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Serena sighed in annoyance. “Why would you—and Jade—risk your lives for me? You don’t know me. I might be a horrible person who swindles lunch money from perky little schoolgirls. I might torture puppies in my spare time…” “I’m more of a cat person,” Gabriel deadpanned. She stopped, mouth open, and gaped at him. “I’m serious! Who am I to invite an attack from these things and this protection from two people I’ve never met before today?” “You’re Serena O’Donnell,” Gabriel said. “And I know you don’t steal candy from babies and abuse pets. You’re a young woman who has devoted her life to saving others, to being strong for them when they’re weak, and you’re asking me why I wanted to return the favor? “Most of all, though, you’re human, and they’re not. The leeches want to harm something natural and good, and my duty is to thwart them.”

Hunted Past by Elle Hill

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. Hunted Past COPYRIGHT  2011 by Elle Hill All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by Angela Anderson The Wild Rose Press PO Box 706 Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706 Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History First Black Rose Edition, 2011 Print ISBN 1-60154-983-0 Published in the United States of America

Dedication To Lauri J Owen, writer extraordinaire. Thanks for sitting with me at the kitchen table all those years ago and teaching me to write.

Chapter One By the end of their session, the young woman had promised Serena she would throw away the box of sleeping pills she kept stacked on the lip of her bathtub. It wasn’t the kind of breakthrough that would inspire breathless viewers to tune in weekly to mental health crime dramas on television, but Serena found it an immensely gratifying end to their discussion. Flouting professionalism, she rose to her feet and pressed the young woman to her. “Call us if you need to talk before Friday, Ari,” Serena said, patting the girl’s back through the long, wavy, black and red hair swirling down to her hips. “Yeah,” the girl agreed softly. “Thanks, doc.” Serena wasn’t a doctor of any kind—she’d left college with a master’s degree in counseling—but some clients seemed to find some comfort in the title, so she let it pass. “Bye, sweet thing,” Nadia, Serena’s assistant and coworker, called as the young woman walked to the front door. She waved a bejeweled hand in their direction and, with her usual tiny smile, exited their offices. “She seems to be feeling human again,” Nadia remarked. “Good session?” “Fabuloso,” Serena said. “She’s such a smart girl. I’m so proud of how far she’s come. Any emergencies while I was otherwise occupied?” “Nothing catastrophic, superwoman.” Nadia grinned. “Only boring stuff for now. Scott and Lily came in to take over the hotline. UPS guy delivered the new phone. Your cell phone rang a couple of 1

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times; it’s probably some hot-to-trot, hunkalicious babe begging you for a date.” She wriggled her perfectly shaped eyebrows. Nadia had recently become engaged to a serene, gentle monk of a man and was now convinced the key to happiness lay in relentlessly hunting down one’s predestined mate. Serena was no caramel-skinned, plumply curvaceous beauty like her assistant, but she dated often enough. Still, “I somehow doubt Vin Diesel would bother calling me twice in ninety minutes. But if he calls the main line, go ahead and patch him through.” Nadia fanned herself dramatically. “I’ll patch him through anytime, anywhere.” Serena grinned and grabbed a can of soda from the mini-fridge beside Nadia’s desk. She walked the short trek from Nadia’s office-slash-waiting-roomslash-public room to what her volunteers called the Hotline Room. It was a small, starkly white room furnished with tiny desks rescued from thrift stores; expensive, multi-line phones; and three comfortable, if old and sunken, stuffed chairs. A couple of chatting and laughing volunteers currently occupied two of the chairs. “Mornin’,” Scott said, patting the chair next to him. Serena smiled but shook her head and remained standing. If she sat down, she’d give in to the temptation to delay tackling (or at least rearranging) the pile of paperwork in her Tupperware “inbox.” “How’s it going?” Lily asked. She was a bird-thin black woman with a humongous, synthetic concoction of black and gold hair piled on top of her head. Her huge brown eyes sparkled with humor, especially when she delivered her patented line, “The name’s Lily, but the last name sure as hell ain’t White.” “Muy buono,” Serena replied. 2

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“No, no, girl; it’s muy bien. You don’t need to know buono around here unless you’re ordering pizza.” Lily clucked her tongue. “I swear, it’s a shame, me teaching a girl named Serena how to speak Spanish.” Lily’s husband of sixteen years was Mexican-American, and she spoke passable Spanish. “I’ll pass along your complaints to the ghost of my Irish mother. Mornin’ back at you, Scott. How are things?” “Slow,” he responded with a sappy smile. Serena felt enormous fondness for Scott and appreciated his devotion to staffing the suicide hotline, but his gooey fondness made her itch. He was cute and all, with his floppy, dark blond hair, bright blue eyes, and lean build, but fondness was as far as it went. “No calls yet, huh?” she asked, ignoring Lily’s amused smirk. “Quiet as a nun,” Scott said cheerfully. “I choose to see that as a good sign. Either of you want a soda? Some coffee?” Scott motioned to a giant coffee mug, and Lily shook her head. Bidding farewell, Serena exited the room and returned to her closet-sized office. In a move which should have earned her an honorary degree in engineering, she had managed to cram in a small desk and two padded kitchen chairs—one for her behind and the other for the clients she counseled. By some miracle, Serena had only one more counseling appointment that day, and it wasn’t until three o’clock. She had plenty of time to get started on her paperwork. Lucky her. Not twenty minutes later and through the open door between her office and Nadia’s, she heard the tinkling ring of her cell phone. “Want me to hand it to you?” Nadia called. “Por favor,” Serena replied. She could imagine Nadia, a second-generation Salvadoran and fluent 3

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Spanish speaker, good-naturedly rolling her eyes. A moment later she squeezed into the office and handed Serena’s phone to her. Serena didn’t recognize the number, although the area code indicated the call, or at least the caller, hailed from downtown Los Angeles. “Hello?” “Serena? Serena O’Donnell?” The caller’s feminine voice was shaky, her breathing loud and irregular. “Yes. Who’s this?” Serena asked quickly. The caller took a deep, watery breath. “Serena O’Donnell, I don’t want to live anymore.” In the space of two seconds, Serena sped through various reactions, from “How do you know my name?” to “How did you get my personal number?” Before she could blurt out anything distracting, her training kicked in, and she said calmly, “Please tell me what’s wrong.” The woman’s voice rose. “I don’t want to live anymore! It hurts so bad. Nobody cares if I live or die.” “I do. I want you to live. Please talk to me.” Serena pitched her voice low, soothing, and compassionate. “Do you really care whether or not I do it?” the woman asked, and then sobbed wetly. Her voice clogged with tears, she begged, “Can you really help me?” “I want to help you. Please tell me what’s wrong.” “Can you talk to me in person?” the woman asked quickly. “I can’t talk about this on the phone.” “Of course. I’m free right now, if you can make it into my office. I’m located—” “No!” the woman shouted in panic. “I can’t leave here. I can’t! If you don’t come to talk to me, I’ll kill myself. I have a knife. I want to talk to you, Serena. I’ve heard you help people like me. Please come help 4

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me. Please!” “What’s your name?” Serena asked gently. The woman inhaled sharply, held her breath, and then exhaled her name: “Mia.” “That’s a beautiful name.” Sometimes mundane comments helped soothe people out of their places of panic. “Mia, I’ll come, but only on the condition that we call the police, too. They won’t arrest you, I promise. They’ll have—” “No!” Mia shouted again. “Just you. If you bring any cops, I’ll do it. I swear I will! I just want to talk to you. Please come help me, Serena.” Serena sighed. She knew it was dumb, completely unprofessional, and risky. She also knew she’d do it. “I’ll come, Mia, but may I bring my assistant with me?” Unprofessional, perhaps, but she wasn’t entirely stupid. **** Voices buzzed like mosquitoes around Gabriel’s ears. He knew he should be paying more attention to the meeting, but he felt the incandescent light crawling along the scarred half of his face. His foot tapped against the floor instead of scooting his chair back from the oblong table and yellow lamplight, and sliding into the room’s comfortably oily shadows. Besides, he found little concerning supplies and scouting missions to stir his fascination. To his right, Jade, daughter of Aya, argued in favor of placing informants (Call them what they are: spies, he mentally growled) in various, local political positions. He enjoyed watching her speak, even if he didn’t catch a word she said. She gesticulated with sharp chops and swipes; even in conversation, she looked lethal. Gabriel glanced at the clock on the wall across from him and sighed through his teeth. Here he sat, the token male warrior, sipping weak coffee and listening to these people extol the virtues of a well5

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stocked supply closet. However useful, practical, and essential the meeting was to the daily lives of their clan, shouldn’t they save him for missions, for fights, for something not involving note taking? When had he become useful as anything but a field psychic? I should use my much-lauded powers to predict the end of this meeting, he thought sourly. Psychics’ abilities manifested in several ways; some were clairvoyant, some empathic, a few could see the past, and several could see glimpses of the future. Gabriel was a common, garden-variety future seer. However, unlike many of his kind, he had been trained to accompany hunters into the field. He wasn’t exactly accustomed to genteel debates around muffin-stacked tables. Really, the only time he felt comfortable in the presence of others was when he was fighting them. “What do you think, Gabe?” Jade asked. His attention snapped to her in time to catch her heavylidded, challenging smile. “I couldn’t agree more,” he said slowly, his voice grating in the quiet room. Everyone stared at him in perfect, yellow-tinted silence. Their attention abraded him, but he stared back. They knew he hated being here and were likely fully aware of his wandering thoughts—in fact, Nico, the other psychic present, was an empath—but they tolerated him because they respected him. Other than Jade, he had no friends, but he’d earned virtually everyone’s admiration. “Splendid,” she said. Splendid? He’d never heard her use such a word. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard anyone use the word. “Anyone else?” She stared for a moment more at him before turning back to the others gathered round the table. The large, wood-paneled room contained eight people, scattered around the oblong table (the Camelot reference wasn’t lost on him). Rain, the 6

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leader of their clan, conducted the meeting in her calm, deep voice. Around the table sat another council member and two representatives from each of the clan’s groups: hunters, psychics, and humans. In oblong-inspired equality and solidarity, Gabriel sat sandwiched between Jade and a young human named Cameron. The discussion fluttered about him once again. Discreetly, he flexed his left hand and then squeezed it closed. The healer had told him he would retain full use of his hand as long as he managed to keep the skin and muscles supple; fear of losing his grip kept him exercising the hand every opportunity he could snatch. He couldn’t imagine losing one of his— Pain screamed through his left eye. He barely had time to gasp before the Technicolor images seared into his consciousness, hooking his senses and wrenching them inward. Oily air, concrete floors, pounding machinery, nostrils burning from the heat. The back of two humans’ heads as they entered a hot, dark room. The black-haired one, a woman, saying a name. Leeches dripping from the ceiling like blood from a wound. Screams. A slight shift in perspective: the smell of blood and a bluer light source. A smiling, lunging leech, fists, a crack. The dark-haired human spinning, nose spilling bright red blood, cheekbone misshapen. Compassionate brown eyes wide in horror. When his vision cleared, Gabriel found himself standing several feet from the table. His breathing was ragged, his fists clenched, his brow warm from the sympathetic heat. Everyone else stared at him, more in interest and concern than alarm; they were accustomed to psychic visions. “I have to go,” he rasped as calmly as he could manage. Rain, her dark face serene, said, “Of course, 7

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Gabriel. Will you need a hunter to accompany you?” “I’ll go,” Jade said immediately. Gabriel nodded and headed toward the door. “Gabriel,” Rain called. He turned. “Do you know where you’re needed in case we need to send backup?” “Not yet. I’ll call on the cell when I get there,” he said. He and Jade fled the room and sprinted to the stairwell. As they settled into Jade’s primer-gray clunker, she turned to him and grinned. “What the hell won’t you do to get out of a logistics meeting?” **** Serena fumbled her written directions and dropped them. They waved in a seesaw pattern to the cracked, white concrete. As she bent, sighing, to retrieve the paper, Scott whispered, “Are you sure this is the right place?” She worked to keep the irritation out of her voice. After all, as much as his insistence on accompanying her smacked of misplaced chivalry, he had still offered out of kindness. “No need to whisper, Scott. We’re supposed to find Mia inside this building. She said—” Serena referred to her written instructions. “There’s a door on the west side of the admin building.” “But a university? That seems like an odd meeting place.” His voice was still pitched low. They walked around the university’s enormous administration building. Sure enough, as they rounded the corner to the western side of the building, they saw a gray, industrial door sitting wide open. “You know the statistics about college-age girls and suicide,” Serena said. However, she had to agree this situation, with its personal phone calls and treasure-map instructions, felt contrived. In hindsight, maybe she should be grateful Scott 8

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insisted on replacing Nadia’s presence with his own. Serena could definitely take care of herself, but if the situation turned out to be a prank, it was better to have level-headed Scott than bubbly, eternally optimistic Nadia. They reached the gray door. Immediately inside, a concrete staircase led downward. “Just like she said,” Serena remarked. After a moment’s pause, she led them down the stairs. “This feels weird,” Scott whispered. “Not that I’m not totally onboard, but still.” Serena remained silent as she stepped downward into the gray gloom below, Scott immediately behind her. A long, narrow hallway lay at the bottom of the stairs, studded with the occasional gray, metal door. Orange lights swung inside rusted metal holders. The air felt heavy and hot. Serena glanced at the paper. “Second door on the left,” she muttered. She took slow steps toward the door in question, which unlike the others, cracked outward, leaning into the dim hallway. She grasped the doorknob. The steel door felt smooth and warm, almost like skin, beneath her palm as she pulled it further open. The pentagonal room beyond the door was huge, poorly lit, and hot. The dank air coiled in her nose and lungs. Plastic, industrial white lights set into the wall did less to illuminate the room than to draw attention to its shadowed floor and ceiling. Steel machinery, encased in a hulking metal cage and dappled with shadows and sallow light, chugged noisily and hotly about three-quarters of the way between the door and the far wall. The sharp smell of burned oil and dust scalded her nostrils. Serena scanned the room but couldn’t distinguish any woman-shaped shadows. “Mia?” she called. 9

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No one responded. Scott cleared his throat, and Serena jumped. “Um, maybe we should return to the office,” he suggested. He placed his hand on her shoulder, whether to give or receive comfort Serena wasn’t sure. “Mia?” she called, louder this time. “I’m here,” a small voice quavered. Thank god, she thought, sighing. The voice had come from her left. The closer she got to the shadowed juncture between wall and floor, the clearer Mia’s form became. The thin, light-skinned young woman sat with her back against the wall, her bare legs pulled to her chest and her head resting on her knees. “Mia?” she asked again, and the young woman raised her head. Her long, black hair parted, revealing enormous green eyes set in a pale, delicate, movie-star-beautiful face. She was smiling. **** “Where now?” Jade asked. “North end of campus,” Gabriel ordered. They screeched across campus and landed in a metered spot in front of the administration building. Gabriel patted his back pocket and found it empty. “You have a phone?” “I didn’t know I’d need it during the meeting. I left it back at the mansion,” Jade said. She was following shortly after him as they strode toward the east end of the building. “Me, too, I guess,” Gabriel said. They should find a payphone and call in, but he was loath to waste the two or three minutes the effort would cost them. He couldn’t stop remembering those brown eyes, wide with shock. Without a word, they found an open door and a staircase leading into the ground. 10

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Chapter Two Serena gaped at the smiling, twinkling woman, unable for a moment to arrange into some kind of coherence the panicked caller from before and the beaming woman sitting before her now. “Mia?” she asked again, feeling like a parrot. “That’s me,” the woman said, smiling, and stood up with a dancer’s smoothness and grace. On this unusually warm October morning, she wore a sleeveless white shirt with a frilly collar; a pair of khaki shorts topped her long, ivory legs. No older than twenty-five, she was an inch or two taller than Serena’s own five-and-a-half feet. Even in this steaming, oily, oppressively hot room, Mia was all pale, lissome grace. She glanced behind Serena at Scott and inclined her head in welcome. “Are you okay?” Serena asked. Mia nodded and leaned toward her. “Never better,” she said cheerfully. Her breath, cool against Serena’s cheek, smelled like baking soda toothpaste and milk chocolate. “Much better than you’re about to be, I’m afraid.” She grinned and raised her eyes to the ceiling. Without pausing to think, Serena also glanced upward at the shadowed ceiling. Twenty feet above their heads, clinging like giant spiders to the concrete ceiling, hunkered four people. As she opened her mouth to ask, or maybe shriek, for some kind of explanation, all four of them dropped down beside her. Scott windmilled backward in shock and fell flat on his bony backside. Mia, looking like some kind of 11

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smiling Degas sculpture come to life, nodded to someone directly behind Serena. Strong hands grabbed Serena’s arms. Shouting in surprise, she struggled to wrench loose. She mule-kicked backward and, with an immense, hot crackle of satisfaction, landed a cracking blow on someone’s shin or knee. “She’s strong,” a deep, feminine voice complained, and her fingers tightened on Serena’s arms until she cried out. The woman behind her shuddered briefly. Another hand grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. With her eyes rolled downward, she could barely see Mia laughing as she drew a hand from behind her back. Twinkling in her hand was a small, thin knife with a six-inch blade. “I told you I had a knife, Serena,” she said, and winked. Not even thinking, terror and fury exploding like fireworks in her mind, Serena rested her body weight on the woman behind her, who grunted, and then raised both feet and kicked Mia in the stomach. Mia’s breath whistled out of her mouth, and she doubled over briefly. When she straightened, she no longer smiled. “Not nice,” she said with anger and, to Serena’s hysterical surprise, a hint of reprimand. Am I overstepping the bounds of assassination propriety? Serena thought, hysterical laughter clotting in her throat. Mia stepped toward her, knife handle clutched in her fist. Serena bucked against the woman behind her, and the hand in her hair yanked her head back all the way. Still struggling, pulse pounding in her throat, she stared up at the ceiling, where just minutes ago these maniacs had clung, waiting for her. All of a sudden, Mia cried out and stumbled. The hand holding Serena’s hair disappeared, and her chin snapped downward. Not five feet from her, Mia 12

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and another woman—one of the four ceiling crawlers?—wrestled on the ground, rolling, tumbling, punching, and kicking like two wolverines in a fighting pit. Behind her, more chaos erupted. Maybe Scott had pounced into action. The woman behind her still held her arms, but her grip had loosened slightly. Her tangy breath rustled the hair at the base of Serena’s skull; they must be approximately the same height. Serena rocked her head backward, hearing a crunch and a scream. For a moment, she thought the cracking sound had come from her own, newlythrobbing head. How come the movie heroes never seemed to smart when they did heroic things? Angry at her head for daring to hurt inappropriately, furious at the woman behind her, she kicked backward again and was gratified once again to hear a painful sounding snap. “You bitch!” the woman screamed, and in her pain, she further loosened her grip on Serena’s arms. Serena wrenched free and spun around. The scene before her was something out of Dante’s Inferno, although his hell was icy and this was oh, so hot. In less than three seconds, she took in the sight of a tall, scowling man simultaneously fighting two other people. Blood coated his face in profile, and his teeth gleamed white and fierce in the dim lighting. Several feet away, Scott had risen from the ground and was throwing inexpert punches at a shorter, burlier man. Scott’s expression was terrified. Directly before her stood a heavy, bald, white woman in her mid-twenties. Blood whispered down her face from her wounded nose, and she was favoring her left leg. Her bright blue, thickly-lashed eyes, incongruous with the rest of her blunt appearance, had narrowed in pain and fury. 13

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Her adrenal glands still in overdrive, Serena scowled and equally distributed her weight on both feet. The blue-eyed woman took a menacing step toward her and winced. Not caring a whole lot about fairness, Serena used the opportunity to land another kick on the woman’s wounded kneecap. The woman screamed and fell to the ground. Serena hovered nearby while the woman sat, legs splayed, on the warm concrete. Satisfied that Blue Eyes was out of the game, she turned back to the life-and-death fight between Mia and the strong, dark, heavily-built woman that traded punches and kicks with her. They were both upright again, and the tall, short-haired woman fighting Mia sported various bloody gashes along her arms and torso. Oh my god, is she going to die? she thought. Mia wasn’t faring much better. Several red patches marred her runway perfect face, and blood trickled down her chin from her lip. Perhaps worst of all, her right arm hung awkward and useless at her side. What can I do? What should I do? Just five minutes ago, she’d been intent on saving the life of a depressed young college student, and now she was embroiled in the middle of some dangerous, physicsdefying battle whose rules she didn’t understand. Her meditations came to an abrupt end when an impact landed with great force and fury on the back of her knee. She slammed backward to the ground, knocking her head on the concrete and gasping as the air whooshed from her body. Her lungs squeezed as she struggled to breathe, her knee throbbed, and she was semi-confident her head had cracked like a hard-boiled egg. Resting her weight on cracking knees that bracketed Serena’s head, Blue Eyes leaned over her, eyes closed in what looked like some kind of sexual ecstasy. They snapped open not five seconds later, and she grinned at Serena. A spot of 14

