be broken-hearted when you stay right here.” “I demand it. Frankly, I fear you might not make love to me after you hear my information, so this is your chance to put your hands all over me. Before I tell you.” “I don’t want to hear it at all, then.” Her top hung on her unbuttoned. Lacy lingerie peeked through. His eyes ate her up. All she thought of was how she wanted her legs locked around him, her body tight against him, her mouth wetting all the sexiest parts of him. He tugged off his T-shirt in one swift move. “I never did this. I’m going to say that repeatedly at my court-martial.” “I’ll swear I never saw you do it.” She took his hand and led him into her dark bedroom. With the moonlight streaming from the window sheers, she stood in a splash of lunar beams. He stood in the darkness before her, and he watched as she slid from

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her dark pajama bottoms. She could tell he watched because she felt the touch of his eyes. Then she slid the satiny top off her shoulders, leaving only lacy panties and bra shielding her hot spots. “I don’t even care that you’re trying to manipulate me, Faith. And it’s not going to work.” “Promise you won’t be angry with yourself when you take me with you back to Sylanta.” He reached down and ripped away the Velcro securing his boots to the suit, and he pried the boots off his feet. Then he sent his hands to the pinch of her hourglass waist and brought her closer, into the darkness with him. “You’re asking for it, Faith. Taking your clothes off before me, standing so close in just a few swatches of lace. I could eat you alive.” “I love it when you talk like a predator. That’s sexy.” His fingers slid into her hair, and his thumb caressed her lips. Oh… He bent to her, feathering her lips with enticing little kisses before he plunged his tongue inside her mouth. His arms repossesed her. Warps of excitement permeated her being, shivering her every muscle. He made the brandy delectable. Was the alcohol affecting him? Not as much as he affected her. Flesh to flesh, her body reacted with compulsion difficult to deny. She needed to wrap her legs around him. She suddenly realized he’d unhooked her bra during his engulfing embrace. He stepped away and stripped himself of the rest of the suit. She could hardly take a full breath while he did it. The moonlight from the window outlined his sinewy back and pumped arms, thick and powerful thighs, his round ass. She couldn’t stop craving sex when she gawked at his bare warrior body in silhouette. Done stripping away everything that was in his way, Danny put Faith back into his embrace and kissed her passionately, invading her again and stroking her into more shivers she couldn’t still. He drew her onto the shadowed bed with him and rolled them until he was above her, his big body between her legs and dwarfing her. Arresting her, detaining her. She felt his massive erection pressed against her. It felt so big and hard, it almost

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frightened her. So much about him was a little scary. He hooked his fingers around her panties at her hips and slid them down her legs, off her, and over his shoulder. She watched him draw a deep, readying breath. “Give me a hint on why I’m going to take you back to Sylanta.” His hot body trapping her, her breath caught again on the thrilling sensations of sexual contact with him. His constant heat made her sweat. How could he have his mind on the case, when all she wanted was for him to rock her world? He made it difficult to think. “After high school, I thought to go back to my old name, Vicky Vedder, so I spent the summer trying it on for size. Someone told me Vicky Vedder sounded like a comic-book character. He ruined it for me, so I went back to Faith.” Danny growled, “That’s my hint? You’re counting on a name change to put you back on this case?” “It’s not the name change that will make you need me. It’s who I cavorted with that summer.” “Cavorted with? Which summer?” “The summer you know too much about. And apparently, not enough since you’ve no idea of whom I speak.” “You’re just a tease, Faith.” He slowly tugged the bra away, and his sight took her in, wholly unclothed. His expression was worshipful. “There’s nothing I don’t know about you.” “You’ve proven that to be true. But there’s something about someone in my past you don’t know about.” He took her nipple into his mouth and suckled. She threw her head back and cried out, “Oh, Danny!” “That’s what I want to hear over and over,” he said around her wet breast in his mouth, his lips and breath tickling and shooting spikes of ecstasy and tension through her. He gently tugged her nipple through his teeth, shocking her nerves and making her tremble. Then he applied the same torture to her other breast until she moaned. Her fingers slid into his hair and tightened around the silky shafts. His

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weight atop her felt exquisite. The heat pouring off him raised a sheen of sweat across her flesh that supplied a slick slide to their contact. Her heart pounded in her chest, making her a little dizzy. Or Danny just made her head spin. He sat up on his heels and over her, his large hands roving down her naked body. His exploratory touch quickly rewrote her thoughts. She couldn’t see his face in the semi-dark, only his hair hanging down over his features, but she could feel his sight slowly sweeping her, a wave of superawareness traveling down her. She imagined it was the sensation of the hunter’s eye on prey. His hands reached her sensitized thighs, and worse tension raked through her at his point of contact. He awakened all he touched. Her body ached for him beyond her suppression, and she moaned again without her permission. “Hungry, Faith?” His dark snicker echoing through the small room reminded her of the first night they’d met, the disembodied voice in the room. It turned her on tremendously. “And you called me a tease.” The shadow above her stroked her body into a hypnotic daze. “Is this a contest?” His hand gained hers and placed it on his hard erection. Her hand couldn’t wrap around him, he was so big. One slow stroke of him seemed to last forever. His hand atop hers tightened her grip so that she felt his strength. Her breath caught again, forgotten in the rigid feel of him. She thought her heart must have skipped a beat, maybe two, because she saw stars all around them. Her thighs ached even more with him between them. “Because if this is a contest, you’d better concede now. I have more control than you could dream of. The I-Marshal Academy requires multiple courses in mind control and body command.” Listen to him speak of control… She got him naked in seconds and declaring her no longer a part of the case so he could climb into the sheets with her and make her sweat. Let him have his delusions of control. She sat up and nuzzled the hollow of his neck as she stroked him. The

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soft hair of his body tickled her breasts. She threaded her free hand into his thick hair and whispered up to him, “What good is all that control?” Then she brought him down to the bed with her, causing him to catch his weight with his forearms, but she didn’t move her hand from his manhood. His fingertips grazed down her perspiration-dampened body until they met the curls of her wet, hot core. His groan moved through her like a magic spell. His long fingers penetrated her, and the lightning it brought on within her body stole her from the room. Her muscles bunched with tension at his schooled exploration. All she felt was evolving blooms of ecstasy stripping her consciousness of anything but him and what he did to her. “Mmm… You’re so wet, Faith. Were you looking forward to your little manipulation?” She giggled but didn’t answer. Oh, hell yeah, she looked forward to it. She might have died inside from disappointment, if he had turned her down. She might never have stopped fantasizing of his…arrest. It already felt better than she’d imagined. His mouth moved back to hers, and he devoured her, feasting on her lips, sucking, stroking, his claiming of her a rapturous blend of torture and pleasure. The shafts of his hair tumbled onto her shoulders and danced across her bare breasts, inflicting another titillation, making her feel even more alive and hungry for him. She felt his erection pushing into her, making her tremble with anticipation. Her legs locked around his hips, she shuddered at his dilatory penetration of her. She had to break from his kiss to gasp from the sheer pleasure and pain of his entrance. “See how weak you are,” he murmured a tease, looming over her, reigning over her and sliding deeper into the slick, tight fit of her body. She tried not to pant. “See how weak you are? Ohhhhh…!” He chuckled diabolically, still sinking into her so slowly. She lost her breath again and writhed beneath him, envisioning her blood boiling. His arms tightened around her. “Mmm… Keep doing that,” his deep voice rumbled in the darkness. She felt his face in her hair, his nose pressed behind her ear, taking a long sniff of her. His brandy breath raced down her neck and caressed her wet breasts

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mashed against his chest. “I like needing to hold you down, hold you still, to keep driving into you.” The rough way he said it shot a primal burn through her atop the rampaging stimulation of his body in hers. He was a predator… “Don’t wear those clunky pajamas again if you don’t want them ripped off you.” Gasp! With a threat like that, she would wear them the next time he showed up. Had he already decided there’d be a next time? Ohhhh…! The fire he set seared up her spine and splintered into a yearning intensity at every contact of her nerves. He hadn’t withdrawn once, kept pushing into her, and he ignited her orgasm already, resounding through her body like radar. A stunning pleasure surged through every part of her. She hadn’t known what she’d asked for when she set out to kiss him. The low shudder of her cry betrayed her and told him he’d already done her in. They might have been floating in space for all she detected around her. Her body and mind knew only his. His deep whisper tickled her ear. “That’s what all that control is good for.” Her breath completely gone, her mind lost in a brilliant orgasm that felt to last an hour, he finally impaled her wholly. The sensation paralyzed her with pinprick explosions of fire and ice. She had to struggle for a full breath beneath him, but didn’t mind dying from the pleasure of Danny’s skill. His hand swept the hair from her face, and he kissed her tenderly, had honed in on her lips exactly. “Can you see me in the dark?” she asked between ragged breaths, still quivering. She tried to control the trembles, but they wouldn’t go away with his almost unbearably hard and thick shaft fully buried inside her. She’d never been so turned on in her life. She might possibly die of pleasure when he started getting to work. “Yes, I can see you in the dark, and the surrender in your eyes is beautiful. You’re so tight, Faith…when I move again, it’s going to take me over.”

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She took some deep breaths, readying herself, her flesh again running goose bumps. Then she giggled wickedly, and colors spun before her eyes. “Losing your control?” He pressed another heated kiss to her lips, and he admitted, “Yeah. And I blame the way you look in moonlight and sweat, the softness and tightness of your beautiful body, the way your moans take me straight to the limits of my control. “But you’re still not going to Sylanta with me.” “Wanna bet?” His body was a radiating firestar, and he had them both sweating. The casual movement of the air caused hot and cool flashes of temperature against her wet flesh. She slid her hands up the sides of his muscular torso, enjoying every hard plane of him, when he captured her wrists and pinned them above her head, reminding her of his career in domination. “You look hot like that. Subdued. Overcome.” She hadn’t imagined being subdued and overcome by Danny could feel so…outstanding and rapturous. He filled her mouth with his enthusiastic kiss, and then he parted from her, caressed her face in the dark, and warned her, “I’m not waiting another minute.” She didn’t know how long it lasted, and she couldn’t stay quiet. His thrust inflicted warps of increasing delirium and unbroken orgasm, a feeling of lightness that caused her transcendence. She lost all accounting of reality and cried out until she was hoarse and long out of breath. He drained her of her energy and ability to process it. When his body froze above her, he put them both in climax again, her body tight around him and suffering fireworks of rapture. She shuddered when she could no longer moan. And she couldn’t imagine being separated from him. When her senses finally returned to her, Danny rolled them, putting himself on the mattress with her and tucking her against him. Oh, the feel of lying in a big man’s embrace. He reached up and turned on the dull lamp light beside the bed, illuminating them. They lay beaded with sweat, and she picked the moisture up from his body with the sweep of her hand and

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rubbed it into her flesh, just to take in another part of him. Thank goodness we aren’t in the pod house, or I would have awakened everyone, just like he’d said. He tightened his embrace of her, and he kissed her tenderly. She was glad he didn’t wish to rise and walk away. Her body was too limp to move when she wished it to with only half her will. Her mind went back to the angel in the desert as her fingers gently wandered over the wet hair of his chest. “Danny,” she whispered, because the subject was too secret to say aloud. She pictured the walking dead from the gang initiation party. “Yes, Faith?” “Are we dealing with demons?” “When you investigate a crime in hell, you won’t find angels.” “Was Calderon a demon?” He took a long time to answer, but he finally said “Yes.” “Who are the Nephilim, Danny?” “Didn’t Metatron tell you?” “Metatron, the angel?” She couldn’t remember if the angel had identified himself. She would’ve remembered that name. “He’d told me who the Nephilim were long ago. Who are they now?” Danny gently combed his fingers through her dampened hair, and he pressed a dry lock that had escaped the sweat to his nose and gave a little moan. “Your tresses are like fire, Faith. Nephilim are everywhere, on every world in varying numbers, and they, like mankind, are often cruel and monstrous, greedy and vain. They mostly side with their progenitors, and make the very worst criminals.” Her mind picked through Metatron’s words, replaying his indignant reaction when she’d called the Nephilim sons of demons. “Metatron had insisted they were sons of angels, fallen their fathers might have been, but still angels.” She lifted a finger to the pitchfork brand on his fat bicep wrapped around her, and she traced it. It looked like it had been a deep wound. “Metatron has a different point of view. He saw his brothers fall. He

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seeks to protect the mortal realm from them, but they will always be his brothers in his heart. He grieves for their separation from the Maker. In the mortal worlds, the Fallen are demons, jealous and bent on mankind’s fall from grace. Often the Nephilim are in the periphery of their evil works.” She was surprised to hear him tell her anything. Of course, none of it was provable. She’d seen Sean heal a dying man, but the healer could simply deny it. She’d experienced a hallucination in the desert, one of many the area produced and were generally disbelieved. She’d thought she’d witnessed Danny kill men she saw walking the next day. At the moment, she had nothing worth writing about, so she went for the one grounded surprise behind the curtain this story had. “What of the I-Marshals? Where do they fit in?” “The Maker had instructed Gabriel to flood Earth and destroy the children of the Watchers, but the archangel had another idea for the Nephilim and did not destroy them all.” Did that mean certain angels were in small rebellion of the Maker’s plans by sending the Nephilim to destroy demons haunting the mortal realm? She was about to ask. But Danny changed the subject. “So, what gun will you put to my head and make me take you back to Sylanta? You better make it a big gun because you’ve no idea how strongly I’m sure I’m not taking you back.” She held the biggest gun. She sat up, taking the sheet up with her to cover herself. Propped up by pillows against the headboard, Danny looked glorious in the lamplight and moonbeams pouring from the window. His thick, glossy hair was a mane for him. The sheet was thrown haphazardly over his hips. His big hands rested atop a small throw pillow in his lap. Tiny little swirls of sweat-dried hair sprinkled his hard-muscled body. He’d just sexed the hell out of her, and just gazing at all his masculine sexual appeal made her want him again. After she recovered from this serious shagging. …The I-Marshals were Nephilim… The words whispered to her thoughts. She gazed up at him, unwilling to weigh the theory very deeply. And what it meant to her personally to want

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and care for him. “It’s the summer I spent as Vicky Vedder.” Danny’s expression went blank. “The summer you were with Mako, the little hood who’d taken your innocence?” “Yeah… You didn’t research him well.” “Mako was a shallow swimmer. I really didn’t wish to learn much about your former lovers.” Was the list too big? She regretted that. “I’ll tell you who Mako is, if you tell me who Heretic is.” “I’ll consider it.” She pinched her lips at him for punishment. “Mako had definitely moved to deeper waters after our breakup. The deepest. He’d befriended serious shot callers, moved up in rank, and played a part in a particularly big street hit. A stray ray beam had struck a family member of a high-level government power player. That power player had seen to it Mako did serious time. But then the case was turned over on appeal. Bad collection of evidence, some tampering done by the politician, and Mako was released. “By then, he’d become Super-Max.” Super-Max, Calderon’s first lieutenant. The Gangster Most Likely To Succeed. Danny kept his blank face, but couldn’t hide the change in emotion his eyes revealed. He rose to his feet and threw the pillow he held in his hands into the wall so hard, it thumped the room. She started at the outburst. And then he quit the room and her company. How could someone throw a pillow so hard at a wall, it shook the room? It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. She’d figured he would be miffed she won that small battle, but she hadn’t considered it might snap something inside him. She’d thought he’d be thrilled to hear she had a foot in the door with Calderon’s heir. Now she was sorry she’d brought Max up. Faith rose from the bed, wrapped the sheet around her naked body, and followed him through the door into the living room. He drew fresh clothes

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from his duffle bag on the chair, and tugged a pair of jeans over his body. She squeezed her hands, unsure of how to handle him. Why had she thought he wouldn’t be volatile with the news? Danny was nitroglycerine. “I—I parted with Max on good terms. I was thinking I could get the Blindfold shipping schedule from him, and the I-Marshals could disrupt that delivery to Reigna.” Forceful in his every movement, Danny tugged a plain black T-shirt over his hard-muscled torso. She could see the new tension all about him when he’d been sated and relaxed just moments ago. He checked his little palm computer. “You’re due at work in seven minutes.” “Seven minutes?” She scrambled to her bedroom and ravaged her closet. Seven minutes? Where was a centimeter of her body he hadn’t made sweat? She needed a shower! A pass by the mirror confirmed she had bed-head going on. When she returned to the living room, dressed, almost out of breath, and brushing her hair vigorously, she found Danny staring at a wall. He wasn’t the wildly smiling man on his citizen ID anymore. What had she done to him? When he saw her, he rose, tossed the strap of the duffle bag over his shoulder, and joined her in the center of the room. He took her arm instead of her hand for teleportation, like she was in custody. “You never told me who Heretic is.” The light broadcasted by the lamp hit his plain black T-shirt for a flashsecond, revealing to her a message invisible at most views. When she tilted her head to just the right angle, the light revealed black letters across Danny’s chest that read, Demon Slayer. Danny turned his cold and ghostly sight onto her. His teeth were locked, his muscles stiff. She could see the throb of the artery in his throat. His loose grip on her arm tightened. He was scary. “I’ll tell you who Heretic is. He’s the man who’s going to destroy Super-Max.”

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Chapter 15 Danny and Faith teleported into the living room of the house pod and found Sean sitting on the couch and working on his tablet computer laid over his crossed legs, Isabella curled up beside him, studying an e-reader. The windows revealed Reigna’s sun bright over the desert when it had been dark at her place. Sean looked up to them with friendly eyes, a contrast to Danny. “Good morning, or it is on the Pharm. I have the grasshopper ready for Faith. And we’ve received the dazers.” Danny released her, to her great relief he wouldn’t hunt Max down this minute, and she watched him pace to the couch and perch on the arm of the furniture beside the healer. Sean passed him a hard-plastic case, and from it, Danny drew a compact and odd-looking gun. Fisting it for a good fit to his big hand, he examined the weapon from muzzle to butt, as if it were his first close look at the device, though he clearly was generally familiar with it. Faith stretched to see details of the device without being obvious. New technology always made good story. “I don’t like first-generation weapons,” he said low to Sean, seeming to exclude the women from their conversation, his skeptical eye all over the piece. “You don’t learn their faults until you’ve got a brimstone-huffer in your face. I’ll keep my favorite blade on me, if you don’t mind, Professor Technology. I still like the old-fashioned way of doing my job, and I’ve never seen a blade break down, misfire, or run out of fuel.” “Think of the time you’ll save.” “I’ve no problem managing my time to destroy demons.” There they were again, demons. Roving, slobbering, crimson-fleshed devils roaming the worlds causing people to sin. Hooves, pointed tails,

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horns, fangs. The concept seemed fantastical, a bit cartoonish, and somewhat laughable. She still hadn’t seen proof such a horror existed, except for a few drug distributors who refused to stay dead. When she spotted a demon, she’d be ready with her new camera. Humph. Which was now in the bellies of a couple thousand ants. She needed a new palm computer. Sean cast his sight over to Isabella, and she looked up from her reading, as if she felt his sight on her, and she smiled back at him. There was a comfortable peace between them. It made Faith envious. Danny and she were at war. They weren’t a couple, despite an hour or two of sweaty, naked ecstasy. They were enemies joined at the hip. Her body ached. “We’re the first field testers. Let a dazer surprise you.” Sean visually examined the weapon Danny handled. “I took it outside and tested it earlier. When you pull the trigger, it emits a little warning hum for about a halfsecond as it builds up the wave before it discharges, so plan for that. It’s definitely not a rapid-fire weapon. I toasted a rattler from fifteen meters away, turned it into boot leather.” “That’s a nice distance for a small target.” “I barely had to aim. The beam launched like a wild spurred whip, sought out blood, and dehydrated the first living thing it hit. Kasey’s outside now, shooting with the other dazer. His first ten shots were punctuated with a loud, Woo! and occasional Hot dog! I think he approves.” Danny hummed in his examination, clearly very interested despite his claim to the opposite. “What’s the recommended trigger-pull time?” “Just a single tap. That’s all it takes.” Danny smiled like the devil. “What will we do with all the demon leather we’ll end up with?” “We’re going to learn leather crafts, I’m guessing. I could dig a nice demon leather-covered couch.” “The only color it’ll come in is red. I’d like a set of wings for my bedroom.” “Mounted over your bed? You’ll have to wait for one to transform for

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that, and it’ll take a protracted fist fight. You’ll earn those wings.” “It’s not like I haven’t lived through my share of transformations.” “Yeah, but plenty don’t…you know, live through a demon transformation.” “Amateurs.” “I’m actually surprised you don’t have a pair yet.” Danny’s eyes shifted upward from the gun to land on Faith, and the unpleasant mood returned. “I haven’t had a good reason to want a pair…until now.” She didn’t want to contemplate what he meant by that! Danny went back to studying the gun. “It’s a shame the labs couldn’t prevent reaction in mortals.” “No. It’s still going to kill the mortals. This gun wants blood. Unfortunately, the scientist who developed the system is now sweating his junk off on Null, and he swears he has nothing to add to the technology.” “It’s a shame to see talent go south.” “Especially Raphael’s disciples. It hurts me personally,” Sean commented, putting his long black hair behind his ears so it wouldn’t fall into his vision. “We don’t have a chance of stopping the beam from killing mortals until we scientifically understand what is a soul. That’s a cloud secret.” “A cloud secret?” Isabella asked Sean, her voice two ticks above a whisper. Faith was glad the young woman asked Sean because she didn’t believe Danny would answer a single question of hers in his mood. No one realized the waif of a girl paid attention to their conversation. Isabella’s and Sean’s sights locked onto one another again, and they shared a communication that didn’t need words. He said I love you in his blissful smile. She said I adore you in the twinkle in her eyes. Sean explained, “Cloud secret is a metaphor for mysteries of the universe we mortals don’t understand, secrets angels keep. Information not available to us. It refers to the concept that we won’t understand it until we’re standing on clouds.” “What about the suits?” Danny examined everything about the machine

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in his hand with a watchmaker’s attention. “Will the super-soldier suits protect us against the dazer beam?” “Yes. It’s a beam weapon, so the suit should rob it of its energy on impact.” Faith watched Danny draw a tool from the weapon’s case, insert it into a notch in the handgrip of the gun, and a little door popped open. He pressed his trigger finger onto the f-print pad, and she guessed he enabled the security system that would prevent another shooter from operating the gun. He closed the case, and then he aimed the dazer at a corner of the room, sighting it. “How many of these cute puppies did they send?” “Only two.” “Can I take a fast shower?” Faith butted in to ask Danny. Without so much as a glance to her, he deadpanned, “No.” She stomped her foot to draw his eye, and she calmly restated, “I’m taking a shower.” Danny passed the gun back to Sean, rose, and clamped onto her arm. “Ow!” she squealed, and he hauled her back into his bedroom and shut the door. Then he faced her, looking quietly furious. She didn’t smell the brandy on him anymore, but she did smell the anger. “When we negotiated your place on this team, I’m sure I brought up the part where you’re going to do as I say.” “I don’t remember that part at all. I’m taking a shower. I’m not going to work smelling like sex and sweat.” “Yes, you are. No shower. If you’re going to walk among demons, I want my scent on you. It will warn them not to mess with you.” Her sight dropped to his shirt that said, Demon Slayer. She swallowed hard and propped her hands on her hips, appalled. “Are you telling me you slept with me just to put your scent on me?” He countered her accusation with his dead-eyed stare. “Demons? As in, more than Calderon? You didn’t tell me that part. How many of them are there?”

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Danny ran a hand through his hair, stirring the salt and pepper together, and he appeared as though he loathed sharing any piece of this bizarre mission with her. The resentment in his eyes was tactile. “We’re hip-deep in demons at the moment, Faith. I would have left you home, safe on Reigna, if you hadn’t pulled Super-Max on me like a stiletto.” She crossed her arms over her bosom to let him know she wasn’t available for his domination. But then she saw a flash of something in his special vision that was beyond anger. She didn’t know what it was, angst, disappointment, maybe hurt. She hadn’t seen those things in the picture of the young man vibrantly smiling in his citizen ID. She must have put those emotions there herself. “I’m sorry I hadn’t told you about Max earlier.” She cast her sight down to her fingers fiddling with the bottom button of a favorite lacy blouse, feeling guilty for having manipulated him. She hadn’t seen coming the fire she’d set. She really hadn’t. And she wouldn’t try to manipulate him again. It just didn’t feel good. She rolled her sight about the room, ending at his chest. His shirt read, Demon Slayer. “But I hadn’t intentionally withheld it. Max’s name simply hadn’t come up until you’d killed Calderon.” “Destroyed. One cannot kill a demon. It is an immortal spirit, so it must be vanquished, consigned to darkness. It must be destroyed.” Too much information. It was more than she wished to know. She’d leave the demon destruction to the professionals. “Well then, I’m sorry for the way it came out. I hadn’t realized it would have such a strong effect on you.” He had no reply to that, just glowered down at her in silent demand of the answers he wanted. “Max is someone I’d grown up with, a family friend.” Danny harshly lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his cold ones. “I don’t work with women who fuck demons.” His shirt said, Demon Slayer. She gasped, her eyes exploded in size. “Max is not a d—! I do not f—!

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I’m not sleep—!” “That’s right, you’re not. Not as long as you provide a service for this mission.” Faith shut her stupidly dropped mouth. She’d walk barefoot across a field of glass shards for this story, but there wasn’t a man big enough to tell her what she could and couldn’t do with her body. Not that she planned to have sex with demons. That wasn’t her scene. “You’re making me late for work.” She reached for the door, spun the knob, and opened it, but his big hand yanked the door closed, pressed his thumbprint to the dead-bolt lock to engage it, and she heard the fast click of the metal bolt sliding into the doorframe. The flipping lock hadn’t worked for her last night. “Tell me about you and Super-Max.” She crossed her arms over her bosom again, but not because she felt strong this time, but because she was wary of Danny. He went from brooding anger to thirsty interrogation, predatory targeting. He was acting like a damn cop. She dropped onto the bed, seeing no easy exit from this room. Her body ached again from the vigorous activity in which they’d earlier engaged. She’d hoped for a better outcome than this, had thought some intimacy between them would make him nicer. “Don’t you already know everything there is to know about Max Armaros?” “Yes, in fact, I do. I know where he’s from, the time he’s done, his black-market friends. His sense of being beyond the law. His brand of liquor, his regular wager, his preferred vacation spot. I can even tell you his current favorite whorehouse.” “That stung, Danny. I see you’re no novice in inflicting pain.” “You’ve no idea. I know everything vital about Super-Max. Except for his connection to you.” “Is that important to you?” The question made him snarl, and he chose not to answer it. “You aren’t distantly related to him. You didn’t go to the same schools. You didn’t live

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in the same neighborhoods. You weren’t members of the same clubs. You were never pen pals.” “But we did see one another often as children. He was my mother’s best friend’s stepson. We met again the summer when he came home on military leave, when I was Vicky Vedder.” And she’d given up her chastity to Max. She could peer into Danny’s eyes and recognize him thinking about it. Now she remembered the night Max had come home all medaled-up and looking so sharp in his Marine uniform, how smooth he’d been, how beautiful he’d made the night. Their brief foray as lovers had been incredible. Back then, he really had been a fabulous man, the side of him he’d shown her. They might have made it together, but she hadn’t liked his choices of career or friends. Or the lies he’d told her to keep her esteem. He wasn’t the man he used to be. Cops and reporters were sometimes adversaries, but criminals and reporters always were bitter enemies. So, she’d left Max before the iniquity of his world spilled into her life. She hadn’t wanted to say good-bye, but there it was. Love did not cover a multitude of sins. “It’s all right with you that Super-Max had killed two men in prison and had ended up at a super-maximum security facility, kept in a concrete cell for all but an hour a day. Listening to the screams of madmen his every waking minute. Three years of that could change a man.” It had changed Max. She’d noticed. Memorized from the official penitentiary records, she recited, “It was the unanimous consensus of the review board that the two separate attacks on Max had been funded by the politician who’d put him behind bars. Max had killed each of them in defense of his life. Video-recordings from prison cams had proven it.” Danny had no volley for that. One couldn’t argue with video. “Not so bad at details, am I?” “Not so bad. Have you spent much time considering the fact that the politician had been murdered soon after your gangland lover’s release?” No. She wasn’t going to think about that. She feared she’d find a story

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there. “Ex-lover. I don’t know anything about Max you can arrest him for, Marshal.” Now, calling the cop by his title felt like a wall between them, one she really needed. “He’d insulated me from that part of his world when we were together. It was a long time ago. I haven’t heard from him in two years.” “Why did you contact him two years ago?” “I didn’t. He’d contacted me to give me a story.” “Did you sleep with him then?” Yes, she had slept with Max. She’d had a weakness for the man in the past, a weakness she’d since defeated. Her silence gave Danny the only confirmation he would get. His shirt read, Demon Slayer. And that chilled her to the bone. But she did say, “Nothing about my relationship with Max is your business. I’m sorry it upsets you.” For a few seconds, Danny didn’t react. It looked like he just let her words circle his mind. Then he said, “It’s not about my feelings. It’s about the mission. I don’t want you harmed. I’ll think about your connection to this man, and how we can use it. Let’s go.” They came from the room, and Sean set aside his tablet computer for business. He passed Danny an oval-shaped, thumb-size device, and Danny examined the item intently. “This is a grasshopper,” Sean told Faith. “You’re going to keep it in your pocket. While you’re traveling from building to building for your inventory count, the grasshopper’s going to search for nearby computer signals. When it finds one, it will lock onto that computer and search for the Blindfold formula. When it discovers the formula, it will rewrite it into a useless concoction and install a cannibal program. When you’re done with inventory entries and close the program, the cannibal will reboot the computer you’re on, storing the new file atop old ones, and it will begin to corrupt backups. That’s one of the ways we’ll employ to rid the Pharm of their biggest cash crop.”

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“What other ways will you use?” Faith asked. “We’ll force a slight pH change in the soil, making it impossible for the plants to thrive.” She smirked. “I hope you got more than that going.” Sean checked Danny who shrugged his shoulders. So the healer regarded her and plainly stated the obvious necessary step, “We’re also going to destroy the demons who control the formula. Of course.” She was sorry she asked and went back to inspecting the grasshopper in Danny’s grasp. “You guys couldn’t pull off this computer trick in your invisible suits?” “Not without compromising the building security systems and creating unapproved log-ins. Both would generate breach reports and set off alarms. The suits won’t let us walk through walls. You’re the one with the lab and computer access. You can get the job done much quicker like this and without giving off any overt signs. You already have good reason to be there, so nothing unusual will show up in user logs, no additional log-ins. Just go about your job, entering inventory counts into the computer of every lab you’re in. The grasshopper will do all the covert work for you.” Done with his inspection, Danny passed the device to Faith, and she looked it over, seeing nothing odd. “What if I’m caught with it?’ Danny turned it over in her hand and mashed it, producing a weak beam of illumination from its tip. “Tell them it’s a key light. Put it on your keychain. Don’t let anyone inspect it too closely. Ready to go?” She snorted in frustration. “I suppose so if you won’t let me bathe.” “The Explosives will take a few billion kilos of Blindfold tonight,” Sean informed the room. “I’ll give them a helluva time of it.” Danny’s mouth fixed in his smug smile. “That means they’ll probably perform their voodoo rituals tonight. They’ll be throwing curses our way.” The men chuckled at that, macho smirks to their faces, obviously feeling no supernatural threat with demons in the mix. “Maybe they need a visit from a spirit of correction.” “I’ll deliver Detonator the darkness he deserves.”

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Faith shook her head. “Do they let smart-asses in heaven?” Danny turned his stunning grin onto her. “It wouldn’t be heaven if I couldn’t be a smart-ass.” In minutes, they were riding Danny’s hog into the driveway of the labsupplies closet on Sylanta. Both Jasmine and Gamble awaited her outside the warehouse entrance. Faith dismounted the bike as slowly as she could, hoping they’d go away. But no, Jasmine and Gamble headed for them. Danny still looked pissed at her over Max despite the nice ride. He kicked the stand into place, killed the air-jets, but stayed on the bike, looking hot in his leather jacket that covered up the word Demon Slayer unobviously printed across his chest. The strange couple halted before them and held an abnormal distance for conversation. Jasmine wasn’t interested in holding her hand this time, and hooray for Danny’s marking of her. Her sex-and-sweat aroma discouraged the creepy chemist with the great nose and fresh hands from touching her. “Good morning, Faith and Daniel. You remember Stefan from the company dinner,” Jasmine hinted to remind her. Their reflections gleamed off the richly painted candy-apple fuel-cell casing of the sleek-looking bike, even at this distance. How could Faith forget red laces and video-recorded murder? Gamble wore an expensively tailored dark green suit, a nicely pressed white shirt with stylish black tie, like a successful businessman. But he wore black high-tops and red shoestrings on his feet like a gangland street soldier. You could take the boy out of the jungle… He’d probably sworn at his initiation he’d only remove them for showers and hookers. Maybe not the hookers. Too many gold chains. Yesterday, his smile had been handsome. Now, his grin was sly. It gave her the willies to think she would’ve let this really good-looking young man buy her a drink, if she’d met him in a social setting before the night she’d witnessed Danny putting a beam in the gangster’s head. And here, Gamble lived. That made him one of the demons. Gamble’s eyes went from Faith to Danny as if he picked up on Danny’s marking of her. Did Jasmine have a

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clue Gamble was a demon? “So, we see you two together again,” Jasmine cooed in a syrupy tone. Her ocean-blue eyes roved over Faith for reasons she didn’t know, unless the chemist was detecting her new scent, as well. “Is this something special? Do tell. I’m such a sucker for passion.” Jasmine and Gamble eyed one another in a most affectionate way, but Faith would believe it to learn the beautiful chemist was in every man’s pants in a kilometer’s radius. Her sensuality was too sublime, turned on high all the time. It was difficult to carry on a conversation with her without noticing her voluptuous body, and she wasn’t even Faith’s preferred gender for that sort of thing. Jasmine was just out there like a sexual billboard. She must keep every man near her hard. She’d missed her calling as a porn star. Maybe that was how she’d put herself through college. Neither Danny or Faith gave an enthusiastic acknowledgement of anything other than a tepid association between them when their fragrance testified to a sweaty naked encounter. Faith conjured a secret plan to improve her scent, so she turned to Danny and gave him a polite kiss-off. “I’ll see you here at quitting time?” His full-head helmet revealed nothing but his eyes. His squint shifted from Gamble to her. Out loud, he asked, “So, I have your commitment you’ll not be fucking demons?” Faith was so mortified, she slapped him, but he still wore his helmet, so it didn’t hurt him at all. Instead, he chuckled. “I’m glad you thought that was so funny.” “I needed the laugh.” She thought to kick his bike over but instead she gave him her back, and blurted, “Go to hell, Heretic.” He laughed some more, engaged the bike’s air-jets, and she watched him ride away through Jasmine’s and Gamble’s tracking gazes. Facing them, she pled, “Please forgive my perfume of the morning. I’ll call myself a taxi and go into town for some emergency clothes shopping.” Jasmine and Gamble exchanged an ambiguous look. It must have appeared to them as though Danny and she were into hate-sex.

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“No need to call for transportation, Miss Faith. Would you like me to take you?” Gamble sweetly volunteered. He seemed like such a nice guy. Except for the cold-blooded homicide. Would he attempt to find out if she…you know, had sex with demons? She didn’t believe in demons. Talk of them with Danny seemed like code, hyperbole, metaphor to reference human monsters, maybe even just a game. Anything but the actual beasts. Take a ride from Gamble? Faith pictured Danny finding her tied up in an abandoned barn, on her way to becoming a star on Hurt-Me-dot-com. And never speaking to her again. That vision hurt, strange because she’d thought just a few seconds ago she hated the cop. Now the consideration of disappointing him made her suffer for a second. “No, I think company would only slow me down. I plan a very quick errand, and to be back before I’ve lost much time from work. Thank you, Stefan, for the offer.” His eyes still glittered at her half-attention, and she wondered if he fantasized of harming her. Danny hadn’t told her how Gamble killed people. She actually worried more about what Danny would do to her, if he caught her with Gamble. She didn’t wish to find out. Jasmine smiled prettily, her eyes revealing some indecipherable intent. “Faith, I’d like to invite you and Isabella for a girls’ day out on the town.” “Isabella?” “Yes. Sean’s wife. You both are new in town, and I thought it would be just the thing for us to explore the local entertainment and shops. It’s a regular event for the ladies of the Pharm and includes spouses.” Sean had attended the company meeting, so he was an employee of the Pharm. He kept the Blindfold books, according to Danny. Sean and Isabella seemed so connected, it was no stretch to consider Sean might have spoken of her when they were separated. Jasmine might have known Isabella’s name simply due to her familiarity with her employees. Maybe they’d been introduced. Why wouldn’t they have been? Somehow, Faith couldn’t see Sean letting Isabella go anywhere, though he didn’t seem like the domineering type. Like Danny. She couldn’t see

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Isabella wishing to go anywhere without Sean. Getting out of the house pod surrounded by deadly desert sounded great, though. Faith hated to get caught lying about knowing Sean when she was tooobviously sleeping with his best friend. “I’ll mention it to her.” Her new palm computer beeped. “Please excuse me,” she said, drew her hastily programmed comp from her purse mashed close to her body for the hog ride. It was a text message. From Max. Max: I know you’re here on Sylanta. I want to see you. Meet me tonight for dinner. Faith chilled. Contact from Max was the last thing she wanted. How did he get here so quickly when Calderon hadn’t been dead a whole day? He must have arrived with the kingpin to handle the Blindfold shipment. How did Max learn she was here? She deleted the message and never wanted to think of him again. Then, she changed her mind and wanted to see him. It certainly couldn’t be under these conditions, while she partnered with I-Marshals to bring down Max’s supplier and net a great story. They’d said their romantic good-byes two years ago, after a night spent strolling down memory lane that had put them in the sheets when she’d sworn then it was long over. What could she say? Max had a way with her, despite the fact he’d deceived her about his business on a regular basis. All Max had done was lie to her. It had taken her a long time to make old feelings for him go away. Max was there for the Blindfold, and as much as she’d once felt for him, she wasn’t going to let him get his hands on it. Nor would she turn him in to the I-Marshals. Nor would she climb into bed with Max and betray Danny. Now Danny filled her head. “Faith.” She looked up from the computer to see Jasmine and Gamble studying her. “Bad news?” The bombshell of a chemist’s ocean-blue eyes were big with curiosity. “You paled when you read your message.” Faith closed the folding comp and dropped it into her purse.