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blood dripped from her chin and spattered on Serena’s head. Disgusted and horrified by that intimate exchange, Serena would have screamed— for help, in fury, or in pain—but her breath hadn’t yet returned. As her hands clawed at her chest, metaphorically opening it to all the air in the fetid room, she wished in a serene corner of her brain to use her witty repartee to save her, or at least to go out fighting. She’d watched enough movies to know her breathless silence was embarrassingly uncool. Apparently, Blue Eyes thought so, too, because her head suddenly snapped up, reminding Serena of a dog whose owner had just called them. Blue Eyes glanced quickly back at Serena and then stood up with a groan and a stumble. “We’ll finish this later, sweetie,” she promised in her deep, resonant voice, still smiling. Serena’s breath slammed back into her chest, and she gasped and shuddered with the simple pleasure of filling her lungs with air, no matter how hot and stagnant. Blue Eyes stumbled away from her, and Serena felt hot pleasure that she’d caused her so much pain. As she watched her go, she also noticed two others shuffling toward the door, carrying an unconscious Mia between them. Were they leaving? Actually leaving? Hissing in pain, Serena turned the lead weight of her head to survey the rest of the room; she was heartened when her brains remained inside her apparently thick skull. Sure enough, everyone else was either kneeling or, like her, lying on the floor. No one was in good enough condition to challenge the retreat. “We’ll finish this later,” Blue Eyes repeated, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. Her companions walked Mia out of the room, and she followed, gently closing the door behind her. The sound of the latch snapping into the strike plate 15

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reverberated throughout the huge room. Or perhaps Serena really had bumped her head overly hard. Gabriel experienced the full force of his injuries the moment the door clunked closed. His side throbbed, a wound on his forehead leaked blood into his eye and mouth, and he’d garnered two other knife wounds, both defensive ones on his forearm. Against his will, he groaned as he rose—stumbled to his feet. He’d been trained in combat and knew the elbow was one of the body’s most effective weapons ; somehow, that factoid wasn’t quite as interesting when one was on the receiving end. “Status,” he snapped, looking around the room. Three on the ground: the woman, the man, and an unconscious leech. Only Jade remained on her feet, and he suspected that wouldn’t last for long. “Still alive,” Jade gasped, smiling crookedly at him. Standing there, swaying, trying to look tough, she seemed very young to Gabriel. She was maybe a dozen years younger than him, but he could feel the weight of every one of those years. “Sit down,” he ordered. The light-haired, male human lay ten feet from him, and Gabriel glanced at him to ensure he still breathed. Good. Gabriel shuffled toward the black-haired woman lying on the concrete. Those brown eyes of hers stared fearfully up at him. At him? After everything, she feared him? He reminded himself she didn’t know who he was, what he was, why he was here. “You okay?” he quietly rasped. She nodded very slightly. “Can you move?” “Are you here to hurt us?” she asked him. Her calm voice sounded just as it had in his vision. “No,” he grunted. He extended a hand to her. Painfully, she rose on her own to her elbow and then sat up. She finally grabbed his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Once up, she was steadier than he was. She stared at him in silence for a moment; he 16

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doubted he was currently a vision to inspire comfort and confidence. Her eyes moved from his, and then she walked to her friend. “Scott?” she asked. Her friend groaned in response and sat up. His legs splayed before him, and his hands dangled between them on the dark floor. The black-haired woman sat down beside him and put her arm around his shoulders, murmuring comforting words to him. Gabriel wiped the blood from his eye and turned his attention to the rest of the room. Chugging machinery loomed in one of the corners, offering the only possible hiding places. All other spaces, both horizontal and vertical, were clear. He limped to the boiler: nothing. At least for now, they were safe. The woman was helping the man to his feet as he walked by them. Gabriel’s gait was usually brisk in that way long-legged people have, but the most he could manage right now was an enthusiastic shuffle. He reached the door and turned the knob. Or tried, at least. “We’re locked in,” he announced to the room. Jade snorted; like him, she was not surprised. “What?” the man, Scott, cried. Gabriel turned to him. “They locked us in here? Why? No, wait, scratch that. First of all, who are they?” “And who are you?” the woman added more quietly. “Questions later. Now, we have to minimize the threat of our prisoner.” He nodded toward the leech, still lying unconscious and bloody on the ground. “Are you going to kill him?” Scott almost whispered. “I said minimize, not eliminate,” Gabriel growled through his teeth. He pointed at Scott’s shoes. “I’ll need your shoelaces and your belt, if you’re wearing one.” He likewise untied his boots, 17

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removed them, and freed the laces. He was wearing a belt, which he removed. Scott wasn’t. Without a word, Jade threw her shoelaces to him. His broad fingers tugged them into a braid. The black-haired woman grabbed the other three from him and followed suit. The two of them approached the unconscious leech. The woman wrinkled her nose in disgust, possibly because of the blood, possibly because this man had only recently helped expose her throat for the thrust of a knife. Or maybe because the entire situation called for a little bit of disgust. Gabriel rolled the leech onto his side and drew his hands together in the back. While he bound his wrists with his belt, the woman wrapped their makeshift ropes around his ankles. “Bondage with shoelaces. Who’d have thought this day would lead here?” she muttered. Gabriel thought about saying something back—something witty, maybe, or reassuring. He remained silent. They were both done, then, and she looked at him. Hunkered down beside the prone leech, they were eye to eye. He was surprised when he felt his hand rising to the left side of his face; normally, he refused to minimize his scars. Instead, he used his hand to wipe some of the blood from his forehead. “Since we hogtied this gentleman together, I figure we’ve advanced to the first name stage. I’m Serena.” He decided not to tell her this wasn’t technically hogtying. “Gabriel,” he said. “Gabriel, why did these people want to kill me?” She kept her tone low, her voice quiet. “I don’t know,” he said. He stood up and offered her his hand, but she rose without it. “Hey!” Scott called out. “Your friend just collapsed!” Serena followed Gabriel as he walked as swiftly 18

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as he could manage to the crumpled form of the tall, curvy woman who had earlier saved her from Mia and her shiny knife. The woman’s serene face scared her. Had she, indeed, died? She crouched down and pressed two fingers to the woman’s neck. “She’s alive,” she announced on a gasp. “Thank god!” Gabriel creaked to his knees beside her and rolled his friend onto her back. Rather stiffly, he shrugged off his glistening—was that blood?—black jacket, folded it neatly with the wet side down, and placed it under her head. Underneath his jacket, liquid, probably from the knife wound in his arm, also spotted his black, short-sleeved T-shirt. “Jade needs rest,” he said, his raspy voice grating in his throat. He rose again to his feet and stood staring at the one he’d called Jade. Gritting her teeth, Serena stated the obvious. “She needs a doctor.” She grabbed her cell phone from her jeans’ front pocket and flipped it open. No signal. Growling in frustration, she rose to her feet and walked around the room, staring the entire time at her phone. No damn reception anywhere down here; they were too far underground. Had Mia planned that? She stormed back to Jade’s sleeping form and stared at her bloodied arms and midsection. Remembering her client’s earlier words, she suddenly wished she were a doctor, preferably one of the medical variety. “Jade will be okay. She just needs to sleep,” Gabriel said with infuriating equanimity. How could he stand there and do nothing in the face of his friend’s blood, bruises, and unconsciousness? “We at least need to bandage her wounds,” Serena said with a tinge of sharpness. He remained still and silent when she grabbed the knife that Mia had dropped and plunked down 19

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beside the waxy and unmoving Jade. She shrugged out of her navy blue suit jacket. Sweltering though it was, the air that trickled over her sweaty arms felt heavenly. Her pale yellow T-shirt had already plastered itself to her sweating torso. “I am going to cut up my jacket and use the strips as bandages,” she explained. “I’m going to use them on both you and Jade, since you’ve both been cut.” Gabriel stared at her for a long moment, crossing his arms. From her vantage point on the ground, she could tell his dark brown, or maybe black, hair was pulled into a brief and puffy ponytail. Monochromatic outfit, gravelly voice, and bloodied face surrounded by a ponytail: his toughguy image coalesced with the predictable next phrase: “I don’t need any bandages.” Was this man for real? “You’re dripping blood on the ground. I thoroughly respect your need to exercise your testosterone, but I won’t let someone wounded refuse treatment. Sit down right now!” she commanded, pointing at the ground beside her. He stared expressionlessly at her for a minute before sitting down beside her. “While I bandage you and Jade, you will tell me everything you know about what the hell is going on here.” She hesitated and drew a deep breath. “Please.” The first strip she cut she handed to him. “I wish we had some water,” she said, “but we don’t. A dry piece of cloth is the closest we’ll get to a good wash.” Gabriel, his eyes never moving from hers, used the cloth to wipe the blood from his face. With the sheen of blood gone, or at least mixed more creatively with his sweat, she could see the relief map of silver scars across the left side of his face, including his ear and his neck. One shiny, pinksilver scar bisected his left eyebrow and another one slightly pulled up the left side of his mouth. He 20

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appeared to be perpetually sneering. “Sorry about your jacket,” he said. His face and voice remained neutral, but she knew he’d witnessed her perusal. She hoped her smile wasn’t wobbly. “Don’t be. You could buy a meal at a chain restaurant for what that jacket cost.” Serena took a breath to say something else, hesitated, and then returned her attention to the mangled jacket. She cut another strip, and another, and then demanded his arm. His left arm, at least part of his forearm and hand, were also scarred. She bandaged his two wounds. “You’re done,” she said into the silence, smiling and fumbling in her attempt to pat his wrist, an area she hoped was neutral enough. “Now, how about that explanation?” Gabriel glanced down at Jade. Serena imagined he was hoping she would awaken and fill her and Scott in instead. No such luck, compadre, she mentally snorted. “Who are you?” Scott demanded. He had come closer to their merry trio and now stood behind Serena. “I’m Gabriel, son of Marcus,” he said slowly. “This is Jade, daughter of Aya. We exist to fight the beings that attacked you tonight.” Serena leaned toward him. “They’re not human,” she said quietly, flatly. Gabriel inclined his head toward her and then nodded. She sat back with a grunt. “What are they?” “They’re a genetic mutation of humans. We call them leeches, although that’s not what they call themselves. They’ve developed certain skills and possess some exaggerated human tendencies. They’re strong, they’re fast, and they’ve developed a unique way to eat.” “What’s that?” Scott asked slowly. 21

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“They eat you,” Gabriel said, looking straight at Serena. With his scarred face, sneering lips, and grave expression smeared with the blue-white light from a nearby fixture, he looked slightly demonic. “Me?” she gasped, shuddering. “Not just you. All humans. Leeches eat negative human emotions. Anytime you feel depressed, hopeless, and so on, the leeches feed.” If that’s true, they’d starve around Nadia, she thought, and had to stop herself from braying laughter. She took deep breaths and continued to stab the cloth and tear it into strips of various sizes. Much to her disgust, her hands trembled very slightly. Scott placed a hand on top of Serena’s head. It hurt, and her scalp tingled under the heat and weight of his hand; given the scorching heat of the room, she was tempted to shrug it off. However, she realized he drew comfort from touch. “This is crazy,” Scott said with remarkable calmness. “You’re talking like some comic book characters have come to life and are roaming the L.A. streets.” Serena looked up, and Scott’s hand dropped away. Gabriel didn’t even glance at the other man, choosing to address his response to her: “Leeches are visually indistinguishable from ordinary humans. They have ordinary lives, just like you two, which might include roaming the L.A. streets. They have a few differences, though: they’re stronger, they’re faster, they can climb walls…” “I kind of noticed that.” Serena’s tone was dry. Gabriel was silent, watching her. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s say I buy all this. Who are you and Jade, storming in here to save our two insignificant butts?” She tore another strip and placed it on her small pile. “Speak for yourself,” Scott muttered, and she 22

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threw a smile at him. Gabriel didn’t answer for a moment or two. “We’re a group that monitors leeches and tries to minimize the damage they do.” “Are you all some kind of cult, with the ‘son of Adam’ and ‘daughter of Eve’ business?” Scott asked. Serena winced. “Something like that,” Gabriel grated. He gestured toward the pile of strips. “Done?” Serena grabbed some cloths and turned to Jade. She began delicately dabbing the wounds on Jade’s stomach and side. “You know, I appreciate your earlier intervention, and I’m all about serving where I’m needed, but Florence Nightingale I ain’t. How come I’m the only one concerned enough to clean and dress her wounds?” Scott scurried to her side. He grabbed a couple of cloths and, with a sour look of disgust that she doubted he knew his face revealed, delicately mopped up some of the blood that had trickled down Jade’s light brown arm. “Jade heals quickly,” Gabriel said, rough voice dispassionate. “This is your waste of time, not mine.” “Prince Charming in blue jeans,” Serena said through tight lips before remembering his jeans, like every other article he wore, were black. Dammit! Couldn’t she successfully slip in one simple, sarcastic quip? “All right then—one more question. Do you know why they tricked us into coming here? And how did you know to come?” “That’s two questions,” he pointed out. She opened her mouth to defend herself but saw a faint smile tugging his lips upward. His smile, like so much else about him, was lopsided, unexpected, and understated. “First question: I have no idea. Second question: Our group has many different sources of information.” “Mr. Mysterious,” she muttered in annoyance, 23

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and continued to dab. Gabriel didn’t have to be a “psychic” to know he’d left them with more questions than answers. While Serena swabbed Jade’s wounds and Scott persisted in fluttering about her like a well-meaning but annoying moth, he decided to check the room for alternative exits. He was pretty certain the exercise was futile, since this whole situation stank of an ambush and leeches were as obsessed with privacy as were their hunters, but he was damned if he’d kick back in this steaming hot room, pretending he was vacationing at a sauna while he waited for more leeches to arrive and pick them all off at their leisure. He was still kicking himself for not remembering his cell phone. Granted, he wasn’t much of a phone junkie—in fact, he’d had a grand total of three conversations on the damn thing—but during times like this, he would be more than willing to overcome his natural dislike of telephones. Gabriel strode throughout the room, searching for something to aid their escape. From long habit, he took succinct mental notes. Measurements: about forty feet long, twenty-five feet wide near the door, and about ten near their cubby by the back wall. The boiler, plunked inside its steel cage, sat about seventy percent of the way between the front and back walls, marking the place where wall five started narrowing to a panhandle of sorts, effectively cutting off a corner of the room. Windows: none. Walls, floor, and ceiling: concrete. Door: steel. Locks: external to the room. Furnishings: aside from a loud, rumbling boiler that heated the room to a temperature better suited to Death Valley, nothing. The leeches had done an admirable job finding the one room in a thousand that could keep a hunter (albeit an unconscious one right now) snug in her prison. 24

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They were stuck in here until a university employee found them, the leeches returned, or he could think of a way to escape from this concrete lockbox. He felt Serena’s attention on him. “Any luck?” she asked when he turned to her. “We’re locked in unless I can think of something.” He continued walking. “We’ll all try to think of something,” she said, gently chiding him. Gabriel wasn’t certain if he was amused or annoyed that in the middle of a lifethreatening situation, this woman was hell-bent on ensuring everyone felt included and validated. He looked at her and found her eyes tracking his movements. Realizing he was pacing, he stopped moving and slid down one of the walls. His restless mind demanded movement, but his aching body settled into repose without any indication that it would ever move again. “Will those people be back?” Scott asked him. He still sat next to Serena. “They’re not people,” Gabriel rasped, teeth clenched. “And there’s no reason for them not to. They’re probably getting help for Mia before heading back.” It’s not like we’re going anywhere. They were silent for a minute, probably each thinking thoughts as dire as his own. Serena finally asked him if he knew the names of all the leeches. He shook his head. “Only Mia,” of course, “and Shar, the bald woman whose ass you insisted on kicking.” Serena’s responding shrug ended in a wide grin. Scott murmured something to her, and she turned to him. Ah, young, jealous love. “Could we possibly kick the door down?” Serena, an obvious fan of prime-time television shows, asked. “We could try, but it wouldn’t do us any good. 25

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It’s a steel door with reinforced hinges. And besides—” How to say this without giving too much away? “—Jade is very strong. Even with her added strength, which is significant, we’ll only have a small chance of succeeding.” Serena’s brow wrinkled, and Scott’s expression said as loudly as words that Gabriel’s masculinity needed a serious tune up. He didn’t much care that they didn’t understand. Without Jade, they had no chance of busting down a door of that size and weight; he sincerely doubted they could do it even with Jade’s superhuman strength. Serena absently fanned her chest using the hemline of her shirt. Her skin was very white, contrasting starkly with her straight, shoulderlength black hair and dark brown eyes. “Maybe we could sabotage the boiler,” she suggested. “And make a maintenance person come down to fix it, thereby rescuing us.” “Have you never read Stephen King?” Scott asked, shaking his shaggy head. “Rule number one: Boilers are like time bombs.” Serena’s face scrunched into brief confusion. “Besides,” Gabriel drawled. “I don’t have the strength to bend those steel bars surrounding it.” Scott sighed and slumped backward. “I suppose no one could hear us if we screamed for help,” he groused. “Too loud,” Serena said, gesturing toward the boiler. “And too thick.” She pointed at the concrete walls. “We are so screwed,” Scott breathed. Gabriel almost didn’t hear him over the chugging of the boiler. “I know it seems hopeless, but maybe we can use our time to come up with some weapons and turn this into a fortress or something,” Serena said, patting his knee. 26

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Scott tossed a tiny, lopsided small her way. “Are you ever not a counselor?” he asked. She smiled back. “It’s a good idea,” Gabriel said, nodding at Serena. “What weapons do we have available to us?” “Mia’s knife,” Serena replied, waving it. “Right. Jade also has a knife in an ankle holster,” Gabriel said. “I have a stun gun in my pocket…” “Are you serious?” Serena asked with a small smile. “Quite. Anything you two have that will help us?” The duo searched their pockets. “I have a nonfunctioning cell phone that I could lob at someone,” Serena said drily. “And some pink lipstick in case they need a touch-up.” “My keys,” Scott said, jingling them. “Keys make decent makeshift weapons,” Gabriel said. “A few poking from between fingers can make a punch more…effective. And keep checking your cell phone. It’s probably too far underground, but we can hope.” At Gabriel’s urging, Serena retrieved Jade’s knife. Then, they distributed their collective booty: Scott armed himself with Jade’s knife and his keys, Serena kept Mia’s knife and her own keys nearby, and Gabriel took his stun gun out of his pocket. Leeches beware! Gabriel suggested they move their party to the darker space behind the boiler. It would provide a modicum of cover when the leeches returned. He wanted to carry Jade to their new hidey-hole, but Serena was adamant that they not move her. More because he thought she’d be up and about shortly than because he agreed with Serena, he left Jade where she lay. The leech they left. Whether it was the stifling, stagnant heat or his 27

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wounds demanding more attention than he was willing to give them, Gabriel was pouring sweat by the time he sat down in a space directly behind the boiler and ten or so feet from Serena and Scott. What a fierce protector he was turning out to be. He slumped against the dark wall and watched Serena’s and Scott’s mouths form words of comfort for one other. A few minutes later, Serena rose gracefully to her feet and stalked around the room, armed with her cell phone. Glaring at its LCD display, she moved from place to place, walking slowly, stopping frequently, disappearing around the boiler, and finally coming back. When she came back, she was wiping her brow and frowning. No luck with cell reception. From his vantage point, also the darkest place in the room, Gabriel watched Serena slide wetly down the wall. Scott was scowling, and she made some kind of joke that ended with her pretending to use her tube of pink lipstick as brass knuckles. He smiled obligingly. When Scott looked away, her smile faltered, her eyes dropped to the ground. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair swung forward to bracket her strong face. After a long moment, she glanced upward and caught his eyes. She nodded slightly before looking away. He was pleased that she hadn’t felt compelled to fake cheer for his sake.