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“Yes, bad news, the worst,” she muttered, not knowing what to do. Tell Danny Max wanted to see her and feel the I-Marshal’s fire? Don’t tell Danny and hope Max goes away? Max wasn’t the type to go away. “Bad news I’m hoping to ignore.” Jasmine locked her arm into Gamble’s for formal escort. “There will be a distribution staff meeting in the next building.” She pointed to the closest barn-disguised structure atop the nearest hill, just a short walk from here. “There are always leftover sandwiches. Please say you’ll show up for lunch and keep good food from going to waste.” An excuse to be gone when Danny arrives for lunch? Thank heaven. She feared he’d rage when he realized she’d showered and changed clothes. She’d purchase and don clothes that looked like the clothes she’d worn to work, hoping she wouldn’t draw his eye. So not seeing Danny for lunch was a relief. And then a bummer. “I’ll be there.” Jasmine’s arm tightened around Gamble’s. “We’ll be on to our workday. It’s so nice to work outside for a change.” Faith thought their eyes spoke of getting it on behind the hay bales. “Have a productive day,” she said pleasantly. It was a picture-perfect day with a lovely soft breeze, color all around her. Uncountable shades of green patchwork hills over the distance exhilarated her. The air tasted of the summer crops grown to mask the Blindfold plants. Faith hated being trapped inside. Jasmine and Gamble strolled by, but the bombshell turned back to her, and commented, “I think you smell wonderful. I wouldn’t change a thing. Danny-in-sweat is an alluring musk. If you find yourself in that position again and need help, call me.” The woman must be kidding. She had a hell of a nose. There was no way Faith wasn’t scrubbing down in the lab’s emergency shower and donning fresh clothes as soon as possible. And no, she’d not be calling Jasmine for help with Danny. If he were too much for Faith alone, it would just kill her, then.

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Jasmine and Gamble? Ew. Faith pictured Jasmine dressed in a tight black-latex corset and thigh boots, wielding a whip as she beat Gamble on his hands and knees and wearing a dog collar. It was probably videorecorded somewhere. A sadistic psychopath who killed for a living probably needed to be abused himself now and then. At the very least. Hadn’t he just beaten a friend two nights before? The trip into town was quick and her shower quicker. Though she loved being clean, she felt the loss of Danny’s essence. Was she really in danger without it? Would hordes of winged demons fly through the air to land and take her? Demons… If the walking dead weren’t demons, how did they live through Danny’s laser? Try she did to answer that with a sane, scientific answer, but she couldn’t leap the hurdle. She realized neither Gamble nor Calderon had any discernible scar where Danny had burnt holes through their brains. They were demons, not hyperbole, exaggeration, or metaphor, just like the I-Marshal had called them. Suddenly, she wasn’t so thrilled about this story. After leaving Danny a note on the lab-supplies door that explained she went to lunch in another building but did not leave the building number, she walked the short block to the barn on the next hill to find it filled with offices. It had been the site of her interview necessary to land this job. She located the conference room and a nice spread of food lay picked over, but still looking fresh and delicious. In a bucket of ice, she found a lone bottle small enough to hold just a single serving of wine. She took her filled plate, a plastic cup, and the one bottle outside the hall to breathe in the fresh farmland and enjoy the day. She took over the lush and untamed field of grass beside the building, giving her a bird’s-eye vista of the nearby supplies closet’s parking area just downhill from there. She could watch Danny pull up and hopefully go away. Savoring the earthy smell of the crops just meters away, she laid out her lunch on napkins and opened the bottle. The easy breeze took the wine’s bouquet to her nose, and it filled her with anticipation. The blush-pink fluid

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poured into a plastic cup with no loss of dignity in her heart, and she eagerly took a sip or two, having not enjoyed a glass of wine in a while. A friskier gust of wind picked up her hair, and she felt free. The wine went down easily in such a pleasurable atmosphere. Halfway through her lunch, she watched Danny on his bike come down the west road and pull into the parking lot. Maybe she wasn’t so free. He approached the door, pulled the note from it, and read the square of paper. She couldn’t tell if he were upset. He took a long scan of his perimeter, and Faith flattened herself into the tall grass, hoping to be missed. He went back to his bike, mounted it, and drove away. Seeing him leave made her sorry she’d let him go. His faraway presence made her wish to see him up close. Making love with him had affected her in ways she hadn’t seen coming. It had sucked her into something else, and she yearned for his company beyond her suppression. She ripped into a big yawn, surprised one small glass of wine had done her in. A sudden exhaustion moved over her, and a compulsion to take a nap was too strong to deny. Considering the last few action-packed days made her aware of her loss of rest, so she gave in to the urge, lay down in the fragrant grass, and closed her eyes. “Faith.” She heard a deep Sylantan brogue draw her from slumber. She opened her eyes to discover Gamble bent to his knee beside her. Almost over her. Then she became conscious of a pain in her back. She sent her hand to it and found sharp metal spikes. She sat up and turned around to find she’d fallen asleep atop a gardening rake. Had she seen it when she’d chosen this spot, she would have moved the tool, but she honestly hadn’t looked the tall-grassed area over and could have missed it. Gamble picked up the rake and tossed it farther from them as if the gardening tool had committed a grave injustice. Then he inspected her back covered in a thin and frilly blouse she’d earlier purchased, touching her elbow when he did it. Shiver. “There’s no blood on your shirt. It’s probably just a few scratches.” Well, the wound ached like hell, and felt deeper into her back than a superficial scratch. She must have rolled over the flipping rake. The tool

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looked a little rusty. Now taking the tetanus shot six months ago paid off. Awakening near Gamble was much more alarming. He was too close. And giving her the willies. She leaned a bit away from him, having never knowingly been so close to a demon. What if he’d touched her before she’d awakened? She didn’t want a demon touching her. It was broad daylight, and though three Pharm buildings stood in immediate sight, no one outside walked the properties. She was afraid of the video hit man, and it must have shown. Gamble put a deviant smile on his face. He obviously liked her unnerved. “Oh, Faith…what a disappointment. I sense Heretic has so quickly snatched you up. That was smart of him. Girls as pretty as you don’t come along every day. I keep telling Jasmine to hire more pretty girls. I wanted the entire science staff to be available for friendship and fun. I like to look at you and think she hired you for me. For friendship.” That nearly turned Faith’s stomach. Danny had said his scent on her would warn the demons to stay away. Gamble intentionally crossed Heretic by messing with her. “No one’s quicker than Heretic. He never passes up the chance to show us. But he’s unlikely to be entertained by you for long. Over the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him bring a date to the party.” It might be true she couldn’t keep Danny’s attention beyond this case. “What do you know about Heretic…” She’d meant it as a rhetorical question. “As much as I need to know. He’s my direct competition. I make it my business to know my competition. Heretic’s a bit of an occupational inspiration. Not many come out of a decade inside San Ledra so coolheaded.” Cool-headed? Maybe the hit man was, but the I-Marshal wasn’t. San Ledra was the Alliance’s most violent gang penitentiary located on Draco Delvanon. It had been constructed as a temporary facility isolated from the Alliance worlds, built on hope of reforming the juvenile street soldiers. It had soon become a permanent institution for the toughest of them

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when authorities realized gang bonds were nearly impossible to smash. About more than just business, the gangs were very often the kids’ only families. How could a government fight that? The prison was a constant battleground of hatred for gangs. No one did a large amount of time there because of the gangland violence. Danny had spent a decade at the infamous prison? That was a very long stay at San Ledra. Faith’s breath became shallow at the news, and there was too little oxygen in the air. She’d been about to rise, politely excuse herself, and get away from Gamble until he said that. It was a ridiculous lie, wasn’t it? One couldn’t become an Alliance law enforcement officer after having earned a conviction record. Danny had told her he’d spent his early adulthood in the Alliance Marines and the I-Marshal Academy. All that control. Gamble went on. “I did some time there, got the scars to prove it. I don’t know how Heretic got so small a sentence for carving up three gangbangers like holiday hams.” Danny had murdered three gang members? She could imagine that, having seen him kill many. What if Gamble told the truth and Danny had lied? She suppressed all hint of surprise because she didn’t want Gamble to know Danny and she weren’t any semblance of close, despite having shared a scent this morning. “Heretic had spent most of his years in reeducation stasis. When they’d let him out, he’d killed someone else, so they’d put him back in stasis. If ever there was a place inflicting the constant impulse to kill someone, it’s San Ledra and, as it turned out, there was no resetting Heretic’s programming. I don’t know why the Feds had let him out. I’d love to know how the guy hides his bodies. No hit he’s taken has ever been found.” Gamble didn’t stop just because he was the only one talking. “San Ledra’s a tough place to grow up. Heretic had ended up there at age fourteen. I’ll bet it had fucked up his head for life.” Fourteen. That was a baby. She’d seen fourteen-year-old street soldiers taken away in cuffs, flashing gang symbols as they went, dressed in the

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uniforms of their families, their people, their gangs. And happy to go because they moved up in rank with their crimes and were headed for crime college. That’s what prison was, crime college. Gamble lied. How could she force him to admit he deceived her? “Hard to believe a story like that, huh?” Gamble shook his dark head. “I’ve seen the video.” It was too late to keep the surprise from her face. “There’s video? Of Danny killing three people?” Maybe Gamble wasn’t lying, and Danny was more hardcore criminal than badge-carrying, one-man justice system. How could Danny throw Max’s prison years in her face when he himself had done hard time? “Oh, yeah, there’s video. Heretic had trapped his marks in the alley when he’d done the deed. The businesses of the area had cameras fixed on the opening of the alley, due to rampant gang activity. Heretic had strode into the alley, killed the men, and walked away. He was identifiable from three different angles. The video had made the case a slam dunk. They’d arrested him right away. Got him ten years in San Ledra’s hell pit.” Faith shook her head. Someone was lying. “I’d have to see it to believe it.” That’s when Gamble did the opposite thing she wanted him to do. He sat beside her in the grass and made himself comfortable. Then he pulled his video palm computer from his suit jacket and began scrolling through its contents. “I love video,” he murmured to himself with a debauching grin, the kind she wore when she bought cheesecake. “Here it is.”

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Chapter 16 On Gamble’s palm computer, Faith watched a clip of a teenage boy who looked too much like Danny for her comfort enter the alley. He left only seconds later, according to the time stamps from the security system. Not enough time to kill three people. A fast-forward revealed the panicked discovery of the bodies. A second fast-forward showed rescue crews in no hurry removing three bagged bodies. Video was so easily faked. She memorized the case number at the bottom of the screen. Even if the number wasn’t real, it was formatted correctly for a prosecution case on Reigna. “Where did you get this video?” “The archives of the case. Public record. Does knowing Heretic is a born killer turn you on?” Gamble asked curiously, his black and titillated eyes fixed on hers. No, it sickened her, like it should have. She decided the video wasn’t real, and Gamble had manipulated this moment to turn her against Danny. It was the demonic thing to do. She rose to her feet, gathered her throwaways from lunch, and she gave the gangster her back. “Have a nice day, Miss Faith,” he said to her as she left. Faith spun around. “Stay away from me, Gamble,” she calmly insisted, using his gang name, letting that be a warning of trouble if he attempted to affect her again. She’d tell Danny. But she couldn’t tell the I-Marshal about this encounter with the gangland hit man. She’d defied Danny by bathing and hiding from him. And now, she was punished for it. By day’s end, she allowed the auto-locking door of the lab-supplies warehouse to close behind her, not yet expecting Danny. She’d visited and

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done inventory for two labs, not enough to call a full day’s work. But her mind had been scattered, and she just couldn’t concentrate. Never again would she consume alcohol at lunch. Tired of fighting an energy deficit, she’d quit her day early just to sit under the nature-filled Sylantan breeze, wait for him, and enjoy the emerald hills, topaz sky, and cottony clouds. When she turned toward the parking area, she couldn’t miss the gigantic luxury hovercraft pulling into the nearest space before her. An ominous, slow-crawling dread moved up her spine, and she watched a large man rise from the driver’s door, walk up to her, and say, “Miss Vedder. Mister Armaros requests your presence.” “I—I’m sorry. You missed her about ten minutes ago.” The driver drew a picture from his jacket and turned the image to her. It was a photo of Max and her celebrating her nineteenth birthday, the very night she’d given up her innocence to him. She’d mashed a piece of cake in Max’s face, and they’d both been laughing outrageously. He’d made the night unforgettable, and it had been in their eyes in that picture. Oh, there was a time long past when she would have followed Max everywhere. There was no denying it was her. The driver passed the photo to her. Her eyes scanned the vista for Danny’s bike. He was nowhere in sight. The driver opened the limo door for her. There was nowhere to run. If she didn’t get in that craft, Max just might come for her. Thank goodness, Danny would hide her out on another planet, because if she were on the same world as Max, he’d find her. The last thing she wanted to see was Max and Danny, face-to-face. Danny’s bike took the turn off the main road into the complex and headed her way. She was torn over whether she wanted to see Max or not. Luckily, Danny’s appearance gave her no choice, and she was appreciative of his timing. She looked up to the mountain of a driver, and the relief must have been visible. “Tell Max not today.” Spotting Danny’s arrival, the driver gave her a look that said he marveled at her for not having immediately jumped at Super-Max’s invitation. Or he feared for her, considering Max’s power. Faith knew Max

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would never harm her. She didn’t want to think of him harming anyone…but knew she fooled herself. Danny’s notice of the luxury hovercraft carried death beams. He watched the big craft pull from the driveway and disappear down the road. Then, expressionless in the vision window of the helmet’s wraparound face shield, he regarded her in silence, the wind fluttering his salt-and-pepper hair from the edge of the helmet. Dressed in black leather, he was the sexiest thing she ever saw. And she’d missed his company all day. Gawd. She’d really like not to screw it up with him. She unstrapped the spare helmet, jammed it onto her head, and mounted the bike behind him. His lack of response was scarier than a verbal lashing. When they arrived at the storage center where he stored the bike, she dismounted, tugged the helmet from her head, and watched him kill the airjets, dismount the sleek bike, and close the door to the storage closet. Wordless, he pulled the helmet from his head, tugged his gloves off and tucked them into the helmet, setting it on the bike seat. Then, his lips pressed into a miffed line, he held his hand out to her to take for the teleportation home. She didn’t give up her hand. “Let’s get this over with, better here now than at Camp Cop with an audience. Go ahead, ask who the limo was.” “I know who the limo was.” “Well…don’t you want to know why I didn’t go?” Danny gave her his intrusive gray eyes and a humorless smirk. She could have sworn his vision felt like a frisk. “You turned Super-Max down because you didn’t trust yourself.” Damn. Danny knew. That had been the reasoning at the time, minutes ago. She didn’t trust herself not to be tempted by whatever bait Max planned to cast. He’d offer her a story. He knew how to get her attention. But now when she gazed upon Danny, had put her arms around him on the bike ride all the way to this place, had slept with him last night, seeing Max felt like a betrayal of Danny. It would have improved her Pulitzer story to visit Max, but she didn’t want to see disappointment buried deep in

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Danny’s gaze. Standing in the same room with Max wasn’t as important to her as standing in the same room as Danny. She passed him her hand, and he said, “I thought so.” “That’s not the reason I’m not going. I could change my mind. I could call Max right now, and that limo would be here in five minutes. And he’d give me a helluva story.” Danny’s hand tightened around hers. “He could give you a lot of things from hell.” “He’s not a demon, Danny. If there really is such a thing.” “Why aren’t you dialing his number right now? Super-Max is a man of style. He has a nice dinner awaiting you in a luxury suite with an incredible view of the coast, a nice bottle of wine, and a warm bed.” Danny sounded like he knew the man personally, but he hadn’t before mentioned knowing Max. Her eyes fell to their hands joined for teleportation. “I’m not dialing his number because I’d rather hold your hand. In the middle of a harsh desert, stuffed in a cramped pod with strangers, no good scenery, and crawling with killer spiders. You might turn nice again, and I don’t want to miss that.” Danny took the step between them, slipped his hands into her tresses, and brought her into his heat like he took her prisoner. Without a second’s hesitation, his lips met hers with a gentle possession. Her hands slid past his leather jacket to his T-shirted, hard-muscled chest. She opened to him and his mouth took her over, sending divine surges of ecstasy through her. He weakened her every second he held her. She felt lucky he kissed her again. A few more nibbles to her lips, he parted from her too soon. Her rushing breath caused her breasts to graze his T-shirted chest. He took her hands from his chest and enclosed them in his hold between them. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then instead, he teleported them into the house pod. Isabella and Kasey sat on the couch engaged in good conversation, smiles on their faces. “Welcome home,” Kasey told them both, and to Danny, he said, “Sean is working late to install the new accounting program. I’m providing

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babysitting services this early evening while you visit Detonator, but don’t forget I must catch up with the freight tonight.” “Got ya.” Danny returned to Faith’s attention, his hand still capturing hers and standing very close. “It’s going to be a long day. Kasey’s watching out for Isabella and you tonight until Sean or I return.” Faith shrugged. “What can happen to us in the desert with a ring of angels around us?” “Besides a lethal spider bite, I don’t want to know. The angels aren’t always there.” Danny disappeared down the hallway, and Faith blew a defeated breath and sacked down on the couch beside Isabella. Faith looked to the beautiful brunette waif, darted her eyes at Kasey and then back to her. “Is he any entertainment?” Her smile was radiant. It was the first time Faith had seen her joyous without Sean in her sights. “Kasey will keep you laughing.” Faith smirked at the slick young man too handsome for his own good. The T-shirt he wore said, Terminators Are Real. “You’re not telling genitalia jokes, are you?” Faith asked him. “No.” Kasey’s sapphire eyes danced, his grin playful. “You’re both taken women, so it’ll do me no good.” Isabella and Kasey returned to the conversation about their travel experiences, and Faith joined in until Danny came from his room dressed in the bottom half of the super-soldier suit, a yellow T-shirt, and dark socks. He shot Kasey a slightly tested look, collected Faith’s hand, and led her back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Before Danny said anything, he kissed her passionately, his big hands pressing her against him. And it ended too soon. The first words from his mouth were, “Don’t trust Kasey.” The advice baffled her, especially after a mind-scrambling kiss. “Why not? He’s a trustworthy I-Marshal, isn’t he?” “He’s a shark for women.” “I’ve swum with sharks.” “Don’t bring up Mako again.” And Danny meant it. She heard the don’t-

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cross-this-line tone in his voice. That was when she noticed his yellow Tshirt said, Demons Beg Me. Did he suspect she was the type to sleep around, having learned she’d given her innocence to a man who was now a gangland shot caller? Did Danny think she fell for every smooth operator? She hadn’t given her chastity to a gangland shot caller. She’d given it to a lifelong friend who’d earned it by being the best man she knew. What he’d become later was unrelated to the man he had been then. “Well, it doesn’t matter how sly Kasey gets. I’m not interested.” Seeming relieved with her words, Danny pressed another kiss to her lips. “I want to think I can trust Kasey. But sometimes he’s a force against my plans. He holds…great talents, and he can steal anything.” “Including a woman?” “Kasey doesn’t show me his limits.” Danny stepped to the open wooden chest and retrieved the upper half of the suit. He slipped into the shell and zipped it up while he said, “I have to go to work.” The words stilled her. Was Danny going to kill a man, destroy a demon? Didn’t Kasey say Danny would visit Detonator? Don’t ask questions, Faith. She watched in silence as he tugged on the boots and sealed contacts, ensuring the technology would make his feet invisible along with the rest of the suit. “Kasey will keep you and Isabella company. Sean could return from his task at any time, as well. When I come back, I’d like to take us back to your place. There’s more privacy there for rest and relaxation.” Oh… She hoped that privacy time included clothes-off moments. And steamy-bodies-pressed-together moments. What if Danny really thought she had sex with demons and didn’t want to touch her again? Sure, he was back to kissing her. But was he picturing it, her giving herself to such a decadent and repulsive creature? His bitter enemy? How would she show him it wasn’t the case at all? She needed to make him sure Max was no threat to whatever Danny and she had brewing.

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His helmet carrying his gloves in his hand, he stood, ready. She embraced him and leaned her head on his shoulder. His arms came around her snugly. “I’ll miss you while you’re gone,” she confessed. “You’ll be the only thing on my mind.” Danny and her Pulitzer. “I’d like to be the only thing on your mind.” He kissed her again, finished suiting up, then teleported away. The instant loss of his body heat sent a chill over her. She already ached from his absence. This was becoming more than a single isolated moment of passion. For her. And she knew she shouldn’t let that happen. With nothing to do, she strolled into the living room and joined Isabella and Kasey on the couch again. “Did Danny leave?” Kasey asked, casually performing dexterity routines with a switchblade, all precision and speed. He moved the blade through his fingers and flipped it over the back of his hand without an apparent thought. He wasn’t even watching. Faith nodded, a frown setting in. “He left so fast, I didn’t get the opportunity to tell him to be careful.” The blond I-Marshal burst into laughter without skipping a move with the blade. “Danny being careful. That’s an original thought. There’s a reason Sean was put on this case, and that was so Danny would have a doctor when he did something that broke his body into pieces.” “What did you say?” Faith hollered, her eyes bugged out, a cold shock running through her. Kasey dismissed her alarm. “Never mind. It was an exaggeration.” Faith retired the anxiety. There was nothing she could do but worry, and that wasn’t very productive. “Why does Danny seem angry at you, Kasey?” “I’d dared him on a subject to take action. I see he has acted. He’ll realize it wasn’t a threat.” Faith twiddled her thumbs in her lap, and then she followed the blade in Kasey’s hand. That was when she realized his fingers were not twirling the blade. The blade was moving through his fingers. Was Kasey telekinetic? She’d met some weird people these past few weeks. Healers, demon slayers,

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and now telekinetics. Still, she hadn’t seen the stereotypical demon yet. She thought to keep her ignorance to herself. “Danny’s angry with me right now,” Faith muttered. “He always seems angry at me.” “He isn’t angry with you,” Kasey replied, and didn’t appear to think of the swinging blade at all. “Danny’s angry with the circumstance. When you’re an undercover agent, it’s very difficult to have outside relationships. It forces you to choose who you are over the role you play. Danny might be deciding what part of himself is real. He’s never had to make the choice before. It’s hard to reach out to someone for a healthy and balanced relationship when you live more than half your life in a dark place. It doesn’t help that when the two of you look at one another, you’re both seeing two different things.” “Different things?” Faith asked, appreciating every insight on Danny. “You’d met him roadside at the accident three weeks ago, and he’d taken you home. But Danny had met you a month earlier, the night he’d shown up at your place in the super-soldier suit and removed you from Valdeya. You’d captured his mind. He’d talked of returning to your house on Reigna, introducing himself legitimately, and spending time with you.” That changed everything in her head. Was Danny trying not to care for her? “He has two months of emotion invested in you…and Danny is an emotional man. Your appearance at the accident put you in the case and ruined any possibility of a relationship with you. A legal relationship, that is. It seems clear to me he no longer cares. Or am I wrong in assuming the two of you are lovers?” Faith didn’t think she should answer that question.

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Chapter 17 It was dark, the soft Sylantan sun already sunken behind the local hills. A night-flight hunter guarded its nest tucked in the high corner of the threestory barn, its sharp eye on Danny. The bird might be able to see him with its incredible predator vision, but no human could. The I-Marshal straddled one of the thick wood-beam rafters of the humongous divided barn, beside the freshly hung wonnetogrus suspended by the drying tracts. Bright lamps mounted on tall stands lit both sides of the barn, but Danny was behind and above the lights, gone undetected. On one side of the structure, he watched Detonator’s crew finish loading the Blindfold shipment into the cargo holds for the space flight home. The Blindfold recipe was regularly shipped separately as two harmless and legal pharmaceutical compounds to be combined at their destination for the final product. It made the shipping a legal proposition. The distributors often sent one part of the formula to the other side of their planets to throw off suspicion. At first, that method had kept the authorities from catching on, but not for long. The Alliance had discovered that method and pretty quickly, which was why the gangbusters were there to rip them apart. No screwing around. They were attacking Blindfold at its source. Danny spectated as cranes and bulldozers packed the massive shipping crates with civic poison. It was nothing exciting to watch. Kasey was in charge of the product. Later tonight, he would catch up to this shipment and destroy it, just touch the actual product, and break the chemicals down at the atomic level, dispensing them harmlessly into the air. Handy trick. What trick was Danny going use on Faith the day Heretic destroyed Super-Max? Because it was coming. Super-Max’s name was on a list of

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people who must die at the end of this operation, and Heretic’s beam would make those hits. Super-Max’s association with Faith made Danny burn to make that hit sooner and not later. He didn’t want to know how much Faith loved the man. Super-Max and Heretic knew one another, all right. They were friends, as much friends as rattlers become in a viper pit. Friends until the very moment the crime lord’s name came from Faith’s lips. Danny had already told her he’d destroy Super-Max, but he knew she hadn’t taken him seriously. Should he make her take him seriously? Should he encourage her to visit her friend a last time? Danny was made miserable at contemplation of her sleeping with the gangster again. Maybe the smart thing to do was hit the mark and tell Faith nothing. The action the I-Marshal was looking for tonight happened on the other side of the divided barn. He stealthily swung from one beam to another through the rafters like a monkey until he came to the other side of the structure, and he silently thanked Mom for years of gym class as a kid. Detonator was there with his disciples, conducting a primitive-looking ritual. There must have been fifteen of them. Why some people followed demons into darkness, Danny would never know. But he remembered when he’d done so a very long time ago. He’d been young, angry, and stupid then. Detonator. His long dreads thick with dried white paste, his black face painted white like a skull, the gangster was dressed in feathers and bones like a witchdoctor along the lines of the ancient island-natives of Ceyina. A tall, feathered headdress sat upon his crown. His bare chest was painted with white and red symbols of war, like the demons do. His thick arms bore feathered bands at his tattooed biceps. The pitchfork brand showed. He danced to the coordinated beats of bongos, cymbals, stringed instruments, the caterwauling of his disciples. It was the worst excuse for music Danny had ever heard, but he wasn’t into aboriginal tunes. Dressed in primitive costumes, Detonator’s people encircled him and danced with their leader, shouting and singing. It looked like a scene out of prehistory. A telescopic inspection through the helmet’s computronics

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confirmed most of the disciples were teen boys. Detonator was training his street soldiers. Metal-detect told the I-Marshal the boys carried blades tucked into their elaborate feather skirts. Their eyes looked bloodshot and bleary, obviously drugged. While Danny watched a demon perform a crazy exhibition, they saw a prophet casting a holy spell. Detonator’s home planet was a rough place and without much technology or education for most of their world outside the large, high-tech cities. Life away from civilization was crude, dirty, dangerous, and full of superstition. The darker forces rose from the jungles to teach the people technology, government, and progress were lesions on their world. Followers gathered at Detonator’s feathered skirt to terrorize and do damage to the urban dwellers. He’d sent suicide bombers, released poison into water supplies, unleashed diseases to see the government fall. The everyday business of a demon, chaos, fear, and misery. Known to these people as Father William, such an innocuous alias, Detonator was a talented liar with all the charisma of an evangelical preacher. He kept these people mesmerized with myth, hatred, and altered reality. He led his disciples to their deaths with promises of heaven, redemption, reward. None of that awaited the polluted. Tonight was Detonator’s last appearance as a messiah. He did his final dance now. The kids were a problem. Danny didn’t want them to see what he was about to do to their prophet. Their witness of the demon’s banishment might create a martyr and a legend, and the next monster to harness the Explosives’ detachment from a technological society would have a symbol to build upon. Detonator’s eyes fell on Danny. “Spirit of death,” the witchdoctor called out to the high rafters, his voice deep and husky. “I cannot see you, but I can see your wings.” Flutes silenced, and drums stilled. The disciples scanned the rafters but could not see what their leader saw. Danny had never before been detected in the super-soldier suit. But every now and then, a demon came along who could identify a Nephilim on

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first sight. He would say he could see wings when the Nephilim had no wings. But those demons did see something. The I-Marshals had yet to figure out what that something was. Clearly, the super-soldier suit covered Danny completely and made him invisible, but whatever the occasional demon saw was still visible. The angels and Nephilim commanded diverse talents among their number. The Fallen possessed their various talents, as well. The closest boy clutched Detonator’s arm, his eyes big with worship. “Is it a vision, Father?” Annoyed, Detonator shoved the boy away from him, and the boy landed on his backside, but still stared at him with reverence. “Spirit of death!” the alter-life demon shouted this time, his fierce black and jaundiced eyes fixed on Danny. “Have you come for me?” Danny leapt at and caught the rafter in front of him, and then he dropped onto a lower beam and went downward from there, catching beams and dropping through the three-story structure. It was fun, and one wasn’t supposed to have this much fun at work. He did a double-backflip on his dismount. Finally, his boots hit ground level, and he stealthily moved toward then around Detonator. Smelling faintly of brimstone, the alter-life demon visually tracked his every step. The boy scuttled and joined the others gazing upon their fallen master, wanting him to show them a heaven he didn’t remember. The metal-detection function in the helmet notified the I-Marshal the demon concealed a large ritual knife in his feathered skirt. At Danny’s mental prompt, the meta-material mesh of the super-soldier suit polarized and locked in place to protect him from the blade. He kept an eye on everyone’s movement with the 360-degree visibility the helmet supplied him. Danny asked curiously, “What do you see when you look upon me, demon?” Hearing a voice where they saw no one, the boys backed up, their bloodshot eyes swollen with fear and searching the barn, their mouths

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dropped open. They tripped over their instruments to put distance between them and what they imagined was a formless spirit. Their voodoo priest gave him no answer. “Tell these boys to leave,” Danny ordered. “They are my children.” “They are not your children because you are a demon and cannot make children. There is no life in you.” Danny reached out and thumped Detonator on the forehead. “Stupid demon.” “Then destroy me before their eyes.” Danny reached out and gave the demon a hard punch to the jaw, knocking his feather-and-bone headdress from his head. The boys gasped to see their leader take a strike they hadn’t seen launched, but Danny thought it would be good for them to see that much and know their master was defeated. Detonator spat dark blood then went for his knife. Danny caught him by the arm, twisted it behind his back, and the IMarshal teleported Detonator and himself from the sights of the shocked boys to Sacred Sand on Reigna, atop Danny’s favorite mesa. Detonator started at the abrupt change in scenery, the brightness of a sun in zenith, but he took his shot and slashed the blade across Danny’s ribcage, only to find the blade deflected by the suit. Danny squeezed his hands around the demon’s neck, and he dragged him to the very edge of the caprock, giving Detonator a bird’s-eye view of the several stories’ height at which they stood. The Fallen hated to fall. The I-Marshal pulled the dazer from his holster, making it visible, and he pressed the barrel of the weapon into the demon’s skull-painted cheek until he had the beast’s undivided attention. Accessing the suit’s controls through the implant in his head, Danny disengaged the invisibility, revealing himself in the head-to-toe cover of the dark-blue super-soldier suit. His transformation shocked the alter-life again. Detonator managed an anxious chuckle with the gun pressed to his face. “That gun won’t kill me. For long.”

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“You better believe this is no ordinary gun. It’s built to send you to your darkness, Detonator, with a single deadly shot. Too good for you. You should consider becoming valuable to me. “I arrest you in the name of the Draco Alliance,” Danny announced from the helmet into the demon’s ear. “Now, bribe me.” Both his hands clutched Danny’s large hand tightening around his neck. The gangster’s black eyes darted to the gun just below his sight, Detonator pled, “Let me go, Marshal, and I can keep you buried in gold and women until the day you die.” “Do better than that.” “What about an army of blind followers who think you came to fulfill their downtrodden dreams? Imagine the savoring of their souls.” “Do better than that.” “Better than that? What’s bigger than the power to move governments, the worship of innocents, Marshal?” “You giving up a few of your brothers to me. What hotel is Gamble staying at?” “Gamble…? What good would it do me to give Gamble up to you to save my existence? I’m just a spirit of mind control. Gamble is a serial killer who will destroy me for a night’s entertainment. And make a profit on the video.” “You’re assuming Gamble will live through my visit, and he won’t.” The demon shook in his hands. “Ask for someone else.” “Give me Super-Max.” Detonator snorted. “You must be kidding me! Super-Max will imprison me forever after he peels away my mortal shell! You’ve no idea how much that man hates me.” “I find myself agreeing with few of Super-Max’s opinions. You are a loathsome creature, Detonator, using God to control minds. If I were the Maker, I would punish you above all others for your fraud and poor impersonation. Your corruptive power is more insidious than most.” “Then I’m lucky you aren’t the Maker. Destroy me, Marshal.” “You’re losing value, Detonator. The prospect of your slow destruction

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begins to appeal to me. Give me Super-Max, or I’ll give you to Gamble. I’ll call him right now to shut your lights off and take your territory.” Detonator shook harder in Danny’s gloves. “Who sicced you on me, Heretic?” The gangster must have recognized his voice through the helmet, and that wasn’t a problem for Danny. “Metatron has sent me to cast you into darkness.” “You work for the angels now?” “I always have.” “Not always. Some of us remember your history.” Danny shoved the demon onto the perilous edge of the hard caprock, giving him another eyeful of the staggering height, and he presented the pistol for a direct shot. Detonator landed atop a camouflaged viper, and the snake writhed and laid into his leg with its fangs, then fled. But demons didn’t feel pain, and neurotoxins didn’t kill them, but it would for a while sicken the mortal body he inhabited. Of course, he wouldn’t live through this meet-up with Danny. His pistol trained on the false messiah, the I-Marshal ordered, “Explain how you spotted me. Or you can tell my lord Metatron, who’ll deal no mercy to the Watchers. He will escort you to the abyss and chain you to the molten floes of hell.” The mention of facing the archangel made the demon shake even harder, and he couldn’t tell Danny the answer fast enough. “It’s the air. It moves behind you as if stirred by wings. I see it.” Some of the I-Marshals could detect auras around people, the active electromagnetic expression of souls. It was an uncommon talent bestowed by angel genes, as was Danny’s talent to recast time, Sean’s ability to heal, and Kasey’s telekinesis. But the Nephilim, much more human and mortal than the demons, did not have wings to stir the air. That they could see. The false messiah grinned, his big white teeth matching the skull painted white onto his ebony face. “The light is weak in your halo, Nephilim. You must be a man of many faults. If you keep falling, Heretic, the heavenly hosts will shun you. Believe me, I know. I remember the

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moment—“ “Shut up, demon. Reading auras must have given you great insight into the mortals…for you to use against them and take control of their minds. You deserve destruction for that. Tell me where Freak is, or I’ll destroy you the slow, old-fashioned way with the cold darkness you fear the most. And my big-ass blade.” “Your blade’s better than Freak’s revenge.” “Then you aren’t well acquainted with me, after all. How did Freak come back from destruction?” Father William shook his head until the dreads flung across his skullpainted face. “Things are whispered. She has resurrection now, and all the Fallen want it. Freak will have the allegiance of every dark spirit in the galaxy the day she decides to share it.” She? “Allegiance is not a demon’s strong suit.” “Always disbelieving, aren’t you, Heretic? You’ve no faith in your fathers.” “Your lack of allegiance to the Maker is what made you what you are.” Detonator held his feather-wristed hand up to the I-Marshal in supplication. “Destroy me, Heretic. Even with the torture you relish, I’d rather you end my existence than for my angel-brother to descend from the heavens and chain me to Abaddon, or for my demon-brother to bleed me dead and laugh.” “You gave me nothing. Where are Gamble and Super-Max?” “Both Gamble and Super-Max are staying at Sylanta Towers in town.” “Is Gamble serving Super-Max?” Detonator shook his head. “Heretic, you know I’m the outsider.” The voodoo priest leapt to his feet and lunged for Danny, and the IMarshal cast out his hand, catching the flow of time around them, willing himself into a different temporal acceleration to the rest of the world. The time-cast had made Detonator appear frozen in his motion when, in reality, Danny now moved fast in comparison to the rest of the world. He paced all around the witchdoctor messiah, seeing nothing of which

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he cared to take advantage. He moved in close to the gangster’s stilled face painted like a primitive native. His black eyes were alert to the I-Marshal’s presence and actions. A mortal would not have been alert to the change at all, but the Fallen had once existed as creatures of light, and light was fast. “What were you thinking when you thought to attack me, demon? Was it suicide-by-cop? The rumors are true. I’ve a hearty love for torturing your kind. You’re lucky the job of destroying you now takes nothing but the pull of a trigger. And you’re lucky I brought that gun today. I still could hang you from this mesa cliff and let your possessed blood stain the rock wall. I’m not sure I wish to cut your suffering with just a single shot from this gun and have you miss feeling the life force draining from this body, have you miss experiencing the darkness slowly coming on. Knowing in those long passing minutes you’ll never come back again, never haunt the mortal worlds with your chaos and despair. Your specific evil gone for good. “I believe in that lesson for your kind. All of the Fallen have overearned it. It’s a moral dilemma for me to skip it.” The high-tech helmet beeped in his ear, alerting him to a change in the atmosphere around him. Measurements registered in the face shield for the I-Marshal’s analysis. Pressure, luminosity, radioactivity. Sand stirred at his super-soldier boots. The disturbance grew wider in diameter until tiny tornadoes spun off the caprock. The visor revealed in infrared a tiny spiral of light in the air hovering and expanding brilliantly, and forming into a gigantic angel. Danny had never before observed an angel’s approach with the assistance of Alliance technology and time-casted into an acceleration. He’d always thought it disrespectful to experiment on the angels. The helmet revealed a constant shower of excited light around the arriving giant, the edge of his aura aflame like a sunstar. Everything around the spiritual entity—air, light, life—throbbed in the forming of a being of fire. Warps of heat bent the air all around him. Was that what the demons saw, the warping of air around a creature of fire? The light became so white, it was blinding, even through the auto-darkening visor protecting his eyes. Metatron, chancellor of heaven, stood before him whole and in

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splendor, his enormous wings ruffling from travel across dimensions and realms. Viewing the archangel through the helmet’s multiple technologies became sensory overload, so Danny removed the helmet and cowl, and then he gazed in awe upon the magnificent winged spirit, the vision constructed for mortal minds. He’d seen angels for decades now, but he’d never get used to it. “Daniel.” “My lord Metatron.” Lustrous brown hair flowing in smooth waves from his crown onto his shoulders, the archangel examined Detonator still frozen in Danny’s timecast, and disappointment set into the angel’s peaceful eyes “Detoriel. He was never a strong one. He required the worship of the mortals. It was his weakness. Will he give you what you need to rob the mortal worlds of the scourge that blindfolds you?” “No, my lord. He’s told me little. I will destroy him and spare his people of his curse. I haven’t decided how yet.” Metatron’s pure eyes went to the gun in the I-Marshal’s hand. “It’s not a dereliction of your duty, Daniel, to use the technology given you. Every time you send them to darkness with suffering, you trade a part of your own light.” Danny looked into Detonator’s glassy eyes. Beads of sweat rose from his human-looking flesh. He must have been in great fear of the archangel. And he should have been. “I don’t trust the job to a machine, my lord. Not when so much is at risk if I fail. Freak is showing me this.” “It’s more important to save the light in your soul, Daniel, than to defeat the enemy so thoroughly.” “Mercy for demons, my lord?” “Mercy for the demon slayer, Daniel. If you sacrifice your light, you cannot see justice and know redemption.” Calderon’s words came back to Danny, that he was as dark as the demons. “I never saw myself as within redemption, my lord. I figured I was earning my way into paradise through the back door with a fast blade to a

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demon’s neck. An angel of death…like yourself, my lord.” “You miss the meaning of your calling, Daniel. An angel of death understands the necessity of his position but does not relish it, as you do. An angel of death knows justice and faith.” Danny looked up to his patron angel, and flashed him a look that said the angel should have known better than to believe in him. “I was always a heretic, my lord. The Nephilim are not creatures born of faith. Isn’t that the chance you run, giving the job of destroying demons to the sons the demons made, that you’ve given a faith-dependent task to a faithless breed?” “No. It gives the sons a chance at earning the angels within them, instead of living with their devils. It’s your path to earn your way back to Eden, not to slip through a back door when the Maker isn’t looking. There is no back door to the heavens. Darkness still cannot exist with light, Daniel.” But shadows could. Danny had always thought of himself more as a shadow lurking on the periphery of light than light itself. “What are the things you gain from their suffering, and are those subjects of light?” Danny gave it a moment of soul examination. “I like to kick demons while they’re down. I get revenge and vindication for the mortal worlds when I take a demon on a slow, fear-filled drag to darkness. I can make them suffer on their way to their fates, like they’ve made countless mortals suffer. But no, vengeance is not a subject of light. I figured I used my dark side for good.” “What will you do, Daniel, when you’ve done all your destruction and cannot reach paradise?” Danny had no answer. What would he do when he found himself locked from entrance into the Pearly Gates because of the sadistic style and methods of his divinely inspired work? He’d end up where he’d sent demons. Darkness. The Nephilim despised darkness almost as much as the Fallen, which was why he wanted Faith so much. She was light to him. “Mortals live in prisons of their own creation. Search for faith in your goodness,” the archangel advised, “instead of savoring your darkness, Daniel.”

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“Search for faith?” The angel was gone, and only Danny and Detonator stood alone atop the painted desert mesa. Detonator was still frozen in his time, but was witness to it all. The angel made a good point, but probably not the one he wished to make. Danny was more interested in returning to Faith’s arms than making Detonator regret the day he’d turned his back on his heavenly place. Danny decided to make this quick work. “Detonator…you’ve run out of time.” Returning to the position he left, standing before Detonator’s lunge, Danny released the time-cast. Detonator lunged for him, and he shot the demon with his brand-new dazer, right where his heart should have been. A seam of fire radiated from the strike-point and spread, burning all the blood from his body until there was nothing left but the dry husk of the mortal shell that had carried the demon within, now vanquished. The gangster’s mouth was dropped open as if his last utterance might have been a pained scream. Danny figured it couldn’t feel very good to have one’s immortal spirit consumed and consigned to darkness. She, Detonator had called Freak. She has resurrection now. Collecting his helmet, Danny picked up the dried leather husk of a body, now as light as a surfboard, and he teleported to the storage hold behind the house pod. He hauled the corpse into the room where he stored his bike. What else did one do with a dried demon? Who could she be…but Jasmine? It was possible an unknown woman worked in the periphery of this hellish enterprise, but women were rare in the high ranks of criminals. Men who worked evil seldom trusted and respected women enough to put them in high places. Jasmine controlled the Pharm, and Gamble and she looked pretty comfortable with one another. How did Super-Max weave into the design? Danny opened the door of the house pod and found Faith standing there, a welcoming smile on her face and wearing one of his T-shirts. It would have been a nice end for the day to rest in her embrace. But now Sean and he needed to hunt down Freak and destroy him…or her, and right away

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before the gangster-demon struck again. Maybe by then, Danny will have figured out an excuse he could use not to make Faith understand he would assassinate a lifelong friend of hers. He looked into her deep brown and trusting eyes turned up to him, and he dreaded this whole case. Danny closed the door behind him, and Faith stood close enough for him to sweep her into his hungry arms so he did. Noticing no one else in the room, he enjoyed the moment of her feminine body pressed into his. She smelled fresh. She’d taken a bath. That just meant he’d have to make her smell like him all over again. He buried a slight and wicked smile into her burnished hair. Too soon, he parted from her to give her a frank look-over, and she shrank away a little bit…like she was guilty of something. His T-shirt swallowed her, could’ve been a short dress if she wore nothing beneath. Nothing beneath… He could barely wait to put her back in the sheets. But Sean and he needed to dispatch one more demon to perdition first. This time they would be sure to leave Freak extra dead.

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Chapter 18 “What language is this?” Faith asked, curious, pointing to his worn and threadbare green shirt on her, as he set the helmet in the chair and looked around. “It’s Ledren.” “As in San Ledra?” she asked nervously. It was confirmation that he’d been there. “Yes.” “What does it say?” “It says, When you see me drop a demon, you’ll know I’m only getting started.” Faith’s eyes swelled at the interpretation. She thought it best not to comment on anything having to do with San Ledra. Now her knowledge of Danny felt dangerous, like it could erupt at any moment. It turned her on a little…okay, a lot. “Where are Kasey and Isabella?” “They’re in the back bedrooms.” Danny pounded on the wall, shaking the entire pod. Kasey rose from his room at the racket, dressed in a super-soldier suit, sans the helmet. Isabella rose from Sean’s room. Faith fidgeted. “Something’s come up,” Danny briefed them all. “We have a lead on Freak, and I think we’ll find Jasmine at the end of it. I suspect Gamble will be there, as well. I’m catching up to Sean, and we’re going to hunt Freak down right now, get that demon off the game board.” Freak, Faith’s source. She hadn’t heard from him since he sent her to Face Pharm for a job. Would Gamble tell Danny they’d spent a moment together? The last thing she wanted to admit to was time spent with Gamble

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reminiscing Danny’s past, a secret he hadn’t yet revealed to her. Faith turned her sight onto Isabella, who looked haunted at mention of Freak. Her arms were wrapped around her willowy frame. Her desperate wish for Sean’s presence was in her eyes, but she kept quiet. The handsome I-Marshal gave Faith a stern look, as if he detected her deception-by-omission. “Do you have something to say to me, Faith?” “No, Danny,” she replied, with no hint in her voice. “Nothing to say.” Kasey shook his head. “Bad timing. I have to meet up with that freight before it hits space. If I miss it, we’ve lost control, and it’s probably gone forever.” “Damn,” Danny muttered, staring down at the plush carpeting below their booted feet. “I don’t want the girls left alone.” A long moment of silence stretched before Faith insisted upon her courage. Besides, if she could get rid of Danny and Kasey, she could snoop around. “We’ll be okay for a while.” She emitted a carefree laugh, rolled her eyes as though their alpha-male guarding tendencies were ridiculous. She slapped Danny on his fat, hard bicep, nearly jamming her wrist. “C’mon, we’re big girls. We’re in a sealed pod in the middle of the desert, and no one knows we’re here. We’ll take care of one another. How long can you be gone, anyhow? Go get the job done.” Danny smiled at her in appreciation for her enabling them. Kasey said to Danny, “Give me the keys of your bike on Sylanta. I’ll haul ass to the port and meet the freight. I need to touch the shipment to break it up. The powder block’s too big for me to affect from afar. Detonator’s crew won’t discover the shipment spoiled until they reach their destination. They can’t create Blindfold without the powder shipment.” “Can’t you teleport to the shipment, wherever it is?” Faith asked, curious to learn how the technology worked. Kasey replied, “I can’t teleport to it unless I can get exact coordinates for it or I’ve been there before. I can get coordinates for the freight port office, but I’ll waste time searching the place. There are several reasons why the teleport can’t put me inside the shipment containers. There’s the whole

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suffocation issue. Also, the trucks are in motion. The Alliance teleport is located on Reigna and reaching several dozen light-years to move us around on Sylanta. Something as little as a strong cosmic tide between here and Sylanta could knock the teleport off-aim for a few centimeters, but that might be enough to kill me. “With the bike, I can catch up with the payload and follow. When the shippers aren’t looking, I’ll touch the truck and destroy it, including the powder block inside.” Faith smiled, amazed at such a talent. She wanted to see Kasey in action one day. The I-Marshals were something else. A healer, a telekinetic. What could Danny do? Oh, yeah, slay monsters. “That’s a better plan than suffocation.” Danny tossed the keys from the counter to Kasey’s palm, caught with superb reflexes. Kasey was there, and then he was gone. Isabella and Faith stood nervous before the last remaining I-Marshal. Danny addressed them both. “Stay inside and wait. One of the three of us will be back very soon. You shouldn’t be alone for long.” Isabella nodded meekly and went back to Sean’s room. Snagging his helmet and gloves along the way, Danny pulled Faith into his own room and shut the door. Then he went to his chest of drawers, pulled open the bottom drawer, and drew a plastic case, the same case that contained the new gun Danny had examined this morning. She spotted the butt of a handgun tucked under folded T-shirts, the old bullet-spitting kind, like the one she’d purchased on Valdeya. She’d inspect it later, when she was alone. He sat on the bed, opened the case set on his lap, and there it was, a dazer, the I-Marshals’ newest weapon against demons, from what she’d gathered from hints. The other dazer was cradled in his super-soldier suit’s holster nested against his strong thigh. He took up the tiny tool that fit into a concealed nook in the handgrip of the gun, unlocked the handle, and held the box out for her. “Press your trigger finger into the f-print pad, so you can operate the gun.”

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She backed up and covered up the fingers of her significant hand with her other fingers. She thought of all the death in Max’s life and how she’d turned from that. Then she thought of how she’d wanted Danny to kill the monster in Calderon. “No, Danny. I don’t want to be responsible for killing another something. How could a demon follow us here?” His eyes narrowed in on her, and then he appeared to soften his hard lines. “One shouldn’t be able to, but things are different when applied to the real world. Listen to me, baby…” The baby made her listen. Was she his baby now? Mm… She wanted to be. “Isabella must be protected. She’s Freak’s wife.” The news stunned Faith. She blurted, “Didn’t someone say Freak was dead?” “You might have heard that when the spider venom sickened you. I’d destroyed him myself.” “Freak was a demon? Isabella was…married to a demon?” Danny pinched his lips together in what looked like a second of frustration. “The way I understand the situation, it was more like Freak owned her. I didn’t hear any insinuation of love or free-willed partnership.” Faith blinked for a few seconds. Men didn’t own women on her planet. It was barbaric for one person to own another. She couldn’t wrap her head around what life was like as a demon’s slave. No wonder Isabella looked upon Sean as though he were…an angel. “Your lead to the Pharm job, Faith, proved Freak is alive and operating. We don’t know how he resurrected. We’ve only now received a hint to what identity Freak may have taken. We don’t know if he cares anymore that Isabella is alive, or if he wants to take her from Sean. Or maybe he just wants to kill us all for revenge. We’ve been brought here for a reason. Isabella can’t go unprotected. With Sean, Kasey, and me gone, it’s down to you, Faith.” Down to you, Faith. She gaped at the gun nestled in the box, its handgrip laid open and exposing the electronic f-print reader that would seal that gun to her hand. It

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nauseated her to think she might kill someone. It was okay for her to send Danny, a professional, Alliance-approved assassin, to destroy a monster like Calderon, but she didn’t have the guts to take a life herself. “Are you saying Freak might come for her?” Danny took a deep breath and blew it out. “If the hint of Freak’s new identity is correct, he’s on Sylanta, and Isabella and you are safe here on Reigna. There’s a reason why Face Pharm reached out to these particular gangland freelancers—Heretic and Snow—to join the organization that created Blindfold. The offers were like cheese on mousetraps. It may mean our covers are blown on the black market, and they are setting up our executions. There’s a reason why Freak sent you to Sylanta, maybe to watch all this and expose the I-Marshals and our mission. Maybe he’s counting on you to awaken the mortal worlds to awareness of the war between demons and angels, making it all much more intense, the body count much higher. Maybe Freak intends to make you a mouthpiece of fear that initiates the end of the coordinated force against the Fallen.” Faith brewed at the prospect of being used, so she pressed her thumb into the pad. Danny locked the handgrip into place, then he passed the gun to her. The weight of the device was so heavy, it took both the gun and her to the floor. Expecting the heft now, she heaved the weight in her hand. It must have weighed ten kilos. The machine had appeared to weigh like a loaf of bread in Sean’s and Danny’s big hands. She set the gun on the bed, wary of the device and resolving not to touch it again. “I wish I could take you outside for some shooting lessons, but we don’t have time.” Faith’s eyes bulged at contemplation of holding the heavy gun long enough to get in some good practice. Doing so was liable to pull every muscle in her arms and back. Danny stood up and brought Faith to her feet. “Easy instructions. Stay inside. Shoot anything you don’t recognize.” A shiver shook her, so he pressed a hot kiss to her mouth. He bent and slipped his hands up her skirt and his long T-shirt covering her to her rear end, and he stroked his big palms and fingers over her panties, sneaked

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below the lace to stroke her bottom, sending sparks of excitement through her. Between soft ravishings of her mouth, he said, “I’d like to end up in your bed tonight.” “I don’t want to look at my bed again without you in it.” He parted from her, unleashing his arrogant and sexy smile, then he donned the gloves, pulled the cowl and helmet over his head, and was gone. It took a while for the sensual electricity he’d launched to calm within her. It looked like she got away with the shower and wardrobe switch for work. The feel of his hot hands on her derriere was still there. She couldn’t wait to take him back home with her. Unentertained, she left the heavy gun on the bed, went to the living room, and stretched out onto the couch. She picked up Sean’s tablet computer, tapped into Reigna’s justice archives, and watched the video of the case against Danny over and over again. Gamble’s copy had been unaltered. A skimming of the case report revealed the offender’s name redacted. Danny’s name had been erased from the file. Then she checked the archives of The Capital City Eyeball. There was a story of the alley murders, no mention of a suspect. No follow-up on an arrest or report of a pending court case. Those articles had been removed. Very unusual. She didn’t know what to think of it. How and why had a triple homicide been wiped from public memory? It was nearly a half hour before Faith thought of misbehaving. But, once she considered it, it was all that filled her head. She had a Pulitzer to think of and wasn’t making any gains sitting on her butt. She was on her feet and at the door in a few seconds. Checking behind her to ensure Isabella wasn’t witness to her rebellion, Faith slipped out the pod front door, relishing escape more than she should. The heat and brightness of Reigna’s desert sun was immediately oppressive. The time Danny had dragged her outside and taken her up the mesa, it had been sunset, and she hadn’t fully appreciated the roasting scourge that was the Sacred Sand Valley. She sneezed from the desert dust floating despite the dead air. She couldn’t let the tortures of the desert deter

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her from gathering information. Her eye out for spiders, Faith paced around the big pod house to see what she could find, and she discovered a storage room built onto the side of the house-pod residence. The door was unlocked, making this her lucky day. Faith grasped the metal clasp of the door and dug her heels into the parched earth, dragging the great door away from the threshold. She managed an opening the size of a meter or two, well enough to slip into the room, and she entered, too curious to say no. “Lights on,” she told the shed, only to find the storage room wasn’t computerized. Primitive. She sought a light switch but saw none. Hell, Danny didn’t need light. The man could see in the dark. Fairly enabled by the sunlight coming through the partially opened door, she moved further into the long rectangle of the room and came across a table of tools and Danny’s ratty bike. The place was the kind of mess only its owner could decipher. Tools hung on the walls, lay upon the table. The smell of grease was strong. Behind the hover-bike was a thick, flattened stand-up. It looked like a picture mounted on leather, but she couldn’t see that well. She pulled the light-weight article away from the wall and brought it into the brighter light. To her repulsion, she found herself staring into the startled eyes of Detonator, dressed in some aboriginal garb, his face painted white like a skull, his mouth dropped open in mid-scream. It wasn’t a photo at all. His thick braids were intact. It was…a dehydrated corpse. Where had she left her camera palm computer? It was in her purse in Danny’s room. A thousand words lowballed this picture. The slaying of the leader of the Explosives was a huge story, almost as big as Calderon’s destruction. The door of the storage room slammed shut, suddenly plunging Faith in total darkness. There was no wind outside to have caused it. She dropped the dried body and reached for the large metal tool on the table just beside her. Her hands felt the tabletop for the metal and couldn’t find it. A tiny fire appeared before her eyes, and increasing focus showed her a

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hand within it, conjuring the flame. Then a face from shadow above her moved into the flame, revealing a dark-fleshed, lumpy, and pock-marked countenance of evil. The smell of sulfur reached her nose. What looked like wings behind it shifted just beyond the firelight. “Faith…” a malevolent smile hissed, flashing pointed fangs. Its longtaloned fingers curled around the flame and clicked together. The noise rode up her spine like an electric shock. “Bring Isabella to me, and I’ll not flay the flesh from your back.” Faith’s brain stung with fear, and she mentally scrambled to regain her orientation in the blackened room. She could see nothing but the demon’s face between her and the door. So she began to scream.

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Chapter 19 Sean sat in his office in Pharmhouse Three, compiling a computer worm that would work its way into every database on the Pharm system and upload its contents to Alliance servers. There, every byte of code would be examined forensically for information that could be used against the Pharm cartel or any collaborators of the black market. Sean rubbed his aching eyes, tired of the office lights and four bland white walls. He’d like to have a picture of Isabella on his desk to get him through the day, but he knew better than to personalize his office in any way. Such things were giveaways to true identities. And that led to body bags, sometimes for the wrong people. …Isssabelllla… Her name seemed to float in the air as a whisper, so faint he couldn’t tell if his ears really heard it echoing through the office, or if it were just his imagination. “Lights, half brightness,” he told the room, and the light-bars dimmed significantly, relieving the ache. He’d been finished with this day before the day was finished with him, and all he wanted was to go home and lie in Isabella’s arms. He was only a few more minutes away from the soft lips that made him think of something other than his job. Like the future. The upcoming decades of his life looked beautiful surrounded by children with Isabella’s warm features. Danny needed that, a reason to take his mind from his private dark forces. He gave them too much air in the doing of his spiritual duties. The Nephilim had more compulsion for dark thoughts than most mortals, and they had to fight that. Sometimes the I-Marshals lost track of their lives chasing demons, which often was all-encompassing and occasionally obsessive. It was especially true for Danny.

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For the first time, Sean saw Danny’s sights set on a woman who could do that for him, make him forget his killer instinct, his angel-of-death drive. Since the demon slayer had laid his eyes on the headstrong and energetic reporter, he hadn’t dwelled in psychologically shadowed corners, hadn’t run off to risk his life doing outrageous daredevil shenanigans. Faith was the light Danny needed. But Danny and Faith didn’t have a chance as long as there was a case wrapped around them. The same was true for Sean and Isabella. Every time Danny took Faith’s hand for more than teleportation, it was illegal. Every time Sean kissed Isabella, he flirted with the disintegration of his career, maybe even his freedom, if word were to get out he had taken her from a target of their investigation. The evidence of it grew inside her every day. Good-bye, careers for Sean and Danny. Hello, prison tattoos. How long Kasey would keep his mouth closed was anyone’s guess. Both Danny and Sean needed to bust this gang, and move on to other scopes of service. Sean had a family on the way, and Danny needed to disengage his love of spanking demons. If he didn’t, heaven may find him unfit for his coming reward. Darkness had no place in the light. First, Sean would find and slay Freak, eliminate that bastard right off the start, if he really had survived Danny’s destruction of him. Which no one knew for sure. Not even Faith had spoken to Freak or even seen him alive. Isabella’s safety and peace of mind required Freak’s thorough destruction, no more return trips for the gangster. Sean’s own peace required it as well, if he ever wished to feel secure leaving his family for work every day. Thankfully, she was shielded inside the house pod built to keep the demons blind. Could she be considered safe anywhere as long as Freak roamed the galactic sector, uncontrolled? Every time Sean thought of what Freak had done to Isabella, he wanted to beat the demon to a pulp before he sent him to darkness. Sean could understand that part of Danny, the need to make the demons take on some of the suffering they’d dished out. But demons didn’t suffer like mortals did. The way to make them pay was to send them defeated and alone into darkness. The exercise of torturing demons was really about revenge and

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more about the tormentor than the tormented. As all bullying was. Danny bullied demons because he loathed them with every fiber of his being. Sean’s eyes rose to the sound of his office door opening to find Jasmine standing there, scantily garbed in a sheer summer dress, her smile beguiling. Her long and shiny black hair curled around her cherubic face. Her exotic blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Barefoot, she leaned her back against the frame of the door which would have brought any eye to her ample bosom on high beam. She toyed with a tie of her dress as though she were bored and looking for…stimulation. She was enough to entice a priest into selling his soul. He almost asked, What’s a succubus like you doing in a place like this? Sean turned back to his computer screen and watched the blue installation meter, willing the machine to work faster at handling the very large and intricately-coded program that would do its job undetected by security measures placed on the Pharm’s computer network. “Long work night, Jasmine?” “Long night…” she replied breathily. “I’ve decided to sleep on the couch in my office instead of taking the long trip home. I’ll be grateful when this backwater planet purchases a teleport. I rue the drive. I thought to roam the office and see who else is working harder than their paychecks warrant.” He should have laughed at her joke to be polite, but he really just wanted her to go away. “Have you found anyone?” “No. We are the only ones in the building. We work too hard, wouldn’t you say?” Sean didn’t pick up the volley. Where was her husband? Had she given the old man a heart attack yet? Hadn’t the brilliant but greedy professor seen Gamble circling his young, nubile wife like a stalking, drooling panther? Just a few days ago, Kasey had walked into the meeting room and discovered Jasmine and Gamble half-dressed and in mid-coitus on the conference table. It had to have been a gross sight. Maybe the dirty demon had bored of her that quickly, and Jasmine was lucky to have lived through it without injury. The gangland hit man was smart enough not to harm the boss’s wife more than she wanted to be hurt.

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Evidently, Jasmine preferred a pool of lovers. Sean had spotted the perverse look in her eye. She slid into the room with a graceful one-movement sway to her lithe body. Now the onyx-tressed, jewel-eyed siren faced him fully, her curvy figure on display for his visual consideration. A black swatch of hair crossed her right eye sensuously. Sean wasn’t interested, but he wasn’t dead. She was impossible not to notice, bewitching, even. “Snow…” she cooed, odd because the boss had outlawed the use of gangland identities for the sake of keeping up appearances that the Pharm was a legitimate business. The familiarity struck Sean the wrong way. It wasn’t the sign of a beginner in the black market but a seasoned pro defaulting to old times. “Wouldn’t you like to take a break from work?” Jasmine had never targeted him until this moment. She’d kept a respectful distance, probably noticing the ring on his left hand. Sean kept his eyes on the video screen to keep her from glamouring him. Not that he thought himself weak. He wasn’t. “Actually, Jasmine, I’ll soon be done here and on my way home.” That wasn’t the stop sign for her it should have been. She sashayed from the door to his desk, and she propped her palms on his desktop, allowing him a panoramic view of her unbound breasts pressed against the thin fabric of her bodice. And they were pretty. As beautiful and enticing and naughty as Jasmine was, Isabella’s purity of soul was so much more attractive. The chemist was no competition for Isabella. Jasmine reached across ledgers and took up his left hand, rolling the ring on his finger. “How precious… Are you rushing home to a family?” He slipped his hand from hers, and his eyes lingered on the gold band that was a promise to Isabella and their child. “Oh, it’s not a commitment ring. It’s a family heirloom.” “That surprises me,” Jasmine replied, her feminine voice laced with lilts of seduction. She slid onto the desktop to sit and stretch her long legs before his sight like a buffet. Gamble could not have wasted a minute taking up an offer like that. “I saw you as more of the committed type. I like committed men. I find them hungry for more…primal experiences.”

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Sean shot her a dissembling glare. “Learn a lot screwing demons, Jasmine?” Instead of the raw accusation inspiring her to back down, she wet her lips. “Have you been watching me, Snow?” “No more than the entire office. You do project.” Looking pleased to hear her reputation preceded her, she put her back to the wall the desk butted up against, and she took a long, slow, deep breath that brought her bosom back into the playing field. “I like it that you’re watching. Say so if you see something more entertaining than your computer.” Sean began to laugh at her blatant offer then he stopped himself. He shouldn’t be responding at all to her joust. Even if it was hilarious in sublimity. Her hands slid to her naked thighs and slowly stroked the insides, a potent attempt to scramble his brain. Sean kept his eye in the installation meter on the computer screen, denying her the thrill she wanted and wishing she’d read his signals for her to go away. When she didn’t get response she wanted, she stepped up her game by reaching out and stroking Sean’s cheek, something he thought wise to ignore. “I love to feel the shadow of a man’s face,” she purred, and then she sent her hand back to the inside of her thighs, “right about here.” That probably would have taken down many a weak man. He gave her a hard stare to let her know she was failing. “Is thought of Isabella giving you pause? Because I can promise complete discretion, Snow. Variety is the spice of life. I’m a married woman myself, and the best of secret-keepers.” The smile fell from Sean’s face when he should have busted into laughter again. He’d never once uttered Isabella’s name on this planet. Neither Kasey or Danny would have done so. Isabella’s presence in this case complicated it, even endangered it. No document he’d given the Pharm listed her. “Who mentioned Isabella to you, Jasmine?”

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The seductress smiled and sent her hands into a slow slide down her long, steamy legs. “Faith went on and on about the two of you. I can hardly wait to meet your captured bride.” Sean snatched Jasmine’s wrist and jerked her across the desk to his face. Eye to ocean-blue eye with her, he demanded low, “Is that you in there, Freak?” She pretended he hurt her and tried to squeeze her wrist from his steel grip. “Not very strong in this body, are you, alter-life? It always takes a few years to acclimate to a new body and make it manifest your demonic qualities, doesn’t it? You have to slowly infest a mortal shell, and you’ve only had this one a few months. I’ve seen pictures just a year old of Dr. Jasmine Dacoya, and she was a shy, bookwormish woman who dressed like a librarian. She looked like a missionary-position girl to me. Have you been enjoying your possession of her? I hear Gamble’s been enjoying her most of all.” The shadows of Jasmine’s face reshaped to reveal a fallen angel’s visage in hers. “I’ve been spreading this hot bitch around while I awaited you and Heretic, the sound of your voices before Heretic drained me circling my head.” Sean gathered both her dainty wrists into one of his big hands. With his free hand, he reached into his desk, drew his handcuffs, and he slapped them around her wrists. She hissed and fought the whole time. Then he took the cuffs to the floor, dragging Jasmine with him, and he lifted the desk and caught the cuffs with the leg of the desk, pinning her to the floor. Then he sat on the desk, preventing her rise. “You do horrible things to women, Freak. Have you already dragged Jasmine’s soul to hell? Had it pissed you off when Isabella would not relinquish hers? No matter what you’d done to her?” Freak sneered with Jasmine’s sensuous features. “I’d almost had her, Snow…until you interfered. Do you wish to hear all I’ve done to her?” Sean bent and pressed his hands to Jasmine’s crown, detecting no mortal soul within her body. With intention, he reversed the flow of his healing

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talent and caused damage. Freak screamed aloud, Jasmine’s body not yet deadened to physical pain, still attached to the physical world. Sean thirsted to take revenge on the demon-abuser of women for both Isabella and Jasmine, but knew he couldn’t. Vengeance belonged to the Maker. “All you brought to overcome me was a woman’s body?” He roughly frisked her shackled body, Jasmine screaming the entire time and sounding inhuman. The hem of her bodice concealed something sharp, so he ripped the material and discovered a cat’s-claw blade sewed into it. It would have been good for cutting his throat. “Is this the best you can do, Freak?” She growled at him, revealing her growing fangs. The rims of her eyes grew red. “Is a few pointed teeth all you got, Freak? You can’t transform in this body. You haven’t had it long enough to make it shape-shift. That’s a shame because I would’ve liked to have cut your wings from your scaly back and given them to Isabella, so she would know you were vanquished and will not return.” Freak put a fiendish smile on Jasmine’s exotic lips. Sean could see the demon’s face in hers. “You can’t put me down, Snow. I have resurrection. And I’ll never let you walk away with my property. Never. I’ve insured my continuity to see you driven mad. Right now, I’m taking back what you took from me.” “Look what you did, Freak…” Sean straddled her body and pressed the cat’s-claw blade into her throat. “You brought the blade I’m going to use to destroy you.” “Drain this mortal body, Nephilim,” Jasmine appeared to say. “You’re going to see me again and again.” “How did you survive destruction, Freak?” “I will never tell you that. How is it you know how to destroy the Fallen, Snow?” Freak hissed back at him, tugging on the cuffs without budging the solid desk. “Because I’m an I-Marshal. I arrest you in the name of the Draco

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Alliance. This is for Isabella. Take sight of my face as your last glimpse of life, Freak.” Then Sean pulled the blade through Freak’s throat, causing her to struggle for a final mortal gasp of air. Then he tossed the blade far from the gangster’s reach. “You’re done here, demon.” She screeched and roared unnaturally, and fought her binding as she bled, but she could not escape. He stayed with her until his diagnostic touch told him her body was dead. Then he rose, cursed the heathen-black blood on his shirt, and ran right into Danny in the super-soldier suit, his helmet removed. “How long have you been watching?” Sean asked his friend. “Long enough to know that was a labor of love.” “It had been,” Sean replied flatly, pulled the ruined shirt over his head, and tossed it atop the stilled corpse. “But a different kind of love than you imagine, Heretic.” “Maybe not, Snow. I feel myself changing.” “You need to change, Danny…before you end up in the same dark prison as the Fallen.” Danny’s sight went back to Jasmine’s body. “Was she not recoverable?” Sean shook his head. “Once the possessed’s soul is consumed, there’s nothing to recover. No back-up files for souls. Shoot her with the dazer. If a one-second trigger-pull will give us leather, let’s see what a three-second trigger-pull will do.” Danny aimed the gun at Jasmine’s still form and shot for three seconds. The bright beam whipped wildly out of the gun, but still zeroed in on the blood and reduced the body to what looked like baked clay, consuming the shirt and blood puddle below it. The healer nodded, pleased. “That’s a nice gun.” “It’s a swift destruction.” “You could have brought that gun onto the scene a little quicker.” “You know I don’t get jazzed for killing women.” Sean cast him a sharp glare. “I don’t like killing women, either. And you

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know Freak counted on that.” “No doubt. But you didn’t look like you needed my help. It’s not like you haven’t slain demons before. And you did a fine job.” “Time’s a factor here.” Sean approached the de-blooded corpse and stomped on it until it was nothing more than a pile of dust. “Resurrect from that, motherfucker.” Danny asked, “Did you learn how Freak came back?” “No. But he told me he’s insured his continuity.” Danny grumbled. “Did he tell you what that means?” “No. Give me your shirt.” Danny unzipped the super-soldier suit top, pulled off the T-shirt beneath, and tossed it to Sean, who donned it. Danny put the jacket back on, but didn’t zip it. “We need to visit Dr. Manheim right away,” Sean stated, looking over the body reduced to the clay dust from which mortals were made. “I’ve a sure feeling we’ll find him with the gang’s blade in his ribs. If we do, this could be the moment the cartel uses to take full control of Blindfold.” Danny reached into his pocket and retrieved his palm computer, vibrating to alert him of a message. He read it, and then asked, “Did Freak say anything about Super-Max?” “No, why?” Danny typed a reply to the message, and then passed the comp to Sean. The healer read the text. Super-Max: Heretic. I’ve heard we have a woman in common now. You should make an appearance and speak to me of it. Danny: Super-Max. We don’t have a woman in common. I have your woman. This is not a negotiation. I have never been your street soldier at your beck and call. Sean passed the computer back to his friend and gave him a raised eyebrow. “Did you intend to provoke the new kingpin of Reigna?”

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“Did you intend to steal a demon’s property?” Sean nodded. “I did. I gazed into her eyes and made her love me. Is your answer that good?” Danny gave him a smart-ass smirk. “Super-Max is on my list,” was all the demon slayer said. Sean knew it was more about Faith than the job. Danny had told Sean about her relationship with Super-Max, and the healer couldn’t think of a more volatile triangle. He’d never seen Danny’s jealous side, hadn’t thought he had one until Faith’s appearance. But Sean read Danny’s body language when Faith was the subject. She made him stand taller. And that was signature of an alpha male’s claiming drive running his thoughts. A clash between Heretic and Super-Max would make an ugly affair and a monster of a day. Sean wished he didn’t have to be there when it happened, but knew he would be.

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Chapter 20 The demon’s guttural laughter ripped up her spine, and Faith launched herself at the storage room door, shoving it open just enough for her flight. She sprinted into the nearly featureless desert, shuddering with mindsplitting shock, barely able to keep her balance. The monster’s foot stomps booming so close behind her unleashed a terror that threatened to cause her heart to seize. Pounding, pounding, pounding the ground behind her! A spray of hot goo hit her back. Did the beast just slobber all over her? The awful creature stinking of sulfur took a swat at her back, dragging a sharp talon down her flesh and nearly slicing Danny’s shirt down her body. Luckily, her bra snapped back. She wanted to halt, spin, and tell that miscreant Danny was going kick its ass for that! But she was too scared the creature would sink those claws and fangs into her and tear her apart. And Danny wasn’t here to save her. Effortlessly blocking the terrible sting on her back with brain-numbing fear, Faith kept running, taxing in this sweltering place, and she wouldn’t last much longer. Her lungs ached, and she gasped for the air to stay in motion. There was nowhere to run but barren desert. The only things in the far distance were a handful of mesas spotting the horizon, and she couldn’t make it that far. Nothing would stop a flying creature from snatching her. Escape looked impossible. Run! Run! Run! Her arms and legs pumped for speed, but she felt the demon’s breath scorching her neck. It could capture her with the reach of an arm and drag her down. Instead, it chased her and laughed at her terror. Her leg muscles cramped and began to fail her. She was about to

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tumble, so she aimed her final lap for the house pod, desperate to lure the demon back into the storage shed. She didn’t know how to do it, but she needed to find a way to warn Isabella inside the house, who she imagined cowering in a closet, considering her experiences. Pump! Harder! Run, don’t stop! Another spray of hot fluid hit her back. She would have stopped to do the yucky-bug dance, but a giant demon chased her, at the moment. The biggest, yuckiest bug ever. Its fire-breathed chuckle heated up her hair! Just as Faith came upon the pod, the door opened, Isabella stepped out, and presented a dazer with both arms aimed at the demon, halting the beast cold in its tracks. Faith collapsed in the sand, and her straining lungs heaved for air, sucking in the desert dust. The parched earth spun, and between a coughing fit, she pled her mind for the sharpness of her faculties to return. Faith’s eyes zeroed in on Isabella standing just beyond the house pod front door, the high-tech dazer in her aimed hands and pinning her quarry from ten meters away, open desert around it. Her strong and determined focus was fixed on the gross beast before her. She was a striking vision of female courage. Faith forced herself to look at the hellish beast in broad daylight. It was a huge, red-fleshed, black-horned, and winged monster from horror stories. It stood Danny’s height and half again and still slumped over as though unused to a bipedal gait. Its steel-girded arms and torso were twice Danny’s size, and the ill-tempered I-Marshal was a damn big boy. Danny made a living killing these beasts? Its throbbing muscular frame stalked a few meters of area with its clawed feet, looking vicious with long fangs jutting through dark, curling lips. Its scaly flesh was scarred and seemed diseased. Its giant wings looked withered with evil in contrast to Metatron’s bright and glorious wings. Its reptilian tail was snaky. Its claws appeared lethal. It had no genitals, thank goodness, because that was the last thing she wanted to see. If ever there was a definitive moment in which she had to accept the existence of demons, this was that moment. The beast snorted, and it beat its wings in anger that it had found

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Isabella armed and ready to destroy it. Her arm muscles looked stressed from the weight of the weapon. “Who sent you, demon?” Isabella demanded with more confidence than she’d previously appeared to possess. She must be accustomed to seeing demons. The creature snorted again, spraying the area with snot, stretched its wingspan, and kicked up the desert sand. That better not be snot on my back. Gross! “Mortals can compel nothing from the Fallen,” the beast grunted, surveying its surroundings as if it plotted escape. But Isabella had it caught in her sights. Faith gained her feet and scuffled to Isabella’s side, still huffing in air like a gas engine. She concentrated on breathing long, hearing Danny’s voice coaching her in the memory. “Are you okay?” Isabella whispered to Faith. “Yes. Unfortunately, I’m going to live through this.” “If you tell us nothing, we’ll just hold you for the I-Marshals,” Isabella stated aloud for the beast’s veiny, pointy ears. Faith knew the woman’s small arms couldn’t hold the weight of the gun that long. “Let’s put it in the storage hold,” Faith whispered to her. Isabella whispered back, “The hold has a dirt floor, and it’ll dig its way out.” To her captured monster, Isabella ordered, “Tell me who sent you so I can give you a soft end. If you live when our protectors return, you’ll forfeit that. They will destroy you the slowest way. You should consider telling me your secrets, demon. I’ve seen this gun is a quick death.” An angry screech from the beast brought about another gross spray of snot that, thankfully, didn’t reach the women. “Better you than I-Marshals. Freak told me to take you, Isabella,” the demon barked at her, his lumpy face a sneer, “and hold you until her return from Sylanta.” Oh, gawd! Freak sent a real, live, undisguised demon to abduct Isabella! To give her the most terror possible! And Faith had bothered to

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fear the desert vipers. The monster had referred to Freak as a female. Bad with details, my fanny. “How did you learn I was here? In this hidden place?” Isabella continued to question the slobbering beast. Its burning red eyes turned onto Faith, and a new chill shot through her body. Her nervous system felt devastated from the fear and stress of the last week. This creature—or whatever it was—gave her stability another hard shake. “Freak smelled Isabella on you, Faith. It was the shoes you wore your second day, she’d said.” Faith remembered the exact moment Jasmine abnormally relished the smell of her. It was Isabella’s essence that had turned her on so…because Jasmine was Freak. “So,” the monster went on, as if unable to pass up another opportunity to terrify them, “on Freak’s order, Gamble has marked you, Faith, knowing you’d lead them to Isabella. He can find you anywhere. You can’t run from him. Heretic was almost successful at destroying Freak, and now Freak wants you dead for being Heretic’s woman, but that’s a job below her now. No hit is too low for Gamble. He’s not even charging for the job to kill you.” The points of the demon’s mouth slid into a vile grin. “He’s so looking forward to it since your cold treatment of him.” Oh, gawd! Faith was targeted by a demon serial killer! What would Gamble do to her? Don’t think about it! She ignited, furious to be the victim of a campaign of fear orchestrated by demons in which she just now started believing. She yanked the heavy dazer from Isabella’s hand, aimed, and pulled the trigger. A quick hum sang from the pistol, and the noise caused the beast to shriek and spread its wings wide. A barbed beam shot from the weapon like greased lightning, flying out of line and weaving as though undirected and untargeted. But it corrected itself, reached, and struck the filthy beast’s hulking body much longer than the one-second tap Sean had told Danny the kill required. She just held the trigger down, and the women turned away, blocking the bright

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light from their eyes. When Faith released the trigger, desert dust kicked up and floated all around them. The heavy gun hit the dirt. Both women turned back to the scene, wary of what they’d find. Instead of falling dead from the potent blast, the evil beast had heated up and hardened instantly, leaving behind a solid, orange-glowing statue of the creature in its place. Steam rose from the monolith, quickly cooling it into what appeared to be molten black glass before their eyes. It had a rainbow sheen to it. The earth at its taloned feet was scorched. Faith realized the moment. Instead of staying hidden in the pod, Isabella must have found the gun left on Danny’s bed, leapt to Faith’s aid, and went for the bluff-a-demon play, saving Faith from a horrific end. Faith was supposed to be protecting her. The puzzle of Isabella’s trustworthiness was solved. Kasey’s was still open for debate. Now the women stared at the demon sculpture, a burnt-glass gargoyle of formidable height and girth. Every lump in its skin was there in detail, every scale, vein, scar, fang, and claw. Its wing-span stretched so far, it created a canopy-top blocking the sun. It belonged in a horror museum. Was the creature really destroyed or was it in stasis? Could it reanimate and come after them? Faith wondered why the beast had chased her instead marching into the house pod and dragging Isabella from it. Maybe it liked to play with its dinner. Silent, the women regarded the statue for a long time before Faith finally muttered, “What now? Danny will strangle me when he learns I gave Gamble five minutes of my time. Then I went and got snoopy, slipped his rules, and met up with a demon.” “Sean will take action, as well. There’s no way we can move this thing,” Isabella said aloud what Faith was thinking. “What if we dug a hole behind it and pushed it in?” “Do you think we have that kind of time to dig a hole that deep and wide?” “No,” Faith moaned in reply, picturing the miffed look on Danny’s face he’d give her. “It’s going to stand here and testify against me.”