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Chapter Three Less than an hour after their move, Serena decided to disrobe. Okay, she got it—the leeches were coming back, and she needed to be prepared. But oh, the heat. Droplets of sweat rolled down her arms, pooled in the indentations of her collarbone, crawled their way across her scalp. She wasn’t sure if she felt most like drinking a gallon of ice water, jumping into the Antarctic Ocean, or snapping at Scott and Gabriel for daring to breathe and exude heat in this stiflingly hot place. Dreams of hair clips for her annoyingly damp hair and forays into icy cold meat lockers danced in her head. She was a modest woman, in small part because of she knew she didn’t have the type of figure to inspire lust in the average heterosexual man. She had the same equipment as most women, but somehow it didn’t add up to a figure that turned heads. It was probably the straight lines and the sense of solidity and strength that led people to regard her as “stout” or “sturdy.” Her mother, a diminutive, bleached-blonde woman, had always claimed she took after her father. Like many women in a movie-saturated culture, Serena had arrived at a shaky truce with her body. Her body served her well, was strong and vital, never got sick, and quite efficiently got her from point A to point B. Her modesty sprang less from her body dissatisfaction than from her mother’s teachings. Even at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, she couldn’t forget her mother’s repeated admonishments to “remember good girls always 29

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keep the goodies in the cupboard.” Honoring her deceased mother during extreme circumstances was a touching attempt to minimize the loss; however, it did nothing to ease the infuriating trickle of sweat down her back and through her eyebrows. She stood up and nervously smoothed her sweaty palms on her blue jeans. “Gentleman,” she announced in a calm, carrying voice. Both men looked up at her although, in the case of Gabriel, it was more a case of giving him permission to do what he’d been doing on and off for the past hour. How to put this? “Um, I’m stripping.” Utter silence. She worried about blushing, remembered the heat had already flushed her face, anyway, and then told herself to grow up. “Off with the shirt and pants,” she said, pointing to the articles of clothing in question, just in case she hadn’t been clear earlier. “I’m hot.” “I don’t know when the leeches will return,” Gabriel said. His ravaged face was impassive. “Yeah, I know,” she said. “What will you do when they come back and you’re…unprepared?” “Either ask you two to stall while I slip into something less comfortable or else fight in my skivvies.” She smiled slightly at him, trying not to fidget. Gabriel rose slowly to his feet. Even from ten feet away, she could tell he was a solid eight or nine inches taller than her. Like her, he was built solidly, although he had long legs, a broad chest, and thick arms. His expression, like his posture, read as blank and withdrawn, but his raspy voice sounded stern, even a little cold. “Serena, are you taking this seriously? This is a life and death situation. We shouldn’t dismiss any single defense, no matter how small, that might help us against the leeches. Your 30

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T-shirt is thin cotton, but your jeans—” Her mother’s preachings about good girls never interrupting dove for cover in her hot, cranky brain. “I don’t take this—Are you serious? You think I’m having fun here? You think I enjoy being ambushed, having some crazy pack of mutants threaten my life for some reason unbeknownst to us all?” Her voice was rising, her fists balling against her thighs. “You think I will ever forget the feeling of someone pulling my head back so some crazy freak can slit my throat? You think I’ll have one single night of peace after that, assuming, of course, I even have a future that includes nights? What, my dream vacation includes a hell-hot room, a surly rescuer, and enough spilled blood to make a hemophobe run screaming?” Somehow, her left hand had come to clutch her hip while her right pointed straight at Gabriel. “I couldn’t take this more seriously. I’m scared as hell, but I’m also hot and pissed off. I can’t do anything about one, but I can sure as hell do something, even if just a little bit, about the other.” She grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. Then, glaring at Gabriel, feeling a distant measure of relief at having a wave of fury to ride through this moment, she peeled off her sodden jeans. Standing defiantly in her matching lavender bra and panty set, she glared first at Gabriel and then at Scott, just in case he had an objection, too. The only sound in the room was the pulse-thump of the damnable boiler. Finally, she composed her expression and said in her usual calm voice, “I suggest you both follow my example before you pass out from the heat.” Forbidding herself to cross her arms over her stomach or breasts, she sat back down near Scott. After a moment of silence, Scott followed suit, ridding himself of his T-shirt and jeans. His boxers were a dark green plaid. 31

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Gabriel remained clothed. **** The piercing howl came as a relief. Gabriel had spent the last hour or so trying not to let his eyes drop below Serena’s stern, well-sculpted chin. It wasn’t that her undergarments were unusually lacy or revealing; in fact, they seemed pretty modest to him. He could certainly see more while visiting any of L.A.’s many beaches. But this was different. He was yanked out of his inappropriate musings by the sound of a leech screeching. He lurched to his feet and peered around the boiler. He hadn’t heard the door, but…Gabriel relaxed very slightly. It was just their prisoner, finally waking up after his leisurely snooze. Gabriel strolled from behind the boiler and into the leech’s line of sight. “Hello, sleeping beauty,” he said, favoring the leech with a smile that emphasized the scar running through his upper lip. “Where are my friends?” the leech demanded. Even while lying on his side on the floor and staring the six feet up to Gabriel’s eyes, he managed to exude menace. His malevolent brown eyes snapped, his lips shriveled back from his teeth. Was it any wonder Gabriel’s people considered them subhuman? “No, no, friend,” Gabriel confided, squatting down next to him. “You’re not the one asking questions here. We have some talking to do, you and me, and if you’re a good boy, I’ll consider letting you live.” The leech snarled at him, and then his eyes darted to a place directly behind Gabriel. Oh, damn. “Is he awake?” Serena asked. “Serena,” the leech purred, and Gabriel considered punching that smile off his face. “You’re looking lovely. Far lovelier than I remember. What’s with the bikini? I take a short nap and all of a 32

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sudden you’re frolicking about in beach wear?” “Me,” Gabriel grated, and the leech looked at him. “You will talk with me only. Serena, go.” Ignoring his order, Serena rested on her haunches next to him. Her face was drawn tight, her teeth clenched. This woman would send him into a premature grave long before any leech had the chance. “What’s your name?” she asked the leech through her pursed lips. Goddammit! That was the last question he wanted asked! The purpose of interrogations was to garner pertinent information using whatever methods necessary, not to exchange names and life goals. Soon, she’d probably have him crying over his scarring adolescence. The leech smirked at Gabriel; he understood the situation. “Terryl.” That was it; he would personally escort her back to Scott. He started rising, and then she asked, “Terryl, why did your people attack me?” He dropped slowly back down. Incredibly, the leech smiled. “Because our boss told us to.” “Why?” she insisted, leaning closer. Gabriel grabbed her arm to steady her. “Don’t know, don’t care. The boss says you, you, and you go smear some pretty girl, we go. It’s nothing—” “Don’t you dare say it’s nothing personal,” Serena hissed. The leech tilted his head to stare at her. A long moment stretched between them. Gabriel should have picked up on what was happening, but, in his defense, he was tired, hot, and wounded. He stared stupidly at the leech for a moment, until he felt Serena gasp and shudder against him. The leech closed his eyes and smiled in brief bliss. “What the hell?” Serena gasped. Gabriel rose, 33

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dragging her with him. They walked silently, quickly back to the area behind the boiler. “Sit,” he snapped, and for once, she obeyed. However, as he started walking away, she grabbed his arm. Her face was intense, her grip firm. “You can’t kill him,” she insisted, eyebrows pinched. “He’s…awful, but we can’t hurt someone who’s bound and helpless.” “This isn’t an ethics quiz,” he rasped. “It’s real life, and we’re in danger.” He could feel her eyes following him, as intense as the boiler’s heat, as he strode back to the leech. “I like her,” the leech said as soon as Gabriel was close enough to hear him. “She’s yummy.” “Why her?” Gabriel asked. “Why five of you for one human?” “Don’t know, don’t care,” he repeated. “Although, given the pesky interference from her white knights, I have a suspicion.” He paused. “Are any of my colleagues dead? Captured?” “You forget, leech.” Gabriel’s voice was soft as he sat down beside him. “You’re not the one asking questions.” Several minutes had passed. Serena gnawed on a hangnail. She’d had a dickens of a time breaking herself of her old nail biting habit. Damn regression. The space next to her thumbnail started bleeding. On the bright side, I probably won’t have to worry about infection, she thought, and fought the urge to giggle. “That dude seriously creeps me out,” Scott said, leaning toward her. Serena heroically resisted the urge to swat him away and snap at him for using the word “dude,” which had always annoyed her. It’s just the heat making you a giant crank, she told herself. And besides, Scott was two years younger and had grown 34

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up in Southern California; “dude” was all but encoded in his genes. “Terryl?” she asked instead. “What’s a Terryl?” “The, um, leech.” Her eyes remained fastened on the space to the side of the boiler, the place she had last seen Gabriel. “Well, yeah, he definitely gives me the heebiejeebies. But I meant Gabriel, our scarred cult member. Notice how he stares at you all the time? I can’t decide if he wants to date you or haul you off to his secret underground lair and brainwash you.” Scott frowned. “We seem to be in a secret underground lair,” Serena said drily. “No brainwashing so far.” “You know what I mean.” “Yeah, I do. Here’s what I honestly think, Scott. Sure, Gabriel has been looking at me a lot. In his shoes, I’d probably do the same. Like both of us, he’s wondering what’s so special about some poor ex-grad student who runs a ramshackle, nonprofit suicide prevention organization. Why would anyone want to hurt me? Me?” Her voice trailed off. Scott grabbed for her hand; their slippery skin slid into a damp grasp. “Maybe they’re not trying to kill you. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding.” His voice sounded very small. Serena looked at him in stupefied amazement. He stared back at her for a moment, and then they both broke into giggles. “That was pretty stupid to say,” Scott laughed. “Sorry.” Serena squeezed his hand in reassurance and then let it go. They lapsed into silence. Serena couldn’t stop thinking about Terryl, about his frozen brown eyes, his oily words, the way he inserted his mental tendrils inside her brain, massaging it into lingering over images of death, gore, and the futility of fighting the inevitable. There was a hell of a lot Gabriel had omitted in his description of leeches. 35

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She despised Terryl, loathed the way he manipulated her into a froth of pain and terror that he sipped like an after-dinner cocktail. Yet, she still believed it would be wrong to hurt him. Was she an unrealistic idealist, dealing more in abstracts than in the reality of her continued survival? Maybe, but that didn’t change her stance. Except in self-defense, hurting others was simply wrong. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she rose to her feet, ignoring Scott’s inquisitive look. She took a few steps toward the space beyond the boiler and nearly collided with Gabriel. He grabbed her upper arm to steady her, and she noticed again how much taller he was. For some reason, it made her furious. She stared up at him, waiting for him to tell her what he’d done, how Terryl fared. He remained silent, holding her arm, as ten seconds ticked into twenty, then thirty, then more. Finally, Serena asked, “What did you find out?” “Absolutely nothing,” Gabriel rasped. Was his deep, grating voice something he was born with, or had he acquired it along with the scars? She hesitated for a moment and then, eyes moving rapidly between both of his, trying to read something that wasn’t present, she asked, “Terryl?” His expression remained closed. “The leech,” he enunciated with icy politeness, “is fine.” Nodding, she suddenly backed away. Gabriel walked past her and dropped, cross-legged, near his previous sitting spot. She continued staring straight ahead, debating whether or not to say it. “Thank you,” she finally said, so quietly she wondered if he could hear her. She was certain Scott couldn’t. She stood there, knowing his next words would be something to the effect of “I didn’t do it for you” or “Don’t flatter yourself.” “You’re welcome.” 36

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Serena made another cell phone circuit, although this time within the smaller confines of their boiler-hidden nest. Still nothing. She felt like throwing the cell phone against the concrete wall and jumping up and down, after slipping back into her shoes, of course, on it till the shiny piece of machinery lay in a fine, fluffy powder on the floor. Coaching herself to smile through her irritation (she was a good, ex-Catholic girl, after all), she clipped the phone to her right bra strap. Fashionable she wasn’t, but she was hoping she’d notice if the phone suddenly surged with satellite-infused life. Feeling a little restless, she walked several times around their small area. Behind the boiler, the wall angled diagonally toward the back. All in all, their space behind the boiler would make for a comfortable-sized apartment living room. All the while, two pairs of masculine eyes tracked her movements. More for something to do than because she really felt a need to chat, she sat down next to Gabriel. “I’ve been thinking,” she began. “You’re probably right about that door. But maybe if all three of us try it…” Gabriel’s half-and-half face stared back at her with no expression. “I tried it a while back. It’s solid steel. Our only chance is with Jade.” In classic counselor mode, she tamped down her irritation. “You’re probably right, but don’t you think we should try something? I mean, for morale’s sake, if nothing else. Scott is enormously upset. I think giving him some task would make him feel better, even if only for a few minutes.” Gabriel stared at her for so long, she began to feel a little itchy. Really, this man could win a gold in the Expressionless Staring Competition, an event held in the Machismo Olympics. “My job is to keep you safe,” he rasped, “not to 37

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boost Scott’s morale.” Something about the way he said “you” made her think he meant it in the singular sense. Grinning at him through a mouthful of teeth, she chirped, “Okay, but wouldn’t it be great if we could do both?” “This is war, not group therapy,” he said. “I’m trying to make this situation more tolerable,” she said between gritted teeth. Gabriel’s gaze flickered behind her at Scott. Trauma bound her boys were not. “I know. Do whatever you want, but don’t ask me to participate.” She snapped, “Is fighting all you can do?” “Pretty much,” he said. His eyes were brown, she noticed. And calm in the heat of her ire. Sighing, she slumped backward. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.” Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Which part? Being pissed off or telling me I’m nothing but an old soldier?” She smiled at him. “Being snappy and saying things I don’t mean.” He smiled back, very slightly. “I like it better when you say what you’re really thinking. And you’re right to ask if fighting is my whole life. It is.” “Gabriel?” He raised his eyebrows again. “What did you mean: ‘this is war’?” He glanced away for a moment. Interesting, given his comment about valuing truth. “The group Jade and I are a part of, we exist in complete opposition to the leeches. Our whole lives are built around waging war against them, minimizing their effects on others.” Wow. “How come we’ve never heard anything about you, or about the leeches?” “Like the leeches, we value secrecy.” This wasn’t making any sense to her. “But 38

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couldn’t you end their influence, or at least minimize it, if you went public?” He remained silent for a long time while apparently trying to stare through her pupils directly into her optic nerve. Finally, and slowly, he said, “We worry about war, about genocide, about terror and misunderstandings, if humans ever found out about other human-like species.” She heard the plural where he perhaps had not intended it. “You counsel grieving people. You know people don’t adapt well to change.” “Yeah,” she said, smiling. “Plus, I’ve seen all those X-Men movies.” She marveled at his lopsided, seemingly ferocious, and somewhat rusty return smile. In spite of the scars and the virtual creakiness of his dusty smile, she found it kind of sweet. “I know you have a lot of questions, Serena. Tell you what. When we get out of here, I’ll take you out for chamomile tea and answer whatever questions pop into your head.” “Deal,” she said. “But only because chamomile is my favorite.” She stood up, brushed imaginary wrinkles from her bra and panties, and sauntered over to Scott. An hour passed. Maybe two. Where the hell were the leeches? According to Gabriel’s watch, they had been trapped in this concrete pit for over five hours. He was thrilled they hadn’t returned, but it didn’t make any sense to him. He and the now-three other conscious beings had spent most of the time in silence, although the leech occasionally broke into loud taunts or outraged howls. Scott dozed on and off, and although Gabriel wanted to scorn him for it, he couldn’t deny his own lazy, heat-induced sluggishness. If it wouldn’t be a betrayal to his duty, he wouldn’t mind a nap himself. To a tired, wounded body, even moldering concrete made a comfortable 39

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bed.

Serena also remained alert, her expressive face moving from apprehension to wariness to determined cheerfulness whenever she caught Scott’s eye. He remembered Scott’s question about whether she ever exited her counselor mode; it interested him to see her struggle to remain one for her boyfriend. It was his experience that the strong always put the needs of the weak before their own. Serena glanced up, catching his eyes. He was no etiquette guru, but he knew propriety dictated he avert his eyes. Screw propriety. He liked that she didn’t school her expression into a reassuring mask for his benefit; he would rather see her hot, grumpy, and frustrated than perfectly professional. She rose to her feet and walked silently past him and out of his line of sight. He contemplated following her but decided to trust in her good sense. “Serena!” the leech shouted in delight. Don’t look into his eyes. Apparently, she didn’t, since the leech called her name once again. “Serena, my love, come here! I have something I want to confess!” Gabriel watched Scott’s head slump to his shoulder. His hands lay palm up on his bare thighs, and his legs splayed before him. It looked severely uncomfortable, yet Gabriel still envied him the escape. “Serena, Serena!” the leech pronounced her name with an Italian, or maybe Spanish, accent. The woman in question reappeared, walking around the boiler and into their cozy nest. Instead of marching to the wilting Scott, she strode instead to Gabriel and plunked down beside him. After a moment of silence, she finally spoke. “I’m currently missing my afternoon appointment,” she told him, staring at the churning boiler. “I feel like a ninny for caring about that in the middle of all this, 40

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but…” She shrugged. Her use of the anachronistic “ninny” almost made him smile, but even he, a delinquent from Miss Manners’ academy, knew better. He searched for comforting words and found none. As usual, he spoke with silence. “You know, somehow in the middle of arguing with Scott about who would come with me, I forgot to tell my assistant where I was going. We were just in such a hurry. Can you imagine being that dumb? One little piece of information could have saved us from all this.” She shook her head, and damp, black tendrils whipped against her cheek. Some remained, and she slapped them away. “Jade and I came here from a meeting and forgot our cell phones. The only time I’ve ever wanted to use the damn thing, and I forgot it,” Gabriel said. “We all screwed up.” “Gabriel.” She turned to him then. He liked the way her eyes tilted upward ever-so-slightly, giving her a permanently inquisitive look. “When are they coming back?” “I wish I knew,” he said honestly, if grimly. “Terryl doesn’t know?” “The leech never expected to be left behind, so he doesn’t know any more than we do about their return.” “Speaking of the leeches,” she drawled. “I have some questions.”

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Chapter Four The counselor in Serena watched Gabriel for nonverbal cues of discomfort: avoiding her eyes, crossing his arms, leaning back. In fact, his facial expression remained just as blank, but he redistributed his weight so he faced her more fully. And waited. “Spill it,” she said. “It?” he asked. Serena decided to try a Gabriel trick and remain silent. She folded her arms and pursed her lips. “That’s not actually a question,” he pointed out. She tilted her head in annoyance. “I’m guessing you want more information on leeches?” “Please,” she said politely. She unfolded her arms and shook them to encourage air flow. “Everything I said about them is true,” Gabriel said. “Yeah,” she said shortly. “I got that. But you left a lot out.” He did his retina-scanning stare thing while sticky seconds ticked by. Finally, he nodded his head just once. “Secrecy is a comfortable old habit. But you deserve the full truth. First, though, tell me what the leech did to you a while ago.” She inhaled. “He…invaded my mind. One second I was thinking about the situation, and then all of a sudden I was imagining what would happen when Terryl’s friends came back. It was all…blood and intestines and torn flesh. Like some kind of bad horror flick.” She shook herself in a gesture just pronounced enough not to be a shudder. 42

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“Not subtle,” Gabriel remarked. “They’re usually not so easy to detect.” She looked at him. “So you’re saying that, in addition to climbing walls like mutant bugs, these superhuman villains can also play my brain like some kind of xylophone, making it chime their favorite tunes.” Gabriel smiled slightly, his upper lip snagged in the line of his scar. “I’ve never heard it put like that, but yeah, that sounds right.” She didn’t echo his smile. Her stomach rippled to think of these…beings…these things plucking the strings of her brain, invading the one place that no one should ever have access to. “Leeches can’t read your mind,” he continued, perhaps intuiting her horror or perhaps seeing something in her expression. “They only push on your feelings and your own mind supplies the imagery to complement it.” She did shudder this time, her lip curled in disgust. “Can they affect you?” she asked. “Of course. I’ve been on the supply end of their feedings too many times to count.” His teeth had clenched. “Feedings? Ah, I get it. The leeches start our feelings spinning and eat the escalating spiral. Nice.” She sighed and wiped a stream of sweat from her forehead. “Anything else I need to know about these things? Please don’t spare anything. If I’m going to die, I deserve to at least know the full truth.” “Don’t talk like that,” Gabriel snapped. “I won’t promise you I can save you, but I do promise that if it comes down to a fight, you will be the last of us standing.” She leaned closer to him to put voice to a question and suddenly remembered she was half naked. God, she was so Victorian. Any other 43