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Isabella leaned backward and examined the long cut, the disgusting goo on Faith’s back, the rip through Danny’s T-shirt. “If that’s snot, I don’t want to know about it.” The willowy heroine gave a wide-eyed expression of dismay. “Would you like a shower and a cup of tea?” “The shower I understand. A cup of tea?” “Yes, I’m figuring it might be our first and last pleasant girl-moment here. I’d already prepared the water to offer you a cup when I heard you scream. You shook the house, and well done on that. Let’s sanitize that big scratch of yours. Demons collect the nastiest germs.” They entered the house pod, and Isabella set the gun in the empty chair, and then she disappeared into the kitchen and returned with three mugs of steaming water, tags attesting to its origin and taxed state hanging down the sides. The third mug had several bags soaking. “There are no first-aid supplies in a house where a healer lives,” Isabella explained. “We’ll have to make do with what we have. Or confess all to Sean.” Faith went on another coughing jag to clear her lungs of desert sand. “Forget the confession. Got any grain-alcohol in this place? Pour it straight onto my back. I’d rather face that pain than give Danny one more reason to scowl at me.” Isabella shook her head, tossing her beautiful brunette locks across her slender shoulders. It made Faith notice again how beautiful Isabella was, and courageous. She must have struck Sean like lightning. “There’s no alcohol in the house. I-Marshals can’t drink. It has a powerful effect on their bodies.” “Danny didn’t seem to have a problem with my brandy.” “Did it make him crazy?” Faith remembered the brandy had helped him strip in record time, but he’d sat up in bed and said Heretic would kill Super-Max. “Yeah, it made him crazy.” “Don’t ever let him drink again,” Isabella warned. “Shower down, then lie on the couch, and let’s see what I can do with this scratch.”

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Faith went into the shower room, stripped, and sprayed herself down to flush away the demon slime from her back. The thought of it sent her into revulsion, and she twisted every possible way to scrub her back. How handy Danny would have been for the task. She didn’t dare imagine his hands roving her back under the shower spray. She feared she’d already enjoyed his last friendly touch. He was bound to combust when he discovered the new yard ornament and heard how Faith had let a demon follow her home. Done with her shower, she went into his room, pulled another of his shirts from his chest of drawers to put over her skirt, and she spotted the butt of the gun again. This time she drew it from its hiding place to confirm it was the revolver she’d left behind on Valdeya. Danny had taken it from her. She sought out and found her purse, slipping the gun into the zippered pocket. After all, a gun in a drawer was a useless thing. Redressed, she returned to the couch and sacked down into the cushions. Why couldn’t she have caught a picture of the monster? Oh, yeah. She couldn’t get the demon to stop chasing her, pose, and shout cheese! “I hope I’ve seen my last demon.” Isabella replied in an ominous voice, “Only the dead have seen the last of demons, once they are in your world.” That gave Faith a sinking stomach. Her sight landed on the high-tech pistol in the chair. “Good call on grabbing the dazer.” “Sean had disabled the f-print reader of the second dazer for me, and then he’d discovered Danny had taken it without knowing. I heard you scream and I darted from our room, into the hall. I spotted the gun lying on Danny’s bed. I didn’t know who it would work for until you pulled the trigger.” “It was damn brave of you.” She put a humble smile on her face. “You find strength and gain courage when you realize it’s either you or the demon that comes for you.” Oh, what disconcerting visions came with that warning. “I don’t know how you held up the gun that long. Terrorists build lighter bombs on their kitchen tabletops.”

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“Sean had known the Alliance would give them the guns for field testing. He had been preparing me for it for a month, had me pumping dumbbells so I could handle the weight of the weapon.” Faith took a deep breath to release the stress and recalled the humongous rock-solid demon statue that stood in their desert front yard. “The gun works pretty good.” They smiled at one another and shared a cathartic laugh. Faith stretched out on her stomach onto the couch and lifted the fresh shirt for the scratch’s care. Isabella examined the wound. How could Faith keep it from Danny’s sight? Low lighting, strategic cover. She didn’t want him to think her a liability in this case…or in his life. “How noticeable is it?” “It’s a shallow scratch, skin broken, very little blood. I don’t feel happy leaving it uncleansed, so I’m going to treat it with the tea. The tannins will promote healing.” Isabella dipped a cloth into the tea mug with three tags, and she gently blotted the wound. “This is nothing to worry over. This will be gone in a few days. How will you explain it to Danny?” “I’m not sure, but I’d take another demon clawing to get out of telling him. Maybe I don’t have to tell him.” “Days are long when you keep a secret from your lover. Sean can touch this and heal it, but he would tell Danny. No amount of begging from me would prevent it.” “I’ll heal.” When Isabella had done her best at cleaning the wound, Faith sat up and resettled her clothes. Mournful at the thought of hiding anything from Danny—no, she wouldn’t do it, she’d level with him—she brushed his red T-shirt of wrinkles. She didn’t like the feel of lying to Danny, and she didn’t wish to do it anymore. There was more than a story between them. She wasn’t sure what it was or how much longer it would last, but she wanted to start being completely honest with him. How could they trust one another with any deceit between them? Wasn’t she supposed to be a truth-seeker?

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Danny’s red T-shirt had foreign letters atop Terran letters that read, No Mercy for the Fallen. She felt fallen for her dishonesty. She picked up the mug of tea and read the tag. Vanilla cream black tea, yum. Enjoying the common ritual, she stirred the brown brew and spotted more foreign letters on the mug. “So many of Danny’s possessions have words in foreign languages.” “The team has been a lot of places, wrecking gangs. That’s Ledren,” Isabella casually informed her over fragrant tea, blowing her breath over the hot liquid to cool it. “All the gangs have ended up in San Ledra and can read it.” Faith guessed Isabella must know much of this strange world, having lived as the property of a demon. What had happened to her in the hands of a hell-bent creature who’d earned the moniker Freak? It was more horrific to contemplate than being caught by the monster chasing her through the desert. How could Faith complain about a scratch when she guessed Isabella had endured far worse? “Can you read Ledren?” “Yes.” “What does the mug say?” “That’s Danny’s mug, and it says, I Make Demons Scream.” Faith shuddered. She slept with a man who made demons scream. Thank goodness, her new friend’s eyes were fixed on something else at that second and had missed the reaction. “Luckily for San Ledra,” Isabella added, “he’d spent little time there.” “That’s not what Gamble had told me. He’d shown me video evidence in a triple-murder case against Danny. He’d told me Danny had done a decade in San Ledra.” Isabella eased the mug from her lips to her lap, her eyes on anything but Faith’s, as if the facts of the subject were difficult to tell, but still must be done. The truth must always come out. Wasn’t it Faith’s duty as a journalist— disciple and guardian of truth, an escort of needful revelation—to make that happen? She’d decided so when she’d walked away from Max’s lies years

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ago. Truth will set you free. Pensive, Isabella revealed, “I’ve known Gamble most of my life. He was the kind of family friend my family gathered. I’d always counted myself lucky he’d never expressed a want of me. My family would’ve given me to him. He can spin a good lie, but he does have respect for the truth. That’s why he loves video.” Gamble was interesting in his horror, but Isabella was a miracle. Captured by her story, Faith watched the beautiful young woman take another sip of her hot tea. How kind life had finally been to put Isabella in the heart and hands of a softly spoken and compassionate man as Sean, an IMarshal who’d see to the destruction of any monster who came near her from now on. The healer’s love for her was written on his face, in his pretty peridot eyes every time his sight took her in. Isabella had a Nephilim demon hunter for a guardian now. That’s a hell of a security upgrade. Who was Daniel Tierney? Faith needed that truth. “Danny did kill three men responsible for an attack on someone he knew. But he’d already taken hits at that young age. Sean had told me, then Danny was much more Heretic than he was Danny. He might have been caught on purpose.” “Caught on purpose?” Faith cocked her head to ease the wild consideration through her head. How would she get to the truth? Danny had refused to discuss Heretic, and she knew the hit man was the key to the IMarshal. A man in a super-soldier suit teleported into the living room, and he was unidentifiable in the full suit. His head in the helmet turned to see the dazer lying on the chair. Faith regretted not putting the weapon back in Danny’s room, and she braced herself for his verbal scourging for disregarding his wishes. The new arrival’s gloved hands rose to his helmet, squeezed the latch, releasing the gear, and he pried the helmet and cowl from his head. Faith was unnerved to see a thick mop of dusty-blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

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It was Kasey, and his vision was aflame. Anger was all over him. The I-Marshal pointed at the weapon, and he growled, “Don’t you dare tell me I-Marshals put classified and lethal weapons in your hands. Don’t you dare. Tell me you stole this gun right now. And save Sean’s and Danny’s careers.”

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Chapter 21 “I stole it,” Isabella said immediately, taking on all the blame, clearly a no-limits selfless attempt to save Sean and Danny. Faith shot up from the couch, and insisted, “No, she’s covering for me. I took the gun from Danny’s room after he left. I was curious about how it worked. There it is. Take it back, Kasey. No harm has come to it.” Kasey took the length of the room, picked up the gun, and looked it over. “It’s been fired. And that couldn’t happen unless an I-Marshal had fprinted the gun for you. Or had shown you how.” “I tinkered with the f-print pad until I broke it,” Isabella claimed, probably knowing her fingerprints were in the gun, as well. “Either Sean or Danny must have opened the gun in front of you for you to have conceived the possibility of it. He shouldn’t have done it in your sight. Or made you aware of the gun’s presence at all.” There was nowhere to go with the next lie. Proof she’d shot the weapon stood well over three meters tall in shimmery black glass outside the housepod door. Worse than explaining the presence of the gun was explaining the presence of the statue. “So…which I-Marshal did that, ladies?” Faith bit her lip, almost hard enough to make it bleed. Kasey would have a long wait before she implicated Danny in any wrongdoing. Isabella stood with her back straight, her shoulders proud. Faith figured worse had been done to Isabella than an I-Marshal breathing down her neck. Kasey better have better torture than that. Or maybe bigger and better torture was coming. He did, and it was. He pulled handcuffs from his belt, spun Faith around, and he began to cuff her. She could think of nothing she could say

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or do to stop it. Sean and Danny teleported into the room with the worst timing, and Faith wasn’t happy to see it. Their eyes went straight to Kasey’s cuffs clicking around her wrist. Danny squinted at the scene. “What the hell is going on here?” “It’s the end for these ladies, that’s what the hell is going on here,” Kasey told him, his force of voice making clear his attitude. “I put up with the two of you bedding witnesses in this case. Now I-Marshal-exclusive technology has been in the hands of high-risk civilians. I can’t walk away from that.” Kasey pointed to the dazer resting innocently in the chair. “We’ve no guarantee these women haven’t taken notes on the design and plan to sell that on the market. In a year, we could find technology to fight the guns floating through the hands of punks, degenerates, and killers. You’ve no proof these women weren’t implanted in this case to lead you both astray. I’m taking them in for identity checks and body-scans.” Danny was more indignant than Faith was. He stepped up to Kasey, and the men stood face to face, alpha-male confrontation sizzling the air. They were both big men. Her arrest was more anxious with Danny in the room. “Take the cuffs off her right now.” Kasey shook his head, not backing down at all. “Not until it’s proven to me they weren’t put here to sabotage this investigation. They aren’t supposed to be here.” “Kasey,” Sean said, his state calmer than the other two men. “Sometimes you have to look past the rules and do what’s right for real life and real investigations. You’ll find yourself breaking small rules to achieve bigger gains. Keeping Faith and Isabella here was the way to keep this case on track. Let this go.” Kasey refused Sean’s advice. “I can’t do it now that new tech has been exposed. Faith’s a journalist, and Isabella was raised immersed in a blackmarket organization. The jeopardy here is enormous. I’ll think long and hard about why I shouldn’t report this to Alliance Brotherhood.” Danny shook his head. “Think long and hard about this.”

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The demon slayer reared back with a big fist and punched the telekinetic so hard, he hit the door of the house pod with an explosion. The door blew open, and Kasey went flying outside and hit the desert floor on his back. With Sean in his wake, Danny marched from the house, grabbed Kasey by the collar of the super-soldier suit jacket he wore and reared back for another punch when he glanced up at the source of conspicuous shade above him and saw the black-glass demon statue, its wingspan overshadowing them. Kasey looked up to see the massive monolith over them, and his lips parted. Sean looked stunned by the sight. With only one wrist cuffed, Faith took the steps out of the house pod and Isabella followed. The women regarded one another with expressions of dashed hope. All three I-Marshals stood at the base of the giant black-glass gargoyle, studying it as though they’d never seen such a thing. Sean finally turned and asked, “Would either of you like to tell the story behind this?” Faith scrubbed her thumb across her palm. “Not really…” But the women told the tale, and the cops were astonished to learn a prolonged blast from the dazer did this. When Faith got to the part where the demon had told them she’d led the beast to Isabella, she had to explain the part about Gamble showing up at lunch. Instead of the volcanic eruption she expected from him, Danny tugged her into his arms, embraced her tightly, as though he realized the danger she’d lived through, and was more grateful for her safety than angry. When he finally released her, he still kept her in the circle of his big arms. “Are you okay?” “Yes,” she replied low. “Does this mean you forgive me for defying you?” “Yeah, I forgive you…because you didn’t understand the damage these monsters could do.” His unexpected compassion moved her, and she wished to stand in his arms forever. The demon’s snarl, its fangs and claws, its scorching breath on her neck flashed in her mind. “I didn’t believe in monsters a few hours ago…but I understand now.”

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“Kasey’s right,” Danny said gravely to the others. “Their identities have to be checked to his satisfaction, and they need to be body-scanned.” All sight turned to Kasey to notice his swelling eye. Sean stepped up to him and said, “I want you to know, I knew I’d be healing you the moment I saw the cuff on Faith’s wrist. If Danny hadn’t punched you, I would have.” Kasey smiled below the swelling. “Glad to see I’m provocative.” Sean healed him of the wound, everyone changed clothes, and all five teleported to the I-Marshal station in Capital City. An hour later, Faith’s and Isabella’s identities were confirmed to Kasey’s approval. But bad news came with that. A blood test revealed Faith had been drugged, and Danny concluded the substance had most likely ridden the wine at lunch. A body-scan revealed Gamble had microchipped her after she’d fallen asleep, which was how the new lawn decoration had located her on Reigna. And the microchip solved the mystery of the demon’s promise Gamble would always be able to find her. Danny had directed a surgeon to remove the microchip. When she’d awakened from surgery, Sean had been there to heal the surgery wound and the long claw mark down her back. By the end of ten hours, everything had been fixed, including Danny and Faith. Hand in hand, they teleported into her dark house, weary of a very long and dramatic day. “Lights on,” she said aloud, and the room lit up, revealing nothing unusual. She watched Danny move to every window and stretch the curtains, making sure no one could peek in and spot them. The knowledge that any of these gangsters could send slobbering devil-minions to locate them several planets away was unsettling. She sat on the couch and wondered when this would be over. “What the hell was that?” she asked him, now that she had him in privacy. “That thing back there? That was a transformed demon. When a demon’s possessed a body long enough, they can make the evil come out of them, shape-shifting their stolen mortal shells into their true forms. Not something you want to witness. Not even the C-breaker lasers the I-

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Marshals carry can put one of them to a permanent end. Which makes the new dazers a dream come true. I still don’t get how they can increase their bulk to such a great degree, but it’s an act of magic, a cloud secret.” “Something we’re not supposed to understand?” “Yeah.” The monster had told her it would flay the flesh from her back. “I agree. I don’t wish to watch a demon transform. Is there a chance I’m going to see an actual transformation?” Done with his perimeter search, he stood before her in snug dark jeans, his abused leather riding jacket, and a brown T-shirt with an Alliance Marines logo and words below it that read, We’ve Got the Nerve. “I don’t really want you to witness that. But chances are pretty good you might, if you keep hanging out with me. You shouldn’t be chased by a demon every other day, but you might see one every few years.” Oh… Did he want her to stay around? Did they have the start of something good? She groaned, then sent her sight over his tall, hard-muscled body, his handsome face of masculine angles, determination, and confidence. The paleness of his flesh seemed holy. His eyes could seize her any second he wished. A never-ending day left him with a dark shadow of whiskers across his jaw that made him look even more masculine and sexy. Her fingers itched to roam through his soft salt-and-pepper hair. He took off the leather jacket, and the T-shirt, snug on his torso, revealed the curves of sinew that sent an ache through her, a slow invasion of weakness. She remembered the titillation of his great weight mashing her into the mattress and the spins of pleasure he’d sent storming through her. Everything about him moved her, but the best part of him was his kiss and just anticipating that made her care for little else. Would she risk capture, maybe even torture by a giant, scaly, vicious, slobbering, hellish creature just to hang around Danny? Hell, yeah, I would. Although I won’t leave the house without a weapon. “Turns out,” Danny stated, “Kasey has pretty good instincts, and he’d acted upon them. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t have discovered the chip. He

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could have shut this case down, but he didn’t.” “What’s the status of this case?” she asked him. “Jasmine showed up at Sean’s office and revealed herself as Freak. She attacked him, so Sean destroyed him. Or her. Neither is accurate.” “Freak’s destroyed again?” Danny shrugged his broad shoulders. “He’d said we weren’t done with him. We must learn how he’s resurrecting into new bodies before he gives that secret to every demon in the galactic sector.” Faith’s posture slumped. So many lives snuffed out. “Jasmine’s dead.” Danny nodded. “So is Brady Manheim, who must have been surprised turning his research over to the black market wasn’t the wisest of decisions. Trusting demons is always a mistake.” She looked into Danny’s gray eyes to dull her uncertainty. “So, what happens on the Pharm now?” “The deaths of a few of them will cripple nothing. There’s a hierarchy. The distributors will hold a board meeting, restructure, and go on.” “Won’t the distributors be suspicious of Freak’s disappearance?” “Very. But it probably won’t surprise them to hear Freak was working out a personal issue, and he’s missing for that. There’s no recognizable body to be found. Our most virulent problem now is Gamble. He’s likely to miss Freak, and he probably knows Freak went to kill Sean. He’ll not have heard back from the demon you cleverly turned into a much needed shady spot in the desert. He’s probably realizing now that move failed, too. If there’s a way to raise Freak from the dead, Gamble will begin to work toward that. Your connection to Isabella reconfirms a connection between Snow and Heretic, so now the four of us are one in Gamble’s eyes.” That would disturb the most grounded of souls. “What will Kasey, Sean, and you do?” “Attend the board meeting. Let Gamble make his move against us. He’ll choke on brimstone for it. You aren’t showing up at the Pharm again, but you still have to stay with me. I promised an angel I’d protect you, and I can’t do that with worlds between us.” She smiled. “Promised an angel?”

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His lips rose into a subtle smile. “Pack a bag. I don’t want to stay at your place and make it so easy for Gamble to find us again. Freak had already found Isabella at Sean’s place and had burnt the apartment to the ground. We’re going to an Alliance safe house on Sylanta. Gamble knows we’re planet-hopping and won’t think to look in his own backyard. Kasey, Sean, and Isabella will join us tomorrow.” Faith rose without further questions, went to her bedroom, and packed a light bag. In minutes, they stood in a new and unfamiliar home. Another pod home, the place was sterile of life, but designed very nicely in minimalist earth tones. No one ever lived there. She released the handle of her luggage and stepped away to explore the place. “What’s with all this pod housing?” “The pod material is made with holy water to protect the I-Marshals while they work investigations.” She scrunched her nose in disbelief. “That works?” “That’s why the demon couldn’t walk into the pod and drag Isabella out. He needed you to bring her out. But you were too brave for that.” Faith laughed. “I was too scared to think clearly about anything but running. But I would never have given Isabella up to some snorting beast belonging in hell. Turns out, she was much stronger than me.” “I don’t think she’s stronger than you. But it was nice to see her prove her loyalty to Sean and us. Kasey needed to see it. I had already begun to trust her because Sean trusted her.” Danny arrested her hand, spun her back into his arms, and dipped her. Above her, he gazed down through his curtain of salt-and-pepper into her surprised eyes. “This is the worst part for you, Faith. I’m going to make love to you. There isn’t a demon living long that will consider crossing me, so you’ll be protected. It’s a requirement if you continue wishing to be present for this case. If you take a shower, I’m going to make love to you again. It’s going to go on and on until our story ends.” A grin burst upon his face. “It will be horrible for you. Perhaps more than you wish to live through for a story.”

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It sounded like paradise. That was when it occurred to her, she wasn’t going to get a story out of this. Report on the I-Marshals slaying demons to suppress the reign of overwhelming evil? There was no way she’d spill that secret. And she didn’t want to tell anyone about Danny. The secrets she wanted now were, what made Danny tick? Who was Heretic, and could she live with him in her life? She’d be accepting a lot of monsters for Danny. Her fingers toyed with locks of his thick mane. “I can think of things I want more than a story. I’ve endured a demon attack today. I could melt in the arms of an angel.” “I’m no angel.” Danny swept her up into his arms, and he carried her through an open doorway to discover a bedroom and a bed awaiting them. A really big bed. He dropped her onto it. Then he sat beside her and unlaced his combat boots. Faith unzipped her go-go boots and dropped them over the edge of the bed. When he tugged off his last boot, she came up behind him and pulled his T-shirt over his head, tangling him in his clothes. And they laughed. He tugged off the shirt and grabbed for her when she scampered from his reach. He latched onto her ankle and pulled her back to him. Then he landed atop her legs, and they exploded into more laughter. He slipped his hands up her skirt, grabbed a hold of her panties, pulled them down, and flung them over his shoulder, the sparkle in his eyes delighted. His smile was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She was reminded of the wild-eyed smile he wore in his citizen ID photo. It had been her first sight of his uninjured face, and she’d fallen for him the moment she’d seen it. He stood again, and peeled his jeans away from his hard, V-shaped body. Thick muscle rolled over his big frame with his every move like poetry. She wanted to touch all of him, all at once. Just watching him gave her a shiver. Her entire body throbbed as her eyes fell to his big erection. She wanted him between her thighs to the point of near-madness. He reached for her again, and she tried to scoot away, but he caught her

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skirt and tugged her back. He unzipped the side zipper of her black skirt and stripped her of it, leaving her only in her lacy blouse and bra. “Didn’t you buy this blouse this morning to fool me?” Where could a question like that lead? She’d never think of deceiving him again. “Yes.” Rip! “It was a waste of money. Didn’t you buy this bra this morning to fool me?” She thrust her hand before her to stop him. “Save the bra! It’s not the bra’s fault.” She unhooked it and tossed the garment away, leaving only her long red hair to shroud her. “I would have noticed your change of clothes.” His eyes sent hot beams to rove her naked body, as if searching her for any more changes of which he did not approve. “You wouldn’t have gotten away with it.” It titillated her to know he paid so much attention that nothing new would escape him. His lustrous salt-and-pepper mane skimmed broad, ironworked shoulders that moved her. His silvery eyes landed on her with warm delight that he had her naked and awaiting his enjoyment of her. He was so big and overwhelming, hot in so many different ways. Who needed foreplay? Gazing upon Danny was enough foreplay when he set her thighs afire. His sight seriously trained on her as though she’d just become an adversary to overcome, he climbed onto the bed again and trapped her beneath his big body, his arms wrapped around her like he’d caught her. The compulsion to writhe in his embrace worked up her spine and it just burst from her body. His arms tightened around her, and he gave a groan at her instinctual fight. The softness of his body hair tickled, sending sensual tingles through her. His body temperature was so high, contact with him raised a sheen to her skin. Her breath came in ragged pants she worked to suppress. The press of his hardness against her made her ache for him. “You’re burning up, Faith,” he murmured, as if she were the source of all that heat. “The next time you think of trying something sneaky, don’t

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forget I could at any time be standing invisible beside you.” “That’s no threat. It’s a birthday wish.” He kissed her hotly, launching splendid explosions of thrill and tension through her. Then he kissed a path to her breasts and laved the rosy peaks until her every breath brought his name from her lips. He played her body until she was so delirious, she gripped the sheets and nearly pulled them from the bed. He had her tied up in knots of hunger and want only pulling his hair and scraping her nails across his back could relieve. Just when she could take no more of his sensual torture, he penetrated her, throwing all her senses into spirals of excitement. And he didn’t wait for her body to get used to him. He filled her again, stroke after mindswamping stroke into her until she cried out his name in flights of ecstasy. They shuddered together in a shattering orgasm that drained her of every drop of energy. It felt like they were one soul in freefall for a long, frozen moment. Faith lost all sense of time just recovering from Danny’s possession. She still felt weightless, lights twinkling behind her tired eyelids. Their slick bodies and limbs were entangled. It had been the longest day, but she didn’t want to spiritually separate from him yet just to go to sleep. Her fingertip traced the pitchfork brand on his bicep, and she watched a lone bead of sweat fall into the deep scar and followed its path until it broke free. “Danny?” “Yeah, Faith?” “You’re sooo sssexy…” The sound of his bass chuckle sent waves of pleasure through her when she’d thought he’d already worked her every nerve to its exhaustion. He brought her mouth to his and placed a gentle magic kiss of reward to her lips. Having made love to her again, he’d marked her for all the demons to discern. And she wanted them to know she belonged to Danny. She feared what belonging to Heretic meant. “I’m tired of hearing people call you Heretic, and I don’t know who he

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is,” she declared barely above a whisper, her cheek against his chest. “Is he the man I’m sleeping with?” Danny chuckled, not taking her seriously enough, and he squeezed her against him possessively. “No, you’re sleeping with me.” “Teach me the difference between the two of you, Danny. You know everything there is to know about me. It’s not fair that I know nothing about you. Everyone around me knows you as Heretic.” “Only the thugs, Faith. You don’t need to know Heretic.” She sat up and gave him a potent plea with her eyes so he would see its importance between them. “I’ll accept any part of you, Danny. I see why you do what you do. As Heretic, you make the universe more beautiful by cutting the sadistic demon forces upon the worlds. He’s the angel of death in you. I understand it. I do need to know…what turned you into a killer?” A pause stretched between them, and she hoped he decided she was worth the truth. “Detachment. And an odd turn of events, for sure.” The tone of his deep voice gave away his self-analysis. His hand went to her arm and gave it a long, slow caress that seemed like a comforting action. “Though it doesn’t take much to push the Nephilim to evil deeds.” Was that the first time he’d admitted aloud to being Nephilim? “I’d been ten when my father died suddenly. He’d been a good man, and I’d missed him terribly. His death had forced my mother to move us into the urban area for a good job, and we’d lived a more desperate existence there. She’d worked night and day to keep the bills paid and food on the table, and the neighborhood had given us what family we needed. “I’d had problems with losing my father at a young age. I’d started acting out in school, and my mother had been lost to help me. She’d taken me to counseling, hoping the Church would change my path. I’d told them I no longer believed in the goodness of the world. The priest had called me a heretic to disbelieve the Maker was in the creation. I’d agreed that I was. It was a label that had echoed through my brain. “At thirteen years old, I’d been pressed to defend myself in a turf war, and when I’d finished, I’d left bodies behind. Word had gotten out that I had

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no fear of God. And I’d learned that reputation could put money into my hands. It had eased my mother’s burden. I could watch people and know they were evil. I’d shot those who’d deserved to meet their Maker.” Daniel Tierney had been a vigilante for hire before he’d become an IMarshal. It was a potent revelation in figuring out what drove him. The ability to spot evil sounded to Faith like an angelic trait. “What a terrible path for a child’s life to take, Danny,” Faith commented, her heart sunken at the details. She’d seen so many children raised by the violent gangs that street shootouts and gang battles seemed normal to those trapped in that world, instead of a horrible aberration it was. “No matter how young you are, you’re a man when you wield a pistol in the streets. When I’d been fourteen, the sister of a friend of mine had been attacked, truly brutalized and left in a coma. I’d learned the shot had been called from San Ledra in retaliation for a hit I’d made. So I’d butchered her attackers with plans to end up at San Ledra and finish the job with the shot caller. But the men I’d attacked had turned out to be monsters. They had soon regenerated from what was for them insubstantial wounds, and they’d walked from the morgue, not as unusual as one would think. The bodyless prosecution case against me blown, the judge had studied the case harder and figured out how I had committed the slayings.” She lifted her head and regarded him. “What had you done?” “I’d tickled time a bit. I’d known I was uncommonly fast. It had been the Brotherhood who’d noticed the supernatural nature of it. They’d been seeking signs of the Nephilim in the population. In me they’d seen some goodness where none showed, so they’d ended my case and devised a new future for me. The Alliance Marines and the I-Marshal Academy.” Tickled time. He’d said before at their hovercraft flight from the Pharm he’d tweaked time for their escape, but she hadn’t taken him seriously. Faith was astounded to realize Danny held influence over time. No wonder he was the fastest thing she’d ever seen. The hover-bike ride up the mesa, the sprint through the corn fields, the breakneck flight from the Pharm. Was his prowess with time a talent bestowed upon angel genes? Was that the explanation for a healer and a telekinetic, as well?

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Who and what the I-Marshals were was the most incredible story never told. “Gamble had told me you’d done time in San Ledra.” I’ll bet it fucked up his head for life. She could hear the gangster’s voice say the words about Danny in her thoughts. The video hit man hadn’t known Danny’s head had already been messed up. “I’d done time at San Ledra,” Danny admitted, “but differently than others. I’d periodically been sent to the prison to seek out the Fallen, and to establish a prison presence and record. When I’d destroyed a demon, I’d done it in the light of day for all to see. The Brotherhood had then made a big scene of my arrest and passed rumors that I’d been put in reeducation stasis, but really, I’d returned to the Marines. By the time I’d come out of the Academy, ready to do what I did best for the forces of good, I’d found my reputation as a contract killer had grown. The black market had come looking for Heretic and his skills. I saw no conflict in our goals. The IMarshals put that to work.” “How did you resolve it all in your young head?” “The Marines had taught me to compartmentalize. To be the killer when I needed to be, and bury him all the other times.” He was silent for a long pause. “I’ve managed to keep Heretic in a small box and unleash him only to do my job.” “You sound like you have a captured demon at your bidding.” “We all have inner demons, Faith. Smart, good people work their demons to their best advantage without harming others. I let Heretic do his job. But the day is coming when I’ll put him away for good. I’m already beginning to want something else.” Had the Marines taught Max to compartmentalize and cut off his feelings, enabling a once-good man to rise in power and risk? Would Heretic really kill Max? Yes, she knew he would. But Max had chosen his path, had known its most likely sad end. “I’d like to say good-bye to Max. I know it’s a lot to ask of you, to let me walk out the door and into your rival’s camp.” Danny reached up and turned off the lamp illuminating the room,

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plunging them into darkness. He settled into his pillow and pressed her into his warm embrace. “It’s harder to let you go than you know, Faith. But I’ll walk away with you, so a short moment of risk is a fortunate price to pay for that.” What was wrong with her? She’d just accepted the angel of death in Danny when she’d refused to accept the criminal in Max. She’d have to think about why it was so easy for Danny to seize her loyalties from Max. Danny’s deep voice asked, “Faith, why did you walk away from SuperMax? Why are you in my bed now and not his? You could rise, go to him, and tell him all of what you’ve seen of the gangbusters. You could tell him his life is in danger, and the two of you could flee.” The answer came to her clear as spring water on a bright day, just listening to his voice, feeling his hands holding her, her lips recalling his kiss. “I’ve always loved the good guys, Danny.”

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Chapter 22 Sean stood listening to the west double doors located opposite the east double-doored entrance of Super-Max’s penthouse suite at Sylanta Towers. “This suite is empty.” The healer cracked a smile. “Must have been Calderon’s room. He always wanted the suites that overlook the streets. Paranoid. You getting anything from Super-Max’s room?” Danny sat on the plush green carpet in the opulently decorated common hallway beside Super-Max’s penthouse suite entry, a tiny joystick in his hand operating a snake camera slipped beneath the door and providing the helmet a view of the suite’s front room. The carpet in expensive rooms is always green. Fresh flowers in a vase on an antique table threatened to make him sneeze. In the visor, he watched Super-Max and Gamble standing outside on the terrace, intently discussing something and probably cursing the lovely day. But they were behind glass with their backs to him and far from the door where the cam was, so the stealth device picked up no clear audio. Sean and Danny had followed the video hit man from his lower-floor suite to this top-floor penthouse, riding the keyed elevator with him in silence. Gamble had smelled them, but couldn’t see them, so he might have told himself he imagined the scents of I-Marshals on his ass. The flora everywhere, including the lift, must have confused his hunting senses. The very large guard now lying prone before the elevator door hadn’t expected invisible intruders either, and that was why he was dead. “Getting little. I’m not picking up sound,” Danny reported through the communications systems in the super-soldier helmets they wore, allowing them to speak much lower to one another than without the helmets. He mentally prompted the helmet’s sensors to sharpen. “Their backs are to me,

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so I can’t see what they’re saying.” Sean attached the zap wire from his watch beneath his glove to the computerized lock, and quietly sent an electrical shot, unlocking the door. He disappeared into the suite to confirm it was empty. Danny still heard Sean’s voice in his ear. “So, you picked up lip-reading on San Ledra?” “The guard stations on the island were built of soundproof glass. When you’re locked in solitary, you’ve nothing to do but stare out your window and watch the guards talk. It’s a crime skill a lot of the inmates pick up, a great tool for talking business in a risky place.” “I knew I’d missed something by skipping time on San Ledra. But I was a good boy and stayed out of jail.” Danny heard the grin in his friend’s voice, and he smiled at Sean’s perfect goodliness. The Brotherhood had had no problem converting the healer to their side of this spiritual war. Danny, they had to threaten with life behind bars and the failure of his revenge plans before he’d finally adopted a proper understanding of his role in the big picture. “You’d studied physics when I’d studied homicide. You’d spared yourself some nightmares, suppression-gas, and rubber bullets staying away from San Ledra, my friend. No one could mistake you for a criminal. You’re too shiny with all that light in you.” The rumble of Sean’s quiet amusement tickled his ear. “I remember the stories you’ve told of the prison.” “Kasey did some small change there as part of his gang training. He can tell you stories.” Danny unzipped the top of his suit and retrieved his palm computer while Sean picked up the big man and hauled him into the empty room. Danny texted a message to Super-Max. Danny: Super-Max. I’m sending Faith to say good-bye to you. He heard the hum of a dazer’s power build-up then saw the flash-glow of the gun’s whip as Sean reduced the body to dust, like he’d done with Jasmine’s body. Danny watched the snake-cam video as Super-Max’s

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attention was drawn into the living room of the suite. The gangster retrieved his palm computer, sat in the snake cam’s visual range, and read the message Danny had just sent. He exchanged some unreadable words with Gamble, who paced the room, appearing bored and a little jealous SuperMax’s attention was split. Super-Max typed a reply. Super-Max: Heretic. Good luck with that. I have more history with her than you will ever have. When you’re finished with her, she’ll come back to me. Maybe sooner than that. Danny: You’re fooling yourself. Super-Max: I’ll have her scalded to remove your germs. Danny: If she returns corrupted with just one of your fingerprints, a hair out of place, or spouting one good word about you, I’m coming for you. Super-Max: What happened to our friendship, Heretic? You’ll put a woman between us and make me your enemy? It’s bad for business. Danny recalled last night and the exact sound of Faith’s sweet voice telling him she’d accept anything about him. He didn’t think he’d ever find a woman made of that kind of strength. No woman looked for a demon slayer to care for. He never thought he’d find a heart like that in a woman who moved him the many ways Faith moved him. She’d said she’d always love the good guys. He wasn’t going let go of her. Certainly, he was not about to give up any citizen to a demon. Danny: She’s not just any woman, and you know that. She belongs to me now for your failure to hold her. Super-Max: Don’t start a war with me, Heretic, at this bad time for the Pharm.