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California woman would have felt fully clothed in her bra and panties, but it was all she, Serena O’Donnell, twenty-nine-year-old ex-Catholic girl, could do not to slap a hand over her flushed chest. Lord, if there were piano legs in the room, she’d probably blush and cover them to preserve her own modesty. She sighed in annoyance. “Why would you—and Jade—risk your lives for me? You don’t know me. I might be a horrible person who swindles lunch money from perky little schoolgirls. I might torture puppies in my spare time…” “I’m more of a cat person,” Gabriel deadpanned. She stopped, mouth open, and gaped at him. “You may not start being funny after hours of surliness, mister!” she said, shaking a finger at him. “I’m serious! Who am I to invite an attack from these things and this protection from two people I’ve never met before today?” “You’re Serena O’Donnell,” Gabriel said. “And I know you don’t steal candy from babies and abuse pets. You’re a young woman who has devoted her life to saving others, to being strong for them when they’re weak, and you’re asking me why I wanted to return the favor? “Most of all, though, you’re human, and they’re not. The leeches want to harm something natural and good, and my duty is to thwart them.” Serena sat back, silent. She wasn’t sure whether or not he had just complimented her. “Okay,” she said. “And now for the rest of the story.” Gabriel was silent. Her smile was sardonic as she gestured toward the general area beyond the boiler. “It’s been a few hours, and I just checked up on Jade. She should wake up anytime now, fully restored.” She carefully enunciated every word: “Her near-fatal wounds have 44

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almost completely healed. So, thanks for the story of leechkind, but there’s a hell of a lot left to tell, isn’t there? “Who are you, Gabriel? No, better yet, what the hell are you?” She remembered his earlier words: Secrecy is a comfortable old habit. His face remained as animated as marble, but she knew he struggled with his impulse to safeguard his secrets. Fine. He could wrestle all he wanted as long as he spilled it all in the end. She was happy to wait him out. After a few dozen seconds, she began to examine her fingernails. During her inspection, she noticed she’d chewed her right thumbnail to the quick. Dammit, she didn’t even remember doing it. “Nature loves a balance,” Gabriel finally began. O-kay. It was an odd beginning, but at least he was finally talking. “Leeches as a predator would overwhelm humanity. I believe this is why two new species evolved to keep them in check. “Leeches have advanced in two ways: their physical prowess and their psychic powers. To combat this, there are two other species, one that matches, even exceeds, leeches’ physical speed and strength. These are the hunters. To match the leeches’ mind powers, there are the psychics.” Gabriel sighed. “Only I’m making it sound like hunters and psychics are totally different. They’re not; they’re two halves of one evolutionary push.” He paused, seeming at a loss. “Leeches feed off humans, and hunters and psychics hunt the leeches. In this way, we all try to maintain the natural balance.” His words whirled around her brain. First leeches, and now psychics and hunters? When had she fallen through the rabbit hole and into this opium-induced nightmare? “Whoa,” she said, holding up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s recap. Leeches evolved from 45

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humans. Psychics and hunters evolved from leeches.” “No!” Gabriel grated. “First of all, no one knows for sure how leeches came about. The evolution theory is convenient but doesn’t answer a lot of questions. It’s a shortcut to think about this all. We don’t know if leeches, hunters, and psychics evolved alongside humanity or from them. No one knows anything for sure, but the evolution theory is pretty popular. But god, no, we didn’t evolve from leeches.” She wasn’t certain whether his explanation was insufficient or her brain had shut off in self-defense. Either way, she silently repeated his words over and over, hoping they would coalesce into some kind of informational billboard. “So,” Serena finally drawled. “Which are you: psychic or hunter?” His brow puckered—further. “I’m a psychic,” he said, as if it should be obvious. Lord, she really should have waited for Jade to awaken and explain all this. She kept her tone free from anything but polite curiosity. “And Jade?” “Jade’s a woman.” Yes, that’s true, and thanks for the reminder. “Hunters are women. Psychics are men.” “Sounds like the latest title in the Mars and Venus series,” Serena muttered, pinching the space between her eyebrows. “So, you’re psychic?” “I’m a psychic.” Oh my god. “Does that mean you can read my mind?” Suddenly in a mild panic, she started mentally singing the national anthem. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Some psychics can, but only spottily. Not me; I’m a future seer. And no, I don’t know if we’ll get out of this. No, I don’t know when the leeches will come back. I don’t live simultaneously in the present and the future. I get 46

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the occasional notion or vision, and I respond.” Looking into his light brown eyes, she suddenly heard herself asking him, “Is that how you knew to come here?” “Yeah.” Serena ran a hand down her hot, slippery face. “I think my head is about to explode,” she confided, and smiled at him. “This is, um, pretty intense.” “Yeah, I know.” “So why isn’t Terryl…you know…doing his hocus-pocus thingy in my head right now? Or is he?” She looked around, as if expecting him to be standing behind her holding a straw. Gabriel’s eyebrows quirked; really, they were his most expressive feature. “You need to meet his eyes for it to work. As long as he stays out there, you’re fine.” “Okay,” she sighed, holding her hands out before her, fingers spread. “Tell me more about hunters. Jade’s a hunter. She’s obviously quite strong and amazingly fast. But she also heals quickly? Is she immortal?” “I wish,” Gabriel said. “Hunters can take a lot, and they heal very quickly with sleep, but they’re not invulnerable and definitely not immortal.” “What about you psychics? Do you get some of that healing action?” He nodded slightly. “We do, but not like the hunters. Hunters need a single round of sleep, and they’re usually healed. We take longer, although we’re nothing like humans.” His lip curled slightly as he reluctantly added, “We heal at about the same rate as leeches.” Whoa. “You don’t consider yourself human?” “Human descended, sure, but biologically and physiologically, we’re different.” Serena glanced in the direction of the heavy steel door that Gabriel had said couldn’t be budged 47

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without Jade’s assistance. “How strong is she?” “Strong enough, I hope,” he said, eyes unwavering. “Maybe I’ll pitch in,” Serena joked, flexing her right biceps. “My assistant calls me superwoman. Maybe Jade and I can tear the door off the hinges and save our menfolk.” Gabriel grinned at her, actually grinned. His teeth were white, even, and flawless against the rugged terrain of his face. “I’ve learned never to underestimate the strength of women,” he said. She liked that. “One more question,” she said, and Gabriel inclined his head in agreement. She leaned toward him again. “What happened in your vision of us here?” The lines in his face shifted, and he was suddenly all inscrutable intensity again. After a moment of the staring routine, he spoke in a tone of almost perfect blankness. “I don’t always see the actual future,” he said. “I see possibilities. Jade and I got here in time to make sure the vision never became our reality.” She got it. Feeling slightly (and hypocritically) uncomfortable under the weight of Serena’s gaze, Gabriel pushed himself to his feet and immediately squinted his eyes in pain. Serena winced in sympathy. He dragged his aching carcass out of the room to check on Jade. Sure enough, she appeared to be dozing peacefully. He would wake her, but her wounds weren’t completely healed, and he’d learned at his mother’s knee never to interrupt a hunter’s sleep. The leech glared at him as he drew closer. Gabriel carefully kept his eyes averted, staring instead at the leech’s broad, flat nose. “You had 48

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something you wanted to share with Serena?” he rasped. “Serena only, big guy,” the leech said, leering. “You’ll never talk to her again.” Gabriel’s voice was quiet. “If there’s anything you want to get off your chest, I’m happy to play audience.” The leech suggested something creative and obscene, and Gabriel turned and walked away. The leech wanted to feed on Serena to regain his strength; he had no real information to offer. Not, Gabriel groused, that he would ever know for sure. Stepping back behind the boiler, he immediately saw Scott, curled on the floor while facing the wall. His vertebrae poked bumps into his naked back, and he looked absurdly young and vulnerable. Serena was staring at him, a half smile on her face. Even in her shiny purple underclothes, she looked anything but vulnerable to him. Sitting down, Gabriel asked, “How long have you known him?” She brushed her hair from her face. “Scott? Hmm. He started volunteering for my organization about four months after I opened the doors. I guess that means I’ve known him a little over a year.” He had a score or more questions he wanted answered but wasn’t sure how to broach them. Smooth he wasn’t. “He’s got it for you bad,” he finally said. She mimed an expression of exaggerated unease. “Scott is a fantastic guy, and I like the heck out of him. I’m just not interested. Besides, it’s against my rules to date volunteers.” So they weren’t dating. His mouth tilted upward as he said, “Tell me about your counseling.” She wrinkled her brow in surprise and confusion. He must really suck at this small talk thing. “I started Lifeline almost a year and a half ago. 49

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It’s what I wanted to do my whole life. Big dreams for a small ex-grad student, but I applied for and got a decent grant and rented a tiny office and bought some used equipment. I run a suicide hotline and counsel depressed people who don’t have insurance or can’t afford a counselor. It’s nothing fancy, but I have enough funds to last a few years, provided I’m very, very frugal. Why are you smiling?” Was he? Damn. “A woman who devotes her life to opposing forces that feed off negative emotions. A woman who saves lives every day without thought of herself. You sound like a hunter.” He felt relief when she smiled in return. “Nothing that dramatic. I’m just someone with a degree in counseling flexing the muscles I gained in grad school. I don’t think I could ever be the fighting dynamo Jade or you are.” “I don’t know. I seem to remember you taught Shar a thing or two.” She grinned and flexed her biceps again. “Don’t mess with superwoman!” Gabriel squeezed her biceps. “Intimidating,” he said seriously. She laughed. It was quiet, even restrained, but genuine. His hand remained on her arm. When she sobered, he asked her, “Why suicide, Serena?” Her smile dimmed. “I like helping people,” she said. “Yeah, I know. But why suicide?” She looked over his head, stared for a second at the boiler, undoubtedly memorizing its fascinating features. Finally, she locked eyes with him once again. She bobbed her head and said, “My mom.” “’One more question,’” he quoted, and she smiled again. “How old were you?” “Seventeen. What about you?” she asked quickly. “Mother? Father? Siblings?” So neither of them enjoyed discussing their 50

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pasts. “Only child. My mother died when I was a teenager. My father raised me. He died a couple of years ago.” “I’m sorry.” “Yeah, thanks.” He didn’t know what prompted him to explain further. Maybe, he thought drily, he was the one who would soon start crying over the trauma of his teen years. “I lost him in the same explosion that gave me these scars.” “I’m so sorry,” Serena said with considerable warmth. “That must have been devastating.” Calm, comforting, concerned. She’d slipped into counselor mode with him. His hand dropped back to his side. When he talked, he wanted it to be with her, not her profession. “I got over it.” He shrugged. She rocked to her knees and did something that utterly shocked him. She reached out a hand and touched the left side of his face. Her long, slender fingers smoothed over his scars. Her index finger fluttered over the scar that bisected the left half of his upper lip. She ran the pad of her thumb over his misshapen ear and stroked the lobe very gently. The back of her hand smoothed over the pink lines bracketing his left eye. His heart halted in his chest before leaping back to life and kicking a wild tattoo against his ribcage. His breathing quickened. He watched her intently for any sign of revulsion, disgust, pity but saw only interest and compassion. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his muscles tensed in anticipation. Did she know what she was doing? “I wondered—” she began softly, and then looked up and stopped. Her eyes widened slightly, and her mouth remained agape. He didn’t stop to think, to analyze, to allow awkwardness to corrode the moment. Gabriel put his hand behind her head and drew her roughly forward. 51

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Their lips met in a blaze of heat and sweat. Serena fell against him, and he grabbed her to keep her from spilling away, from separating from him by a single inch. He slanted his mouth against hers, drinking her, running his tongue along her bottom lip and tasting the salt of her sweat. Sighing heavily against his mouth, she slipped an arm around his neck. Somehow her tongue found its way into his hot mouth, and he groaned. Their tongues danced as she twisted her head to another angle, sucking his top lip and the scar that cut across it. Under other circumstances, he might have been reassured, maybe touched. Right now, he was turned on as hell. He liked the way her tongue stroked his own in gentle, lazy movements, the way she tilted her head to kiss and suck every inch of his mouth. He was especially pleased when she threw one leg over him lap, straddling him. Goddamn, why was he still wearing these stupid jeans? Just a few centimeters of fabric separated them. She rubbed against his erection, and he growled and cupped her buttocks. When she rocked against him, he seriously contemplated tearing off their remaining clothes. Instead, he disengaged one of his hands from her round, fleshy bottom and gently rubbed her nipple through the thin fabric of that damn sexy purple bra. She whimpered against his mouth and threw back her head. Gabriel licked and kissed down her hot, damp neck. The salt from her sweat burned his cracked lips. Her hands tangled in his hair, keeping his face pressed against her neck. Like he would ever leave. She rolled her hips again, and he groaned. He throbbed, pounded, ached for this beautiful woman. He wanted to throw aside their clothes, draw her on top of him, and move together with her till everything, even their sounds and thoughts, reflected one another’s. 52

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He nipped her neck, and her head snapped down and joined their mouths. Her right hand slid from behind his head and between their bodies. Through the denim of his jeans, she stroked his erection. He pushed himself into her hand, wanting so much more. God, the heat, the dampness, the sweet taste of her breath in his mouth. The leeches. Jade. The situation. Goddamn duty. He kissed her mouth once, twice…once more. “Not the best time,” he sighed against her lips. He kissed her one final time—his parting gift, his reward for being responsible—and then pulled slightly away. Serena’s eyes opened, and he almost gobbled her up right there. Her half-closed eyes, flushed cheeks, and slightly parted lips were without doubt the single most erotic thing he had ever witnessed. He moved in for one more kiss and then stopped. “You’re right, of course,” she said, pliant body slowly stiffening. Her eyes widened, and she crawled away from him. God knew, her absence didn’t make him cold, but he definitely felt bereft. After a moment of silence and averted eyes, she muttered just loudly enough for him to hear, “Sometimes during life-threatening situations, individuals indulge in intense carnal stimulation. It doesn’t really…” “I’m not sorry,” Gabriel said. She finally looked at him, her mouth still open. Those amazingly dexterous lips formed a tiny smile as she first snorted and then drawled, “Me neither.” Over her shoulder, Gabriel caught a glimpse of Scott, who was no longer sleeping. He was staring right at Gabriel. An hour or more of tense silence dragged between Serena and Scott. She flowed between compassion for Scott’s pain and irritation at his churlish resentment. As she well knew, people 53

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couldn’t always control their feelings, but they were responsible for their expression. And besides, the three of them—four, including Jade—were embroiled in a life and death waiting game. The last thing Serena wanted was to inspire and participate in some kind of junior high drama. Funny how, even when the voice of death tickled their ears, people went on being people: stupid, hopeful, childish, generous. And horny. Hot, tired, annoyed, and, let’s face it, guilty and embarrassed (damn Catholic upbringing!), Serena plunked her head against the warm, moisturestreaked concrete wall. To her left, Scott likewise tilted his head back. Serena tiredly patted his hand, hoping nonverbals would help bridge the gap her words could not. He turned to look at her, face serious. After a moment, she closed her eyes. Serena sank into a dark, fleecy warmth somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. With the exception of the press of heat, she lost awareness of everything outside the boundaries of her body. Calmly, apprehensively, mouth full of dank air, she floated. When she awakened, she was briefly disoriented. The heat she remembered, but this dim room, the sounds of struggling…She scrambled to her feet and tossed glances about her. A dozen or so feet away, Gabriel and some man—she could only assume it was Terryl—wrestled on the ground. In a scene straight from a police drama, Gabriel used both hands to keep Terryl’s wrist from descending toward his throat. Mouth agape, she stared at the scene, pondering why Terryl would want to jab his fingers toward Gabriel’s throat. The two men shifted slightly, and white light crackled off a knife blade. It was difficult to see in this poorly-lit room and from so far away, but Serena thought the distance between the tip and Gabriel’s 54

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throat was infinitesimal. She continued to gape at them for a moment, eyes still a little bleary. Finally, her mental haze thinned, and she lunged for the knife she’d stashed on top of her folded jeans. It was gone. Mia’s knife had disappeared. Dammit. Dammit. She was no fighter. She counseled suicidal and depressed people and penned the occasional journal article. What could she, of all people, do? God, it had to be something. Leeches were inhumanly strong, and Gabriel wasn’t. Gabriel grunted, and that shattered her indecision. She ran toward the fiercely fighting, straining men. Once there, she didn’t hesitate before kicking Terryl in the side as hard as she could. She hooted with laughter when she heard something, maybe one of his ribs, audibly snap. Terryl screamed and fell to the left, holding his side. Gabriel tried to pry the knife from his fingers, but the leech clutched it with white-knuckled fingers. Serena took advantage of Terryl’s preoccupation with the knife. She kicked him again, just as hard and not far from the original place. Bone ground against her toes. Terryl howled and then whimpered. She hardly heard him, since the pain from her own foot finally registered in her adrenaline-flooded brain. Her toes felt as though they’d been mashed with bits of glass, and her entire foot radiated lines of pain. Too bad. “Stupid bitch!” he yelled at her, baring his teeth. He’d rolled onto his left side, dragging Gabriel along for the ride. “I thought I was your sweet Serena,” she said through clenched teeth, dancing around him, not letting him see how much her foot hurt. “Now let go of the knife, and I’ll stop unhealthily transferring my anger.” 55

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With a roar, the leech lunged forward, straddling Gabriel once again. The tip of the knife shallowly pierced Gabriel’s throat. Dark red blood drooled down Gabriel’s neck and toward his misshapen left ear. Serena screamed. She thought about kicking Terryl’s back, worried the momentum would plunge the knife further, and dropped to her knees instead. Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed one of Terryl’s arms and yanked it back as hard as she could. His arm, the knife, and Terryl himself jerked backward a few inches. Gabriel disentangled himself and crawled backward. He rasped something at her, but with the blood throbbing in her ears and the boiler thumping in the background, she couldn’t make out his words. Terryl snarled at her and struggled in her embrace. Instead of drawing away, she crashed into him, crushing him to the ground. When his free hand grabbed her wrist, she brought up her elbow and smashed it into his face. Cartilage crunched, blood flowed, and Serena suddenly had no problem twisting the knife out of his other hand. Terryl curled forward into the fetal position, hands clutching his face. He was moaning, or maybe crying. Right now, she didn’t really care which. Rocking back onto her knees, she felt a thousand bees suddenly sting her right foot, and she remembered her injury. She stared at the bloody knife in her hands; sure enough, it was Mia’s. Someone put a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up into Gabriel’s intense, ravaged, beautiful face. “Come here,” he grated, and gently tugged her backward. She tried climbing to her feet and fell back with a gasp to her knees. His eyes crinkled with concern. “Are you okay?” she asked. He nodded. “You?” She nodded. She looked behind her, at Scott’s 56

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wide open eyes and horrified expression. He had scooted closer to the wall, trying to merge with it. “You okay?” she mouthed, and he jerked his head up and down as his eyes skidded to the shuddering leech still lying on the concrete. “What are we going to do with him?” Serena asked Gabriel. “Scott,” Gabriel said. “Go check the leech’s bonds in there.” He jerked his head toward the space on the other side of the boiler. Scott scrambled to his feet and scurried where bidden. Ten seconds later, he returned, holding two shoelace ropes and an unharmed leather belt. Gabriel stared at them for a while, grim-faced. Serena watched as small garnet droplets slid down his neck and under his black shirt. “He’s not going anywhere for a while,” Gabriel finally said. “Serena disarmed him. Let’s just keep an eye on him. No more sleeping on duty.” His voice was disgusted, presumably at himself. He plunged his hand into his pants pocket and withdrew something that looked somewhat like an electric razor. She stared at it for a moment before remembering him mentioning a stun gun. “Hey, leech,” he called, his voice grating. “You move in the slightest suspicious way, I’ll not only stun you and carve out your innards but, even worse, I’ll sic Serena on you again.” He leaned down and smoothed Serena’s hair from her face. “What did you hurt?” he asked quietly. She walked on her knees to the closest section of wall. Once there, she plopped with a grunt onto her bottom. Her right foot stretched before her, a swollen mess of crooked toes and pulsing, burgundy flesh. Gabriel sat down beside her. “I kicked him,” she said. “I see that. Toe first, it seems.” “Is that bad?” He gestured toward her foot. “Not if being 57

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Bigfoot is your highest goal in life.” She glared at him. “Pardon me if I don’t know the proper way to kick a superhuman being. This is the second time in my life I’ve ever fought.” “You were amazing,” he said. Foot throbbing, knees and elbows aching, she nonetheless couldn’t help but smile. “I was?” “You were.” He sighed and gestured at the swollen mess she’d once called her right foot. “I’m sorry, Serena, but I don’t know anything about first aid except CPR and how to apply a tourniquet. I can’t do anything for your foot.” She nodded. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it did. I think I’m good as long as I stay off it.” She paused. “Gabriel, what happened?” He sighed and remained silent for a long moment, staring straight ahead. Finally, he looked at her and said flatly, “I fell asleep.” “Yeah, so did I. So did Scott. It happens.” Gabriel shook his head, but his eyes continued staring at her so intensely she forgot to blink. “You’re my responsibility, my duty. Falling asleep was unacceptable. No, don’t interrupt. Nothing you can say will change what I did. After I fell asleep, the leech came at me with the knife. I woke up from a vision, which is why I was able to stop him before he did any damage.” Waking up from a psychic vision. She really was marching merrily down the rabbit hole and into some dark wonderland. “How did he know we were all asleep?” she asked. “I’ve been wondering that same thing,” he said, frowning. “Do leeches have psychic powers, too?” He raised his eyebrows. “ ‘Powers’? You make us sound like caped heroes and villains. But no, leeches have no abilities beyond riling emotions.” They both sat back, each to their own thoughts. 58

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Finally, Serena clapped a hand to her mouth, giggling. “Did I really tell Terryl not to make me transfer my negative emotions?” she asked. Gabriel smiled at her. “You did.” She giggled again. “I hoped I was misremembering.” She laughed for a moment, gently, but until tears spilled from her eyes. Finally, she sniffled and patted Gabriel’s knee. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she told him quietly, wiping her eyes. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her.