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Danny: Am I too much for you to handle? Bring on your war, SuperMax. It’s going to be a short one. We’ll see whose bed Faith ends up in tonight. Super-Max: We don’t need this between us, Heretic. You know what I’ll do if you stand against me. Danny knew. Super-Max would send Gamble to kill him. And Danny was waiting for the video hit man now. Super-Max: There are forty-eight billion women in Alliance territory. Go find another one. Faith has always belonged to me, Heretic, even if she’s told you otherwise. I just allow her to wander away from time to time when I get busy, but I always go after her. This is the end of her following her own path since I see the company she’s now keeping. I’m holding a few trump cards for her you can’t imagine, one of them being what gets Faith every time, something you can’t give her. A story. The gangster was right. Danny couldn’t give her a story. He couldn’t let her report on I-Marshals, demons, angels, Nephilim. Or even Blindfold. Danny: Be careful what you try to take from me, Super-Max. Don’t forget how fast I am. The I-Marshal went back to watching Super-Max call Gamble to him. Just as Danny figured, he witnessed the gangster order the hit man to kill Heretic. After slipping his palm computer back into his jacket, Danny quietly pulled the cam from under the door, rose to his feet, and entered the suite whose security Sean had compromised. Danny tossed the cam onto the couch, picked up the room’s lobby pager as he passed, and he walked out onto the balcony. Sean followed him.

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Danny reached into a pocket of the unzipped suit and passed his friend the birthday photo of Faith smashing cake into Super-Max’s face. The delight in their eyes weakened the mental prison cell in which Danny kept Heretic confined. “I found this photo of Faith and Super-Max together among her clothes. They looked pretty happy.” Sean examined the picture. “It’s an old photo. Look how short Faith’s hair is here. I never saw you as the jealous type, Danny, or the type to want to hold a woman for long.” “Jealous type? I’m not, but Heretic is. Faith isn’t just a night’s entertainment for me.” “You may have to choose which man you are.” Danny scowled behind the helmet shield. “Quiz time. What does SuperMax love the most?” Sean scrunched his lips in thought. “His hovercraft. I think he’d made love to it the day it arrived from the factory. Remember how he’d bragged about it? He’d said the customization company took nine months to put in all the upgrades.” “Yeah, I remember. He’d taken us for a ride. Nice craft. Too conspicuous for my taste. I’m pretty sure it was the limo that had ambushed me. I don’t remember if I noticed it riding low from the weight of armor plating.” “I didn’t notice, either. Super-Max tends to see himself as untouchable. The choice of armor plating is driven by fear, and Super-Max doesn’t have much of that. Besides, he’d been just a lieutenant then. Your destruction of Calderon makes Super-Max king of a world.” “I’ll bash Super-Max’s crown.” Danny cast his sight through the helmet over the ledge and down to see the hotel driveway directly below the balcony a couple dozen stories high. The helmet’s electronics reported the exact height of the drop to four decimal places. “I’m about to make him sorry he didn’t order the plating.” Danny engaged the electronics that copied the pager’s frequency to his helmet, and he initiated a call to the hotel valet desk that reported it came

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from Super-Max’s suite. “Valet’s office, how may I help you?” “This is Mr. Armaros’s assistant. Mr. Armaros wants his hovercraft brought to the front entrance right away and placed directly below the balcony of Suite 2511. There’s a four-digit tip for the man who can get that craft out there right now.” They watched a hotel employee wearing a red vest shoot from the entrance of the hotel and sprint for the parking garage. Danny paced back through the penthouse and to the front door, his partner in his wake. “Gamble’s ready to go.” Invisible, Danny stood outside Super-Max’s door until Gamble came through it, off on his mission to find and kill Heretic. The I-Marshal took note of the time displayed in small numbers at the upper-right of the visor. When the suite door closed, shutting the gangland hit man off from SuperMax, Danny threw a hard punch, knocking the demon unconscious and sending him to the floor. Then Danny hauled Gamble’s limp body into the unoccupied hotel suite, and Sean shut the door. Danny dumped Gamble onto the sofa, and then he pulled the helmet from his head. Already helmetless, Sean relieved the expensive drapes of their golden tasseled ties, and Danny used them to swiftly bind the video hit man. Then Danny hauled the gangster to the balcony and flipped him over the balcony ledge, seizing the ropes to hold the demon there. Danny slapped his cheeks to revive him. “Gamble. Time to wake up and pay the ferryman.” “Are you going to torture him?” Sean asked. “I don’t have to go any further than this, really. I’ve a few questions for him, but I’m not spending much time at it. I want to get back to Faith. Wake up, Gamble. I have things to do.” The healer appeared baffled at the demon slayer’s change in motivation. “You’ll not take him on a slow drag to hell?” “He does seem deserving, more than most. But Faith told me she loves good men.” “You’re not a bad man, Danny. You’ve always focused on destroying

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bad power. I’m happy to see you caring for the state of your soul. Faith must be good for you.” Danny thought of the Maker’s elevation of man and the brightness of free will given him. “She makes me want to be more than a monster.” Gamble awakened and started in terror to find himself restrained and heading for a fall he believed would bring him some downtime regenerating his body. The hovercraft arrived below him. “So,” Danny asked Sean, ignoring Gamble and allowing him to anticipate the landing. “How do you feel about becoming a father?” Sean propped an arm over the ledge. “It was a surprise, but I figure it’s a surprise for most. I’d detected the conception within a few days just holding her hand. I got to tell her instead of the other way around. I spent a while thinking about it, and what it meant for my life, especially if I wanted to do fatherhood right. I’d decided I do want to do it right, and it was Isabella with whom I wanted to do it. You know I came from a big family, so it wasn’t a hard decision. It’ll mean less field work, but I don’t want stray alter-lifes following me home. With the gangbusters’ track record, I’m figuring I can take a teaching post at the Academy, train more gangbusters. Give regular life a try.” “Hmm…regular life.” Danny scrubbed his chin with his free hand, gloved in meta-material. He wasn’t all that sure what a regular life looked like, but the non-demon-slaying people he defended seemed to relish it. Whatever kind of life he had coming, he wanted Faith in it. She was already a part of his world and had been for over two months. Even if she didn’t comprehend that. “Sometimes accidents happen,” Sean said. “And your life evolves on purpose. Because it’s what you need.” Eyes bugged out from the height, Gamble snarled and snapped, “I don’t give a damn about your white picket fence, Snow.” Sean put a finger in the hit man’s face, and growled back, “Shut your foul mouth, demon, or I’ll turn your lights off just like I put Freak away.” Obviously wary of the healer and surprised to hear of his buddy’s end, Gamble’s black eyes rolled to Danny. “Why are you waiting to kill me,

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Heretic? What do you think you can make me give you?” “Normally, I’d enjoy holding you twenty-five stories in the air, knowing how terrified of heights you are, Gamble. Most of your kind don’t like to be reminded of your fall from grace. It must be a long time since you’ve transformed. You’ve got it so good masquerading as a mortal. You probably haven’t flown in…how long? Several bodies ago? A century or two? There’s no way you can transform in time to avoid this crash, if you’re out of practice. I can promise you, you’ll already be vanquished by the time you hit steel.” “What do you want from me, coffin-stuffer? You better know right now, whatever you do to me will only last a short time, and I will come after you.” Danny pulled his dazer from his holster and pressed the muzzle to the gangster’s temple. “You aren’t coming back from this gun, alter-life trash. You might have escaped this execution, Gamble, if you hadn’t attempted to turn Faith against me. Now you’ll get yours even before Super-Max gets his. “You’ve got a final chance to tell me how Freak came back from destruction. If I don’t like your answer, I’ll call upon Metatron to lead you to darkness.” Gamble’s mouth twisted. “Metatron? Since when can you stand in the room with archangels, Heretic?” “I’m a favorite of his, and he will drop his celestial duties to take any one of you to your shame, dread, and punishment. All I have to do is call upon my master.” “I cannot imagine an angel willing to speak to you, Heretic.” “Angels fear nothing, unlike your kind. You’re pretty mouthy today, Gamble, but this is the day it can’t get you in any more trouble than you’re already in. How did Freak escape destruction?” Gamble gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and appeared to concentrate on transformation, working to cause his weak mortal shell to rearrange physical atoms and take on his true form. But his effort got him nothing. As long as Danny had him bound, his wings couldn’t sprout. He couldn’t transform. Through a gruesome grin, the demon replied, “Both of you had left

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something of Freak behind when you’d destroyed him. Super-Max controls the secret, and he plans to sell it to the horde, but first, he’s obligated to bring Freak back.” The gangster shifted his black eyes rimmed in red to Sean. “When the horde has the secret, they will be indestructible. None of you meat-bags will survive it. It gives me orgasmic pleasure to tell you you’ll lose.” Sean told him, “It’s a damned shame you won’t see Freak again, and can’t tell him I’m waiting for him.” “Tell him yourself!” Gamble roared. “He’ll come for you again and again.” Danny released the line he held on his captive’s back, giving Gamble a sudden shift forward toward his fall and startling the demon. His black eyes swelled and fixed on the hovercraft below. Danny caught the rope around the hit man’s neck, only barely interested in preventing the fall. “Didn’t that make you jealous, Gamble, that Freak had given the secret to Super-Max?” the demon slayer taunted. “Wasn’t that the very reason why you followed Freak like a vampire haunts a bloodmobile?” “Hell, yeah, it pissed me off! That’s why I’m telling you, Heretic, so you’ll take out Super-Max!” Gamble chuckled, despite his desperate predicament. His devil-sight went to the muzzle of the strange gun pressed to his temple. “Who has a gun that slays demons?”

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Chapter 23 “The I-Marshals do, Gamble,” Danny informed him. “I never saw myself taking a hit job from you, but here we are. I arrest you in the name of the Draco Alliance.” Danny pulled and held the trigger of the dazer. The device hummed. Then a spurred whip of light launched wildly from the gun, struck Gamble’s dangling body, turning him into glass. But gravity and the way Gamble’s body had been lying over the pipe rail of the balcony made the glass form into a long stalactite before it hardened. Danny gave the stalactite a hard kick, breaking and sending the giant shard of glass straight into the roof of Super-Max’s new hovercraft, destroying the machine. Sean and Danny leaned over the balcony for a good view of the mess below, the gangster’s beloved hovercraft impaled by the stalactite. “I thought it was glass. I’d expected it to shatter.” Sean stroked his chin. “You still made a fine mess of it. I’ll have to ask Raphael. We’ll submit the material to the Alliance labs for identification, as well.” “Now, Super-Max can’t trap Faith in that car and take her somewhere against her will.” “He’ll be livid when he sees this. Which should be in seconds.” A sated smile taking over his face, Danny admitted, “I love making demons weep. Only Faith feels better than that. I’ll meet you back home later today.” Danny turned to collect his helmet, and Sean asked, “What’s on your agenda?” The demon slayer noted the time again. Gamble was destroyed three minutes after Super-Max had sent him to kill Heretic. “I’m going to arrange

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for Super-Max’s properties throughout the Alliance to be searched, then burned to the ground. But first, I’ll pay the valet. He was pretty fast.” **** Faith awakened alone in a strange and empty bed. It took her a moment to recall all that had happened in the last weeks. Blindfold. Freak. The Invisible Man. The bike accident. The barn murders. The angel. Calderon’s execution. Max’s rise to planetary power. The lap sprinted around the desert while a demon slimed her. Danny was the beautiful thing that ran all the way through this ugly trip into the paranormal realm. He’d made love to her, and it had felt like it had happened so many more times and for exciting hours at a time. She didn’t ever want to leave his bed. Then Danny had confessed to more demon abuse. Was that even wrong? It wasn’t like they were alive and undeserving. Her hand rose to her forehead and rubbed. At what point did she move from observing the story to living it? She prayed her next week would be paralyzingly uneventful. Sunlight peeked through the edges of the closed drapes, revealing a bright day outside, but it burned ghosts into her sleep-weakened eyes. Her body ached a little from Danny’s sexy possession. She sat up in bed, pressing the sheet to her bosom. Where was he? She wanted Danny. But he wasn’t in sight, beside her, where he should be. She’d see Max for the last time today. And that had nothing to do with Danny. Max now ruled a loathsome section of the world where people suffered…and he thrived on that. Max could no longer claim he only stood on the sidelines and watched others work this horrible industry of misery. She’d known better than to believe him when he’d said it before, but now he stood on that evil mountain’s highest peak, sat on a throne gilded in tears. Faith had to finally acknowledge she’d helped put him there. Max had called her a handful of times and had given her stories on his competitors. She had published those stories, sending badges to his enemies. It had taken

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felons off the streets, that was why she’d done it, but she’d blocked consideration of how her actions had benefitted Max. She really hadn’t seen, on the whole, how far she’d helped Max climb until he stood atop the hill, his enemies done away with. She’d never again lie to herself and think of Max as a good man. He simply wasn’t. And he’d used her. What if some dark force controlled Max’s decisions and goals? What if his greed had infused his soul with evil? What if demons whispered in his ear? She couldn’t care. She would say good-bye and never again trade favors with Max. Danny hadn’t deceived her. Not once that she knew of. And she was sorry for every moment she’d considered manipulating him for the sake of a story. Had he kept her with him only because he’d promised an angel he’d keep her alive? When did that promise expire? She hoped it never did. She liked to fantasize what they had together was about more than just the case. And that it would last longer than the life of the Pharm. “Danny?” Faith called out. Instead of hearing his deep and sexy voice, she heard Isabella’s light and feminine voice coming from the living room. “Danny and Sean have gone, Faith.” Faith wrapped her naked body in the bedsheet and stepped to the doorway. She spotted Isabella curled up on the living room couch, her ereader in her hand. Fisting wads of her sheet, she joined her new friend on the couch. “Looks like I’m the late sleeper. So, we don’t even have Kasey on patrol today?” “No,” Isabella replied, pushing her lovely locks of brown hair behind her ears. Her kind eyes smiled. “Kasey is at the Pharm today, probably stealing something. Sean and Danny have gone to take care of some business. We’re definitely not allowed to go outside.” “I don’t think either of us is interested in trying that again without one of the guys here.” Isabella shook her head. “No chance of it. They left us a dazer.” Her we-won-that-one grin made Faith laugh. “So I’m guessing Kasey lost that argument.”

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“No, actually, he was the one who brought the dazer with the broken fprint pad in case either one of us needs to use it.” “That’s a comfort to hear he’s not holding it all against me. I hated to be the cause of stress for the gangbusters team.” “I wouldn’t worry for that. These men know the mission. They may come in conflict from time to time, but they are keenly aware they possess a unique coordination of skills for their jobs, and nothing will keep them from that. They know gangbusting is the Maker’s work. There is no higher calling.” There is no higher calling than Danny’s job. Faith would keep that in mind. “Danny asked me to ask you not to leave until he returns. He said you’d know of what he spoke.” “Oh, yes.” Don’t go to Max’s. Faith didn’t wish to leave without Danny’s kiss, anyway. She turned to the shower room to wash away a long and grimy day. It struck her profoundly to recognize her world had taken a sharp turn she’d never seen coming. She’d say good-bye to Max, a thing she thought she’d never really do. **** Faith stepped out of the shower room in a towel to discover the house in shadow. Déjà vu. The windows fused into the house pod were darkened by order against a failing day. Her eyes found Danny sitting on the bed in candlelight provided by the candle holder that had been decoration in the living room. A covered plate sat before him. Her Pulitzer dress hung on the closet door hook. How did he know about her Pulitzer dress? He must have spotted it in her closet the night he’d taken her home, the night they’d first made love. He must have stopped by her house earlier to pick it up. She smiled coyly, went to it, and pinched the finely-spun lace just to feel the magnificent garment’s silky texture. It was so soft and lightweight, she could barely feel it on her body when she wore it.

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Then she thought of how she was not going to write a Pulitzer Prizewinning story. At least, not this one. How would revealing this horrid truth of a spiritual war between angels and demons serve the public, if it brought the battle to the witness of the mortal worlds and endangered them? There was no gold medal here. And she really didn’t care. She was busy exploring Danny, and his hot kiss was better than any journalistic award. His eyes roved over the towel wrapping her body, and he smiled. It wasn’t a wicked or smug smile but more of a glow of contentment. He was handsome when he was gloomy, but he was drop-dead gorgeous when he smiled. “What’s all this?” she asked, like she’d consider stomping out of there if he provided an unsatisfactory answer. That was the farthest thing from the truth. He didn’t know how hard she would be to shake. She noticed he was dressed in dark jeans and a white T-shirt with black italic letters leaning forward that said, Faster Than Light. He looked so delicious in dark jeans. “We have to eat, don’t we? It’s a late lunch, early supper.” “I didn’t sleep that long, did I?” “It was probably a residual effect from the surgery and the black-out drug Gamble had given you. I don’t want to take you hungry to SuperMax’s. Don’t eat or drink anything while you’re there.” Max wouldn’t hurt her. She was sure of it. But friends of his looked forward to it, according to the statue in the desert. “Hmm. I wonder where Gamble is now.” “Last time I saw the twisted bastard, he was in Super-Max’s hovercraft. I’ve seen him look better. You don’t need to be concerned about Gamble again.” She’d never have to worry about a demon serial killer coming to harm her? What a relief. A week ago, she couldn’t have imagined such a thing even existed. “Put on the dress. I wish to see you in it.” Delighted he was interested, she disappeared behind the bathroom door and emerged wearing the gown, her hair hastily clipped up. His usually light eyes were heavy on her, but she always did feel his sight when his eyes were

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aimed her way. Like Isabella felt Sean’s sight on her. “Stand over here, in the candlelight.” Faith went to the spot where Danny pointed, and she stood in her Pulitzer gown for his inspection. He gained his feet, produced a thornless red vine rose from the side table, and he twisted it around the dress strap, then he returned to the bed and took in the sight of her. A rose was a gift of love, not a gift of acquaintance or friendship. The flowery fragrance enhanced her longing for him. The candlelight silvered his gray sight in a tactile way. “Do you like the gown?” she couldn’t help asking. His concentrated attention through overlong salt-and-pepper bangs caused her nipples to rise and brush against the soft cloth, quickening her for his capture. “Very much. You look stunning in the dress, Faith,” his baritone voice murmured. His lips pressed together, revealing the tension it gave him. “The threads of the lace shimmer in the flame glow.” Oh… Soft, flickering light seemed to cling to him instead of illuminating much else in the room. His breathing livened. His study of her lasted so long, she began to shy from his devoted gaze. “Have you had enough yet?” “No. You aren’t enforcing a time limit, are you?” She broke into an embarrassed smile, and his sly gaze said he enjoyed his torture of her. “I’m divided. I want you to eat, but I want to take that dress off you.” “Some people think they have problems.” Rising from the bed again, he collected the covered plate and eating utensil, and set them in her hands held out before her. Then he removed the cover to present a dish in the meatball family, brown sauce variety, and unrecognized vegetable-looking things. His smile bordering on the diabolical, he loaded the utensil and put it to her mouth. Her sharp eye on him, she accepted a flavor she’d never encountered before, savory, mysterious, delectable. So was Danny. Stalking, he roved around until he was behind her, and he leaned and pressed his nose to her exposed neck, inhaling her freshly bathed scent as

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she chewed and swallowed. His draw of air sent a cool slide of breeze over her low-cut bodice, propelling a deeper tingle through her body. The act carried such an animal-feel to it. The alpha-male predator had brought his chosen a meal...and he savored his upcoming reward for that. Having already been beneath him, arrested and detained by him, she chewed quicker. Was she sweating yet? She soon would be. Oh, gawd, she already throbbed, her body programmed now and eager for his possession. Did he know he owned her? She bet he knew. His hair danced over her bare shoulder in his lean. “You smell like delicious dinner.” Every word he uttered with that deep voice was verbal chocolate, making her ache all the more for him. “You always have an invitation to feast upon me, Danny.” She felt his lips thin into another secret smile against the sensitive flesh as he pressed sizzling kisses up her neck to her ear. “Every night I’ll figure out a way to put you in my bed.” Should she tell him how easy that will be? Weakened, she scooped up a forkful of dinner and fed him over her shoulder. He groaned his approval, and he sent his big hands to span and stroke her figure in the silky gown, a sensuous experience that blotted out everything for the moment but his contact and body heat. She would memorize a list of the things that made him groan. Hearing it launched cascades of thrill through her. His exploration slipped downward from behind her and onto her belly, pressing her against his ripped physique and sliding downward to the heat between her thighs. She almost dropped the plate. Mm… Danny and good food together. That was total pleasure. “Dinner’s very good. What is it?” “I don’t know. I couldn’t pronounce it from the menu. I had help ordering it from the chef at a local restaurant, so it’s a Sylantan recipe. I’m glad you like it.” Again, he commandeered the fork, scooped up a bite, and sent it to her mouth. As she chewed, he placed a sucking kiss below her ear. Then she

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forgot to chew, taken by the fantastic shower of ecstasy he inflicted, and she had to remind herself again to chew. His breath on her body enticed her to a new level of want. Another bite administered, he drew the zipper of the dress all the way down her back. His radiating warmth traveled over her newly exposed flesh, banishing any chill from the room. Another bite of meatball delivered to her mouth, and he lightly drew his fingertips down her bare back, as though he savored the sexy moment. She swayed under the spell he cast. Another bite, and he slipped his hands into the dress, around her, and cupped her breasts. “Oh…” she muttered, and the rough surfaces of his palms and fingers abrading her tender flesh played with her nipples, stoking the fire. “Take another bite.” His whispers rushed lightning through her body. Hands slid from her dress, and she turned to watch him pull his T-shirt from his torso, all iron-worked muscle, pale flesh, a thin scatter of body hair she wished to feel scrubbed against her. Again. His lion’s-mane skimmed his shoulders as his silvery sight never left her. Before they’d made love in shadows and in silhouette, and she hadn’t seen him wholly nude. Just shirtless, he was beautiful, blessed with a holy kind of glamour that activated her soul. Oh… He fed her another bite of dinner, then he released the clip holding back her freshly dried hair, and his fingers caught her tumbling tresses. Stirred to a corrupt snicker, he took in the scent of her hair as though it told him everything about her, as if it fed every hungry part of him. “How can your T-shirt say you’re faster than light when you’re so torturously slow with me?” “I know, the longer I take with you, the more you’ll moan in my ear. And I like that a lot. It’s a triumph to feel you under my power, Faith.” That just made her moan. He took the empty plate from her hands and set it aside on the table, then he put her in his arms. Her hands slid down his broad back ending at his waist, sinew rolling like ocean waves over his big frame with his every action. Her fingertips tingled touching him. He’d said he wouldn’t let her go

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to Max’s without making love to her. The intent in Danny’s eye revealed his plot to ruin her freshly bathed scent. Another shift of air made her conscious of the perspiration rising to her flesh just from being near his oven of a body, made worse by teasing caresses. “Are you enjoying the moment of marking me for the demons to detect?” “Enormously. I’ll kick them in their heads if they touch you.” His demon-slaying grin gave away his entertainment. She knew he meant for Max to get that message, as well, though Danny didn’t need to send it. Max wasn’t a demon in disguise. “This is like unwrapping the most fun present.” She loved being explored by him, adored it, and she noticed each lithe movement of his heavenly warrior-body, marveled at how well he’d been put together for hunting criminals and hellish merchants of misery. She’d never discourage him from doing that duty. Those monsters better run and hide. Danny wasn’t a monster. Was he? The only way to find out was to get as close to him as possible. She wanted to be in his mind, under his skin. She didn’t want secrets between them. She reached for his jeans and unbuttoned them, feeling him hard beneath the metal teeth of the zipper. He pushed the jeans to the floor for the unwelcome interference they were. Her mouth went dry at the unveiled sight of him, worthy of an artist’s sketch, all muscle, brains, instinct, skill, action. And steam…an underlying sensuality Jasmine too had detected. Danny was better than perfect. He was physically superior. But what was he on the inside? The progeny of an angel, the breed of a demon. She recalled her brief study of the heavenly races. If Danny turned out to be more angel, what would that mean? Angels did many benevolent things, but they also struck down populations with disease, disaster, and genocide. A single angel wielded the power to destroy cities, cause famine, flood a planet. Angels were heaven’s hit men. Faith wished to learn Danny was more human than anything else. She

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wanted to know he was normal. But her instincts told her he wasn’t. He plucked the petals from the rose on her dress and tossed them onto the bed, scenting the sheets. Then he slid the straps from her shoulders and dropped the dress from her body. She didn’t care that the garment lay on the floor. It was far more important she catch his every sultry gaze, concentrate on the rapture of his exquisite seduction. Sky-clad before one another, sizzling energy and her long locks of copper hair were the only things between them, and she didn’t know how long she could stand there without taking action when his body clearly awaited her. Oh… He circled her again, and he pressed her against his hard body from behind, his searing hands sliding to her breasts, caressing, then down her body to her thighs, his lips trailing worshipful kisses across her shoulders. The feel of his erection brought back vivid memory of the orgasmic storm his penetration had given her the night before. Her breath caught as his fingers discovered her wet body ragged with desire for him. Her hands reached backward to slide down his tree-trunk thighs, his soft body hair grazing her palms. Touching him everywhere became an irresistible urge. The scent of Danny and roses overcame her, his pheromones dominating her mind and body, and she could delay no longer. She pushed him onto the bed, causing them to burst into giggles. Then she climbed over his body like a predator, like he’d done her. Atop him, she arrested his wrists, put them above his head, and grinned down at him. Even at rest, his fat biceps bulged, affecting her breath and sending waves of hunger through her. Hungry, aching, starving. “What does it feel like to be confined?” He gave her a diabolical chuckle, and in one swift move, he spun them, reversing their positions and putting her on her back, him above her. She didn’t know how he did it so quickly. “I’ll let you know if it ever happens. Although being confined by you, Faith, has such a sexual appeal. I could pretend I’m confined just to see what you’ll do to me.” His hot body between her welcoming legs, she felt his thickness at the

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door of her core, gently rocking into her to stretch her a little for his big size. His shaft kept growing bigger, harder. She had to take a deep breath with every shallow impalement, and she closed her eyes to see and feel the splendor he gave her entire being with his every deeper penetration. She broke into the sweat with his every shot of thrill. The rose scent scrubbed by their sliding bodies launched again into their air, enchanting. “I love it when you’re this wet, Faith.” His hot breath tickled her neck. His arms slipped beneath her and tightened around her. “I can’t wait anymore.” “Don’t hold back any longer,” she panted. He slowly and sweetly buried himself in her. She cried out from the small pain and explosive pleasure of his total domination, enduring the fullbody shudder he gave her. Then she writhed from her nerves too excited to remain still. His arms tightened around her again, and he chuckled in her ear. “I like capturing you.” She had to focus for a full breath, his hard shaft deep within her and making her desperate for his next move. “Well, then…” Pant. “I’ll run from you any day, Danny, if you’ll capture me just like this.” His deep-throated chuckle of surety filled her ear again, and she thought it the sexiest sound she’d ever heard. “Just don’t forget…When you’re looking at Super-Max, think of me and these fireworks.” He slowly withdrew, making her ravenously hungry for him, and he satisfied the aching emptiness by filling her again. His quickening thrusts took time away, erased the room, made her lose sense of the world around her. How long the rapture lasted, she had no idea. The fireworks were everywhere, shooting through her body, bursting in her mind, when she closed her eyes, when she opened them. She didn’t feel the exhaustion until his solid arms squeezed her a final time, and he roared with his completion. She could swear she experienced the sensation of a breeze rushing over her body, cooling her, when they lay in an enclosed room. She imagined she soared like a bird through some bright, peaceful, and heavenly realm, free of

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all mortal chains. Tucked into the curl of Danny’s wing, she sent her feet to tangle with his so they’d be touching all the way down. She felt like his now, and nothing ever felt better. Danny pressed a kiss to her crown and peeled a ravaged rose petal from her shoulder. “I’ll never tell you what to wear, Faith, but you can’t wear this dress in public for very long. I can deny the urge in my conscious mind, but can’t guarantee my hands won’t be subconsciously driven to strip you of it.” She giggled. “I’m going to put that dress on every day.” He pressed her wet body against his. “I’ve wanted to take that dress off you every time I saw you in it.” She laughed, but then his words registered in her mind. “How can you say that? Tonight’s the first time you’ve seen me in it.” His pause was suspicious. She sat up, bringing the thin sheet over her breasts, suddenly feeling uncomfortably naked, and she examined his soft light eyes on her in the flickering candlelight. There was a certain anxiety there. “Wasn’t it?” Another long pause stretched between them, and Danny finally confessed, “You told me you loved the good guys, Faith. So I’m coming clean with you. Because I want to be the good guy you want.” She got a sinking feeling she was about to hear something unforgivable. “After the first night we’d met on Valdeya…” “When you were the Invisible Man?” “Yeah. I’d taken you back to Reigna. But I’d been too curious about you, so I’d gone back to your place the next night. While you were there.” She recalled nights alone she’d detected the arousing smell of brandy and man near her. It had made her heart pump so hard, her head swam. She’d thought it had been her imagination pining for a man she’d never laid eyes upon. That was two months ago. And it must have been before she’d boarded the shuttle for Sylanta. Danny had been in her home. Watching her. It disturbed her beyond reason. She didn’t know what to do with it. She needed distance to sort it out, without his sexy body near to change her thoughts, without his dead-gorgeous gaze to rewrite her boundaries, without

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his hot male magic blinding her. Taking the sheet with her to shield herself from his sight, she rose from the bed and crossed the room. “Faith…” Entering the shower room where the clothes she’d chosen for her visit to Max hung neatly, she closed the door behind her, shutting Danny out. She stepped into her undergarments, and tugged on her skirt and zipped. “Faith,” Danny called out, his voice loud against the door. He was definitely out of bed and standing at the threshold of the shower room. “Come out, and let’s discuss this.” She slid into her blouse and buttoned it up. Then she sat on the edge of the tub and put her head in her hands. What was she to do, having learned he’d stealthily invaded her privacy? She’d fantasized he was there, but that was all that was, fantasy. Thinking and doing were two different things. He’d taken action with no regard for her feelings. She’d done wrong, too, attempting to manipulate him with alcohol and sex. She’d used lousy tactics to turn him her way and tell her the truth of what happened on the Pharm, all for the sake of a story. Then she’d defied him, for the love of being naughty, and she’d ended up microchipped, nearly enabling Isabella’s abduction with demon goo down her back. Was all fair in love and war? Only when one knew which it was, love or war. “Faith, I don’t want you to go to Super-Max’s angry with me.” She opened the door to see Danny filling the threshold, his arm outstretched the width of the frame His hair was wild over his shirtless shoulders, the expression on his face intense. He hadn’t bothered to put on a pair of pants. Retaking her thoughts from his beautiful nudity, she ducked beneath his arm, went to her suitcase, and pulled out her black boots. A subliminal tactic he employed, he stood between her and the door. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Faith. So I can fight it.” Zipping her boots onto her feet, she moved back to her suitcase, jammed what of her possessions lay outside it, and closed the case. She no longer wanted the gown that had come between them.

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Danny slammed the bedroom door shut, forcing his will. His shadow stretched the length of the room cast by the candlelight. “Let me apologize to you.” She didn’t want to look at him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t just come forward right off the bat and take you to dinner, start a normal relationship with you. I’m an undercover cop living a gangland hit man’s life. You’re a reporter. That’s a lot of fire and water.” Faith collected her purse and took the handle of her case. “Danny…I’m going to say good-bye to a childhood friend, and then I’m returning to Reigna. I need time to think.” “Not until you tell me why you won’t forgive me, Faith.” “I forgive you, Danny. At first, I was upset because I couldn’t tell the difference between you and Heretic. Now I can’t tell the difference between you and Max, or even myself. How big a lie between us is too big a lie? How many lies are too many? “I need to think about whether I can trust you and why you should trust me. I’ll say good-bye today to a man who’s been lying to me for years. I don’t know what to do with us. I apologize for all the things I’ve done that contributed to this moment, Danny. The manipulation, the defiance. We’ve both done terrible things to our relationship for the sakes of our jobs, maybe so much damage that we can’t survive a start like this.” “It’s not a fairy-tale beginning, Faith. I’m sorry for that. You said you could accept everything about me.” Love does not cover a multitude of sins. It doesn’t make the bad done between them go away. “I guess I misjudged myself, Danny. I can take your dark past. I can even take what you do for a living because I do believe you’re one of the good guys. But I can’t easily take all the deceit we’ve racked up between us. Now it’s hard to trust. I’m just as guilty as you.” She looked up into his sad eyes. “I trust you for the cop you are, Danny. But a lover’s trust…that just can’t be built now. I can’t feel it, considering our lies.” She moved toward the door, and he stopped her. “I’ll take you to Super-

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Max’s, then back to Reigna.” “No.” She stared at a bookshelf over his shoulder so he didn’t know she didn’t want his eyes influencing her. Or her weaknesses. “I’ll take a taxi to Max’s, and then I’ll go on to the shuttle port. According to Kasey, you can’t teleport onto a moving vehicle, so I should feel authentically alone on a shuttle.” “Admit you care for me, Faith. I care for you, maybe more than just care. Every time I hold you in my arms, I become a different…happier and better man. I don’t even feel the darkness when I’m with you. We can get beyond this, and I can make you as content as you make me.” She was still the same person when he held her, one who wanted honest things in an intimate relationship, cards laid on the table, no secrets lurking in dark corners. She could live no more without the truth. Half of this was her fault, her own deceits thrown in for the sake of a groundbreaking exposé. She hadn’t seen herself falling for the hero of the adventure. She just wanted and needed right now to run away and think, to retreat to a solemn place where she could weigh the damage and heal. “I admit it, Danny. I care a lot for you, and that makes trust so much more important.” “There was never a moment you were with me when you couldn’t trust me. I didn’t sneak into your home on Reigna and watch you take your clothes off. I’d only shown up a few nights, and I’d watched you type, gab on the palm computer, clean your house. Try on your Pulitzer dress a few times. You never walk around the house naked, you know.” That was true. She never did that. If he’d been there to peep at a nightly naked parade, he’d been disappointed. “It was the wrong thing to do, and I’m sorry. I only wanted to be close to you. I’ll tell you the difference between Super-Max and me, Faith. I didn’t let the lies last long. I told you the truth when I realized we’d walk away from this case together.” She brought her teary eyes back to him. “I’m not sure anything good can start like this. I’m confused, and I need to go home.” “What do you want, Faith, something perfect in an imperfect world?

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Who has that?” She swiped a tumbled tear away. “No, Danny, I didn’t want something perfect. What Max had given me was perfect, but it had been based on lies. I’d walked away from him years ago because I just wanted honesty with a man. It was something I’d promised myself. Now, that’s been blown from the sky for us.”

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Chapter 24 “Danny.” He heard Sean’s voice behind him, and he turned from watching Faith through the window as she sat on the front porch and awaited her taxi. She’d refused to wait inside with him, claiming her wish for privacy. Sean stood dressed in his super-soldier suit while Kasey was clothed in a nice dark-blue business suit that enhanced his already brilliant eyes. “Kasey got a call to attend an emergency Pharm board meeting at the Towers.” “I didn’t get a call.” Danny was wary of what it meant. “Neither did I. Super-Max must know you and I were the ones who’d destroyed Freak in the beginning and are allies. He’s shutting us out of the Pharm.” Kasey launched his stunning grin. “Thankfully, no one’s seen me hanging around you hell-raisers.” Sean punched him in the shoulder. “No one knows what a devil you are.” “Damn!” Kasey rubbed the punch from his arm. “I like to think I wear my horns with pride for all to see.” Caring less than he should what happened on the Pharm, Danny turned back to watching Faith. She appeared to weep, and he wanted to go out there and put an end to her will, but he just couldn’t do it to her. If she didn’t choose to come back to him, then their sizzling and all-too-brief affair was over, just when caring for Faith was changing him. Sean peeked out the window sheers and put the clues together. “Is there a problem with you and faith? I don’t mean the girl. I mean the virtue.” “Yeah, I lost faith. She’s going home, and that’s the right thing for her

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to do. She doesn’t belong in this mess. I’m just worried she might decide to betray us for a headline.” “Well, get your faith back. She won’t.” Danny cast his sight to his friend. “What do you know that I don’t?” “She doesn’t want to hurt anyone here.” “It’s too late for her to stick to that.” Danny watched a taxi pull up to the house. Tugging the super-soldier helmet over his head and engaging operation, he planned to crank up the suit’s speed option and run alongside the taxi, just in case Reigna’s reigning demon pulled something evil. He wouldn’t leave her alone, no matter how angry she was at him. Take the chance a well-practiced snake would attempt to seduce or harm her? That wasn’t going to happen on any planet Danny stood on. After disarming the f-print security system of his dazer so all three men could use it, he reholstered the gun. The other dazer they left in Isabella’s hands for her protection. Danny finally came to a different conclusion. “No matter what she feels about me, Faith will not wish to harm lifetime memories of a deceased friend. Because Super-Max will be destroyed by the time she boards a shuttle.” “You have to come to the board meeting with us,” Sean repeated seriously. “This should be the one explosive moment that ends Blindfold. We’ll have all the Pharm board in one room, every high-level distributor on Sylanta and everyone who’s seen the formula. We can’t miss the chance to be there. All three of us.” Danny took a frustrated breath and watched Faith’s taxi drive away. He had to choose what was right for the mortal worlds over what was right for Faith and him. Super-Max didn’t need to start a war with Heretic over Faith. She’d left on her own. Maybe the kingpin would let her go when she decided to leave. Maybe Super-Max will convince Faith to stay with him. She’ll change her mind when she sees what Heretic’s going to do to Super-Max.