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Chapter Five “All snug and cozy, are we?” Gabriel felt Serena jump at the sound of the feminine voice, which sliced like a knife through the hot air from several feet away. At the same time she lifted her head from his shoulder, he jerked his own to the left and looked into a light brown face, alight with amusement and curiosity. “Feeling better, Jade?” he asked. She slapped her stomach with her broad hand. “Never better, Gabe, my dear. I’d ask about you, but you look pretty comfy.” She nodded at Serena and Scott. “There a reason we’re all sitting semi-nude around the campfire?” “Yeah, a seven-by-four, steel reason with reinforced hinges,” Gabriel said. “We were hoping Sleeping Beauty would awaken and rescue us.” “Plus, it’s pretty damn hot,” Serena said quietly, snapping the strap of her purple bra. Jade looked around the room and rested her eyes on the miserable heap of leech. Her mouth pursed. “How long was I out?” she asked. “Seven and a half hours,” Scott announced. “Damn,” she muttered. “Why didn’t the leeches come back?” “We don’t know,” Gabriel said. Seeing her glance at the leech, he added, “Neither does he.” Jade’s eyes combed the room again. She glanced at Serena, smiled very slightly, and raised her eyebrow in silent question. He stared back at her. “Status?” she finally asked. “The room is secure. We’ve each sustained a few 60

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cuts and bruises, but nothing fatal. The worst injury is Serena’s foot.” Jade glanced down. “Damn, girl,” she said. “That’s going to swell up to twice its size. What’d you do: kick one of their hard heads?” He heard the smile in Serena’s voice when she replied, “Something like that.” Jade walked toward them both, hand extended. “Glad to meet you, Serena. I’m Jade, daughter of Aya.” Serena shook her hand. Jade repeated the gesture with Scott. “All right. Now that we’ve covered the niceties, let’s say we blow this joint, eh?” Jade was many things, humble decidedly not among them. Her confidence, even cockiness, was almost as refreshing as the glass of ice water he’d been craving for several hours. He stood and then helped Serena to her feet. With any luck, they’d soon be free. **** When Serena was a young teen, maybe thirteen or fourteen, her mother had thrown a small party at their house. Serena had felt supremely uninterested in attending the festivities until her mother urged her to retire to her room. She convinced her mother to let her stay. Later, her mother brought into the living room several bottles of liquor that Serena hadn’t even known they owned. Everyone ended up with some mixed drink or another, and when Serena saw her eighteen-year-old, male cousin sporting a small glass of some pungent, milky white concoction, Serena shyly asked her mother if she could try some, too. “No, sweetie,” her mother said, dragging on her cigarette and kissing Serena’s head. “It’s for adults.” “But Jeremy got some,” she complained. “He’s older and a boy.” Serena stiffened and glared at her cousin. Her mother laughed and let her take a sip of the foul 61

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amber liquid sloshing in her clear plastic cup. It felt as though someone had shoved a kerosene-drenched torch down her throat, but Serena smiled and dramatically licked her lips. After giving Jeremy (who wasn’t looking) and her mother a cool thumbsup, she sashayed into the abandoned kitchen. Once out of sight, she sprinted to the refrigerator and slammed down several ounces of orange juice directly from the carton. She had never drunk alcohol again. Oddly enough, perhaps even irrationally, she was feeling a similar need now, a lifetime later, to prove herself. Considering everyone in the room had danced a slow tango with death at some point in the day, Serena felt like a helpless, feminine cliché as a wounded Gabriel put his arm around her and helped her limp to the door at the front of the room. Maybe she really should help Jade play catharsis on the door, after all, and help restore some of her pride. Jade and Scott led their ragtag group to the front of the room. Kind of like a carnival, Serena thought drily. Jade turned to look at her and dropped back a few steps, till she was even with Serena. “I can’t take him anywhere,” she whispered with a saucy grin, nodding toward Gabriel, who could probably hear every word she said. “Regular James Bond, that one. I go for a little nap, and when I wake up, he has half-naked women draping themselves all over him.” Serena drew back to look at her more fully. “Are you and Gabriel…?” she hesitantly asked. Jade laughed. “Good friends? Yep. We’re not an item. He’s too Mr. Hermit for me, and I’m a huge pain in his ass.” Serena smiled at her. Slow as she was hobbling, they were still nearing the door. She leaned forward again and whispered, “You were kidding about 62

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Gabriel being…” She hesitated. Jade grinned. “A lady’s man? Yeah.” She gave Serena a significant, sisterly look. “We’ll tawk,” she said in an exaggerated Brooklyn accent. Serena grinned. Jade leapt forward to touch, study, and ponder the large, steel door that trapped all of them in this clanging, steaming, blood-soaked hellhole. “It opens outward!” she announced. Serena hoped that was good news. She watched Jade’s face as she walked slowly in front of the door, a frown replacing her smile. “Can you do it?” Scott asked. She looked back at him and stared for a moment, biting her lip. Finally, she shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “But hey, it can’t hurt to try, right? Step back, kids.” They all put several feet between themselves and Jade. “Um,” Serena said, but quietly. Gabriel tightened his arm around her shoulders. Jade stared at the offending door, perhaps silently challenging it to a duel, perhaps communing with its steeliness. She stood for a good half-minute, pondering the door in its dull gray entirety. Finally, with a loud cry, she stepped forward with her left foot and landed a flat-footed (Ah, thought Serena) kick with her right to the space near the doorknob. Although her foot left a slight dent in the door, the damage seemed otherwise minimal. Jade swore viciously and hopped on her left foot. “Shouldn’t we help?” Serena asked. “I don’t need any help,” Jade snapped. “This door is my bitch; it just doesn’t know it yet.” Once more, she centered herself before the door and delivered an identical kick. The dent deepened. “God, god, god!” Jade yelled, shaking her foot. “I know you don’t need me, but you got me, anyway,” Serena said, limping away from Gabriel. 63

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“You’re a tough chickie, Serena,” Jade said, smiling at her. She was balancing on her left foot, her right tucked around her calf. It looked as if she were practicing some elaborate yoga move. “But that foot needs rest, not more beatings.” Feeling embarrassed, presumptuous, and entirely determined, Serena said, “I know. But I have a lot of upper body strength. I could slam against it with my body or my arms while you kick it. Besides—” She threw a tiny smile to Gabriel, who stood silently, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together, next to Scott. “I told Gabriel I’d help you rescue us.” “Ha! Girl power!” Jade affectionately squeezed her shoulder; Serena heroically managed not to wince. “How can I say no with you being all about female empowerment? Okeydokey. You in the middle, me on the left. When you hear me yell ‘three,’ give the door one hell of a shove and I’ll kick the shit out of it.” Serena felt a little foolish as she positioned herself near the door, arms bent in preparation. She was no hero, no caped crusader, no anybody with anything “super” stapled to the front; she was just a hot and exhausted counselor with a throbbing foot and a matching, lavender lycra bra and panty set. “The door doesn’t stand a chance,” Jade whispered before drawing back. Serena smiled at her. “One!” Serena redistributed her weight, putting as much as she could on her uninjured left foot. “Two!” Use palms, not fingers. Smart people, her mother always said, learned from their dumb mistakes. “Three!” At the same time Jade’s mighty kick shuddered against the door, Serena launched her weight and 64

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strength against its middle. The door groaned, it actually groaned, and the dent on the left expanded into a horizontal line across the middle. “Great work!” Jade yelled, and hugged Serena. More precisely, she ended up affectionately resting her weight against Serena as she balanced once again on her left foot. “You’re one strong mama! Want to try again?” “Of course,” Serena said, grinning. She glanced back at Gabriel and Scott. Scott smiled at her and gave her a thumbs-up; Gabriel continued earning his gold medal in stoicism. On the next count of three, the two women slammed simultaneously into the door, making it squeak and visibly bend. They did it again. And again. And a few more times. After a few minutes, sweaty, aching, bright red with stubbornness and adrenaline, Serena and Jade finally won the battle with the door. With a metallic shriek, it exploded outward, swinging with terrible velocity on abused hinges and slamming against the outside wall. The two women stared at the open doorway, mouths open, bodies still contorted, hearts not daring to beat. Serena jumped and her heart skittered when Jade let out an eardrum-popping whoop. “We did it!” Jade yelled, and hugged Serena. By this time, she was hobbling almost as much as Serena. “You did it,” Serena whispered to her. “I was window dressing and moral support.” “Shut up,” Jade laughed. “Don’t be mean to my new BFF.” She turned to Gabriel, who had stepped up beside them. She hugged him briefly, and he stared at Serena over his friend’s shoulder. Milky light spilled over the left half of his face, crudely painting his scars. The unmarred half of his face rested in muddy shadow. Both eyes were visible, and 65

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both were aimed directly at her. He was a study in contradictions, synthesized in the intensity of his unwavering eye contact. Jade pulled away, looked at Gabriel, and shoved him with a snort toward Serena. “Gee, don’t let me get in the way,” she said sweetly, and moved back to hug the wildly grinning Scott. Gabriel extended his hands to her. She ignored them. Instead, she limped to him, wrapped her hands around his neck, and drew down his head. In contrast to their previous kisses, this one was slow, tender, and full of promise. She ended it by pecking a few times at his lips and smiling up at him. “We’re free,” she murmured. “Thank you,” he said. After scouting the hallway and staircase and finding zero dangers, Gabriel offered to help dress Serena. He was unsurprised when, tight-jawed and silent, Scott snatched their clothing from the ground and helped Serena pull on her damp jeans. She managed the yellow shirt sans any chivalrous assistance. “What do we do about Terryl?” Serena, tennis shoes dangling from fingers, asked Gabriel. Jade raised her eyebrows, but for once she remained silent. “Leave him,” he said shortly. “Let’s go.” Given the state of their feet, Gabriel offered to carry both women up the stairs. Both glared at him. “At least rest your weight on Scott and me as we go up the stairs,” he ground out. He ended up helping Jade up the stairs; a few steps above them, Scott had his arm wrapped firmly around Serena’s waist. Even Gabriel divined the not-so-subtle message. “What next?” Jade muttered as they reached the top. “It’s dark!” Scott cried. He and Serena stared in 66

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rapt delight at the few stars visible through L.A.’s light pollution. “I never thought I’d be so thrilled to breathe dirty air,” Serena said, chuckling. Arms outstretched, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, dramatically, before swaying and crashing into Scott. “Oh! Sorry!” “It’s time to get some medical help,” Gabriel said. “Where are you parked, Serena?” “I don’t exactly have health insurance per se,” she admitted, biting her bottom lip. “I’m not taking you to a doctor. Where are you parked?” “Around front,” she said, pointing. To hell with Scott. He walked up to Serena and put his arm around her, helping her limp to her tiny, middleaged Toyota. Jade and Scott hobbled after them. “We taking them to the mansion?” Jade asked, head tilted. He nodded and deposited Serena in the passenger’s seat. “Dammit!” she hissed. He dropped down next to her, eyes already scanning. Scowling, Serena pointed to the windshield on the driver’s side. “Ticket,” she growled. “Unbelievable!” He was smiling slightly when he turned back to Jade. “Want to ride with us?” Jade arched an eyebrow. “I have my own car, thank you very much. My foot hurts, but it’s driving, not rock climbing. You’ll cover her eyes?” He glanced meaningfully at Scott. “Ditto.” “See you in a few, Romeo.” She smirked at him and twitched her hips as she limped to her own, inexpertly parked, car, all the while tugging a reluctant Scott behind her.

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Chapter Six On the ride to this mysterious “mansion,” Serena ordered Gabriel to pull into a convenience store and buy no fewer than ten bottles of water. “Environment be damned,” she proclaimed, but, being Serena, she still felt guilty. Sipping her third bottle of water, she dragged her cell phone from her disgustingly damp pocket and called Nadia’s home number. “Hey, girl,” Nadia breezed. Serena was amazed. Hadn’t Nadia called the police? The National Guard? Worried her friend had been axed to death? Broken a sweat all afternoon? “Missed you at work.” “Sorry I didn’t come back,” Serena said, hearing her calm voice as through a tunnel. Odd how, after all that had happened today, this was one of her most surreal moments. “Me and Lily bet on why. She thought Scott finally got lucky with you.” Nadia snorted. “I figured you were wrapped up in talking to the phone girl and forgot to call in. I won, right?” Eight hours of sweat, blood, supernatural life forms, and broken bones, and her coworkers thought she had snuck off for some afternoon nooky? “Yeah,” she sighed. “You won. Although while I was there I…slipped and broke my foot. I’m going to the doc’s and probably won’t be in tomorrow. It’s a Friday, anyway.” Fridays were often quite slow; people seemed less depressed come the weekend. “You broke your foot?” Nadia shrieked. Serena calmly held the phone a foot from her head. “Where was Scott when you were breaking bones? Maldita 68

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sea, I knew I should have gone instead of him!” “It was my own stupid fault, Nadia, but thanks for your concern. I’ll see you on Monday, okay?” “’Course! You need me, I’m a phone call away, sweetie!” “I know. Love ya.” “Love ya, girl.” Serena rested her head against the back of the seat. A few seconds later, she jerked to the sound of Gabriel saying her name. “We’re here,” he rasped. Well, maybe not a “few” seconds. She looked around at the well-lit, beautifully landscaped property. They were parked at the apex of a circular driveway, mere feet from the porch of a gorgeous, and gigantic, old white house. Mansion? Given its gargantuan scale, it looked to her more like a massive, vertigo-inducing, Las Vegas hotel. Around the house, at least as far as Serena could see, stretched an unbroken line of twelve-or-so-foot-tall hedges. Tall, top-heavy trees (Serena didn’t know white aspens from redwoods) dotted the property, adding a shaggy charm to the perfectly groomed greenery. Beyond the property’s foliage, the rest of the world rest in a silky, black silence. “Are we in Beverly Hills?” she asked Gabriel. She had no idea, but the size and splendor of the place spoke of serious money. “No questions,” Gabriel said. “It’s your sanctuary for now.” He slid out of the driver’s seat and walked to her side. With his help, she stood up and limped to the front door. There, Gabriel entered a code into a pad near the door and ushered her inside. The interior echoed the exterior’s odd balance of natural and cultivated. The floors were white and gold marble, the ceiling high above made of some dark wood. A grand marble staircase stood some 69

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forty feet in front of her, leading to an upper level. However, the vast ground floor sprouted several enormous, worn chairs and seating areas that encircled marble tables. It felt intimidating and cozy all at once. A tall woman with waist-length gray hair and beautifully upturned Asian eyes approached them. “Welcome, Gabriel,” she said, smiling. “You’ve brought us a visitor?” “We need a healer right away,” Gabriel ordered. Smart and sexy for sure, but king of social niceties he wasn’t. The woman nodded. “Of course. Go sit in the green room, and I’ll send one to you.” “Who was that?” Serena murmured as Gabriel guided her to a room off to their right. “Mist, daughter of Kai. She’s a scholar.” “I used to be a scholar,” Serena whispered inanely. She must still be half asleep. “I know.” The room in which Serena finally sat was, well, not green. Either the name was in reference to its energy source, or it was a carryover from bygone times. The room, a bit smaller than one might have expected based on the dimensions of the enormous building they currently occupied, sported similarly eclectic and well-loved furniture. Serena dropped down with a sigh into a threadbare, red plush chair. Gabriel grabbed a wooden chair from a table not far away and sat next to her. Five or so minutes later, a twinkling woman, wide as she was tall, strode into the room carrying two professional bags. Neither bag was black, but this brisk, kindly older woman was clearly the healer. “What trouble did we get ourselves into?” she boomed with a wide smile, pulling another chair up to Serena. She glanced at Gabriel. “Mist told me to 70

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tell you the council wants to see you right away.” Gabriel nodded. “As soon as we’re done here.” The healer nodded absently and then squinted at Serena. “I don’t think I know you, hunter.” “I’m not a hunter,” Serena said. “I’m just some counselor.” “Serena kicked some leech ass,” Gabriel said, nodding toward her mangled foot. “Quite literally, it seems,” the healer muttered, gingerly touching her foot. After a couple of minutes, she straightened, smiled kindly, and said, “Too bad you’re not a hunter; I’d order a good night’s sleep. I guess you’re going to make me earn my medical degree.” Serena started to smile back but stopped when the healer muttered the dreaded words, “This is going to hurt a little bit…” **** A bit over an hour later, Gabriel strode down the corridor toward his bedroom. He’d asked others to deposit Serena there for the night, ignoring the raised eyebrows. Damned nosy people. It was inevitable, he knew, with just over a hundred people living in a single house; they were the ultimate village situation, where everyone tucked themselves into one another’s business. It was one of the many reasons he kept devotedly, even religiously, to himself. He desperately needed a shower, but he wanted to check up on Serena. In front of his door, he hesitated and then knocked. “Come in.” Serena’s voice sounded tired. He swung open the door. His was one of the smaller bedrooms, but it was sizable enough to comfortably include a large bed, a chest of drawers, a small loveseat, and a lightweight coffee table. Serena sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, hands clasping something in her lap. She was clad in what looked 71

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like a knee-length T-shirt but was probably women’s sleepwear. She’d showered, and her wet, glossy black hair tickled her shoulders. Her face was very pale, whether from pain, exhaustion, or genetics he wasn’t sure. “Jade lent me the nightie,” she said, plucking at the dark blue fabric stretched between her knees. Gabriel sat down next to her on the bed. After a long moment, he said, “This is my room.” “I figured,” she said, smiling, and lifted from her lap the framed picture he kept atop his dresser. “You look a lot like your father.” “I did,” he said quietly, looking at the picture. His hand twitched toward his face, but he stopped the movement. “Don’t,” Serena commanded, but kindly. “You want to honor your dad by remembering him in whatever ways you can. I get that, I really do. But please don’t punish yourself in the process.” Gabriel was silent for a moment. Finally, he asked with a small smile, “Are you counseling me, counselor?” Serena chuckled and bumped her shoulder against his. “If I were being your counselor, I would have validated your feelings and urged you to work through them on your own. I just shut you down, which wasn’t very counselor-like of me. Besides, if you want me to counsel you, we’re going to have to work out a payment plan.” He grunted. “I think I prefer Friend Serena to Counselor Serena, but thanks.” She smiled at him. “Friends are good.” She looked around the room and then glanced, somewhat shyly, at him. God, this woman was full of contradictions. “Speaking of friends, um, I was wondering about this set up. Are you…I mean…” She gestured awkwardly toward the pillows. “What?” Gabriel asked. Serena gesticulated a bit 72

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more wildly, giving him an exaggerated knowing look. For a few moments, he shook his head in confusion at her. After she’d sputtered through two or three euphemisms, he finally let her off the hook and chuckled; she pursed her lips and punched his upper arm. “I have no ulterior motive beyond making sure you’re okay. I thought we could both sleep in here on the bed, or I could take the loveseat. Either way, this is about fulfilling my responsibility to keep you safe.” She glanced doubtfully at the tiny loveseat. “You want to crumple all six feet of you onto that tiny thing?” she asked. “Six two.” She bumped him again. “Pardon me. Well, as long as we understand the…you know…situation, I don’t see why we can’t both be adults and sleep in the bed. Are you…you want to go to bed? I mean— you know what I mean.” “Go to sleep, Serena,” he soothed. “As you can probably smell, I need to take a shower first.” Serena lay down on her back, stretched and yawned, and then said with a sly grin, “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything.” Gabriel squeezed her hand and rose from the bed. “Wait,” Serena said quickly. He turned back to her. “I know you want to shower and everything, but would you mind sitting here for a minute or two? I just, I kind of need to unwind.” He sat back down on the bed and grabbed her hand once again. Minutes passed as they stared at one another. As the rhythm of her breathing slowed, her eyelids crept toward her cheeks and her lips parted. Her hand felt warm and dry against his. After several minutes, he spoke. “The truth,” he said very quietly, and her eyelids slid slowly upward, “is that having you in here isn’t just about 73