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Chapter 25 Within the opulent, auditorium-size lobby of surfside Sylanta Towers, Danny and Sean stood invisible beside Kasey with his hands casually jammed in the pockets of his suit pants. The ground floor of the hotel contained a small oasis of a waterfall designed like an island lagoon, thousands of vines, bushes, and flowering plants gathered into a botanical garden, seeding the air with a fresh, life-filled taste. Elegantly dressed citizens strolled by, spending money in the overpriced shops, having drinks and dinner in the restaurant open to the main lobby. Uniformed employees darted to their tasks. Danny wished they’d all go home. They looked like a lot of collateral damage to him. He wouldn’t mind a drink right now. How much damage could the gangbusters do this place with only one dazer between them? Let’s find out. Young women in skimpy swimsuits passed by, and Kasey didn’t hesitate to undress them with his eyes, a covert smile following their lithe moves. Their sights took Kasey in, fascinated. The young I-Marshal had power over people with his good looks. Danny noticed the girls. They were pretty, but not as pretty as Faith with her long copper tresses spilled over her rushing breasts, and her warm brown vision gazing up to him in adoration. And long legs that fit just right around his hips. And the way her cherrypainted, cupid’s-bow lips formed a luscious O and quivered when he rocked her into a shattering orgasm. He barely noticed the girls, picturing that O. The thought of Super-Max having Faith, even just a kiss, made Danny grind his teeth and want to punch a wall. Maybe Kasey should tell the girls to run. The cigar lounge, jeweler, ladies’ boutique, tech shop. Danny sent his

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vision over the place in search of Super-Max’s favored security goons. They were present in numbers and armed, ray guns tucked in shoulder holsters, blades and hand weapons in pockets, revealed by the metal-detect built into the super-soldier helmet. Security for the meeting was high and inconspicuous. The I-Marshals would spoil that. Unfortunately, an evacuation of the building would alert Super-Max to their presence. Danny said low to his partners through the helmets’ sensitive communication system, “Detonator had revealed to me an important clue. He’d spotted me when I’d been invisible in the suit.” “That’s a first,” Sean commented, unseen and unheard by all the citizens around them. “You hadn’t happened to ask him how, had you?” “I had. He’d said he saw the air displacing behind me from wings I don’t have. Then, just before I’d destroyed him, Metatron had graced me with a visitation, and my helmet’s infra-red had been engaged. I’d been treated to quite a light show at his appearance. I believe it might be a related phenomenon to what Detonator had seen.” “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times,” Kasey whined, turning as he mumbled his words so no one noticed him speaking to himself. The chip in his brain and the earpiece in his ear allowed him to tap into the conversations Sean and Danny held within the helmets. “It’s time to study the angels through a few high-tech eyes.” “You’ve said it a hundred times,” Danny replied. “But rightly so. How will we convince the angels to let us do that, Sean?” “The I-Marshals have never requested it of the guardians. We’ve felt such things are holy. Surely Metatron had known the tool was engaged but still he paid you a visit. He might have caused the helmet to malfunction, but he hadn’t. He must have wanted you to see what you saw.” “So the Nephilim really do have invisible wings,” Kasey murmured. “I don’t feel them at all.” “Some of the demons see something.” Danny counted Super-Max’s men, five in the lobby concealing heavy arms. That meant the gangbusters had to keep the battle above the lobby. “It means those demons are aware of who among the mortals in the room are Nephilim, and that could mean

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trouble for all the I-Marshals.” “We’ll come across demons who can’t be fooled by the suits.” Sean’s eyes were trained on the elevators. “And there could be demons in this meeting who can spot us.” Danny nodded. “We can’t teleport with eyes on us. Sylanta doesn’t have a teleport, so we can’t explain that away as local technology. We’ll need to quickly identify and remove those demons, if we wish to stay in the room.” “Easily done,” Kasey proposed, and snickered. “Sean can walk right up to them. If they react to his disembodied wings, I’ll take them from sight, teleport them to my room, and zap them with the dazer.” Danny turned to Sean. “See? You said we should bury him to his neck in the desert and leave him, and I said he might come in handy.” Sean shook his head in the helmet. “No, you were the one who wanted to bury him.” “That’s right.” Danny snapped his gloved fingers. “Now I remember.” Kasey tossed back natural-blond bangs and made his aquamarine eyes twinkle. Then he pretended to yawn into his fist. “You guys are lucky I don’t take your women with this face.” Sean chuckled at Kasey’s overexercised, assault-proof ego. “If, after years of working with us, you think you can take our women, you haven’t learned much.” “Oh, yeah.” Kasey snapped his fingers. “Now I remember. Either of you guys gets killed tonight, I’ll be taking care of your woman. Don’t you worry about her up there in paradise.” Danny’s heart slammed in his chest as he watched Faith enter the lobby and orient herself toward the front desk. His eyes posted on her pretty cherry-painted lips, he watched her ask for Super-Max’s suite. Sean and Kasey spotted her right away. The desk clerk called the gangster’s suite, and Faith fidgeted at the desk, her sight wandering over the shops. She looked anxious. Kasey gave her his back to keep her from spotting him. Why did she have to color her lips so deeply red for a visit with a criminal thug she claimed she didn’t love? Would Super-Max watch her lovely lips sensuously form every bland word as though they were an

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invitation to her bed? Would he imagine her lips on him? Heretic would cut his fuckin’ heart out for that. Couldn’t she have shoved her sexy long hair into a hat for this visit? Her dainty knees showed above her boots and below her skirt. Normally, Danny wouldn’t have minded her showing some leg…if he knew those legs would be locked around him tonight. She’d made it clear his night wouldn’t end between her thighs. Damn… He could’ve gotten used to that, had wanted to. But Faith deserved a better start. If she’d witnessed some of Super-Max’s exploits at whorehouses like Heretic had, Faith wouldn’t let the gangster touch her, maybe even refuse to stand in the same room with him. Memories of learning too late on arrival the gangster had battered women to get a hard-on filled Danny’s mind and repulsed him. He’d taken a few to the hospital. Now he regretted not launching into long narratives on how well Heretic did know the new kingpin of Reigna. Danny swore he wouldn’t let the demonic Super-Max have her, even if he couldn’t. His eye glued to Faith’s lustrous copper tresses, he snorted with condescension at Kasey. “Thinking about taking care of my woman, you say? Like playing devil’s advocate, don’t you?” “I do.” The gleam in the young cop’s blue eyes was delight. “I really do.” “Well, I really like destroying the devil and his friends.” The threat didn’t diminish Kasey’s smile. He got off on provoking people to keep them on their toes. Sean thrust an invisible finger into Kasey’s face. “Fantasize about sticking your dick in my wife one more time, and I’ll throw you off this building. And I won’t heal you.” “You aren’t touching Faith, either. ’Cause I’ll rise from the dead just to kick you in the head.” Kasey drew his palm computer from his suit jacket to his ear, and, faking a call, he exclaimed, “I was kidding! I was kidding…except to say you both have some fine-ass women. That’s all I’m saying.”

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“That’s right, we do.” Danny watched the bell man escort her to the private elevator, key in hand. Her hips swayed a little with every step. He couldn’t keep his eyes from her when he really needed to. Then he spotted several men they knew were board members—and shot callers of vicious cartels in their territories—passing by, headed for the hotel’s tenth-floor conference room. Kasey checked the time on his comp. “Ready to get this show on the road?” As ready as Danny was going to get…to expose Super-Max for what he truly was. With Sean invisible beside him, Kasey stood near the double-doored entrance to the tenth-floor conference room and managed to draw the attentions of every gangster who walked into the hallway. The young cop caught eyes. Possessing a strong glamour-power, he wasn’t over-assessing in saying his bright looks were his best weapon. Those whose vision repeatedly drew to Sean’s wings were escorted by Kasey around the corner, teleported to his room, and given the light whip of the dazer to their destruction. Only four gave such a reaction. That left twenty-two gangsters to terminate, mortals, Nephilim, and demons. Danny took note of the large plate-glass walls of the conference room showcasing the city view, and he told Sean, “Call the local badges, have them block off the front street before the hotel. And tell them to waste no time.” “Gotcha. Where are you going?” “Super-Max isn’t here yet. I’m going to find out what’s holding him up.” “Don’t destroy him until we learn the resurrection secret, Danny,” Sean’s voice warned in his ear. “If we never learn it, we’ll always be at risk.” “You had to say that, didn’t you?” “Yeah, because I have a feeling your mind will wander from the mission.” “My mind has never wandered from a mission before.”

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“Faith wasn’t there those times.” The demon slayer ignored his partner’s concern, and he teleported to Super-Max’s suite fifteen flights up. **** “Victoria Faith Vedder.” Smiling handsomely, Max Armaros beheld her, took her hands in his big ones, and brought her to his lips for a warm kiss to her cheek. “You won’t let me call you Vicky Vedder anymore, will you?” She couldn’t keep a grin from her face when he brought up the name she’d long ago given up. “You lost the right when you wisecracked about my name sounding like a comic-book character.” Leaning in the doorway of the most elegant suite on Sylanta, Max looked as drop-dead gorgeous as he ever had, his swarthy flesh blending with his dark-brown hair glimmering with natural oaky highlights. He didn’t look a day older. Time just made him more handsome. He was dressed in a hand-tailored brown suit that made fine lines of his broad shoulders, like his Marine uniform had. When he’d deserved to wear it. His dark eyes appeared hypnotized upon sight of her. There were years past when Faith would have gazed back at Max in foolish wonderment. But Calderon and his evil empire had taken Max from her. Now Calderon was gone, and Max was the biggest monster on the planet. “Come in.” He tugged her by the hand into the large suite, and he closed the door behind her. Leading her further into the grand gold- and green-themed, exquisitely appointed, dimly lit white room overlooking the coast through a glass-panel wall, he chastised her, “You should have called. I’d have sent a hovercraft for you. Unfortunately, my ride was in an accident earlier today, but I could have sent a comfortable craft for you.” He cast her a knowing eye. “I couldn’t guess where Heretic kept you hidden.”

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Max stood before her, closer than average friends might. He hadn’t yet released her hand. It was long ago when standing this close to him had sent a flush of love through her. Now lightning struck when Danny merely stood in the same room. “How did you learn I was involved with Heretic?” “I’ll be honest with you…” “Why start now, Max?” That took the wind from his sails for a moment, but didn’t break his agenda, whatever it was. He couldn’t dare deny lying to her. He had to know doing so would set a fire in her that would scorch him, possibly burn the hotel to the ground. “Calderon had told me you’d shown up at the Pharm and in Heretic’s company. Naturally, I wished to hear you’re well and happy. Can I fix you a drink?” Danny had told her not to drink, but she wanted some mind-numbing alcohol after having walked out on him so painfully. “Brandy. I’d like a snifter of brandy, Max.” “I’m sure I saw a bottle here.” He strode to the intricately carved wooden bar tucked into the corner of the suite, chose a tea light cradle, a small snifter, and a tiny plate. She watched Max break the label on a new bottle, pour the dark amber fluid into the glass, and light the candle that would warm it, in case Danny was right about Max no longer being the man she knew. But Max wasn’t evil in that way. He was greedy, craved power, but not truly vile in his soul. He fixed himself a glass of wine as she took up the brandy bottle and studied the label. It was a dark-fruit brandy label from Valdeya. Max passed her a plate with the tea light, cradle, and brandy. When her fingertips touched the plate to take it from him, he asked, “So, how long has your affair with Heretic been going on? Are you happy with him?” She accepted the plate, took up the snifter before it was warmed, and took in its delicious fragrance. It reminded her of Danny, though it was a slightly different scent from the brandy she kept at home. She took a big gulp to ease the pain and nearly choked on it. Nail polish remover. That’s all

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she thought of when she tasted brandy. But the aroma made her think of Danny in the dark stalking up her body, the fireworks at his ready launch. There wasn’t anything that took her mind from him for long. “My thing with Heretic was nothing, a brief moment, now gone.” “Does he know that?” “Of course, he knows that. What have you said to one another?” “Nothing two men wouldn’t say when both are serious about the same woman.” Anxious that Max would say such a thing, she took another great gulp, swallowed, and worked to keep from wincing. “You’ve never been serious about me before, Max, so I cannot take that with much gravity. Heretic and I have had our fun, and it’s time for me to go home.” “Come, let’s sit down and relax.” Max took up his drink and hers from the bar, and he led her to the comfortable-looking white-leather couch set before glass panels showcasing cloud trails against a dusking sky. She took a seat on the couch, her plate with her snifter and candle placed upon the table before her. Max sat beside her, more focused on her than times past. He brought up memories of their good days and nights. He’d been a part of every big moment in her life, her prom, her college graduation, their champagne launching of her first by-line. He was a part of every memory she had before their final split years ago. She remembered more tonight than she ever had before. “Faith,” Max said with an ominous tone after they’d reminisced. “I want to talk about the future. Do you remember as well the times when we’d spoken of the future?” The rapturous smile of fond remembrances slid from her face, and she took up the snifter for another sip of nail polish remover. She hoped the poison would quiet her reawakened broken heart of those times. “That was before you went to prison, Max. Those days are gone.” He took up her hand and kneaded it intimately. “They don’t have to be, Faith.” “Max.” She turned to him, giving him her complete emotional investment when she told him, “I left because you were a criminal, a bad

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man. You hurt people, Max.” He held out his hands in supplication. “I’ve never hurt anyone, Faith.” “No, Max, you send others so you won’t get blood on your suit. What you do multiplies misery for the worlds.” “I supply a clientele with a wanted product. If I didn’t do it, others will. What my clientele choose to do with the product is not related to me, but a choice of their free wills.” “Don’t even try those sick defenses on me. I want none of your iniquity now any more than I wanted it then.” He took a deep breath, and she sensed he regrouped his subtle weapons of persuasion. “Things are different. I’ve a way to break free of it all.” She laughed, but with no humor. “Who directs the Pharm now? Is it Gamble or you, now that Dr. Manheim and Jasmine are dead? Oh, that wasn’t Jasmine. It was a demon named Freak. My, the company you keep.” Max sat back into the couch for another minute. She watched the revelation that she held some knowledge of the spiritual war pass through his mind. Then he appeared to throw that away. “I don’t control what demons do, Faith.” “Why don’t you go to hell and work for Lucifer, Max? How far away from that are you now?” As a proven liar, the new criminal kingpin of Reigna had no defense. “You’ve just inherited Calderon’s kingdom, and many of your competition have recently died. Now you’ll rise higher than ever before. Endless money and power. Why would you distance yourself from that? What makes you think demons would let you go?” Steel-eyed, he took up her hand again, brought her from the couch, and escorted her to the balcony that opened onto the purest pink-sand beach she’d ever seen. The raucous waves shimmered with the last light of the Sylantan day. Children ran down the beach flying a kite. Luxury boats cruised the faraway waters. Already sunken below the watery horizon, the sunlight cast fading pastels into the fat smears of clouds striping the sky, a beautiful sight, but she didn’t think any sunset could be as colorful and

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rousing as the sunset she’d watched with Danny atop the mesa in Sacred Sand Valley. “I’m in control of a secret, Faith,” Max too vaguely explained. “One I can sell on the market and walk away with more money than we’ll ever need. Or want. Or could ever spend in lifetimes.” Faith was stunned by his divulgence. “Just one more deal, Faith. Then it’s us from here on out.” He pointed to the watery horizon. “We can start over again, buy a yacht, and stay away from the worlds. Or we can travel to new planets. We’ll make our dreams come true, just like we’d talked about when we were carefree kids. You can’t tell me you don’t love me.” A life incognito, a cramped home on a lonely sea. She thought about it for all of a few seconds, but not a second of it seriously. She just didn’t want Max anymore. She didn’t respect him, and now, because of whom he’d become, she didn’t feel safe. She didn’t believe he could turn his back on his ugly industry and walk away. He loved the risk and power much more than he loved her. It disheveled her to see him work to convince her otherwise. “I loved you once, Max, when you were a good guy. Now my heart loves you like a wayward sibling, one I can’t help come back home.” Max scrunched his lips, his eyes giving away deliberation. “Is this about Heretic, Faith? How over is it on a scale from one to ten?” “It’s a zero, Max.” “Do you know he’s an I-Marshal? Did he tell you he’s a serial killer? Because all of them are. But especially Heretic.” The questions froze her. She didn’t wish to lie and say she didn’t know Danny was a cop until this minute. But she couldn’t say yes, and risk any of the gangbusters’ lives. Danny wasn’t a crazed maniac gunning people down in the streets. He was an exterminator of killers, a garbage man taking out the galactic trash of the mortal realm. “You say serial killer like it’s a bad thing.” Then she couldn’t believe she said that. “Does it make you angry, Faith? Did he tell you the whole truth all

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along?” How did Max learn Danny was a cop? She should find out. The chime of the suite door sounded. Detached with worries for Sean, Isabella, Kasey, and Danny, Faith watched as Max went to the door and opened it. A small, pale, spindly man with oddly sprouted patches of hair on his head stepped through the doorway, clutching a large brown case as though he carried secret documents. They whispered for a few seconds before Max sent the man into one of the back rooms of the suite, and shut the door. Then Max returned to her, acquiring her hand again, and she slid it from his soft capture. “Faith…I must go to an emergency business meeting. I can’t put it off. It involves too many people. But I’ll return. I’ve more to say.” She wiped a pooling tear threatening to stripe her cheek. “I only came to say good-bye, Max. I don’t want to love the biggest monster on my planet.” Max’s eyes fixed on her grew cold. His jaw throbbed with tension. “Well, the smell of Heretic on you says the opposite, Faith.” She thought to slap Max, but it would feel too good. “Good-bye, Max.” She strode back into the suite and over to her purse to pick it up and leave, but then she spotted the empty snifter of brandy, and she stilled with the sight. She knew she hadn’t finished it. Max caught up with her. “How about that Pulitzer, Faith? I have just the story. Calderon’s execution by I-Marshals engaged in black ops.” She looked around and saw no sign of Danny. But he was there, watching her. “Do you wish me to blow the I-Marshals out of your water, Mako?” Max grimaced. She knew he hated it when she called him by the name given him when he’d been dragged into the territory wars of Capital City. But the gangsters who’d named him had seen his potential. Max was a shark cruising the waters to see who was available to be his dinner. Just about anyone made a good snack. The new kingpin of Reigna took her hand again, as though she belonged to him. “Faith, it’s a dreadful night to be discussing this. I have to go to the

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board meeting. But I’ll come back. Please say you’ll stay here and wait for me. I promise, I’ll make it worth your delay.” “No, Max. I can’t stay. I wish to go home alone. And get away from angels, and demons, and Nephilim. I don’t wish to be caught on the battlefield.” “I’ve done the time in your life for you to hear me out. Afterward, I’ll take you to the shuttle port. Consider staying with me a few more days, and we’ll go home together on a private shuttle. You’ll save half the travel time.” She chewed on her lip to fight the frustration. What would it hurt to hear him out? Then she’d tell him no, and he would know for sure he couldn’t win her. Finally, he’d accept it. “I’ll stay until your return. But not long, Max.” He kissed her cheek, and swore, “I’ll be back in an hour, two at the latest. Make yourself at home. Order room service, if you like.” Then he exited the suite. She suddenly felt gloved hands on her face, wiping Max’s kiss away. She twisted from Danny’s reach and stared where she thought he was. “Leave this place, Danny!” “Are you going to do it, Faith?” Danny’s seemingly disembodied voice demanded an answer from a new direction. “Tell the worlds what the IMarshals really do? Super-Max is right. You’ll probably win a Pulitzer, but in a century or two, the Alliance worlds will be reduced to a multi-planet collection of slaves for demons.” The consideration stunned her. “Do you really think I’d do such a selfish thing?” “I don’t know you,” he admitted, his voice wavering with restrained emotion. “You’re right that we’ve spent too much time with conflicting agendas. But if you stay here with Super-Max and allow him to seduce you, he’ll make the deal sweet enough for you to stay. He can buy you a Pulitzer, but first he’ll make you tell this story.” “If I could see you, Danny, I’d slap your face for assuming I can be bought! Max doesn’t hold that kind of power over me. Why does every man

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in my presence deserve a slap tonight?” The scrawny little man Super-Max had allowed into the back rooms of the suite leaned from a doorway and glared at her. She must have appeared to be arguing with herself. She felt Danny’s fingers clamp unto her arm, and he hauled her outside, onto the balcony and out of the man’s sight. “Super-Max will use your care for him against you, Faith. Can’t you see that? All the history you have together…he’ll play on that until he’s won your heart already soft for him. He’ll make you pay a terrible price.” “A little jealous, Danny?” Oh, what she wouldn’t give to look into his ghostly gray eyes now and see if her question haunted him. “Hell, yes!” he growled. “I won’t let you walk into the arms of a darker demon than me.” “Am I the turf in a territory war between two gangsters? My heart’s less soft for Max than you think. I don’t love who he is now. Didn’t you hear me turn him down? I’m only here to say good-bye to him, not to check out the deal on the table.” “Don’t forget the price Sheska and her children had paid because she’d cared for Calderon.” Faith lost her breath, recalling the incident report. The silent pause between them stung with a punishing electricity. “If you stay a moment longer in his realm of influence, Super-Max will force you to comply, Faith,” Danny stated simply, but with the gravity of prophecy. “And then you will know the truth of him. Nothing will stop a demon from seeking to take what it believes belongs to it. And Super-Max believes you belong to him.” “Max is not a demon, just a greedy mortal. And he’s not the man I want, but he won’t harm me. Leave me, Danny.” “I’ll always give you what you ask for, Faith. I’d walk out of here right now and leave you to Super-Max’s manipulations. But I’ve been charged by an archangel to guard your safety through this case, and you better believe the forces of hell can’t stop me from putting your ass on that shuttle for the guaranteed-alone thinking time you want. You can work up a hateful goodbye for me, then.”

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She felt a sudden coldness and realization she was alone. He wasn’t standing before her, his fiery body no longer warming her air. Casting her sight over the darkening night, she noticed the diamonds of the Milky Way beginning to sparkle the sky. A strong Sylantan moon rose in the east, and the beach song of crashing waves seemed to grow louder but not lovely. The salty sea air filled her lungs. None of the coastal beauty touched her, except in a vision of Danny and her splashing in the moonlit waves. She dragged herself into the suite and sacked onto the white-leather couch. She put her face in her hands and wept for a few minutes just to get out the frustration. Then she thought Danny might be right. That she should leave this place before Max returned. When she sat up, she felt a cloth mashed to her face. Alarmed, she struggled with the hand that held it, seeing the penthouse spin in her sight, feeling arms grapple her for control. She tried not to breathe in what sour chemical soaked the cloth, but it soon took her strength, and she lost. Her last vision was of the scrawny man’s face over her, sallow up close and sickly looking, burning itself into her mind’s eye. The harsh chemical stung her throat before darkness took over and swallowed her. **** Rousing, Faith heard voices from far away becoming louder, clearer, nearer. Foggy-headed and feeling floaty, she detected the presence of people close by, as though their auras collided with hers in a disruptive way. “Freak wanted a man’s body this time.” It was a male voice she didn’t know, tenor with a strong and unfamiliar dialect, cracking, anxious, submissive, resentful. The pungent smell of antiseptic wafted by her nose. Did he mention Freak? Had she heard that right? A wave of nausea hit her. She tried to open her eyes and realized with the chill of fright she was blindfolded. Light seeped from the edges of the cloth tied over her eyes, so

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bright it hurt. She couldn’t move her arms. She found herself sitting in an inclined position, but her arms were immobilized, and she didn’t dare move any other part of her, for fear of alerting her captors to her conscious state. She’d been way off if she’d thought a Pulitzer was worth awakening in a room as a bound and blinded captive. Who knew what was to come? “He’s going to be angry with you when he learns you didn’t honor his wish.” “Freak doesn’t call the shots this time,” a deep voice grumbled. It was Max’s voice. His presence in the room shocked her mind. “Freak will awaken in Faith’s body, and he’ll be easier to control trapped in a female shell.” What? She only imagined hearing that, didn’t she? The new voice blathered, “Freak wanted a man’s weapon to pay Isabella back for leaving him.” “Screw what Freak wants,” Max deadpanned. “I only vowed to return him to a mortal shell. I’d made no pledge to the gender or condition of that shell. Right now I need him rewriting Faith’s every do-gooder instinct and forcing her to expose the I-Marshals. A demon in her mind whispering to her night and day. Until what I need done gets done.” Her flesh crawled. Every part of her. What did Max plan to do with her? “Freak will be angry when he returns.” “Don’t forget who you serve now, Benny,” Max gave a tart reply. “Do what you need to do here, and I’ll release you from your service to me, send you off with a small fortune you can put into a syringe and end your wretched life…or bury yourself in whores, for all I care. You know Freak will never release you from your servitude to him, so it behooves you to follow my plan. Or I’ll just blast you with a ray gun and have your body dumped in the elevator shaft. Your kind is everywhere for the Fallen to feed upon, so think about your options…and how you have none.” “Release me…” Benny coughed. “I recall the first time Freak had promised he’d release me. And every time after that.” Max chuckled, a cruelty Faith had never before heard in his tone. “A demon lied to you, and you’re surprised…”

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“Not anymore.” “That’s always the funniest part when the mortals expect fairness and honesty in their dealings with the Fallen.” She felt several stinging slaps at the inside of her elbow, and she yelped from the surprise, revealing her awakened state. Max hissed low, “You said she’d stay asleep.” “Sometimes redheads need more knockout than others.” Benny snickered. “She must be a real redhead.” “I could’ve told you she was.” “I should’ve checked the carpeting.” “That would’ve got you killed.” The other man snorted a wordless sarcasm. “Faith, can you hear me?” Max asked, his voice close to her now. The light was muted below the cloth blindfold. He was over her. There was no escaping this. Now she’d pay for caring about Super-Max, just like Danny said she would “Max,” she called out to the man she’d trusted most in her life. “Why do you have me bound like this?” She felt a hot hand on her forehead, smoothing her hair and caressing her face. She heard Max’s voice say close up. “Faith, don’t be frightened. I’m putting a plan into action that will give us everything we need. In a few short days, you’re going to write the story that will bring down the crooked I-Marshals, and you’ll have your Pulitzer on our fireplace mantel in a year.” Oxygen fled her. Breathe long. She took a strained breath to gain control over the fear circling her mind like vultures stalking a dying man. “I told you I won’t expose the I-Marshals and get them off your backs, Max. You’d better think about how badly this could turn. Nothing you can do to me would make me change my mind. Especially restraining me.” Max unknotted and pulled the blindfold from her eyes, his expression aloof, but she could see a nerve twitch in his jaw. His dark vision was invasive, looking her over, then his features softened. “No, Faith, there isn’t anything I could do to you that wouldn’t scar you for life, considering how close we once were. I don’t want to hurt you, or

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give you a memory of me causing you any harm that might haunt you. I love you, Faith, and always have. I want us to get away from the Alliance worlds, to do the things we talked about, raising a family and living life away from all the things that would separate us.” She knew better than to buy his preposterous lie. The position he had her in said it all. He wanted control of her. “Sure, Max, we can raise our own little gang.” Faith’s vision roamed the room, discovering she sat inclined on a hospital gurney set up in the hotel suite. Her arms were strapped to her sides with thick, clear tape, red IV blood bags hung on posts to her right, awaiting. Oh, gawd… What did Max plan to do with me? It struck her profoundly how so many monsters look like humans. His big hand smoothed her copper tresses from her eyes. It was almost an adoring gesture. He listened to a psychotic ego, if he thought this act of her capture could be forgiven in any way, for any reward. “I can’t make you write this story, and I won’t hurt you. But Freak will do both. Once he’s permeated your brain, he’ll force you to write this story. But you’ll make peace with it, honey. You’ll go on an Alliance-wide media tour, staking your reputation on your first-person account, and you’ll trigger investigations from every possible body of authority. You won’t have to tell a single lie. You’ll expose Heretic for the I-Marshal executioner he is, and cause the disintegration of the Alliance Brotherhood. That should wreck any alliance with angels.” She faked a confident laugh. “It’s absurd for you to consider I’d forgive you for making me do that.” “You won’t at first, Faith. But the success will affect you, and you’ll fall under its spell. It catches us all. After you’ve done your job, I’ll get Freak the body he wants, and he’ll willingly give you up. Then I’ll take you on an exquisite ride to the Pulitzer Prize Awards dinner. I’ll dress you in the most beautiful gown in the worlds, and you’ll shine like the most elegant ruby. You’ll look into my eyes and tell me how much you love me, and that I’m the man you want. How you’ll follow me anywhere.

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Max grasped the gurney supporting her with a frightening force, enclosing her. He leaned closer, his black eyes cutting into her, danger all about him. “And if you don’t give me your undying allegiance, I’ll have you given shock treatments until the last year of your life is erased from your head. That would obliterate the memory of your wonderful night, so I’d like to save that option as a last resort.” What a horror. He didn’t even sound like the Max she knew. But she hadn’t seen him in years before this night. Who knew what devil had infested his mind. Danny was right. Max was no longer human. It was the only thing that would explain his mistreatment of her. “Then maybe I’ll put a little of myself in you, Faith. Then we’ll really be together…and inseparable. No more lies between us. That’s your big demand fulfilled, isn’t it? Mortals live longer when they carry an immortal spirit with them.” The suggestion stung her mind. It was something only a demon would say. She guessed sharing blood with him would make her his familiar, stealing her will. Wouldn’t that last until the day she died, a date extended if Max had his way? Who wished to live a long time with a demon inside them? “How ironic, Max. Before a demon stole your soul, you didn’t want me enough to turn your back on your gang. Now there’s a demon calling your shots, and all you talk about is how you suddenly want me, how you’ll walk away from it all. Unlimited power, unending riches. I think you just wish to destroy the enemy, and using me to do it slaps Heretic’s face.” Max moved away, paced the length of the room, then returned to her confined to the bed. His eyes searched hers. “I know you hate a liar, Faith. Don’t you want to pay Heretic back for his deceit? What harsher punishment can be devised for him, if you make his bad decisions the catalyst to diminish the Alliance’s power? After all, the Alliance is a liar for keeping the reality of the multiverse from the public. Make the truth come out, Faith. Don’t you want to be the voice that does that?” It was a woeful thing to hear a demon count on the truth to get his way.

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No, she didn’t wish to be the messenger of revelation for the mortal worlds. She didn’t want to open innocent eyes to a new, or old, reality of demons feasting upon souls, running pursuits of agony to see the mortals suffer. She’d not betray angels in quiet disobedience of the Maker, building a secret force of the Nephilim to strike down the corrupted. All she wanted was a three-week shuttle trip back home and time to rethink her life. And she wanted distance from this monster who now denied her her freedom and will. If Danny showed up right now to rescue her, well, she’d be pretty grateful for that. “You must figure I make a good human shield. I’ll bet you believe it’s a guarantee, that if you put Freak into my body, Heretic won’t destroy him. But you’re wrong, Max. Heretic will do his job and kill me. I hope he eliminates me if he finds me compromised. I don’t wish to live the long life of a demon’s slave.” Max’s stare grew colder. “Then it’s a good thing I’ll make the decisions for us.” When she gave him no more comment, he pressed a kiss to her mouth, as if to punctuate his having the final word, and she watched him leave the room. She wanted to spit his kiss away. What was a woman to say when a man offered her the riches of the worlds, and all she was asked to accept was massive galactic evil, her soul enslaved, her freedom wiped away, her body stolen? It was the worst deal she’d ever heard. The little man with odd patches of hair placed an empty bag beside her immobilized left arm. “What are you going to do to me?” “Nothing to worry over,” he hissed, then exposed ghastly rotten teeth. “You’re going to give me some of your blood. And I’m going to give you some of Freak’s blood.” She shivered. Nothing to worry over? He would put a parasite in her body, and it should be of no concern whatsoever. She watched him uncap the needle that fed the empty bag.

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“If you stick that needle in me, I’ll sic a mean-ass I-Marshal on you.” The creepy little man halted and snarled at her. “Do that, would you? My spirit could use the release. Call upon your cop-friends, lady. And you better call them fast.” He pushed the needle into her immobile arm, and Faith let out a shriek in defiance. Her bright-red blood slid through the tube. She spun her head to her other arm and saw the blood in the bag awaiting her looked dark and corrupt. An open suitcase on the counter revealed seven more packs of what must have been Freak’s dark blood. Demon blood. What if Danny respected her wishes and gave up on her? She prayed he gave reign to the monster in him on that issue. Max sashayed back into the room, her purse in his grip and a big hand rummaging through it, tossing her belongings onto the floor. He found her wallet and went through it, pocketing her money. “You don’t need money,” he told her in a soothing voice more appropriate for comforting a child after a nightmare. “You’re under my care now.” Faith’s stomach sank. As she looked around, she realized this suite had a different decorating scheme than Max’s suite. She’d been taken somewhere else. How would Danny find her? Max came across the revolver. “What are you doing with this cheap garbage? You were never the kind to carry a weapon before, and you don’t know a damned thing about them. This one’s made of steelkret, not metal. Cheap polymer composite. You won’t get more than a half dozen accurate shots before you’ll need to throw it away. This junk isn’t good for anything more than candy store robberies.” She stayed quiet. What words would benefit her here? Had Danny loaded the gun? She hadn’t checked. Max pocketed the pistol he didn’t like in his suit jacket. “I promise you won’t need it. I’ll send you off with a personal bodyguard from here on. And one armed with better than some ancient pea-shooter.” Now she would travel with her own jailer. Life as Super-Max’s bride would be somewhat similar to life in a super-maximum-security prison.

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He retrieved her palm computer and discarded the purse, and then he sat on the couch against the half-wall separating them from the main room of the suite. He propped his expensive shoes onto the table before him, studying the device. “Don’t hurt her,” he warned Benny, but didn’t bother to look up and see what the strange little man did to her. “She’s coming home with me, and I don’t like bruises on my merchandise. Not unless I put them there myself.” She envisioned the frying pan she’d give him in his sleep if he put a violent hand on her. “Let me go, Max. Nothing you’ve done until now is irreversible, except the way you’ve broken my heart.” He began to type a text message on her comp. “Even that’s reversible, Faith. If you have the money. If I can have the memory of a year of your life erased, I can have this small heartbreak lifted from your mind. Just so happens, I’m about to make more easy money tonight from one short speech than any amount of words ever netted a man.” Small heartbreak. “What are you doing, Max?” He stood and stomped her palm computer until it was in pieces, making it impossible for Danny to track her through the device. “I just told Heretic good-bye for you, Faith, so you don’t need to go to the work of it. And now…I’m going to sell sin to the devil.”

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Chapter 26 Danny teleported into the meeting room, and a couple dozen hoods in business suits he knew sat and stood around the conference table, gathered in groups of three and four engaged in private conversation. The helmet showed him every metal weapon in the room. Their shifty eyes swept the space and missed detecting him. He kept his distance, knowing it was not a good idea to get very close physically to the demons if one were invisible. Demons smelled the life in mortals’ veins, and they sensed new blood when it was near. Thankfully, the room held enough men to confuse that sense in them. Most knew Heretic and Snow, so their smells were not new to them and likely wouldn’t stand out or be identified in a crowd. The suits blocked much of their scents. Damn, Danny hated demons. He wanted to slay every one of the bastards. Faith’s voice demanding he leave her still echoing through his mind, he combed through the crowd and didn’t see Max Armaros. But he did locate Kasey seated at the far end of the twenty-four-seat conference table. The helmet enabled Danny to see Sean standing behind Kasey, casually leaning against the glass panels away from others and observing the gathering crowd. The healer waved in acknowledgement of the demon slayer’s arrival. The tech in the helmet revealed Kasey’s supersoldier suit beneath his business suit. He couldn’t turn invisible without the helmet, but the suit could protect him from several forms of attack. The big room was moderately lit, and the glass-panel wall revealed the new evening and city lights outside. The local badges should have closed that street below by now. The building directly outside the hotel was dark. Good. Not many to witness what was about to happen in the tenth-floor

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conference room. Danny hated to scar the mortals for life. Mixed into the gangland distributors were the Pharm’s highest-ranking science staffers, who must have held direct knowledge of the Blindfold formula and its true purpose to have been seated on the Pharm’s board of commissioners. All the right people in one place. The gangbusters probably would not be handed a better opportunity to gain control of Blindfold any time soon. How many demons were in the room? There was only guessing until they revealed themselves. That would take the throwing of a few fists. Bad luck for them, I-Marshals loved to fight, and Danny was pissed off at the moment. An undertone of anxiety, uncertainty crisped the air, like anything could happen. Word must have hit every ear that Calderon, Gamble, Detonator, Freak within Jasmine, and Dr. Manheim were now dead. Two days before that, Tension, Territory, and Diego had been iced. Months before that, Freak’s gang had been plugged. The men in this room didn’t get to the top of their gang ladders by being idiots. They knew they had an enemy focused on them. Someone was cutting their crime wave. It might be another gang planning to take the Pharm, just like they had. Or it was I-Marshals in wolves’ clothing. The cops weren’t even close to being harmless sheep. Ironic. If not for the intercession of angels, the I-Marshals, Nephilim themselves and capable of much bad, might well be seated at this table with no good intention. That Faith now stood in the middle of it irked Danny to no end, and Super-Max was the last man in the galaxy the I-Marshal wanted having power over her. “Where’s Super-Max?” The healer shook his head. “I haven’t seen him.” Sean’s voice came from the audio in Danny’s helmet. “He just left Faith alone in his suite. He should’ve arrived before me. I broke his private elevator and blocked the stairwell so he’s trapped down here and unable to reach Faith.” Sean shook his head again. “He hasn’t shown.”

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Surveying the room for its battle advantage considering their collective talents, Danny watched Iella, another of Calderon’s lieutenants and probably now Super-Max’s, take the head of the table, drawing everyone’s attention. The quickest of them took the open seats, leaving others to stand. No need for introductions. Most were drinking buddies when organizations met to exchange black-market stock and strategies. Those who hadn’t drank and whored together might have done time together. All the big crime in the Alliance—technology, slavery, drugs, weapons—was networked for trade. The social diseases in the room knew one another. Drawing a remote control from his jacket pocket, Iella pointed it at the room’s giant computer screen on the wall, clicked, and produced a flow chart of names doubled up, sharing positions on the board. “As you’ve heard in rumors, the Pharm has lost more key members. This is the new hierarchy for Blindfold.” Danny ran through the chart and did not see Heretic’s or Snow’s names on the board. The healer read Danny’s mind. “That’s a sure sign our covers are blown.” “Key’s name’s moved up in rank,” Danny pointed out, “only three levels of membership above him. We could take those levels down until Key’s level is the top level.” Kasey leaned back in his chair, his hands knitted and providing a headrest, smiling his wordless approval of that goal. Danny knew what that look on Kasey’s face meant. The young telekinetic I-Marshal had the biggest balls in the room, and he was about show them off. Metaphorically speaking. “This is your gig, Danny,” Sean’s voice said into his ear. What’s the plan, maestro?” “Kill ’em all, let the Maker sort them out. Do I ever have a different plan? No, because it’s always a good one. With Kasey sitting atop Blindfold, the I-Marshals can collect every damned soul who comes looking for the poison until the jails are stuffed and new cages are built over lakes of fire.”

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“I like the plan,” Sean commented, odd for a healer who liked keeping people alive, but these weren’t people. They were monsters, even the mortals, responsible for worlds of despair. Kasey smiled wider at the plan that would put him in the big seat at the Pharm. Faith’s pretty face floated through Danny’s head. He recalled standing before her on that balcony and wanting to kiss her until she screamed for security. He didn’t want the deaths of these worthless mortals between them. He still cared what she thought of him. Super-Max sent guns to erase his enemies just because they stood in his way. Danny decided to show Faith one of the many differences between Super-Max and him. “Wait…time for a different plan. We’re going to spare the mortals. They don’t deserve it, but we’re going to keep them alive.” Kasey looked up to Danny from his seat, guessing the demon slayer stood near the healer. Kasey’s silent lips said, “A gift to Faith?” Apparently, Danny was now open and readable, noticed by those who knew him, a sure sign Faith had influenced his evolution. “Yeah,” Danny replied, though he didn’t think it would do any good to heal the rift between Faith and him. He thought it a good message for him to demonstrate his control outside the sheets, show her that Danny, the good guy with the badge, aimed Heretic’s gun, and not the other way around. He shouldn’t ever let her be confused again. Kasey spun his chair around to them, putting his back to the other attendees as if to gaze out the windows. He waved a dismissive hand and mouthed, “There you go, letting some woman cut your nads off. I-Marshal Tierney is whipped now. And I think you know what kind of whipped I’m talkin’ about. Next thing you know you’ll be wearing a skirt.” Danny drilled his eyes into the young cop and imagined him exploding. Even before he’d proven his loyalty, Danny had really liked the kid. Kasey was a lot like him ten years ago when he was fresh from the Academy. Kasey was a good cop who knew how to use his resources, his good looks and strategic sarcasm being two of them. “I don’t think it means I’m whipped. And if I wanted to wear a skirt, I’ve got the legs for it.”

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“I don’t think he’s whipped,” Sean’s voice opined from the speaker into Kasey’s and Danny’s ears, defending his friend. “A good woman just makes a man consider different things. Like how to keep her warming his bed. And it usually has to do with that man becoming a better man.” “Thank you for the sermon, padre.” “Someone’s gotta keep you monster-bloods in line and evolving.” The healer turned back to the list on the video screen. “Disturbing… Freak’s name is on the top of the list. They plan to bring Freak back from destruction. He’d told me he’d prepared for his continuity.” “Not on my time,” Danny grunted. “Super-Max’s name is listed below Freak’s. I can’t see the high-powered gangster bowing to Freak’s authority over the Pharm. Super-Max is a legitimate, card-carrying executive in the criminal world, protected by layers of soldiers at his bidding, all lawyered up and ready for any contingency. Freak is still little more than a small-time street manager. Except for this resurrection trick he possesses.” “Who holds Freak’s secret?” Sean speculated aloud. “It wasn’t Gamble. It must be Super-Max.” Danny’s palm computer vibrated against his heart beneath the supersoldier jacket. It was a bad time for a message. He ignored it. His ear in his palm comp, Iella clicked his remote control, and the chart disappeared. If Danny tapped the helmet’s super-hearing to listen to the call, the other voices in the conference room would deafen him. Lip-reading gave him little information from Iella’s side of the conversation, filled with little more than yes sirs and no sirs, no doubt by design. “Production is uninterrupted,” the coal-eyed lieutenant announced to the room, attention fixed on him. “All shipping moves as planned. Which only shows you, anyone can be replaced.” The intimidation tool stiffened the room, like Super-Max wanted it to do. “Where’s Freak?” a voice in the audience asked. Iella immediately replied, “He’s being prepared for resurrection.” Danny cursed below his breath. The gangbusters needed to discover how Freak pulled off this hell-spawned magic act, crossing back from

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destruction. Clearly many in this room knew Freak had a secret resurrection process…and they were hungry, waiting for it. Danny wondered how long Super-Max had known Heretic and Snow were cops. “Where’s Super-Max?” someone else asked, and Danny damn well wanted to know. “Where’s the deal he came up with for us?” a third voice insisted, the audience looking a bit on the nervous side. Casting a glare toward the questions, Iella lifted his remote again and clicked, producing a video-stream of Max Armaros with a plain white wall behind him, no details to identify his location. Where could the gangster be right now? He was in that building somewhere. “Gentlemen,” Super-Max addressed the meeting. No more grossly inaccurate term had ever been used to describe a group of creatures. “I’ve been given control of the resurrection procedure. And I’ll be orchestrating it entirely. I have life after destruction for you. If you want that, and of course you do, then you need to follow my instructions exactly.” Where was the bastard? Danny was determined to throw the shot caller through that plate-glass wall. Clever son of a bitch, he’d arranged to attend the meeting without attending the room. Super-Max knew the nicest, most secure suite in Sylanta Towers wasn’t on the too-obvious top floor of the beachside skyscraper. It was secretly located on the twenty-fifth floor built with reinforced concrete and armor to protect visiting dignitaries from terrorist bombs. The plate glass protecting that floor could deflect a portable missile, withstand a stealth hovercraft assault. None of those precautions could stop the Alliance teleport and three IMarshals bent on seeing those responsible for Blindfold suck up the darkness they feared. Had the gangster suspected the cops would come for him? Suddenly, Super-Max was paranoid when he’d never been before. Was it a specific fear of Heretic? It should be. But that precluded the idea that Super-Max had known before yesterday the I-Marshals would come after him. How long had he known? Super-Max told the room, “I have a plan put into action right now that

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will finish off the I-Marshals and the Alliance Brotherhood, consigning them to brief and soon-forgotten history. When the I-Marshals are indicted and disbanded, and the governments are blindfolded, the worlds will be feasts for entrepreneurs like us. That moment is in sight.” Danny growled, and the helmet picked up Sean cursing just above his breath. Even the resident cocky smile was wiped from Kasey’s face. Entrepreneurs. Cute. What a warm and fuzzy term for hell-driven masters of wickedness. The room rumbled, many interested in the fantasy of ridding the multiverse of the demon hunters who stood against them. Kasey rose to his feet, threat all over him and wearing his best angry face, addressed Iella, “That’s fine for you scumbag demons. What’s in it for the mortals here?” One of them rose to challenge Key. Danny’s rival at being the quickest shooter in the room as a telekinetic, Key drew on the gangster, putting the muzzle of his C-breaker in the demon’s human-looking face. The speed at which he’d performed the maneuver kept all from noticing the laser gun had leapt into his hand before his hand had fully reached the weapon. “You got a problem with how I call your kind?” Key boomed, his eye fixed on the gangster. “I can keep pulling this trigger until your head is gone, and we’ll see if you regenerate from that. Then you’ll need Freak’s secret, won’t you?” The demon at the unlucky end of Key’s beam didn’t say a word, but decided to take his seat again. Count on Kasey to look like the biggest psycho in a room full of psychos. It warned the others to behave, pressed Super-Max into sharing details, and threw off any consideration that he might not be who he claimed. “Take a seat, Key,” Super-Max suggested. The sparkle in Kasey’s vivid eyes was gone, and he gave them all the business with his stare. His laser gun didn’t waver from the gangster’s forehead until his demon-ass was back in his seat. “Not so easy to put me down. Let me see the plan. I’m not signing up for anything without seeing

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the whole plan.” Super-Max showed no sign of frustration. And why should he? He ran the show. “Relax, Key. There’s endless money for you to make. Put your gun down and trust me.” “Trust a demon? You’re a fuckin’ laugh riot. I’ll swallow glowing coals from the bottomless pit before I trust any of you.” Key lowered his weapon but still kept it ready in his hand. “Did you drain Calderon, Super-Max? How much did he trust you?” Excellent. Kasey just sowed doubt of Super-Max’s leadership in every head there. The young I-Marshal deserved a pay raise for this performance. He’d had fine examples from whom to learn. The kid held the room. Mutters and whispers circled the table, and everyone was visibly disheveled. It would have been really nice if the demons would plug one another, but they’d sworn a vow against that sort of thing at the beginning of mortal time. They seldom broke that vow, and never without big reward. If they destroyed one another, they would be alone, and isolation drove a demon to madness. Super-Max broke out into a demeaning sneer. “What does it matter who took Calderon out of the picture? The results are the same. I’m controlling the Pharm, and the resurrection secret is mine. I-Marshals executed Calderon, and they’re on our asses. Heretic and Snow should be killed on sight. That’s a job for every one of you. Blindfold’s in danger while they live.” Another round of whispers swept the room as Danny and Sean watched their covers fall into pieces. They’d be killed the next time they showed their faces to members of the market, if the gangbusters allowed anyone escape from this room. “Doesn’t matter who destroyed Calderon. I’ve got the plan, and that’s the bottom line. So, sit down, Key, and I’ll tell you how you’re going to be richer and more powerful than you’d ever imagined.” Key reluctantly took a seat, his eye drilling into the video screen. Addressing the group, Super-Max explained, “The demons will temporarily pass their Blindfold seats to the Nephilim. When the I-Marshals

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are exposed, and that shouldn’t be longer than a few weeks from now, an emergency meeting of the Brotherhood will be called. We’ll crash that.” Kasey was on his feet again and fishing for answers. “Expose the I-Marshals? Now you’re talkin’. Prison-planets are filled with criminal geniuses who thought to discredit the baddest gang in the Alliance. So let’s show those dumb-asses up. How the hell do you plan to expose the I-Marshals and live through the day? And how can I make money off your death?” A round of chuckles swept the room. It was just enough taunting to force Blindfold’s shot caller to deal with him. Super-Max kept a straight face when he was probably entertained by Kasey’s joust. “You’re a loose cannon, Key. And I like that about you. You’re no one’s fool. If you must know, I’ve a close friend at a major news outlet who will write a roasting account of Calderon’s assassination. It will put the I-Marshals and the Brotherhood in the spotlight and under the microscope.” If Super-Max meant Faith, Danny would cut the gangster’s wings from his scaly back. Should he do it right before her eyes so that she understood what her old friend was now? Yes, he needed to force Super-Max’s transformation before Faith’s full attention. The I-Marshal sought and found the camera surrounded by plants that gave the gangster his view of the room. The criminal king of Reigna went on. “When the Brotherhood is broken, the alter-lifes will hunt down all the I-Marshals and get them out of the way. The last thing we need is the cops reforming without the Brotherhood’s rules and gunning for us, so we’re going to give them the full hit, kill every one of them.” Grins sprang up on a quarter of the faces, the imagined thrill of putting down an I-Marshal lurking through their demented brains. The other threequarters wore profound frowns to hear the I-Marshals stared them down. It would soon be time to deal with all of them. “When all the I-Marshals sleep in wormy graves, the demons will return to their territories and pick up where they left off. Each Nephilim will make

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the initial blast of money from Blindfold introduction while keeping the demons’ territories stocked and turning profits. Those of you who wish to insure your resurrection can bring me your Blindfold money. And I’ll share the secret. What do you think of that plan?” “What do you think of this plan, Kasey?” Danny came up from behind the telekinetic and said, “I’ll freeze, you pitch, Sean swings.” Instantly enthusiastic to fulfill his purpose, Kasey leaped to his feet again and shouted, “Hell, yeah!” Danny threw his hands out beyond Kasey and froze the room’s attendees with a time-cast. Everyone but the I-Marshals was stilled in his seat, stuck in a second of his own time when the world went on around him at its regular pace. Danny strode to the video cam and twisted it into the greenery in which it was hidden, denying Super-Max an eye in the room. It would have looked to the gangster as though the video malfunctioned. Wielding his talent directed by a thought, Kasey caused the locks on the double doors to slide into place, preventing interruption. Danny’s helmet alerted him a second time to the presence of an awaiting message. The room under I-Marshal control, he told the helmet to show him the message. Text flashed onto the visor in red letters. Faith Vedder, The Capital City Eyeball: Good-bye, Heretic. Danny shook his head in disbelief. He possessed Faith’s comm number because he knew everything about her, but she didn’t have his number. She’d never presented a reason for him to give her his number, and she’d never before called. Not only that, Faith wouldn’t have called him Heretic. This message was a final punch in the jaw to Heretic from Super-Max. The kingpin thought he’d torture the gangland hit man. Danny was going to destroy that bastard demon. Tossing his dazer to Sean, Danny strode to the conference table, grabbed the closest of Super-Max’s men, and dragged him from the timecast stasis, bringing him back into mortal time. Stripped of weapons before he realized what happened, the man’s eyes were big with surprise.

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Danny demanded, “Where’s Super-Max?” The mortal shook his head in double time, unable to see his assailant. Danny hauled back and punched him in the face, sending him in a heap to the floor. When the man’s swelling eyes didn’t gain the red ring of an angered demon, Danny teleported him into Super-Max’s crippled elevator for safekeeping and returned. Next, Danny pulled Iella from the time-cast, and demanded, “Where’s Super-Max hiding?” The gangster laughed, his eyes sweeping the area before him and seeing only Kasey free to move. “Is that you, Heretic? I don’t know where SuperMax is held up, but he’s probably doing sickening things to your woman. She’s probably loving it, leaving thoughts of you far behind.” Danny coolly replied, “Faith doesn’t screw demons.” Iella snorted. “She banged you, didn’t she? Well, I haven’t met many women who admit to it, but I’ve seen plenty of it. So have you, Heretic. Am I supposed to call you Marshal now?” “Yeah, you’re supposed to call me Marshal. That’s who I am.” Then Danny belted the gangster, slamming him into a glass panel, cracking the plate into a spiderweb network of shards held in place by its plastic core at his back, and sending him to the carpeted floor like a sack of rocks. Iella’s head snapped up, his red-ringed eyes seeking out Kasey, the only visible I-Marshal. The demon began to growl and his canines grew longer. His flesh, already a sun-toasted brown, grew redder. He hissed like a rattler. “You’re a dead man, Key.” Kasey pointed at him from across the room and shouted in a sure reply, “You’re vanquished, scumbag demon!” Iella pulled a laser gun and shot, aimed at Kasey. Danny froze the beam in a time-cast, shutting off the light. Infuriated at his failure, the gangster began to shape-shift, growing into its natural form, and the demons were always much harder to handle in that state. Assisted by the super-soldier suit, Danny snatched the transforming demon by its ripping clothes and lobbed it across the room. Kasey caught it midair in his telekinetic grip. Then the golden-haired I-Marshal pitched it

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crashing into the glass and through it, letting the demon bob over the street ten stories below for the split second necessary for Sean to aim the dazer and shoot. The healer launched the light whip at the demon, striking the beast with a prolonged blast and turning it into a statue. The glow lit the night like a lightning strike. Gasps and screams rose from the street below. Then the telekinetic released the solidified beast, sending it falling and crashing into the blocked-off street below. Alarms shrieked at the breach of the glass-paneled walls, and an electronic voice warned the occupants of the room to step away from the compromised glass. Emergency lights flashing red through the hotel was bound to cause a panicked flood of evacuation. Super-Max’s security hoods began to bang on the heavy security door from outside. Annoyed at the repeated recorded warnings and unable to block the noise without his helmet, Kasey placed a laser shot into the computer speaker, burning it up and cutting the racket. Pitch and swing. Danny stripped each board member of weapons and interrogated him to learn Super-Max’s location. The mortals he teleported to the broken elevator for later arrest by the I-Marshals. The demons got pitched through the windows, dazed, and sent to bomb the empty street below. The I-Marshals had to do that twenty more times before Danny could leave the room, return to the suite for Faith, and remove her from this place. All the destruction would’ve been great fun if Danny hadn’t spent each second picturing Super-Max’s claws on her. Danny vowed again he’d destroy that damned demon, take out every drop of his anger on the beast, and love every second of it, if he could no longer have Faith. Why not be cruel to the wicked? It was time for Super-Max’s destruction.

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Chapter 27 Danny teleported into Super-Max’s suite and saw no one there. A siren blared from the hallway. He should have forbidden Faith to leave this hotel suite without him. With no access to a teleport, it wasn’t possible for SuperMax to have moved her before Danny had jammed the elevator. He’d gone from her side and immediately done the deed, thinking he’d cut her off from the gangster’s reach. First thing, Danny pulled his C-breaker, walked into the hallway, and shot Super-Max’s new bodyguard—damned demon, slow draw—then he shot the shrieking speaker mounted in the ceiling. Next, he paced through the suite, every room. No Faith. Had Super-Max offered so many rich lies, she’d chosen to leave with the gangster? Anyone could be blinded by ambition and reward. Danny regretted having not given her a full speech about what she would and would not do while interacting with any target of this case. Like going anywhere with the criminal kingpin of Reigna. Did she think Danny was attempting to control her? No. He was attempting to control the case. He hoped she saw that when he let her walk out the door. Where was she now? Quickly jotting a badged text message to the shuttle port computers for a search of her name on boarding manifests, he decided to spend the minutes awaiting an answer with the bottle of brandy he spotted on the wood-carved bar of the suite. How much of that bottle could he drink before the report came back? He took a big swig. Her voice singing the lullaby on the roadside at the wreck came back to him. Faith had a beautiful singing voice. He took an even bigger swig.

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The report from the shuttle port computers came back in a minute and a half. The response displayed in red letters across his visor. No such name listed in current or upcoming manifests. As it turned out, Danny could guzzle a quarter of a bottle of brandy in ninety seconds. He was in the mood for pain, and that led to the realization that he’d fallen for Faith at first sight two months ago. Now he was fallen. She was either en route to the shuttle port or she was with Super-Max, wherever that was. Danny ordered the helmet to contact her palm comp, but she didn’t pick up. Then he ordered her palm comp tracked, but the Alliance teleport could get no GPS signal from her device. What to do next? He cursed the event of having had Gamble’s chip removed from her shoulder, but Danny couldn’t hold her captive like that. Even if she hated him now. Not yet defeated, he strode into the hall and cranked up the suit’s superhearing. Immediately he heard screams from the elevator shaft. He teleported into the elevator cabin to find the seven mortals he’d been saving for Alliance law enforcement, and he ordered the suit’s invisibility disengaged. The sudden appearance of a helmeted and suited anonymous assailant shocked them. He towered over the group in such close quarters. The sight of them wavering a little, Danny stuck a gloved finger in the nearest man’s face. The man’s eyes went cross-eyed at the gesture. “If I hear one more yelp outa you guys, my team’s going to throw you off this building like we did your demon buddies.” “They’ll come back,” one muttered from the back of the cabin like a dark prophecy. “They didn’t survive what we just put them through.” One of the men near him reached to draw something from his coat, but Danny was faster and that man found himself punched to the floor, cuffs on his wrists. The I-Marshal discovered a steelkret blade on him, fake metal, a weapon the metal-detect in his helmet couldn’t spot. He stared at it for a moment, feeling a little dizzy. Had the extended time and energy it had taken to sort the mortals from the demons been too much of an energy drain

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for him? Now was not the time to pass out. He flipped the blade into the air and caught it. “There’s always one smart-ass. Anyone else not thinking things through tonight?” Half of them shook their heads. The other half stared in shock. Danny put the blade in his utility belt and teleported back into the hallway of the twenty-fifth floor, facing four doors leading to suites, the east door being Super-Max’s and already searched. Danny listened, aided by the suit’s super-hearing. He heard nothing for a long time, and the floor began to shift in his sight. His balance took a strange dive, and he recognized he shouldn’t have guzzled the brandy. He’d just reacted emotionally instead of thinking things through. He had to remove Faith from this situation before his distraction cost a high price. Super-Max must die. Sean and Kasey appeared beside Danny and looked around to find him standing in an empty hall. He cranked the super-hearing down. Kasey clearly didn’t get it. “You’re staring at the carpet, Danny.” “Shut up. I’m listening for Faith’s voice.” He thought for sure he’d recognize her whispered voice, having relished her moan in his ear so recently. But Danny didn’t hear a whisper or a moan. Instead he heard a sharp, “If you put that needle in me, I’m going to put a boot up your ass!” Danny pointed to the west door. “She’s in there.” Sean put his boot into the door before Danny made it there. The steel door snapped from its hinges from the force of the power-assisted kick. **** Feeling ill for her future, Faith watched the sickly little man pull the long needle from her arm taped securely to the frame of the gurney beneath her, and then he shook the blood bag, stirring the preservatives in the package. Her blood was so bright compared to the dark, icky blood he planned to put in her. It sickened her more to know Max would do this to her.

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“What’s possession like?” she couldn’t keep herself from asking. Not bothering to put a bandage over the needle-stick, the ghoulish man halted his chores to reflect upon his answer. “It’s a vile and insidious enemy slithering through the door of free will a mortal opens through greed or cruelty, corruption, or addiction. It is an inescapable bog of rot spreading through a body, infesting the soul until there is more demon than mortal. And then…there is no more mortal, your soul overpowered, consumed, and absorbed. There is only demon, and you are gone. The demon is you. Just as how corruption had afflicted the fallen angels in their corporeal bodies. The physical form is so prone to temptation, sin, and indulgence.” That did not sound like something she could look forward to. “A good person wouldn’t give in.” “It’s the opposite, Miss Faith. The good soul dies first and most painfully, destroyed at witnessing new evil performed with its own hands. Guilt will weaken you, haunt you, eat away at your once-clean spirit like slow acid. The only way to survive it is to give into the demon’s demands. Death will not come for you until your master gives up its slave. That’s how it’s been since the beginning of time.” Death will not come for you had a distinctly different flavor than Max’s enticement, you will live a longer life. “No.” Faith shook her head. “I’m a fighter. I’m not going to give up my will to a vile creature bent on harming Isabella, the I-Marshals, and the free worlds. I’m no saint, but I’m no villain, either.” “You will be,” Benny promised with a smile, flashing his awful rotting grin. “Ain’t never gonna, not ever!” He erupted in an odious cackle to shatter her illusions. “You might find yourself doing atrocious things to Isabella when Freak seeks her out. You cannot say no to it. More of your body and mind will belong to him over time, no matter how strong your fight.” If Faith attempted to harm Isabella, Sean would destroy her, her misery put to an end. It was the one thing she could morbidly anticipate. But Freak would resurrect from her destruction, wouldn’t he?

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Her eyes went back to the seven bags of blood. How many times could Freak resurrect with that much blood? “Your conversion will be quite different from others since you’re receiving a blood-packing.” Her mouth went dry. “Say it’ll be easier than the average possession.” He snickered at her ignorance. “Physical infiltration will certainly be much quicker, but not easier.” She bit her lip to block the anxiety, but it didn’t work. “What makes you say that?” “I’ve experienced possession the old-fashioned way. I’d accepted a demon in my life, even chased and invited it. It was a slow process, no escape once I’d opened the floodgates to it. In time, I’d handed that demon in increments with each ride of the dragon everything I’d worked hard for, my family, my medical license, my sanity.” He dragged himself away from fond memories to say, “But it’ll be the opposite for you. Quite quick. I was the one who had transfused Freak’s blood into Jasmine. She’d screamed the entire time, thrashed about. I’d worried she might shatter her teeth with the force of her resistance. It looked agonizing for the body to suddenly find such pestilence within it. And we’d had the proper preparations in her conversion.” Dread shot through Faith’s body. The weird fellow belted out another chuckle. “Take comfort in knowing you probably won’t live very long with Freak in you. He hates women too much. Only prophecy angels know what he’ll do to you. He’ll be furious to find himself in your body, angry to learn you’d destroyed his minion sent to take Isabella. I suspect you’re the reason why Gamble is missing. Freak’s bound to rip you apart when he’s done with you. I don’t know why SuperMax thinks he can control Freak.” Clear tape holding her wrists to the gurney, she recoiled as much as she could in her bound state, now more fearful of both gangsters, but the ugly little man laughed at her. “Why would you tell me that?” “You did ask. And I don’t want to live in hell alone.”

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“I don’t want to live in hell with you.” “We never get what we want.” He set another empty blood bag by her arm. “How much are you taking?” “I’m going to pack your blood with Freak’s in the first bag, and I’m going to put it back in you. I need to take a second bag to mix with Freak’s blood for storage. The monster’s blood is getting old, and I need to give him a pool of fresh blood. Luckily for us, your body will serve as an incubator for Freak’s blood. Once he’s taken you completely, he can drain a bag from you to secure his existence whenever he wishes. As long as you live, Freak has continuous resurrection.” “Max wouldn’t let that happen.” Benny wheezed a lame cough. “Wake up, little reporter. You’re dealing with a master criminal. You didn’t buy the earlier romantic talk of happy endings, did you? Super-Max will siphon away your soul to keep control of Freak. That and the story on the I-Marshals you’ll publish are the only reasons you’re here. Don’t think it’s love. Demons don’t love.” Had Max truly given up his soul to a demon, or was he just a demented man? Benny uncapped another new needle, intending to take more of her blood. “Don’t try it, buddy!” She lifted her unbound boot and kicked him in the chest, sending him crashing into a corner of the room, sliding down the wall to the floor, and probably regretting he hadn’t restrained her legs. Max sauntered into the room, his hands casually pocketed, a mild annoyance on his face. He noticed Benny climbing up from the floor with a growl on his purplish lips. “I don’t have to work under these conditions!” Benny barked. Max’s fiendishly understated smile spread across his face. “Yes. You do. You have to do whatever I tell you, or I’ll make sure you never die. I’ll have Freak put into you.” Benny’s face crinkled into a sourpussed frown. He looked like he

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wished to kill Max, but probably knew he was no match for an ex-Marine more than a head taller than him and much bulkier than his own poisonravaged body. Faith seethed, “Max! You make this creepy little man leave me alone!” Max approached her, propped his hands against the backboard she lay upon, and loomed over her with a dominating, smug air about him relaying the shallowness of his concern. When Danny dominated her, it was sexy. When Max did it, it was frightening to look into what had once been a tender gaze, but now was an expression of impatience and evil. “Faith, it’s past time for you to cooperate. This will be over sooner when you do.” “Max.” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She had to worm her way out of this. “Tell your creepy friend to get lost so we can talk.” Max pointed to the door, and Benny made another ugly face, slammed an empty blood bag onto the table, and made a venomous exit. When the gangster turned back to her, she said, “Max, I’ll do what you want. Release me.” He swept her spilt hair from her eyes as though he cared for her. Surely, he did not mean to trade her to a demon. Did he…? “No, Faith. I know you better than that. Betrayal isn’t in you. You won’t willingly betray Heretic, if I let you go. You’ve never betrayed me in all these years, and you could have. You could have written about me, exposed and ruined me long ago. It would have made a good story.” She so wished she’d done just that. How many people would she have saved? “Heretic and I have known one another only days. I’ve known you most of my life. I’d never betrayed the man I’d cared for because I’d thought you were a good man somewhere in there.” And she’d been wrong about that. “Well, you were wrong about that. The man I used to be was always sorry he couldn’t be what you wanted, Faith. But that man’s long gone.” “I wanted you to stop contributing to the sorrow of the worlds, Max. I remember when you were a good man. Before the gangs touched you with greed.”

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His eyes returned to a cold stare. “I’ve been true to my nature. Your bad attitude doesn’t matter anymore. You’re going to take Freak’s blood, and it’s going to hurt like hell until you write the story, Faith. When you’ve submitted your Pulitzer-winning exposé to your editor, I’ll tell Freak to leave you alone.” “Then what, Max? What happens when you’re done with me? You’re not whisking me away to a sane and quiet place where the gangs don’t rule. If it were really in your heart, you would have done it before this. That’s just you telling another lie, and this isn’t about us. It’s only about bringing down the I-Marshals.” She sent her sight over the hotel bedroom. “No bodyguards or weapons to protect you. You don’t look very prepared to face Heretic.” “I’m never unarmed, Faith, and there are guards all over this building. He’d have to be invisible to get through them. But I don’t have to face him. He doesn’t know where we are. And we’ll be gone before he figures it out. It’s too late the moment Freak’s blood flows into your veins.” Leaning over her made his suit jacket hang open, and she could see a ray gun cradled in a shoulder holster. A small black box was clipped to his belt. Where was the bullet gun he’d taken from her? “This isn’t the place I would have chosen for the task of converting you. But you’ve forced my hand on the night I’m sending the horde to kill the IMarshals working undercover to wreck the Pharm. When I’d sent you the ad for the job, I had no idea you’d crawl in bed with one of the men I’d planned to assassinate. Then you surprised me again when you came here to tell me you’d dumped him. I wasn’t prepared here, at the hotel, to make the conversion easy for you, and we’ll have to work under crude conditions.” Faith’s stomach turned again. “You’d sent the ad through Freak. You’d led me into all this mess.” “I knew you were done with me and wouldn’t take another lead I fed you, so I had Freak send you the ad to get you to Sylanta and reporting on the I-Marshals’ secret investigation. Don’t forget how the media tour and acclaim of your peers will ease the pain of this small betrayal. Since truth is such a friend of yours, I’ll tell you I plan to nurse you through this, not

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because of any emotional connection to you, but to see to it you do everything you need to do to sink the Brotherhood and the I-Marshals. If Freak hasn’t harmed you too much, then I’ll let you go when I’m done with you. You just aren’t the type of woman I’d keep for long.” Slap in the face! Had Danny been wrong about anything? She didn’t want Max anymore, but to hear him admit he’d only made his earlier empty promises to see her under his control was a punch in the gut to their lifelong friendship. She should’ve known, but she’d allowed herself to be fooled by him. She’d so wanted to believe he was the good man of her distant past. Why wouldn’t he manipulate and convince her their long-dead love still beat in his heart? Her reports that had taken down his enemies must have been a big payoff for babbling on that he still cared for her. Now when she thought of Danny and both their crimes of dishonesty against their relationship, it all seemed pretty small when a demon would soon nest in her brain. Where was Danny? She’d asked for thinking time. She hadn’t said good-bye. She wished to look upon him a last time before a demon infected her mind. Benny returned to the room, his expression livid. “Freak’s blood will spoil without refrigeration. He’d been so obsessed with killing Snow and harming Isabella, he hadn’t bothered to freshen his supply by taking Jasmine’s blood. I must take a second bag from Faith and mix Freak’s blood with hers to keep Freak viable.” Max harshly gripped her jaw, forcing her focus. Terror swept through her at the cruel look in his eye. “You’re going to cooperate, Faith, because you aren’t ready to meet your Maker. Look at the transgression on your soul. I can see it. Cavorting with demons…like Heretic. Maybe you’ll suffer enough to gain an angel’s mercy.” His eyes were rimmed in red. She tried not to react, but the stress on her nerves vibrated her control away. Pacing to the big glass windows, Max peered down at something in the street that irked him. Red and blue lights reflected off the mirrored-glass building across the street. Huge spotlights threw their beams around. She hadn’t noticed in her own dilemma. Some city-alarming event took place

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down there in the street. Max blasted an intolerant snort. “Just inject Freak into her arm directly.” “That will kill her and defeat your purpose. Freak did plenty of experiments with direct insertion. It doesn’t work. The trauma is too great on a mortal body. They are delicate.” Pictures of Jasmine screaming in pain and giving up her soul came to Faith’s mind. “Diluting the demon’s blood with hers is the only way the mortal shell can take it.” “Skip the extra bag. You can take it from her later. We have a hovercraft awaiting us on the roof. Do the transfusion now,” Max ordered. “It looks like the I-Marshals have just infiltrated the Pharm board meeting, and they’re destroying the Fallen by the dozens. The cops shouldn’t know we’re here, but we’re much better off somewhere else.” “That must be good for you, isn’t it, Max?” Faith said. “Losing some of the demons and Nephilim?” The gangster smiled slyly. “Less members to share profits, Faith. Of course, I love it. Calderon and Freak had invited too many to the table. If it’s the I-Marshals ripping through that meeting, they’re doing me a favor.” Faith huffed in disgust that she’d trusted Max with her safety in this den of iniquity. She’d always been haunted by some premonition that if she stayed with him, his world would one day take all from her. Like Sheska had paid all. “Demons have no loyalty, do they?” “Not a drop.” She watched Benny stick a needle into the port of one of the dark bags and fill a syringe with monstrous blood. Then he injected the sample into the bright collection he’d taken from her. The dark blood swirled into spiraling water eddies, then faded into the rich mixture, poisoning and corrupting it, dulling its vivid color. Benny came at her again with the needle attached to the bag of her blood now darkened with a demon. “If you stick that needle in me,” she swore to the scraggly and skeletal man, a leg bent and poised for another hard kick, “I’m going to put a boot

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up your ass!” The gross little beetle did it anyway, pushed the long, thick steel into her arm, and the dull blood slid down the tube, headed for her vein. And she gave Benny a kick that sent him smacking into a wall. An explosion blew the door, and in marched Kasey, sighting a killer laser on Max’s chest. “Key.” Super-Max gazed into the muzzle of the I-Marshal’s weapon. “Super-Max,” the young I-Marshal replied with a stone-cold determination in his hot, blue-flame eyes. He looked heroic. “I came to tell you I don’t like the deal. I want a better deal, one where I get what I want from you.” Max chuckled a little, a lightly astounded, slightly pleased flavor to it. “Key, you have what it takes to thrive in this business. A demanding attitude, a tyrannical surety you deserve more, and no limits to slow you. What is it you want from me?” “I want your spirit chained to Abaddon. I arrest you in the name of the Draco Alliance.” Then Kasey took the shot. But when the energy beam reached Max, a glow emanated from the gangster, and the beam-strike warped around him. He wore some kind of body shield that probably rendered any beam weapon useless. Freak’s blood hit the vein in Faith’s arm, and she felt fire rip into and through her that made the spider bite in the desert feel like a tickle. She filled her lungs and cried out with all she had, wracked from the stinging intensity of the pain. Kasey’s sight shot her way to spot her plight. She struggled with her bonds, hoping to knock the needle from her arm. Benny cowered in a corner. Kasey held out his hand to aid her. In dreadful slow-motion, she watched Max pull the bullet revolver from his coat and fire at Kasey who was focused on her crisis. Kasey took the bullet to his head, a red circle appeared at his temple, and his body dropped backward onto the gold carpet of the suite. Faith let out a hair-curling scream, and shouted, “How can you do this to

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Chapter 28 Danny reached out to freeze the moment, but he hadn’t been there in time to catch the bullet in a time-cast and drop it to the floor. He missed. He’d never missed before. Instead of falling, the lead zipped past him and sped into Kasey’s head, a dead shot. Danny watched his partner fall to the floor as if he held no control of the situation at all. Sean was halfway through the room and headed to Faith when he saw the shot, and he reversed direction, sprinting to Kasey’s side. The healer yanked off his gloves and pressed his bare hands to the young cop’s head. Super-Max seemed conscious of something unseen in the room. Sean’s voice sounded stressed in the speaker in his ear when Danny should have heard good news. “Danny, I can’t heal him with a bullet in his brain. I’m taking him to Reigna.” “I’ll get to Faith! Save Kasey! Go!” Danny ordered. Through the high-tech helmet visor, he watched Sean hoist Kasey’s limp body into his arms, then teleport away. Then Danny looked to Faith. A half-height wall stood between them, blocking sight of much of her, but she sat on a bed, a bag of blood dripping into her arm. It was the resurrection trick before his eyes. And she lay there, taking it. Why didn’t she rise and run? “How could you do this to me?” she cried out, her sight sweeping the suite. She had to know what happened before her eyes, that the I-Marshals had come for Super-Max. Danny’s head swam from the alcohol, and he knew the brandy might have just cost him Kasey’s life. Danny just learned in the harshest way possible he couldn’t time-cast when he drank a quarter bottle of brandy. And