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responsibility. I wanted you here because I remember you saying you’d have nightmares. If you need anything, I want to be here.” She stared at him for a moment. Her eyelids dipped downward. “I like you, Gabriel,” she murmured. Within seconds, she had fallen asleep. “Ditto,” he said to the room. **** Serena awoke with a gasp. Her eyes flicked open, but she couldn’t see anything. Her breathing grew more ragged as her hands reached out, trying to grasp something, to seize something familiar, to make sense of this airless, inky darkness. “Serena!” said a voice from behind her. She gasped in surprise and fear before recognizing the masculine timbre. Her arms dropped back to the bed, and she took a deep breath. “Sorry, sorry,” she muttered. “You okay?” Gabriel murmured from directly over her shoulder. “Bad dream and disorienten—disorder—” She chuckled tiredly. “I’m sleepy and not making sense.” “Do you need anything? Want to talk?” “No, no. Go back to sleep.” She snuggled back into the pillow. Gabriel sighed and tossed an arm around her waist. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She had almost dozed off before a question snapped into her sleepy brain: Was Gabriel’s arm naked? She concentrated and could just feel his arm hairs through the thin fabric of Jade’s sleep shirt. Arm: definitely bare. Did that mean he was shirtless? And if so, did that also mean he was lying behind her, completely naked? After all, a man with the kind of audacity to bare his torso with a strange woman was probably the same kind that felt entirely comfortable flaunting his nudity. Was there a big, scarred, nude man lying asleep 74

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behind her, doing all but spooning with her? God, she hoped so. Her shoulders shook with a silent laugh. Gabriel pulled her toward him. Now truly spooning, she could feel his pajama bottoms under her bare legs. Damn. “Don’t cry, Serena,” he said in his gravelly voice against the back of her head. She turned her head. She still couldn’t see a thing in the completely dark room, but she wanted him to be able to hear her. “I was laughing,” she told him. “Nightmares amuse you?” he asked, breath spilling across her face. She smelled cinnamon toothpaste. “The absurdity of my conflicting impulses amuses me,” she confided, and giggled. “How many good, ex-Catholic girls find themselves sharing a bed with some sexy guy they just met? Do you think Miss Manners has ever addressed this situation?” His arm tightened around her. She liked his silent, tactile language. “ ‘Dear Miss Manners, I’m lying in bed with this psychic who saved my life today from ethics-challenged, angst-munching monsters. Under the circumstances, do you think a little hanky panky is acceptable? Signed, Spooning in Beverly Hills.’” Gabriel was silent for such a long time, Serena began to get nervous. Did her not-so-veiled proposition confuse him? Embarrass him? Was their earlier encounter merely the desperate reaction of two frightened people, as she’d implied? She opened her mouth to make some kind of joke to lighten the tension and, she hoped, erase or at least smooth over her embarrassment. “Are you trying to seduce me?” Gabriel asked. Was that amusement she heard in his voice? “That depends on if you’re willing to be seduced,” she said slowly. 75

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“Very.” Definitely amusement. “Then I guess I am.” Silence. “When is this seduction scheduled to begin?” Gabriel asked politely. Serena laughed and turned over to face him. “I’ve never seduced anyone. I’m not sure how to begin.” “I’ve heard strip teases are popular.” She laughed again and slipped her arm around his neck. “I accept your offer. Hold on a sec while I turn on the light.” Laughter rumbled through his chest, which, as she’d predicted, was bare. She stroked his hair, which fell just past his shoulders in slightly damp waves. She’d never been a fan of long hair on men, but it definitely felt nice, even kind of sexy, sliding between her fingers. Her palm brushed his scarred ear, and she ran her fingers over it. She followed his scars down his neck and onto his shoulder. His left arm ran thick with them, but they tapered off halfway down his chest. Not sure exactly where his lips were, she leaned forward and met what felt like his jaw. She moved her mouth closer to his ear and whispered, “Seduction hereby commencing.” He turned his head and snatched her lips with his own. He kissed her with the same passion, the same desperate hunger, that she’d felt all those hours ago. Slanting against her, moving together in a gentle rhythm, he used his lips to explore the textures and boundaries of her mouth. He opened his mouth very slightly, and she slipped her tongue inside. After tasting his spicy tongue, Serena used the tip of her own to outline his lips, to draw one into her mouth. His ragged breaths filled her mouth, her nostrils, washed over her face. Gabriel splayed his hand against her back and 76

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dragged her even closer. Her breasts crushed against his chest, their legs entangled. While their tongues slid together with hot, sensuous languorousness, she drew her hands through his hair and down his back. His skin was warm, smooth, and stretched tightly over a solid musculature. He slid his hand down her back and cupped her buttocks through her sleeping shirt. Serena wrapped her leg around his and felt his erection pressing into her thigh. Gabriel grabbed the hem of the shirt and tugged it upward; it took only a moment of awkwardness before he finally tossed it, presumably to the floor. Serena rubbed her bare breasts against his chest. He groaned. “That feels nice,” he growled. In reply, she kissed him again. She tilted her head, and he ran a finger down her jaw to her neck. Using tongue and lips, he followed his finger’s downward course. When his tongue finally found its way to her breast, he kissed it in its entirety, paying attention to every square inch. Serena made an impatient noise, and he finally wrapped his tongue around her nipple. She moaned and wrapped her hands in strands of his hair. “On your back,” he whispered, and she complied, careful to keep him close. He transferred his attention to her other breast, all the while lightly brushing her damp nipple with his palm. Lost in the moment, Serena absently writhed against him and thrust her hips forward. She was embarrassed for a moment at her boldness before deciding the hell with it. It felt too good to worry about, well, anything. She melted, moving in gelatinous waves against him, waiting for him to slurp her up. And he did. Once again following the kneading, massaging trail of his hand, he kissed his way down her stomach. Reaching the point between her legs, 77

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he once again tortured her, kissing everywhere with small, wet, delicate kisses. “Gabriel!” she hissed. She felt him chuckle against her thigh. After slightly repositioning himself and finding a more comfortable angle, Gabriel finally gave her the kind of kiss she craved. Parting her with his fingers, he licked, flicked, and suckled in turn. Serena arched against him, grasping handfuls of blankets and uttering high-pitched noises that may, or may not, have been words. Sweat beaded on her forehead as her body contorted, seeking more, more, more. Her toes curled, her back locked, and she felt her body filling with the heavy, shiny feeling of release. She grasped for it, but it eluded her. Gabriel’s mouth settled into a constant pattern and pressure, and the feeling built and built, sloshing through her torso, her arms and legs, her head. Finally, with a scream, Serena raised her arms to the ceiling, arched her back off the bed, and shuddered into a lengthy, intense climax. With one final kiss, Gabriel joined her. He hugged her briefly and laughed. He was laughing? “What’s so funny?” she demanded, intending to project fierceness but instead sounding satisfied and slurred. He didn’t respond, choosing instead to kiss her. All of a sudden, she didn’t feel so sated and lazy. Their kiss quickly became ferocious, animalistic, full of tongues, teeth, and insistent gropes. They pressed hungrily against one another, growling and rubbing. “Are you still wearing those damn pants?” she gasped against his lips. He bit her earlobe, and she shuddered against him. “Not for long,” he said, and tore them off. Her hand found his smooth, pulsing erection, and they both groaned. She stroked him gently and then 78

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lowered her head to return his gift. He grabbed her shoulders and drew her back up to him. Kissing her roughly, speaking against her lips, he rasped, “Not now. I want to be inside you.” She didn’t wait to contradict him, to insist on equality, to urge him to examine his altruistic feelings. In a flash, she snatched a foil-wrapped packet from his fingers and sheathed him before throwing her leg over his waist and straddling him. In counterpoint to her previous frenzy, she slowly, slowly lowered herself. Reaching the hilt, Serena cried out and Gabriel gasped. After a couple of heartbeats, she started moving on top of him. Her brain exploded. Probably not literally, but, oh god. Bright colors—literal bright colors—swirled behind her eyelids. The pleasure in her body eddied and flowed in similar patterns, expanding from her center to the very tips of her fingers, toes, and eyelashes. Her awareness of anything beyond the pleasure, the bright, white-hot, painfully ecstatic sensations, shrank to a pinpoint. She felt Gabriel beneath her, but she quickly lost all understanding of which part belonged to him, which to her, which were her movements and which his. In the distance, she was vaguely aware of two bodies moving against one another. His hand pressed against her, glided and massaged in fluttery movements. She didn’t really care about the specifics as long as she continued rolling along these curling waves of bliss. Her flesh dissolved, and her mind ceased functioning as she succumbed to the explosive, suffocating, unbearable pleasure. Finally, the wave crashed into her, stealing her breath, pulling her body inside out, and wringing sensation from her like droplets from a wash cloth. She snapped back to herself and fell on top of Gabriel, who was still groaning and bucking underneath her. They lay gasping, sweating, and 79

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shaking against one another. “Um,” Serena said weakly, after a handful of minutes had passed. Gabriel kissed the top of her head. “That was decent.” Once again, Gabriel shook with silent laughter. “I might have had an orgasm or twelve,” she commented matter-of-factly. “I’m pretty sure everyone on this floor knows that,” Gabriel said. She pushed up to face him, though it was still too dark to see anything. Even a cat would bump into furniture in this room. “What do you mean? Was I loud?” “Um,” he said, and chuckled. Damn, smug man. “Am I too heavy?” she asked. He ran his hand down her back. “No,” he said. “I like this.” Another moment passed. Gabriel stroked her back. Finally, Serena asked, “So what was that?” “A small mole right—there.” She bumped his foot with hers.“You know what I mean.” He was silent for a moment. “Sex with a psychic,” he finally said. Well, yeah, but, “What do you mean?” “I don’t know the science. I only know sex with psychics involves different parts of the brain; it’s more cerebral than other kinds of sex.” Serena was both shocked and hurt. Shocked because, “You mean, sex is always…good…like this with you guys?” Hurt because, You mean, it wasn’t because of anything special about me, about us? “Yes and no,” Gabriel said. She waited for him to expand. When he didn’t, she sighed. “This is not the time to be laconic. Spill it.” His hand moved to her hair and stroked it, slowly and gently. “I’ve heard,” he said carefully, 80

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“that sex with non-psychic men is different. Less involved. So yes. But I’ve never had it feel like that. So no, too.” Feeling slightly appeased, she lay her head down on his chest again. “Don’t let the secret out,” she murmured. “You’ll be using those fancy fighting moves to keep women out of your pants.” His gentle stroking was making her sleepy. She yawned. “I trust you to protect my pants,” he told her. He combed through her hair, and she snuggled up against him.

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Chapter Seven Morning dawned early and not-so-brightly. In fact, if it weren’t for the needle-thin line of white light surrounding the shuttered window, Serena wouldn’t have known it was light out. She used her watch light and found it was a little after eight. She’d slept ten solid hours. Well, with one break. She lay on her side, Gabriel curled up behind her. It was warm, intimate, and soothing. If nature hadn’t been blowing a bugle in her ear, she would have given in and snuggled back into his warmth. With a regretful sigh, she slipped out of bed, hunted for and donned Jade’s sleep shirt, and tiptoed across the room to the door. When she reentered the room five minutes later, Gabriel was sitting up in bed, clad once again in his pajama bottoms. Sunshine trickled through the opened shutters and spilled over his broad, partially scarred chest. Serena stopped, a smile frozen on her face. From five feet away, she pointed and asked, “What did you do to your bed?” The blankets lay crumpled at the foot of the bed. The sheets lay in tatters. Hunks of white cotton lay scattered over the bed like limp confetti. Between bandage-like strips of white, which made her think someone had tried to dispatch a curse-bearing mummy, the bare mattress beamed a cheerful light blue. In the middle of it all, leaning against the headboard, Gabriel stared at her. He silently raised his eyebrows. The corners of his mouth had turned up very slightly. “Are you implying we did this last night?” she 82

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asked, advancing toward him. “In fact, no,” Gabriel said. “I’m implying you did this yourself.” Oh, come on. Serena opened her mouth to defend herself. She had no memory of anything involving sheets. Then again, her memories of anything but those feelings were somewhat, well, hazy. Gabriel’s amusement faded. He patted the mattress, and she sat cross-legged across from him. She could tell he had something serious to say. “Serena.” Her eyes met his. He leaned forward, his eyes never moving from hers. Then, he asked the last question she would have expected: “How’s your foot?” She smiled at him, feeling relieved. Her foot felt fine. Her foot felt fine. She wriggled her toes. No pain. She flexed it. Nothing. She uncrossed her legs and placed her right foot on her left thigh. The bruising, the swelling, the crinkled toes: All gone. This morning, her right foot was the happy, healthy, mirror image of her left. She’d walked to the bathroom this morning on a completely healed foot and never noticed. Come to think of it, she hadn’t been in any pain when she’d awakened in the middle of the night. Had she healed by then? What the hell? Then she remembered the craziness of everything she’d learned yesterday: leeches, hunters, psychics with their mind orgasms, a secret mansion tucked into some cryptic location in Los Angeles County. What was one more piece of magic? “Your healer must have done something fantastic. Whatever it was, she should really bottle it up.” She grinned and wriggled her toes once again. 83

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Slowly, Gabriel shook his head. “Our healers aren’t miracle workers. They’re just humans with medical training. Remember the bruises on your upper arms? They’re gone this morning, too.” She stared at him, a hundred thoughts scuttling through her mind. “It has to be your healer. What else could it be?” Gabriel grabbed both of her hands from her lap. Suddenly, she knew what he was going to say. “You fight like no human I’ve ever seen; even untrained, you’re deadly. Jade wouldn’t have been able to free us without your help, your strength.” He smiled very slightly at her. “And then there’s the bed this morning. You were…distracted, but I remember you ripping the sheets to pieces. I thought it was sexy as hell, if”—he tilted his head—“a little expensive in the long run.” “Huh-uh,” she said, shaking her head like a child, staring down at their clasped hands. His raspy voice was gentle. “Let me tell you about you. You’re never sick. You heal quickly. You’ve noticed you’re stronger than most other people. ‘Great upper body strength,’ right? Dancing and martial arts come naturally to you. Your sense of smell is better than anyone’s you know.” She looked up sharply. “You know who else I’m describing, don’t you?” “Hunters,” she whispered. He tugged her toward him; rocking forward, she placed her cheek against his chest. Finally, in a small voice, she said, “How about we don’t talk anymore. Want to have sex?” Gabriel stroked her hair. “Later. I’d rather we made love because you’re in the mood, not because you don’t want to think.” She pulled back a couple of inches and stared up at him. “Never underestimate that kind of sex,” she said with mock solemnity. As crazy as everything 84

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was right now, as much as her mind felt like elastic stretched too far, too fast, she felt warmth at hearing him refer to it as “making love.” After another moment or two, she asked quietly, “How long have you known?” “I suspected after watching you fight that damn leech. Any doubts I had died the second I saw you punching dents into solid steel.” Her laugh was a little breathy. “I thought it was all Jade.” “Then you were walking around on a mangled foot. Humans don’t do that.” Oh. “I always knew I had a high tolerance for pain.” He chuckled against her. “Does Jade know?” “Yeah. By now, everyone in this place knows. I told the council last night when they debriefed me. I had to,” he added, when she stiffened. “The council keeps us all safe. They need to know everything pertaining to our kind.” Our kind. She remembered Scott’s comment yesterday about Gabriel’s supposed cult membership. Sons of Adam, daughters of Eve, he’d mocked. Was she now supposed to introduce herself as “Serena, daughter of Ava”? She needed some time to process this. But not right now. “Gabriel?” “Yeah.” “I really am in the mood. Besides, we haven’t had daytime sex yet.” She pulled away, dragged her sleep shirt over her head, and leaned in to kiss him. This time, he didn’t refuse her. **** They didn’t leave Gabriel’s room till sometime after eleven. By that time, Serena warned him that if he waited one more minute to feed her, “I’ll start gnawing on you.” “Tempting,” he said. “But you burned a lot of 85

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calories healing yourself. You need food.” Wearing a T-shirt and pair of sweat pants that Jade had also lent her, she followed Gabriel to a large dining hall. At this time of morning, few people remained sitting at the many round tables scattered throughout. However, Jade sat reading a tattered paperback at one of the tables and enthusiastically waved them over. “I ate,” she told Gabriel. “But Serena’s famished. Be a good boy and go get you and your woman some food. She’s vegetarian, right?” Serena’s eyes widened. “How’d you know?” “Super sniffer.” Jade flicked the tip of her nose. “The curse of the hunter. Gabe, veggie vittles. Off you go.” She flapped her hand at him in a dismissive shooing motion. “I’ll be right back,” he growled. Once he was out of earshot, Jade turned the full force of her megawatt personality on Serena. “He told you, right?” she asked. “About my…lineage?” At Jade’s nod, she grinned. “I hope so, or else you’d have spilled a pretty big can of beans just now.” Jade grimaced and pulled a tendril of her short, curly hair. “Yeah, keeping secrets has never been one of my strengths. So, you okay?” Serena smiled at her. “I’m okay. Pretty overwhelmed, but okay.” “Hey, you ever need hunter lessons or want to talk about anything…” Jade shrugged, a crooked smile cupping her blunt features. She was touched. “Thank you. After I sort through everything, I think I will come chat with you. Right now, I don’t even know what kinds of questions to ask.” Jade grinned and nodded at her. Then, out of the blue, she said with studied casualness, “So, you like Gabe.” 86

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Serena wasn’t sure whether to blush, giggle, or feign nonchalance. She hadn’t engaged in such a conversation since high school. “Yeah,” she admitted. “He’s pretty likable.” “He’s a good guy. A little serious, and man, can he be bossy sometimes. Oh yeah, and hermits could take lessons from him. But he’s a really good guy.” “He is.” “Plus—” Jade leaned forward, grinning. “— psychic sex, huh?” Glancing left and right, Serena breathlessly exclaimed, “Oh my god!” Jade smirked. “You know what they say: Once you try psychic, you never go back. Everyone says it’s us hunters who are oversexed, but really, who can resist that?” “How do you even manage to leave the bedroom?” Serena asked, giggling. “Sometimes I don’t, not for days,” Jade whispered, and they both snorted with laughter. Gabriel arrived at the table, and they sat back and tried to compose themselves. “What’s up?” he asked suspiciously, placing a bowl of raisin-pocked oatmeal and two hard-boiled eggs in front of Serena. “Your woman and me were just chatting about the finer things in life. Nothing finer than sex, I always say. Speaking of which, is Scott available?” Serena shook her head, trying to follow the bouncing ball of Jade’s conversation. “As far as I know. Is he here?” “Yep. He ate breakfast already and is cruising the library. He’s not my type, really, especially not being psychic and all.” She threw Serena a significant look. “But hey, nothing wrong with a little weekend distraction, right?” Serena gave her the thumbs up. “If he’s game for a fling, you have my blessings. Good luck on the hunt.” 87

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Jade whooped and leaned over to hug Serena. “I really like her,” she told Gabriel. “I think she’s a keeper.” She rose, brushed a bit of oatmeal off her sleeve, and sashayed out the dining hall. After she’d left, Serena tucked with enthusiasm into her oatmeal. “Only eight more bowls, and I’ll feel human again.” The irony of her remark struck her a moment later and she suddenly felt tired. Later. She’d deal with it all later. Now there was only the hunger and the beautiful, glutinous oatmeal. She nodded at the spread. “It’s perfect. Boring as it sounds, oatmeal is one of my all-time favorites. Raisin oatmeal, no sugar or dairy products.” She narrowed her eyes at him and mumbled through a mouthful of oatmeal, albeit from behind her hand, “Is that some kind of psychic thing?” Gabriel’s face shifted into a tiny smile. She pointed her spoon at him and shook her head. Gabriel fetched himself some breakfast and ate at a slightly more sedate pace. After her third bowl of oatmeal and after devouring the two eggs, Serena finally declared herself suitably full. Two minutes later—really, these psychics were a little creepy—a diminutive young teen, tucking his chin-length bangs behind his ears, shuffled up to Gabriel and murmured at him. Serena smiled at him, and he skittered away. “The council wants to see you,” Gabriel told her. **** When Gabriel refused to leave Serena alone, the council allowed him to position himself just beyond their circle. A few feet from him, Serena perched at the edge of a red velvet chair. The four council members, their chairs forming a semicircle before her, alternately smiled and sipped their hot beverages. 88