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he planned to take that regret out on Super-Max. Witnessing Kasey’s body disappear, the gangster fired the gun where he thought Heretic was, quickly wasting the bullets. They would have bounced off the super-soldier suit, anyway. Danny didn’t take his eyes off SuperMax. He heard Faith’s pained wails. “I swear to God I’ll hate you forever if you hurt him!” Then that was the way it had to be, but first, Danny would show Faith the truth of Super-Max. “Leave this place, Danny!” she cried hysterically, and if he paid attention to her pleas and mourning, billions would die in the fisted claws of these vicious demons. And she’d be forever lost to darkness. Danny wouldn’t leave this scene for any mortal reward. Discarding the useless bullet gun, Super-Max’s vision roamed the room, and he quickly pulled a ray gun, ready to use it. Danny moved around him. “I smell you, Heretic. You shouldn’t have let a woman come between our friendship.” “I would never have chosen you for a friend. I have always been your enemy. You are a monster.” “Not much more of a monster than you, Heretic. Did you come for Faith? She’s made the choice to stay with me and tell the worlds of the IMarshals’ deeds.” Danny blocked Faith’s pained wails. Why was she submitting to this barbaric act, the resurrection of a dead demon? Had Super-Max planted Faith in Danny’s bed to make all of this happen and bring him out of cover? It was just as likely she’d been sent by Metatron to see angelic goals tended. The demon slayer refocused on his adversary to expose and destroy him. “I came for you, Super-Max. Metatron calls for the end of your wicked existence.” The computer screen on the wall powered up with no one’s prompt, displaying a bird’s-eye view overlooking the grow fields and the Pharm complex. Despite the night, the outlines of the Pharmhouses were distinct. A

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sudden burst of overbearing light struck in the sky above the barns like a comet crash, and the fields burst into blue fire. The illumination from the blast was so bright, it lit up the entire city outside the hotel as though an atom bomb had been detonated one hundred kilometers away. The view screen showed flames raining down from the sky onto the place, droplets like fireballs. The burning of the land purged the soil, making it barren for Blindfold’s rebirth. The heavenly hosts were purifying Sylanta. “Angels always have their own plans. Metatron is at the Pharm now, preventing any more of your devilry. Blindfold’s now retired to brief and soon-forgotten history.” Super-Max’s eyes were fixed on the Pharm going up in flames. Danny stepped in front of the gangster, and the body shield the gangster wore shut down the suit’s technology. The invisibility function failed, and Danny appeared before the gangster. Without power, the headgear shaded his sight and blocked his hearing. There goes all the Alliance toys. He pulled off the helmet that no longer benefitted him, and trusting a very dense skull, he used it to smash Super-Max in his red-rimmed eyes signaling an oncoming transformation. The stored energy in the supersoldier suit sent the beast careening. The gangster hit the glass with great force, busting it and sending the thick plate twenty-five stories crashing to the ground, and leaving SuperMax discovering himself halfway over the ledge. Danny grabbed him by his clothes and hauled the fear-wracked gangster to his face. “Transform, demon,” the I-Marshal ordered, scowling, and he brought his fist back for another hard shot. “Shape-shift and show Faith you are a lie.” Then he landed the punch right across Super-Max’s jaw, knocking him into the next plate glass and shattering it. Demons didn’t feel pain, but the frustration that rose from a few good punches drove them insane with rage, bringing on the change. When they touched insanity, they found darkness. It was why the top shot callers never threw punches and had others do such work for them. The demons worked to keep their true natures a secret from

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the public worlds. Danny was forcing this demon’s nature to the surface. All the I-Marshal had to do to stir his next punch was imagine the gangster’s claws on Faith. Super-Max’s skin began to darken, and he very quickly began to transform. His flesh reddened and lumps rose to misshape it into skin not quite human nor fully reptilian. Its hands formed claws that could no longer grip the ray gun. The weapon hit the floor, shattering its fragile light chamber and adding to the glass on the carpet. Super-Max’s teeth grew sharper and longer until its thinning mouth could no longer contain them. Its ears elongated into points. The beast grew in size, new muscle ripping its clothes into shreds, but the shirt collar stayed affixed around its neck, leaving the strips of the garment hanging on its body. Ugly, withered wings sprouted from its back. The smell of brimstone crowded out the fresh air. In a handful of seconds, the demon in Max went from an averagelooking human to a beast of immense size grazing the apartment’s doublestory ceiling. Its fleshy wings flapped, and it snorted heat. The speed of the demon’s transformation measured the creature’s danger. Faith had stopped screaming. Danny glanced her way to see her taking in the transformation, her mouth parted. Her eyes, wet with tears for SuperMax’s oncoming destruction, were wide with shock. Danny put his fists up for his next strike. The blue glow coming from the view screen made the low-lit room ripple with firelight. Blue and red flashing lights rose up the mirrored wall of the building across the boulevard, adding to the room’s devastation. The sound of sirens and hovercraft approaching became a soundtrack. “Blindfold is going up in smoke, Super-Max. There goes your profit. Along with a great deal of the misery you bring to souls every day.” The demon infecting Max Armaros wagged its wings and screeched a fit. Danny faked a punch and put his boot into the monster’s chest, slamming it into another panel of glass and shattering it down to the plastic core, but this pane held to its frame. When he did it, he pulled his switchblade from his boot. A clawed paw reached out and snatched him by

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the neck and dragged him to the demon’s face. His claws punctured holes in Danny’s neck. The smell of brimstone threatened to overwhelm. A police hovercraft shined a spotlight into the apartment and impotently demanded an end to the fight. “I’m going to eat you, Heretic. I’m going to feast on your carcass before Faith’s eyes. Just to show her she should never have crawled into your skin with you.” “I wish you hadn’t said that. I’d planned to cut your wings from your back before her eyes. Now I have to pass on it to show her I’m not like you. I’m going to cut your wings off when she’s not looking.” Danny jammed the blade into its neck. The demon dropped him to send its paws to a gushing wound. The monster ripped out a deafening shriek as it struggled to stem the flow of life from its mortal shell. Its huge flapping wings stirred the drapes like a gale-force wind, launching the glass dust and pieces of demolished furniture into the air. “What’s wrong, Super-Max, didn’t you guarantee your continuity?” Then Danny slammed a boot into its gut, ramming it against the wall behind it and smashing a lamp, then it fell onto its stomach. The beast screeched again and swatted at him with its lethal claws. Faith’s cries came back to his ears. Sean’s voice came from nearby. “I’m back. You don’t look like you need help.” Danny yanked the gold rope-ties from the green drapes, and he bound the fighting demon’s claws around its neck, weakly immobilizing them. The apartment was sprayed with glass shards, the furniture overturned by their grappling. The view screen still showed the Pharm going up in blue flame. Sean was invisible. “Done this before. You just can’t depend on technology on this job. This bastard’s really going to get it for Kasey.” Super-Max’s tail took a hard swat at Danny, caught him at the knees, and sent him onto his back. “I can hit it with the dazer, if you want.” Danny climbed to his boots, wiped a trail of blood from his mouth,

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zeroing in on Super-Max. “This is personal. Take Faith out of this building, whether she wants to go or not.” “I’ll do that.” Danny felt Sean’s hands on his head, and the injuries he’d sustained so far healed instantly, fresh for more fight. “Thanks, buddy.” “It’s what I’m here for.” The demon slayer refocused on the task at hand, seeing red eyes land on him. “I’m going to take you on a fall that will end in the abyss.” Bound, though hardly securely, the demon that had lived within SuperMax screeched, and its inhuman voice growled, “Not before I claw your heart from your chest. Then I’m going punish Faith for looking at you twice.” “You demons dream big.” Danny hauled back and punched the fangs from its mouth. A terrible screech echoed off the walls.

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Chapter 29 The searing pain started at the needle’s point and raced up her arm, shooting through her body to her extremities like wildfire, infusing her flesh. The throbbing agony quickly became so blinding, all Faith could do was scream and writhe in her bindings to escape the inferno engulfing her from inside out. Freak’s blood infused her body like rushing lava. Black and orange blotches burst before her vision, and she took another deep breath and screamed. It felt like her flesh melted. When would it end? Was Max killing Danny? She didn’t want to live if her life cost Danny and Kasey theirs. If the gangbusters died, all the mortal realm suffered. She couldn’t hold a thought for long. Another barrage of burn consumed her. Her tears sizzled away on her cheeks like water in a frying pan. The flaming vision of Max turning into a repulsive demon before her eyes replayed, an unbidden loop in her mind. It felt as though she were caught in the main flames of hell. Scream again. “Faith!” It was Sean’s voice. Right beside her. She tried to open her eyes, but everything burned too much. “Sean!” she cried out, a torrent of new tears washing down her face and stinging her. The cold air rushing into her burning lungs shot pain through her. She gasped for a deep breath, and screamed, “Save Danny!” She felt the healer’s cold hands on her head, and the burn immediately stopped. She gasped again for a full breath, shocked by the cessation of agony almost as devastating to her consciousness as its onset. The halt sent her brain spiraling into vertigo. She heard glass shattering, the screeches and growls of an unnatural creature. Cold hands were at her cheeks.

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“Faith! Speak to me.” Clearing vision brought Sean’s peridot eyes to her, and she burst into another hysterical bawl. “Where’s Danny?” Discovering her arm already freed of the needle, she struggled to gain full awareness of her place and the moment. Sean tossed the bag that had been feeding Freak’s blood into her body atop the case that held the other blood bags. “Danny’s doing his job.” She watched Sean pull the dazer from his holster, and he aimed at the blood. “Hide your eyes.” “What are you doing?” “Getting rid of Freak’s back-up files.” She stretched her hands over her eyes to block the greater light but still watched through her fingers as the healer pulled the trigger. Through gritted teeth, he blurted, “Burn in hell, Freak.” The dazer’s whip launched and struck the bags, drying up the fluids into hard rocks. Benny was out of sight, possibly cowering in another room at the appearance of I-Marshals. Her eyes drew to the computer screen where she took in sight of the Pharm being reduced to charred and dead land beneath a storm of flames. Before her slow brain could make sense of what she saw, Sean returned to her, pulled a blade from his super-soldier suit belt, and he cut the clear tape that bound her to the gurney. When she stepped off the bed, her legs gave out, and Sean caught her. Sean lifted her into his arms, and she struggled to look around the halfwall to see the noisy fight going on in the big room before her. Aided only by minimal emergency lighting and shifting police strobe coming from law enforcement hovercraft witnessing the event, she saw furniture in flight, heard more glass shattering. A loud blast of fire came from nowhere and forced a startled shriek from her throat. Sparks flew. She couldn’t see Danny through the glass dust raining the room in spurts. Then all of it disappeared. Faith held in Sean’s safe arms, they appeared in the shadowed alley across the street from the hotel wailing with sirens. Red and blue lights

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spun, spotlights swept the area, obliterating the dark of night and staining the eye. A blanket of shattered glass covered the length of the block. Huge rectangular chunks, warped plastic cores of penetration-proof glass lay before the hotel entrance. Barricades held back panicked people at the safe ends of the boulevard. Media and law enforcement in hovercrafts circled the building in the street and in the air. Mounds of demolished black chunks of steaming volcanic rock lay in the street, glistening stone of the like which the demon statue was made. “Can you stand?” Sean asked her over faraway shrieking alarms. She wiped tears from her cheeks as she took in the scene. “Yes, put me down. Where’s Danny?” A hellish blast of fire burst from the building, shattering several more glass-panel casings, sending another storm of glass to rain down onto the streets. Sean spun, giving the perilous scene his back and protecting Faith from taking glass. Bystanders gasped, screamed, and fled farther down the block. Setting her to her unsteady feet, Sean looked upward, and she followed his sight to see a huge hole ripped from the building’s glass tiles about ten floors up. The floor above and below that were singed and de-glassed from the blast they’d just witnessed. Twenty-five floors up, Max’s suite looked eviscerated. “What happened here?” she bellowed to Sean. “Business meeting. Someone got the business.” She gaped at his lack of concern. “Aren’t you going to help Danny?” Sean frowned down on her. “It’s personal. If Danny chooses to get in a drunken brawl with a demon over a girl, I’m honor-bound as his friend and partner to let him.” Her heart thudded in her chest. “He’s been drinking?” “Oh, yeah. I smelled the brandy on his breath.” Glass shattered from a floor just above that previously annihilated floor, and a demon’s bulky red body came crashing down onto the mound before their eyes. It was Super-Max’s reptile carcass lain out in the street, its wings gone, its back carved up. Danny lay atop it, still and unmoving. He was cut

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up and burnt in the open slices of the suit. Bloody bite marks gouged into his neck and arm. Sean and Faith raced to Danny, and the healer rolled the demon slayer over to find the monster’s four claws embedded in Danny’s chest. He looked pale as death and finished. Sean grabbed a hold on the demon’s huge, steelmuscled wrist, put his boot in Danny’s chest, and pried the long and lethal claws from his partner’s heart. Four puncture wounds filled with blood and grew. Faith lost her breath again, and tears ran down her cheeks. “Is he dead, Sean?” “Danny’s a die-hard.” Sean placed his hands on Danny’s head and whispered a quiet request. The cuts on his face fusing and burns disappearing, Danny’s color returned. The blood puddles on his chest stopped spreading. His lungs heaved for air, and his gray eyes popped open to land on her. When she wanted to throw herself into his arms and thank him for saving her, the worlds from Blindfold, and for stopping a horde of demons from murdering the I-Marshals and enslaving the mortal realm, Danny angrily pointed at her and growled, “Don’t say a word to me. All you can do is hurt me more.” She was stunned, the breath fully knocked from her. Bleary-eyed, he ordered Sean, “Take her to the shuttle port and put her ass on the first damned shuttle back to Reigna.” The healer passed him the dazer. Sean and Faith appeared in the chaotic lobby of the shuttle port. People in terror rushed to board shuttles, sure Sylanta was under some form of attack, considering the fire that currently spewed down from the firmament onto the Pharm. It was a madhouse. Stoic, the I-Marshal stood prison guard over Faith with nothing to say as they awaited the next shuttle open for boarding. She begged for news of Kasey’s condition, and he gave her the most minimal of assurance the cocky young hero would survive. When she glared at him and demanded he communicate, the healer only told her in a voice laced with regret, “I can’t speak to you, Faith. I can’t take

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your side or even sympathize.” Her tears and pleas to take her back to Danny didn’t move the healer. But he did allow her to purchase a new palm computer. When she tried to slip him in the shop, he produced handcuffs and cuffed her wrist to his. Sean did what Danny had told him to do, put her ass on the first damned space shuttle to Reigna. Danny just wanted to remind her what life without him was like.

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Chapter 30 Damned shuttle, it was…for the passengers who wished to arrive at their destination on schedule. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Faith lay awake in her cabin aboard a shuttle bound for Reigna, watching the news of an alien attack upon Sylanta repelled by the farsuperior planetary defense forces, a complete cover for angels cleansing the planet to prevent Blindfold’s resurrection and the appearance of a demon body in the street. When she didn’t fill her every moment searching for media of the story in hope for a glimpse of Danny, she stared at the pockmarked ceiling the first week, pleading for sleep to take her. And she cried, more than she’d ever wept before over a man. More than she’d ever wept over Max. For the short duration of their relationship, the end of Danny and her felt like an amputation. When she did sleep, all she dreamt of was him. And Kasey falling backward, a red circle at his temple, a bullet lodged in his head. A bullet that would not have been in the room if Faith hadn’t stolen the gun from Danny’s keeping. She shed tears for Max’s soul, too, who’d once been her best friend when he’d been the man she’d thought he was. The monster within Max had made her understand the man was long gone, eaten alive by greed, corruption, and an addiction to power. Perhaps there was a place in paradise for the man he used to be. Maybe his soul met rest long before Danny dragged his demon into darkness. She’d endangered her life and lost everything. All her money, borrowed money, the city crime desk, two months of her life, her Pulitzer dress, her Pulitzer, and her innocence of the spiritual war that was taking place

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between angels and demons, heaven and hell, just beyond the mortal worlds’ detection. She would never again see blood without experiencing a flash of horror racing through her. What hurt the most? Her loss of Danny. Headed home spiritually wrecked and without a story, she thought at first about how she needed to reinvest herself in her job, choose stories close to home instead of long shots that led her through perilous Alliance territory with promises of Pulitzer gold. Her home crafts blog looked nicer after having had a demon blow his lumpy snout all over her. That almost never happened covering craft shows. She occupied her time by writing down her adventure in her journal, but not for anyone else’s eyes, just hers. It was a heart-quivering catharsis, a way to bleed the emotion from the memories and weaken their power against her. But it only made her feel a little better. It still hurt like hell. Even with the names changed, the fearless and handsome hero was unforgettable. And the pathetic heroine lost him. Faith mingled with the other passengers in an effort to build a better attitude and restart life, but she walked through every conversation hollow and half-interested. The most decadent of foods had no taste, so she didn’t eat much. Everything she saw and thought of went back to Danny. The ache haunted and depressed her night and day. It was a terrible burden for any heart to bear, to look back at one’s life and feel only one moment had any meaning. Faith knew with a severe grief she had messed up the one thing she was supposed to get right. Maybe the insomnia made her crazy, and she could take no more. She was ready to see Danny, needed to make some peace between them at all costs, when she realized she didn’t know how to reach him. She didn’t have his comm number, didn’t know where he lived, couldn’t locate the house pod in the middle of a near-featureless desert. Was it even possible to contact an I-Marshal in deep cover? She had one wild shot at finding him, and that would cost her everything, but she saw herself as having little to lose. She didn’t know if it would work. If she tried it and Danny did not resurface from his cover to

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save her from herself, she could be sent to prison for a while. Yes, the days without healthy and unburdened sleep had made her crazy. When she closed her eyes, she imagined hearing the angels of madness singing far away. Was it Metatron sending her a message? Resolved to take what punishment came her way just to see Danny a last time, Faith sat on her bed, her bag packed. Her palm computer in her hand, she texted a message to the Alliance Brotherhood, the headquarters of the IMarshals. Faith Vedder, The Capital City Eyeball: I have inside information on a gangland executioner named Heretic. I will expose him on the front page of my newspaper unless I speak to him. Within minutes, the shuttle commander notified her he’d received orders from the I-Marshals to bring the shuttle to a complete stop for emergency boarding, and she was locked in her cabin like some kind of dangerous person. She figured she would get a third-degree felony charge, a few years in a minimum-security facility, for threatening an Alliance agent, if Danny never responded. She thought it very possible and understandable if he chose not to respond. It would take three days to stop the shuttle. **** For hours on end, Faith sat in an uncomfortable metal chair bolted to the floor of the interrogation room, her wrists and ankles shackled to its arms and legs. The walls of the room were plain and unstimulating. A video cam was probably fixed on her now, criminologists on the other side studying her, labeling her psychologically challenged. Even knowing people watched her, she’d never felt so alone in her life. She tried not to weep, but it was the end of her freedom for a while to come. She didn’t think a judge would send her kind of offender to Null, the hellish prison-planet dedicated to the caging of the Alliance’s high felons,

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but he would put her someplace ugly. The I-Marshals had a dreadful whispered reputation for no mercy. How furious would the cops be at a reporter promising to expose them for performing their necessary and heaven-inspired mission? She’d gone from civilian-worth-saving to perpetrator-deserving-bars the moment she sent the text message. The Alliance had had three days to notify Danny of her threat. Would they? She heard the locks on the door tumble, and she leaned down to her shackled hand and wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks. A very large, darkhaired man entered the room, closing the thick metal security door behind him, and he took the lone chair sitting in the corner of the room. He spun it, placed it before her, and mounted it, his arms resting on the back of the chair. His discerning olive-green eyes cut through her. “Ms. Vedder,” he began in an overly official tone that made her queasy. “My name is I-Marshal Weber, and I’m here to tell you you’ve been adjudicated to Wallendalt Prison for Women for the rest of your life.” “What?” Faith shrieked, gawking at the cop through prismatic tears casting his face in triplicate. “I will get no trial, no judicial process?” “No. Indisputable evidence against you was found in your possession, stored in your palm computer. No other fingerprints were found on the device. The information was not transmitted to you, but originated from your cabin computer, created at a keystroke rate typical of you. Video has proven no one has entered your shuttle cabin but you. There is no reason to waste the Alliance’s time and funds on a trial. Threatening Alliance officers in deep cover puts you behind bars for life to maintain the safety of those officers and future covers.” Her eyes bulged, and her hands gripped the chair arms. “How can you do that to me? Lock me away to keep Danny safe? Have you seen how big he is and what he does to demons? You wish to keep him safe from tiny me?” “You’ve written a wild account of an I-Marshal mission, Ms. Vedder. The only way to suppress that information is to put you in a super-maximum security facility under the tightest guard.” His indignant dark brow rose.

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“Issuing a threat to expose the I-Marshals’ mission was not the smartest move of your life.” Faith gritted her teeth to endure this. In the last two weeks, nearly everything she’d done could be categorized as not the smartest move of her life. “Where’s I-Marshal Daniel Tierney? I want to talk to Danny.” Weber shook his head. “There is no I-Marshal Daniel Tierney.” “That’s crazy!” she shouted, and tugged on the steel chains of her shackles. She bit back an outburst of screams and tears, though they welled up inside and had to come out. “He brought me here to the I-Marshals’ station for an identity check just eleven days ago. Where are Sean and Kasey? They’ll defend me.” Terrible that she’d never heard the I-Marshals’ last names. Not once. How many I-Marshals could there be? How many healers could the Alliance employ? How many telekinetics? Weber shook his head, rousing a stir in his collar-length hair. “Why have you planned to expose the I-Marshals, Ms. Vedder? You know, if you’ve covertly sent this story to your employer, we’ll shut down your newspaper at a mind-blurring speed. I have agents parked outside the offices right now, ready to speak with your publisher.” She’d lost. It was over. Everything. She now had nothing to look forward to but a small concrete cell. Bowing her head, Faith closed her eyes in mourning, tears spilling down her cheeks. She just couldn’t hold them anymore. “I don’t care if you firebomb my house. Take my computer, take my job, take the story. I never intended to publish it. I sent it to no one. I only wish to speak to Danny. It’s all I want.” “How do I know you haven’t been sent here to kill an I-Marshal?” Her head snapped up. “Kill Danny? I’d love to kill him for making it so I’m miserable without him. Why not make another threat? How can you punish me further? Tell Danny he’s killing me.” Weber just sat there, watching her ongoing breakdown for a moment, his dark olive eyes inspective. She felt his warm vision like she was under a microscope.

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Finally, he rose, put the chair back in the corner of the room where he found it, and then, silent, he pressed his thumb into the f-print reader of the shackle lock on her ankles. The metal released her. Then he unlocked her wrists, and she rubbed the cuff prints from her hands, readying herself for steel bars and isolation. Danny burst through the door, clutching a sheaf of papers and looking madder than hell, and he went straight to her, waved the papers at her. “Faith! Why did you write this story?” Faith gasped at the surprise. She’d wanted him to speak to her, but sight of the act done in such fury stole the air from her lungs. The shock turned into fear of him and what he’d say to her face for all that had happened, now that he’d had ten days to think about it. He loomed over her in the chair. His hair was cut short. He was so handsome, it hurt to look at him. Weber locked a hold on Danny’s arm and tugged him into the farthest corner of the room, putting Danny’s back to her. She heard Weber murmur, “Cool off, Danny. She carries no ill will toward you. I know her heart, and it’s overwhelmed with love for you. She hasn’t slept in days, probably hasn’t eaten much. It’s compromised her balance. You’re both emotional people, Danny. Find your calm.” She was grateful the green-eyed mind-reader told Danny she was being straight with him. She didn’t think he’d believe her if she told him. She couldn’t see his face, but watched the muscles beneath the thin T-shirt material unbunch, the anger in his posture melt away. She watched the two cops whisper to one another too low for her hearing, and she gave a shudder as the anxiety moved through her body. Breathe long. Done with their collaboration, Weber stepped up to her still seated in the chair, and he glared down at her with stern eyes. “You’re getting a do-over. I’m going to recommend the threat charge not be filed. Any time a mortal gets a second chance, it’s because an angel noticed her plea, had compassion, and blessed her. Don’t spend that blessing foolishly. And don’t ever threaten the I-Marshals again. You won’t escape the charge and sentence, if there’s a second incident.” Weber quit the room, leaving a cooler Danny there with her. The

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electricity in the air was painful. He leaned his back against the wall, his big arms crossed his chest, a combat boot propped against the wall, and he faced her, revealing nothing of his new mood. She only now noticed his clothes. His army-green T-shirt said, Semper Fidelis, Always Faithful, the very first shirt she’d ever noticed him wearing. The sleeves were rolled, and the pitchfork brand was gone from his beefy bicep. The haircut made his gray eyes more potent. It appeared as though he’d begun a new phase of life, maybe started another identity, probably training for the next mission. The silence unnerved as he watched her. His hand still clutched the papers. She wanted to rise and kiss him, but knew better than to do it in front of a camera. And she didn’t know if he’d let her. “Thank you for saving me from prison,” she said, but it came out barely above a whisper. He gave her no response. “Please tell me Kasey made it, that he’s okay.” A long pause made her choke back a tear when she thought he wouldn’t tell her, but he finally said, “Kasey’s fine. The bullet had been removed, and a healer had been present to heal him.” Just hearing the words broke her dam, and tears of relief spilled down her cheeks again. She wiped the tears with the sleeve of her blouse. “How are Sean and Isabella?” “They are fine and planning the birth of their son.” “Will she ever be safe?” “She has the strongest of guards.” Another fearless Nephilim do-gooder born into the mortal realm. Thank the Maker. She sniffled. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to tell me.” “Kasey and Sean wanted to be here for your questioning, but I said no.” Danny, quiet and seeming cold, gave her another minute to recover before he launched his assault. “Why did you write the story, Faith? And betray me?” he demanded in a dispassionate voice, but not a loud one. He held himself in check this time, and that grieved her soul. It meant he didn’t want her anymore.

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“I didn’t mean to betray you, Danny. I’d written it because I needed to work out the feelings. They’d been trapped inside me, torturing me. I never intended for it to be found. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve lost so much sleep, I’m losing my mind. I’m sorry I did what I did. I’ll never attempt to contact you again. I’ll give you peace by disappearing. It’s what I was supposed to do from the very beginning.” He turned to the video cam in the high corner and made a slashing motion over his neck, directing those watching to cut the video feed. Expressionless, he went back to leaning against the wall and watching her, a combat boot propped, his arms crossed over his chest like a wall between them. She wiped the last of her tears on her sleeves. “Didn’t you notice, Danny…the story isn’t an investigative report. It’s a romance with a tragic ending.” His gray eyes on her darkened. “Would you change the ending, if you could?” “I’d change it all. I’d give us a boring start with no links to our jobs and no pressure to lie and manipulate one another. No secrets to keep from one another. No specter of a past relationship to haunt us. Just the present and future before us. And no more Invisible Man.” “No more demons slobbering down your back?” He softly smiled, his eyes showing a little amusement. She smiled back, relieved to see the anger lifted. “I’d prefer not. But, considering your job, I’m not sure it’s a realistic expectation. I’d never want you to quit doing what you’re so good at. I accept everything about you.” His smile faded away. His ghostly gray sight went to the floor and appeared unfocused as if in deep thought. “I can’t take us backward in time, but I’ll take a leap of faith forward.” He held his hand out for her to take. “Watch what I can do.” She took his big, warm hand and, in a blink of light, she found herself in her Capital City living room. And Danny was gone. Relieved to be back on Reigna and safe from demons and cages, she roamed the empty house, knowing she should sleep but was unable. Her bed smelled like Danny.

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Glorious sunlight rising in the east seeped through the window sheers, stealing her attention from her disgraced life. The promise of fresh air and a new day drew her aching heart. When she opened the window, a cleansing breeze rushed in, the sounds of neighborhood kids at play flooding her senses. She ate a tasteless prefab breakfast when she really hadn’t wanted to eat, but she had to give herself strength. She felt very lucky Danny had sprung her from a lifelong prison sentence. Had she seen the last of him? She chastised herself for wanting more, had to make his final rescue of her be enough. She got what she’d wanted, just to lay eyes upon him again, whole and undamaged. He’d smiled at a joke, and if it were her last memory of him, she would make herself satisfied with that. She would fantasize the last moment for the rest of her life, adding more to what was there, just to extend the moment and enjoy him again. When she forgave herself for everything, the joy of being home was transcending, and she opted for a long, hot bath with magic forgeteverything bubbles. When the bathwater was cold and the magic spent, she came from the shower room wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe. The night she’d discovered the Invisible Man waiting for her flashed in her mind. She wanted to see the furniture rearranged, but the contents of the rooms stood undisturbed. Melancholy, she lay down in her bed and detected Danny again. The exhaustion finally took her under, into a dreamless state. She was awakened by the whirl of hover-jets at her front porch. The light from the west window revealed the weakened, orange-glowing sunset. She’d slept a surprising ten hours. Yawning, she rose, went to the front door, and looked out the ornamental glass to see a helmeted man dismount a hover-bike, then go to work on its engine with a wrench. She held her breath. In a moment, he pulled off some tiny part of the engine, and then he threw the piece into the overgrown field opposite her house. Then she watched him pull off his helmet and reveal a shortly cropped head of grayish hair. It was Danny. Oh gawd, she wanted little more from life than for him to

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come inside and speak with her, even if just to holler at her some more. He strapped the helmet onto the bike, pulled a bunch of roses from the bike’s side bag, and he turned toward the porch. Her heart thumped harder with his every step closer to her. He knocked on her door. She breathed long, then answered. His gray eyes landing on her sent a titillation up her spine. She wished to kiss him immediately. “Good evening, Ms. Vedder,” he said, as though they were reduced to mere acquaintances. It was kind of true. In a limited point of view, they’d really only met four days ago. “I threw a part to my bike right over there.” He pointed to the lot with tall weeds. His statement could have been misconstrued to mean his bike threw the part, but he hadn’t said that. He told the plain truth. “The bike won’t move without it. It’s an imported part, I’m afraid to say, and I’m going to have to look for it. A very small piece, and it may take days to find without a metal detector. I hope you don’t mind my bike parked in front of your house.” Watch what I can do. She got it right away. Danny couldn’t change the past, but he could shape the future. He was giving them a new start. Did he mean for this to be the boring start she wanted? Nothing involving Danny was unexciting. “The day’s over, and there’s not enough light left to search the field. You could come in, make a call. If you wish.” She opened the door wider for his entrance, a welcoming smile on her lips. She felt blessed just looking at him through the glass, and here he was walking into her house. He was so hot in leather. He’d probably speak to her, something she didn’t feel she entirely deserved. He crossed the threshold and passed her an armful of red roses, large, tightly wound, and perfect buds. A wider smile burst onto her mouth, sure nothing compared to looking at Danny. She’d really appreciate the roses later. Holding back breath, she watched him remove his abused leather jacket. Semper Fidelis spread in black letters across the T-shirted curves of his hard-muscled chest.

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“Thank you for the roses,” she said genuinely. Thank you for coming back, was what she really wanted more to say. His eyes took her in cradling the roses in her arm, and he smiled his unabashed, delighted grin that always brought her down. “Your beauty makes the flowers prettier.” She felt herself blush from his flattery, blessed he could still look upon her and think her lovely in any way. “After I’d returned from Sylanta,” Danny said, “I’d asked Metatron why he hadn’t just set the Pharm on fire without our adventure.” “What did the wise angel say?” “He said I had to slay a few demons first. And find faith.” “These angels and their moral lessons. Do you think he meant me?” “He probably meant I needed to find more than one kind of faith.” “Did you get the faith you needed?” “I’m getting it now. I think it’s all I’ll ever need.” She’d learned her lesson. True love and destiny did cover a multitude of job-related sins of the past when being apart hurt more and being together meant everything. Time would rebuild the trust if they were intent to see it done. Already she trusted him with the fate of the worlds. His hand rose to her cheek as though he’d had enough of not touching her intimately. “I brought your Pulitzer dress.” “Where will I wear it?” “I’ll take you somewhere in that dress, if I can take it off you later. No one says you can’t win a Pulitzer with another story. Do you always answer the door in your robe?” “Only when the sexiest demon slayer I know rings my bell. Do you always take roses wherever you go, in case you break down and need to give them away?” “Yes, everywhere I go.” His smile turned wicked and fun. “Teasing doesn’t count as lies, does it? I don’t think I can stop teasing you.” “It’s one of the things I love about you. What an awful tease you are.” “Hey, I always put out.” “I’ve heard that about you.”

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He sat upon the back of the chair that divided the room, his hot vision following her as she set the roses in her mother’s vase. He’d removed every thorn. When she finished, she returned to him, and his sight roved over her exposed cleavage, then down to her bare legs. He flipped the tie of her robe in play. “Look at you…all naked and beautiful under this robe. You smell like melons and vanilla, and I could just eat you. Are you going to make it this enticing for me to put you beneath me?” “You bet I am. I’ll be as easy for you as an old lover. It’ll seem like you’ve been there before.” “I am getting all kinds of stimulating déjà vu.” He took a hold of her robe lapels, putting her between his open legs and up against him. Then he pressed a hot and gentle kiss to her mouth, one that tenderly insisted upon every cell of her body obeying him. His hands tunneled into her hair, and the feel and scent of him stripped her of will and strength to resist, not that she wished to. He would infiltrate her, change her will and plans, permeate her thoughts from here on. Love is like demon possession. He stripped her of the pesky bathrobe, then he tossed her naked over his shoulder to explosions of laughter. Pausing to pluck a few of the long-stems from the vase, he marched into her bedroom and dropped her onto the bed. Then he pulled the petals from the stems and showered them over her and the bed. She watched as he stripped down to nothing at an impressive speed. Her eyes fell down his broad shoulders, iron-sculpted chest, hard abs, treetrunk thighs, and she trembled. She doubted a more perfect man existed. She realized her quickened breath, and her body tingled, readying for him. Before her was his large erection giving her shivers on sight. He pointed to his eyes and teased, “I’m up here.” She burst into a chuckle, embarrassed to be hypnotized by his superior warrior body. “You made me wait for you, Faith. I couldn’t go after you when I wanted to. I had to give you the thinking time you’d wanted. I could’ve boarded the shuttle and taken you, but it wouldn’t have been your decision,

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and it would have wrecked your love for me. I knew it had to be in you to return to me. The whole time I had to have faith I’d see you again. It was Metatron’s lesson for me.” Danny was Always Faithful. Despite their raw emotions when they’d last laid eyes upon one another, he’d awaited her call, and he came when she’d called for him to make her life worth living again. “I won’t watch you walk away again when you’re everything I need.” He put a knee on the bed and stalked up her body like a lithe cat. “I deserve a reward for cleaning up the galactic sector. I want you, Faith. Metatron told me, ‘Have Faith.’ I’m compelled to comply to an archangel’s order.” She burst into giggles at his silly argument for bedding her, and she loved each word of it. The fragrance of the roses moved her heart. His hot breath reached her breasts, swelling them, stiffening her nipples with his touch. The mission fast-forwarded through her head, unbidden. “Promise me you’ll never drink again.” “I saw the price I could pay for it. I promise you I’ll never drink again.” He caught her wrists and pinned her, exciting her incredibly and causing her to toss away all misery. His voice rumbled in her ear, “I’m going to give your mind and body reasons to need me every night.” “I already need you, Danny. Life within your embrace was so much better than life outside it.” His mouth softly descended on her breasts, suckling, teasing with his teeth, licking the peaks. Shooting her with thrill. The heat radiating from his body raised a sheen to her flesh. He made the room spin again. When he reached her lips, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, sucking on her lips and sending lightning through her. His big body covered hers, his hips between her quivering legs. She writhed beneath him on genetic order, her flesh raced with goose bumps. His ready manhood penetrated her, making her cry out from the quick pain and shuddering pleasure replacing it. He filled her fully and more, causing her to pant and writhe. “Oh, Danny!” “Just like that.”

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He groaned, shocking her mind and body with slow and intense fireworks. Spirals of pleasure spread through her at the feel of him. She hardly heard what he said to her over her own whimpers and cries, only felt explosions of fire and ice redoubling through her. He was marking her for the demons to know she was his, sending her into a mind-blitzing shower of rapture. A brilliant orgasm transformed her into air, and she fantasized she lay on a cloud entwined in Danny’s arms and legs, his great and powerful wings settled over them protectively. She didn’t ever want to leave the fantasy. Together in the moonlight streaming from the bedroom window and the shadows of the bedroom, they lay in perfect and quiet harmony of spirits. “There’s no case between us now,” his deep voice rumbled above her and through the room. His breath traveled through her hair. “I want to be sweet to you, show you I can be depended upon, make you feel safe and happy. I’ll no longer make demands on you because the fate of the worlds won’t depend on us making the right decisions anymore. I’m going to show you the smile you give me. I’ll spend much more time with my light side than my darkness.” “You deserve that, Danny.” He wasn’t a monster. Or if he was a monster, he was one of the good guys. He was the monster she wanted to gaze upon, touch, and kiss each day. “Danny?” she whispered in the semi-darkness. “Yeah?” She looked up to him beside her, and his wild smile broke out on his face at her regard. “What’s your real name?” “What do you want it to be? Pick a name.” She reached up and punched his hard-muscled shoulder. He laughed at her weenie assault and took her dangerous fists into his big hands. “That could be our little insurance policy against the Alliance forcing us to split up. How can you write a story about me if you don’t know my real name? Could be a good argument if the issue comes up.” There were a hundred ways she could write this story without his name.

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He knew that. And so would the Alliance. It was the weakest of arguments and would never fly. But it could never be published as an investigative report without naming the officers involved. Who wanted a puny Pulitzer for writing a story when Danny was the reward for not writing the story? “You’re right. There’s no way I could write this saga without knowing your name.” Danny sent his hands over her body to travel his conquered land again, and they fell asleep in one another’s arms.

THE END HTTP://WWW.ILOVESHAPE-SHIFTERS.COM/

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A latch-key kid raised in Central Florida, Michele found the world outside her house boring, so she lived for shows about futuristic worlds, fantastic places. Star Trek, Bewitched, Night Stalker, Logan’s Run. Naturally, she found her future in alternate realities. She’s keeping it unreal. Michele writes fast-paced Paranormal/Sci-Fi/Fantasy Romantic Adventure, seared with a little Erotic Suspense. Sizzling daredevil heroes, strong, smart heroines, creepy-as-hell villains doing awful things on foreign worlds. Uncharted planets, lunar space stations, alien ports of call. Mind control, shape-shifters, prison breaks. Doomsday machines. Love under all-new moons and stars. Her favorite writers are Katie Macalister, Angela Knight, and Jennifer Estep.

Also by Michele Hart Vigilant Luminous Nights Mind-Blown Looks Are Deceiving

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

www.BookStrand.com