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“Tea, Serena? Coffee?” Jonathan, a human, asked politely, gesturing toward a silver pot in the middle of the coffee table. “I’d love some tea,” she said, smiling. “Thank you.” “Gabriel?” “I’m good,” he said. He knew the council members weren’t thrilled by his presence. Too damn bad. Since yesterday, Serena’s world, her understanding of humanity, even her sense of self had been quaked to the core. She was strong and resilient, he knew, but even superwomen needed moral support once in a while. Serena sat on her chair, back straight as she smilingly refused sugar and cream and clasped her hands tightly around the mug. “You’re a hunter,” Henri, a future-seeing psychic, blurted, thus beginning their discussion. Gabriel was unsurprised; the scabby old guy tended to cut small talk off at its knees. Serena sipped her herbal tea. “So I hear,” she said. “How old are you, girl?” Henri asked, squinting at her even though his glasses rendered his vision as sharp as Gabriel’s. “Twenty-nine.” He harrumphed. “Almost thirty years, and you never noticed you weren’t like other people?” Serena was silent for a minute. Finally, she said, “It’s easy to justify a bunch of seemingly small differences. Sure, I’m strong, but so are a lot of people. I’ve never been sick, but I figured my mother’s herbal concoctions must really work. I guess I never thought much about bruises or tiny cuts fading quickly. I assumed I was reaping the benefits of living a healthy lifestyle…” She trailed off, frowning slightly. Jonathan, his teeth gleaming white in his broad, 89

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dark face, said, “Gabriel told us you and Jade made a steel door beg for mercy.” She smiled. “I think I was more Jade’s cheerleader.” “Serena,” Rain, the council’s leader, said very quietly. “I hope you’ll forgive my cheap parlor trick, but I’d feel better knowing for sure. Can you tell me what you smell in this room?” Serena looked confused very briefly and then nodded. “Jade calls it her super sniffer,” she said, smiling. “Um, my tea is spearmint and peppermint. You—” She waved at Jonathan, the person sitting closest to her on the left. Grinning, he supplied his name. “Jonathan is drinking coffee with cream and no sugar. He ate ham and eggs for breakfast. He doesn’t wear cologne and he uses unscented soap, which is never truly unscented. You—” She paused for the name. “Rain, you’re drinking plain chamomile tea. That’s my favorite, incidentally.” She flashed a quick smile. “You recently exerted yourself; I can smell your sweat on your skin. You use some kind of mousse or gel on your hair. You”—pause— “Henri, have a faint trace of cigarette smoke on your clothes. You also have some chocolate on you somewhere…” “I think that’s sufficient,” Henri said, waving a hand. “Wait a minute! She hasn’t told me what I smell like,” the fourth council member, a twinkling, rosycheeked woman, chirped. She winked at Serena. “My name is Lucinda.” “Um, Lucinda, you use a faintly fragranced soap, and your shampoo is pretty pungent. But underneath it, I smell your natural smell, and it’s”— she shrugged a little awkwardly—“sweet, kind of like honey.” “Ha! Must be the diabetes.” The woman laughed. “The proper name is diabetes mellitus, you 90

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know, and mellitus is Latin…” “All right,” Henri snapped. “She’s obviously a hunter.” “You mean everyone can’t smell all those things?” Serena asked slowly, quietly. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, but surely I’m not the only one who smells them?” “Some? Sure. All? Hell, no,” Jonathan said. “The only other person in this room who can sniff like that is Rain, and she’s also a hunter. And by the way, I happen to know Henri is hiding a chocolate bar in his jacket pocket.” He tittered. “Thank you, Serena,” Rain said quietly. “And I’ll keep in mind your preference for chamomile.” She smiled. “Sorry again for asking that of you, but having some proof sets all our minds at ease.” “Is that why you wanted to see her?” Gabriel asked. Henri shot him an annoyed look. “Be patient, boy.” Boy? Most of the time, Gabriel felt older than everyone around him. “We have a couple of other questions,” Lucinda said, reaching over and patting Serena’s knee. “First of all, sweetie, can you think of any reason why Mia and her cronies would want to harm you?” Serena stroked her chin, a traditional gesture of thoughtfulness that almost made him smile. “No,” she finally said. “I’m just a financially strapped suicide counselor.” “And a hunter,” Gabriel said quietly. Her eyes flicked to his. She hadn’t made the connection till now. “How would Mia know that?” Rain asked. “Serena didn’t know till yesterday.” Well, today, but the question stood. The theory made sense; the leeches would want to kill a hunter before she discovered her identity and started 91

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hunting them. But how the hell would they know? “Perhaps it has something to do with your parents,” Rain said. “It’s a good place to start, anyway. Could your mother have been a hunter?” Serena stared at her for a moment before snickering. “It’s really difficult to picture my fivefoot-tall, beehived mother slipping out in her bathrobe and dispatching leeches. There’s just no way my mother was a hunter. She used to make me open all our jars because she couldn’t. I can’t honestly imagine someone less hunter-like.” Henri didn’t look convinced, but he asked her about her father. “I don’t know anything about my father,” Serena said. “The only thing my mother ever told me about him was that I inherited his physicality.” She paused. “Are you saying one of my parents had to be a hunter? Or, I mean, a hunter or a psychic?” Several heads nodded. “So hunters and psychics can breed with humans?” she asked, eyebrows drawn. “We’re not that genetically dissimilar,” Rain said. “Whatever it is that causes the mutation, or whatever it is, in us seems to be a dominant trait, so a child of mixed parentage has a significant chance of being a hunter or psychic.” Serena sipped her tea and stared into her cup. “Your father could easily have been a psychic,” Jonathan said matter-of-factly. “Do we really need to know?” Lucinda asked kindly, nodding toward Serena’s bent head. “The leeches know something we don’t about a young hunter who just came to our attention,” Henri said. “Damn straight we need to know!” “Plus, I imagine Serena might like to know about her parentage, right?” Jonathan asked her. Serena sighed. “I don’t really know,” she faltered. “This is all a little…crazy. Two days ago, I 92

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was stressing over the mountain of paperwork in my inbox. Yesterday, I found out about a whole secret world of heroes and grief-sucking monsters and met this…” She absently waved her hand at Gabriel. “…guy, a great guy, who saved my life but isn’t what you’d call ‘human.’ ” She shook her head, still gazing into her teacup, and laughed weakly. “And then this morning I find out I’m not human, and my absent father might not have been, either.” Gabriel rose from his chair and drew Serena to her feet. “We’re done,” he said quietly. He led her toward the closed door. “Gabriel,” Rain said quietly. He stopped but did not turn to look at her. “You’re in charge of finding out more about this situation. Let us know when you find something.” He nodded and guided Serena toward the door. “Thanks for the tea,” she called before they exited the room. **** Serena wandered slowly through naturally-lit hallways, watching the play of sunshine on woodpaneled walls and smiling at the rare person she encountered. Her tennis shoes slapped lazily against gleaming, dark brown wooden floors. She really needed to remember to replace the shoe laces she’d sacrificed yesterday. Twenty-four hours ago, she had been recovering from an inexplicable life-and-death battle and snapping at Gabriel for not helping her tend Jade’s wounds. Just twelve hours ago, she’d been sleeping in the bed of a man she’d just met, dreaming while he lay beside her. Not four hours earlier, she’d learned she wasn’t human. Okay, maybe sort of human. Kind of. Maybe mostly human with a few superhuman surprises all wrapped up in her genetic code, a present from a father she’d never known. 93

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Passing by an open door, she overheard quiet voices speaking. The earnestness, the tentative inquisitiveness in the voices sounded comfortably familiar to her. A feminine voice in the room explained something about “how it affects the amygdala.” Serena slowed, trying to remember where the amygdala perched in the brain and what it influenced. A good counselor should probably know, but, given her somewhat stressful schedule of late, she decided to give herself a pass. She walked on. She’d told Gabriel she needed some time to herself, and he advised she explore the mansion. “Will I need a GPS system?” she’d asked him. He’d smiled and told her where she could find him when she’d finished. So far, the structure was as gigantic, intimidating, and carelessly comfortable as she’d come to expect from her brief experience with it. How could she, a person who experienced vertigo in shopping malls, ever feel at home in such a behemoth? Feel at home? What was that thought all about? Sure, she may be more genetically similar to these folks than to her coworkers and friends, but when did that mean she had to grab a sleeping bag and camp in their vast backyard? She’s spent twentynine years shaping her life into something that comforted and pleased her; she wasn’t about to crumple all her hard work into a ball and start over with a shiny new identity. She entered a large common room and discovered a new hallway to explore. On her left loomed a wide open room that funneled visitors into a large, bare room with wooden floors and mirrored walls. The smell of fresh sweat and the sound of grunting bodies and squeaky soles on polished floors wafted out to her. She peeked inside. Several 94

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women, ranging in ages from early twenties to early thirties, fought in pairs while a tall, broad, grayhaired matriarch peered at them through narrowed eyes. “Halt!” she snapped. By the time her voice died away, every single woman had ceased moving. They disengaged and stood tall before her. “Much better,” she said. “Kim, you paid attention to my instructions yesterday. Key”—Ki, maybe?—“you still need to keep your elbows closer to the body. Remember what we discussed last week? Hello. May I help you?” All of a sudden, all heads had swiveled in her direction. Serena jumped and muttered, “Sorry,” before hurrying down the corridor. A few minutes later, she laughed at herself for her skittishness but didn’t return to explain. Shortly thereafter, she stumbled into a large room filled with paintings, sculptures, framed photos, and a small, stained glass window through which early afternoon sunlight blazed. Serena was no artist, but the paintings and sculptures felt powerful and alive to her. The styles were eclectic, as were the subject matter. The single common theme evident in them all was their sense of urgency. None soothed. She strolled through the room, lightly touching the sculptures, absorbing the majesty of the paintings and photos. This vibrant room was a rewarding find. “Hello.” Serena started and spun around. Damn, she was fluttery. “Sorry!” the man laughed, holding up a hand. He was a handsome man, maybe a few years older than she, with curly black hair, light caramel skin, and brown eyes. He was also, like most people around here, taller by a few inches. “Hi,” she said. 95

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“You like the gallery?” he asked. She noticed he had a slight accent. “I’ve never been here before,” she said, smiling. “But I think it’s beautiful.” “I come here a lot,” the man said, gesturing with an arm to the entire room. “It’s a place of inspiration and invigoration.” “Did you do any of these?” He laughed. “No, no. I can’t draw a stick figure. I’m your quintessential, left-brained scientist. How about you?” “Me, an artist? No, although I did take an art class in college and managed to draw something that my professor kindly labeled ‘abstract.’ ” The man smiled at her. “Thank god for us, others have some talent. My name is Simon.” “Serena,” she said, and shook his hand. “Ah,” he said knowingly. “The new hunter.” She sighed. “I guess so.” “I know, I know,” he said, smiling. “The small community, the gossip: it all takes a while to get used to. You’re living here now?” “No,” she said quickly, firmly. “I’m just here for a bit. I have too much…” She waved her hand at the window and at the world beyond. Simon nodded slowly. “I understand, Serena. I do.” He was silent. After a while, during which time they roamed about the room, staring at displays, Simon asked her where she was headed. “Back to my friend,” she said airily, pointing back where she’d come. After a moment’s hesitation, she pointed in a slightly different direction. Simon grinned at her. “Lost?” “A little.” Her handsome new scientist friend escorted her back to, as Gabriel had instructed, “the computer room just next to the dining hall.” Before letting him 96

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go, Serena told him she’d like to visit the art room with him again soon. “They call it ‘the gallery,’ ” he confided, smiling, “And I’ll hold you to that.” He strolled back the way they’d come. **** “Tell me about your mother.” Gabriel sipped his coffee and waited for Serena’s response. They sat outside at one of the many picnic benches strewn about the property. Unlike many Southern Californians, Serena adamantly refused to expose herself to the sun, claiming her Irish skin burned and peeled without ever having the decency to tan. She and Gabriel had moved the bench into the shadow of one of the cottonwood trees on the property. Sitting under a tree, drinking a mug of tea while sunlight spangled her features and warmed her tangled black hair, she looked like one of those paintings she’d gushed over not long after returning from her walk. Around them, the day blossomed whitely, painting the scenery with warmth and gentle angles. In spite of himself, and in spite of the keen pleasure of indulging his fantasy of Serena as wood nymph, he wanted to rise to his feet and march back indoors, back to dim lighting and drawn shutters, back to rooms as dark as the deepest silence, back to lovemaking in a completely lightless room. He did none of those things but kept his chin high, his eyes observant and watchful. In fact, he sat on her right, exposing the damaged half of his profile to her. He may not be beautiful to behold, but she had a right to the beholding. She laughed at his question, her brown eyes crinkling in amusement. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” she teased, but he could tell she was uncomfortable. 97

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He drank again from his mug and waited. “What do you need to know?” she asked. “How old was she when she had you? What did she tell you about your father? What happened when she died?” “Oh,” she said, with a definite tang of sarcasm, “you mean the simple questions.” “I know this sucks,” Gabriel said quietly. “I only ask so I can better figure this out and help you.” “Yeah, I know,” she sighed. She sipped from her mug, stared at her laceless shoes for a brief moment, and then sketched a verbal picture of Ava O’Donnell. “Imagine,” she said, making a picture frame with her fingers, “a woman barely five feet tall, ninety pounds, teased, bleached blonde hair, pale white skin, hazel eyes. She wore a ring on every finger but not the thumbs. She smoked a lot of cigarettes, which was pretty hellish for me, since we both figured out by the time I was a toddler that my sense of smell was top notch. She loved to wear tight blue jeans and shirts with big, bright flowers on them. Button-ups, T-shirts, blouses: she didn’t care, just as long as they were colorful and bright.” Serena was silent for a moment, staring down into her mug. “You obviously loved her a lot,” Gabriel said. She smiled at him. “I did. I adored her. She wasn’t cool like some other mothers; she didn’t wear fashionable clothes or use words like ‘awesome’ or ‘sweet.’ And I always had a niggling feeling that she’d wanted a boy instead. But she doted on me and would have moved the world for me. “I knew she was depressed. Looking back on it now, I see all the signs of clinical depression and wish she had sought medical attention. But she didn’t. By the time I was a teen, I was used to a mother who thought I could do no wrong but who spent a day or two a week in bed, crying over her own wasted life.” 98

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She took a breath. “She took her own life, just a month before I graduated from high school. I think she held off as long as she could for me.” She looked down again. “I was seventeen years old, almost eighteen, and in calculus class with my best friend, Lissa. We were passing notes back and forth when this shrill voice squawked over the loud speaker, ‘Mr. Guerrero, would you please send Serena O’Donnell to the office?’ I thought I was in trouble, even though I was a pretty tame teenager. But when I got to the principal’s office, I saw the police officers, and…” She shook her head. Gabriel put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. He briefly stroked her sunwarmed hair. His eyes traced the contours of a tree branch while he filed away this information. After a while, he said, “So you decided to go into counseling to help depressed people.” “It wasn’t that clear a goal; it felt a lot messier. I just saw psychology and thought, ‘I want to help people.’ But most of my papers were on suicide, and I started taking more grief counseling classes, and pretty soon I had a solid emphasis in the major. I know I’m not a hunter like Jade; I don’t go barging in and saving people’s hides from leech attacks. But I make a difference in the lives of people who need to talk, to grieve, and to feel okay about who they are.” “You save lives,” Gabriel said. They were both quiet for a long time. Finally, Serena pulled away from him and smiled apologetically. He wanted to tell her she didn’t need to feel embarrassed and to put her head right back where it was. He remained silent. “October is my favorite month,” she said suddenly. She was staring up at the fluffy tree tops, or maybe at the cloudless, turquoise-blue sky. “Why?” She shrugged. “I just like autumn. Plus, I admit, 99

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Halloween is my favorite holiday. My mom was devoutly Catholic, and she made me spend All Hallow’s Eve praying for safety and deliverance.” She grinned and wriggled her eyebrows. “Sounds like the perfect recipe for teenaged rebellion, don’t you think? The thing is, the rebellion never ended. I still love the holiday, this time of year.” “I like Halloween,” he echoed. God, he sounded like a moonstruck teenager. “Did your mother ever talk to you about your father?” Serena sighed. “Not much. She told me he left before she could tell him she was pregnant. That was it. I asked about him throughout the years, but she’d always say things like, ‘Good thing he was handsome; gave me a beautiful daughter’ and ‘Who needs someone else when we have one another?’ The only other information she ever divulged was that I took after him physically: tall, dark eyes and hair, solid build.” She smiled at him. “I’m not actually tall, you know. I’m perfectly ordinary. But my mom was such a teeny thing, everyone looked huge.” He put a hand on her knee and squeezed. “She sounds like a great mom.” Serena nodded. “Any other tidbits about your father? Age? Race? Job? Marital status?” “None of those. My mother was twenty-four when she had me. I guess I always assumed he was close to the same age. I never asked, but I also assumed he was white, maybe Irish Catholic like my mom.” Gabriel brushed a hand over her black hair. “Maybe. Is there anyone else in your mother’s life who would have known about their relationship?” She brought a hand up to her mouth and began gnawing on one of her fingernails. When she noticed, she made an annoyed sound and dropped her hand. “My mom’s sister, Aunt Mona, was around during 100

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that time.” “You never asked her about this?” “No. Partially because it would have felt like an insult to my mother, like I was saying I needed more than her. But mostly, well, you haven’t met my Aunt Mona. She’s a little bit, um, eccentric.” “Does she live near here?” Serena slowly nodded her head. “She lives in San Pedro.” Gabriel stood up and offered his arm. “Shall we?” Serena rose more slowly. “I guess I’m bringing you home to meet the family.”

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Chapter Eight Aunt Mona’s house looked pretty much the same it always did: dirty-white stucco exterior, poorly tended lawn, and lush, colorful flower garden bracketing the wooden steps leading to the front door. Ever since she was a child, Serena remembered visiting her aunt in this house, playing in the yard, eating oatmeal raisin cookies with her mom and aunt while avoiding her boisterous cousins. As she got older, the visits diminished in frequency; somehow, life always managed to get in the way. Serena cleared her throat and knocked lightly on the door. Gabriel stood behind her on the step; she was amused to note that, standing one step below, he was precisely her height. The door creaked open. A tiny woman in her early fifties, long, salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a loose chignon, stood before her, eyes gleaming like jade nuggets. She wore a brown, ankle-length dress sprinkled with tiny yellow flowers. Her neck and happy smile perched atop an old-fashioned, doilylike collar. “Serena, sweetie! Oh, come in, come in before the kitties get out.” She shooed her niece inside and, with raised eyebrows, beckoned for Gabriel to enter as well. As soon as the door closed behind them, Mona’s bony arms clasped Serena in a hug that would have been the envy of any professional wrestler. “I’m so happy to see you! You look as beautiful as always, although I’ve never known what you young girls see in sweatpants.” 102

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Serena couldn’t help but laugh. It really had been too long; the excuse of a hectic work schedule could only stretch so far. She disengaged, with no little difficulty, from her aunt’s iron grasp. “Aunt Mona, I’d like you to meet Gabriel, a friend of mine. Gabriel, this is my Aunt Mona Keller.” “Gabriel, eh? Nothing wrong with being named after an angel!” Mona said, smiling. She gestured toward the living room beyond the foyer. The room was small and overstuffed with curios, bookcases, and approximately three thousand knickknacks. Two windows spread over two small walls; both were heavily curtained, rendering the room dim and somewhat musty. A single couch and a recliner huddled around an ornately carved coffee table, which was smothered in cat magazines and a set of coasters that featured famous scenes from the Bible. Serena had always preferred the full-color picture of Jonah and the whale. “Have a seat, my dears.” Gabriel lowered himself to the faded velvet sofa. Serena would have sat next to him, but instead, a giant, longhaired, orange tabby with a pink collar vaulted up beside him and demanded immediate attention. Serena sat a few feet away while Gabriel scratched the cat behind its ears. Mona centered her tiny frame between the arms of her massive recliner. She could only reach the ground if she flexed her toes. “That’s Wensleydale, and he loves attention, don’t you, little guy?” she said, reverting to the cat-speaking tone prevalent among people owned by felines. “I hope you’re not allergic to cats, Gabriel,” she continued. “Just in case, though, I dusted this morning and vacuumed.” Here it came. Better sooner than later, Serena supposed. “You knew we were coming, Aunt Mona?” she asked innocently, and snuck a glance at Gabriel. “Well, I would have known the exact hour had you thought to call me, young lady. Of course I knew 103

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you’d be coming today. God told me in a dream to expect company. I even baked some cookies. You like snickerdoodles, Gabriel?” The man in question stared for a moment before slowly responding. “No, I’m not allergic. Yes, I like anything homemade.” Mona giggled, leaning back in her chair. “Bachelor talk, that is. You should cook more for your beau, Reenie. The way to a man’s heart—you know the rest. You ever been married, Gabriel?” Serena figured she should object. Maybe she would, in a minute or two. “No, ma’am,” he said. “And how old are you, Gabriel?” “I’ll be, um, thirty-seven in November, ma’am.” “You’re a cute thirty-six, Gabriel.” “Thank you.” “Can’t help but notice you have a few scars.” “Aunt Mona!” Serena exclaimed. Better late than never, she supposed. “Serena Agnes O’Donnell, your friend and I are having a nice little chat. You just sit there for a minute and pet Gruyère—she’s right there at your feet—while we finish our discussion. I know your mother taught you better than to interrupt.” Mona’s stern face blossomed into a beatific smile as she turned back to Gabriel. “Are you courting my niece, Gabriel?” she asked sweetly. “Oh, god,” Serena muttered. “No blaspheming, young lady!” Mona snapped. “Yes,” Gabriel said, and Serena fell back against the couch cushions feeling a little warmer than she had a moment ago. Gruyère, a frisky little calico, jumped up next to her. Serena dutifully petted and scratched the tiny cat, after which she endured some enthusiastic kitty kneading. Aunt Mona pinched her features into a grave 104

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expression. “And you know her mother passed twelve years ago?” Gabriel nodded solemnly. “I do.” “Then you understand why, as her only local relative, I’m asking these questions, right?” “Yes, ma’am.” “He’s a good boy,” Mona said to Serena, beaming. “Now tell me, Gabriel, how did you get those scars?” Gabriel was silent for a minute. He absently petted the ecstatic Wensleydale, who flopped onto his back and wriggled his four legs in the air. Sitting on Gabriel’s left, Serena could only see the scarred left half of his face, speaking its own language of bumps, tucks, and discolorations. She felt she could almost read the story in its entirety and wasn’t sure she wanted Gabriel to share it with her aunt. In the end, Gabriel finally said, “It was an explosion, ma’am. I was turned half away, and the shrapnel only got this”—he gestured toward his left cheek— “side of my face. I raised my arm at the last minute, too, but I was lucky to be behind a structure that came up to my waist, so my legs are fine.” They were silent. Even chatty Mona used her silence to pay homage to Gabriel’s painful ordeal. Finally, the silence grew too lengthy for Mona. “You were in war?” “More or less, yes.” Mona nodded. “Well, God saw fit to save all your parts. That’s something.” The counselor in Serena winced. She thought of a dozen different responses and then, deciding to speak in a language that Gabriel understood, reached out and grabbed his hand. He turned to her, and she smiled. “I knew something major was going on in your life, Serena Agnes, I just knew it,” Mona said smugly, nodding. “I listened to the priest on Sunday, 105

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and he was talking all about the changes in life, how some swoop in like hurricanes and some blow in like gentle breezes, and I thought, ‘Yep, that’s my Reenie, stuck in the middle of a big old hurricane right now.’” “Big changes have definitely blasted into my life lately,” Serena agreed. “I also figured something had to be up to keep you away for three whole months.” Mona’s dark green eyes were flinty. Serena winced. “And don’t give me the line about your busy job. God never gives us more than we can handle, you know.” “I’m sorry,” Serena said. “You’re right; I should have come before today. I’ve missed you, Aunt Mona.” And it was true. Mona grinned. “Charming girl. You can definitely feel the Irish in this one. But I guess I don’t need to tell you that, hey, Gabriel?” He looked at Serena for a brief, intense moment. “No, ma’am.” “So, Gabriel, tell me how you met my niece.” Oh, lord. Quickly, Serena interjected, “Before we discuss that, I was actually wondering if you could answer some questions for me about Mom.” “Of course, sweetie. I’m always here to talk.” Her smiling mouth suddenly pursed, and her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t meet at some sinful place, did you? I mean, you know, a strip club or something? Or maybe one of those Internet chat rooms?” Her expression made it clear she knew just what kind of discussions occurred in those places. Serena looked quickly down at Gruyère, telling herself not to laugh. She suddenly remembered Gabriel’s comment about strip teases…“No, nothing like that. We met at the university.” Gruyère hopped down, perhaps disgusted with her half truth. “How nice! I always said college is the best place to find a good man. It’s where I found my Charlie, 106

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you know. My mother—your grandmother, Reenie— told your mother and me the best place to find smart men and good providers was at college. I wasn’t really interested in college, but I enrolled in a few coed courses. Within a year, I’d landed myself an engineering student! Of course, he changed his major to business and became an accountant, but that worked out all right. I gladly dropped out of school. All that studying gave me a headache. Your mother, God rest her soul, loved school. She was a lot like you—smart and driven. She lectured me not to drop out and then went ahead and got her bachelor’s degree in something interesting but not too practical. What was it again?” “History,” Serena said quietly. “That’s right! Didn’t do her a whole lot of good. She was still a secretary, even though she had a couple of letters behind her name. But she was so proud of her degree.” “Speaking of history and my mom,” Serena hinted. “Shoot. Not literally, of course, since murder is a sin.” It was one of Mona’s older lines, but it still made Serena smile. The individual words came slowly and stickily, as if taffy had stuck her teeth together. “I wanted to know about, well, my mom and my f—and the man who got her pregnant with me.” Mona sat back in her chair, which seemed invitation enough to a black Persian, who hopped onto her lap and immediately began nudging her hands. She absently stroked the plump feline. “That’s Brie,” Serena said to Gabriel, nodding at the cat. “I love cats,” Mona said, redundantly, Serena thought. “Unlike humans, they’re not afraid to show their true feelings. If they’re feeling loving, you’re the center of their world. If they’re mad at you, they 107

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ignore or swipe at you. Not a bit of deceit in a cat. I think it’s why so many people have a hard time with them. But you wanted to know about your mother and her…beau.” Serena’s mouth bowed into a smile. Aunt Mona was only fifty-two, but she’d been raised by a severely conservative mother and had lived a domestic life. As a result, her closest friends, most of whom had twenty or thirty years on her, were also the members of her church. Add all that together and you heard a fifty-two-year-old woman using words like “beau.” “I’m not sure what to say about him, Reenie. I don’t remember how they met; it was thirty years ago, you know! Your mom would have been doing her secretary job back then, hating every second of it because she had a degree and was smarter than the men she worked for. I always told her she had a lot of pride, and of course pride is a sin, but between you and me, she was smarter than all them. “I only met your father a couple of times. Ava didn’t bring him around very much to meet me and Charlie and the boys. I’m trying to remember how long they courted. Maybe two months? Soon, your mother was visiting us on her own again. Her beau had left town, she said, and that was that. A couple of months after that, well...” Mona raised her eyebrows significantly. Other than the length of the relationship between her mother and her boyfriend, Serena had heard all of this before from her mother. “What was he like? What did he look like? Where did he work, Aunt Mona?” “Whoa! A lot of questions from someone who told me, not ten years ago, that she’d never insult her mother’s memory by hunting for an absent father. Now, don’t get huffy, missy. I know a person has every right to change his mind. And now that you’re 108

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almost thirty and probably thinking of having kids of your own…” Mona snuck a sly glance at Gabriel, who continued to stroke the smitten Wensleydale. “Your father was very handsome, very smart, and very polite. I only met him twice, and never for a long time, but both times he was perfectly mannered. I remember being surprised that he offered to help me with the dishes, especially when Charlie didn’t even know his way to the kitchen. This was thirty years ago, mind you. Men were the breadwinners, you know, and not very many even knew how to boil an egg. “I remember he dressed really well.” Mona leaned slightly forward and lowered her voice, as if trading some backyard gossip about the neighbors across the street. “I wondered if he came from some money. It sure didn’t seem like he had a job. Cute as all punch, though. Tall, kind of like this one.” She gestured toward Gabriel. “Did this polite snappy dresser have a name?” Serena asked. Mona sat back, sucking the inside of her lip. She absently drummed her fingers on Brie’s dense black fur. “Something kind of racy. Dick, maybe? You know, I always wondered why people didn’t just stick with Richard. I mean, why would you want to shorten the name to, well…honestly!” “So his name was Richard?” Serena asked. “Oh, no. Hold on, sweetie; I’m thinking.” She paused again and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She muttered a few more names, which Serena was pleased not to hear. Finally, her face brightened and she exclaimed, “Peter!” “His name was Peter?” Serena asked cautiously. “That’s what I said! Can’t remember his last name, but a first name like that, it sticks with you. I was so worried Charlie would make fun of him.” Slowly, tasting the experience of talking about 109

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the man whose genetics had helped define her, even if in such a tiny way as her hair color, Serena summarized: “Polite, well-dressed Peter dated Mom for two months.” “Maybe three,” Mona said. “Why did they break up?” Mona shrugged. “Your mother never told me. All she would say is that he moved out of town. It could just be that simple.” Serena’s sigh blew a few strands of hair skyward. “Did she ever try to get in touch with him after he left?” “I don’t know, honey.” She tried not to feel frustrated. After all, prior to this conversation, she’d simply known her father was male, tall, and absent; now, at least she knew his first name. “Anything else you can think of, Aunt Mona?” she asked, hoping against hope that her aunt would suddenly remember a picture she’d taken or a detailrich diary entry she’d penned thirty years ago ranting about her sister’s jobless, courteous “beau.” “Hmmm,” Mona said thoughtfully, rubbing her chin in an exaggerated, almost cartoon-like manner. Serena felt suddenly intrigued. “Well, there may have been one thing, but I hardly know if it’s worth mentioning. I mean, I never notice or care about such things, but, you know, some people do.” What was this? “Uh-huh,” Serena said carefully. “I mean, my mother, your grandmother, would have disowned Ava, but we live in different times now, I always say.” The political progressive, that’s my aunt, Serena thought, but said nothing. “Was he Asian?” Gabriel asked. Mona flashed him a relieved glance and nodded enthusiastically. “Very handsome man, and as I said, it didn’t make any difference to me. But some 110

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people might have taken notice.” “What kind of Asian, Ms. Keller, do you remember? Chinese, Korean, Vietnamese?” Mona nodded vigorously and slammed her hands down on the armrests, startling poor Brie into taking flight. “Now that you say that, I seem to remember Peter saying something about his gardenvariety Chinese last name. I don’t remember it, although it seems like I should. Hmmm. Something with an ‘N-G’ in it. Chang? Tang? Oh, phooey, I can’t remember right now!” “Neither you nor Mom ever thought to tell me I’m half Chinese?” Serena asked incredulously. Mona waved her hand dismissively. “Like I said, Reenie, I hardly notice such things. It seems petty to even think of people as races. And besides, I don’t think he was full Chinese; he was some kind of mix. You’ll have to ask him.” No problem, Serena thought sourly. I’ll just open the national phone book and search for a Peter something-N-G. Gabriel glanced at her. “Do you know anyone else who might have some information on him or anywhere else that he used to frequent? Anything or anyplace we can search for more clues?” She was pleased he was stepping in right now; she needed some time to think through this new piece of information. Mona looked at Serena. Her lips smiled sweetly. “I listen to the news, you know. I know more couples today are not having children. I understand; it’s a scary and sinful world. But it’s also full of good deeds and good people. You’re a sweet girl and even smarter than your mom; it would be a shame if you decided not to brighten this world with your children. But—” She smiled, and her eyes crinkled into handsome smile lines. “I’m content, because God told me there are children in your future and 111

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grandnieces or nephews in mine. I want you to learn all you can about your father, Reenie, so you can feel all right about creating your own heritage. “As for your father, the only other thing I remember was thinking he seemed like a college graduate like your mother. They sounded so smart together, and I always felt he looked down on me for not being as quick and knowledgeable as them. But that’s okay, because I loved being a wife, a mother, a sister, and an aunt. I had different kind of smarts and experiences. “You may not remember her, Reenie, but your mom used to have a best friend named Karen. They parted ways over the years, but she was around when your mother and father were…courting. She might know something. Who knows if she’s single or remarried now, but her name back then was Karen Pennington. “Now, after answering all these questions, I found I’ve worked up an appetite. Anyone for snickerdoodles? And I have two more cats for you to meet, Gabriel. You’re gonna love Gouda and Munster.” Gabriel gently dusted Wensleydale off his lap, rose to his feet, and helped ease Mona to hers. As they walked arm-in-arm into the kitchen, Serena heard him inquire in his deep, raspy voice, “Did you know there’s a type of cheese named Gabriel?” “You don’t say!” Mona gasped in delight. **** Gabriel watched Serena balance a tin of cookies on her lap while she flipped down the passenger’s sun visor, slapped up the mirror’s cover, and stared deeply into her own eyes. She was seeing herself as a daughter of two people now, both with names, histories, and personal quirks. She was a different person with a different background than she’d been two hours prior. 112

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That, and she was probably trying to find evidence of her Chinese heritage. “Meet Serena, daughter of Ava and Peter,” Gabriel said quietly, glancing into the rearview mirror and turning left. Her indignant reply confirmed his suspicions. “I can’t believe my mother, my aunt, and my uncle all neglected to tell me I’m half Asian!” “Probably not half,” Gabriel mused. “Maybe a quarter.” She turned to him, glaring. “Even you knew, and you’ve only known me for two days!” “I didn’t know,” he corrected. “I suspected.” “The hair?” she asked, running her fingers through it. “The hair, the eyes, something about the nose. Regardless, though, you have the same genetics you did yesterday.” She snorted. “Well, sure, except yesterday I was a milquetoast Irish girl, and today I find out I’m a superhuman mutant with a mixed racial heritage. I’m not sure if I should lock myself in a closet or demand a special month of recognition.” She glanced sideways at him. “I’ve always been fond of October.” “I remember,” he said, and found he was smiling at her. They remained silent for a time. He turned left again and then made a quick right. Next to him, Serena stared out the passenger window. He wondered what she was thinking and then smiled slightly. One didn’t have to wait long to hear Serena’s thoughts. “My aunt thinks you’re pretty decent,” she finally said, still gazing out the window. “I like her, too.” “Is there really a cheese named Gabriel?” Even he could hear the smile in his voice. “I never lie about cheese.” 113

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A pause, and then, “I couldn’t help but notice you said something about courting. Did you, I mean, I totally get why you’d want to say that…” His smile stretched into something just short of a grin. Lord, he’d smiled more in the last two days than he had in the last five years. “I meant it. I don’t know how you superhumans of mixed-race heritage do things, but where I come from, we don’t hop into bed with random strangers.” The cookie tin fell from her lap, but she didn’t immediately retrieve it. Instead, she grinned back at him. How could this woman think anyone on the receiving end of that smile could ever find contentment in a one-night stand with her? “Really?” she asked shyly. Once again, he was amused and a little touched by the contradictions she embodied, this passionate, linen-shredding sex goddess who blundered her way through a discussion of dating. “I got a different impression from Jade about your, um, my, our kind.” “Jade’s not me,” he said pointedly. He took a rather abrupt left turn. “I noticed.” Serena was silent for a moment. “So, are we dating? God, it sounds so high school when I put it that way.” “That depends on whether you’re willing to be dated,” Gabriel intoned. She laughed and squeezed his leg. “Very,” she said. “Then dating is hereby commencing.” She laughed again and bent over to retrieve the cookies. “Do I still have to wear the blindfold on the way back to Beverly Hills? It’s kind of scratchy.” “We’re not going back right now,” Gabriel said, turning once more. “We’re being followed.” Her head snapped around. “Followed? But there are a bunch of cars behind us. How can you tell?” “A black SUV has been following us for a while. 114

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I’m not really surprised; your aunt’s house was an obvious place for you to go.” He didn’t tell her two cars had preceded it. Like any decent tail, they’d worked out a less obvious system that involved multiple cars, but after all his years as a field psychic, Gabriel knew the leeches’ patterns. Serena was frowning. “Black SUV? How unoriginal can you get? I mean, honestly, can’t a bad guy drive a red Honda hatchback for once?” She took a deep breath. “Can we lose them?” “I’ve tried, but they’re hanging on.” The vehicle was several cars behind them but dogged in its pursuit. The next few moments were silent. Finally, Serena said, “It’s not like the movies, is it? I mean, no high speed chases, no up and down roads that make for spectacular jumps, no delivery men conveniently carrying window panes, everything all taking place within the speed limits. It’s all very…civil.” “I made a few turns without using my turn signal,” he said. She didn’t respond. The next time he glanced over at her, she was chewing a nail on her left hand. Gabriel figured he had two options: he could drive into areas he knew very well and try to evade their pursuers or he could take them to a place where the leeches would be loath to follow—like, say, a police station. As much as he liked the second idea, he could also see it backfiring on him if the leeches decided to call his bluff; psychics and hunters were no keener than leeches to seek outside interference and risk the possibility of discovery. And so he took another right without using his turn signal and then another quick right. After a moment, he spied the SUV, still tagging along behind them. He wound his way northward, toward Los Angeles proper, a place he knew much better 115

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than San Pedro and its surrounding areas. After a while, Serena turned to him and said with some urgency, “I just thought of something. Will Aunt Mona be okay?” “Yeah,” Gabriel said a little absently, wondering whether he should continue forward or take another turn. “How do you know that for sure?” Good question. He thought about it for a moment before slowly replying, “They won’t hurt your family.” “Is this a…psychic thing?” she asked him. “Yeah. It happens like that sometimes; I just know what’s going down. When we get back, though, I’ll send some hunters to watch over Aunt Mona.” To her credit, she didn’t ask him to tell her fortune, to reveal the date and time of her demise or the hair color of her firstborn. Not only did his ability not work that way—if he could make it flare on demand, he’d be a billionaire by now—but after thirty-six years, he’d learned people didn’t need, and often didn’t really want, to know such things. Maybe ten minutes later, Gabriel realized he had reached South L.A. Not only was he familiar with South L.A., but he was no more than five miles from the police department itself. He might not want to visit it, but these leeches were proving annoyingly sticky and the intimidation factor might help him after all. At the next major intersection, he made a left turn from the wrong lane, causing more than one angry motorist to lean on their horns. He made an immediate right after that, careening down some residential street. He turned left at the first stop sign. He spied the black SUV in his rearview mirror. Had they kidnapped a psychic themselves? The gap between their cars began closing. The SUV was catching up. 116

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“Get down,” Gabriel rasped at Serena. She twisted her head around and squinted out the rear window. “Do it!” he snapped. Damn, headstrong woman! She finally scrunched down in her seat. He sped up and made an abrupt left turn, back toward the major roads. He had a sneaking suspicion… GONK! A loud sound, the kind one might hear if a lunatic smacked the roof of the car with a sledgehammer, reverberated in the cab. A bullet had struck the car. He pressed down further on the accelerator, blew through a stop sign, and was relieved to see the busy Los Angeles street not a half mile away. He glanced into the rearview mirror again and saw a blonde head leaning out the SUV’s window, carefully lining up the sights of some kind of bright silver handgun, probably a 1911. Gabriel pulled the steering wheel sharply to the left, and then to the right, weaving all over the road. Gunfire pocked the afternoon air, but he neither heard nor, thank god, felt a thing in the car. And then he was at the intersection. He swerved right without waiting for the light to turn green, forcing the driver of a brown and white pickup truck to slam on her brakes. He cut across several lanes, earning ever more horn bleeps and honks. Ah, the music of Los Angeles. At the next intersection, he obeyed the red light, stopping briefly and impatiently in the left turn lane. When opposing traffic thinned, he flipped an illegal U-turn and sped the opposite direction on the busy road. Within minutes, the vagaries of traffic, as well as a few other less-than-legal maneuvers, had separated him from the pursuers. He kept a careful watch before finally determining the black SUV no longer pursued them. “It’s okay now,” he said to Serena. Her pale face 117

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even paler, she unfolded from the floor, scooted back into place, and snapped the seatbelt safely across her chest with some determination. “I take it all back,” she said, somewhat hoarsely. “It’s not tame at all.” Gabriel grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

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Chapter Nine As it turned out, Gabriel forgot to request she don the stupid blindfold, and she didn’t remind him. She was surprised to find the mansion actually lay several miles east of Beverly Hills, albeit still in a ritzy neighborhood bordered by other vast properties. Once inside, Gabriel led her to the dining hall before leaving her to tend to psychic things. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, and she nodded. Drifting to the front of the room, she grabbed a tray and passed by several food offerings. The experience strongly reminded her of high school, although this food looked not only edible but downright appetizing. In the end, and pondering whether it contained the lactose-rich version of Gabriel, she chose a helping of cheesy lasagna and a small dinner salad. Walking back to her table, she spotted Scott across the room, sitting alone and scowling at his plate. She changed course and plopped her tray down at his table. “This seat taken?” she asked, smiling. He looked up in surprise and gestured for her to sit down. Scott, poor thing, looked pale, unhappy, and twitchy. Being plunged into a comic book dreamscape didn’t appear to sit well with him. “Are you doing okay?” she asked him. He shrugged and continued to stare down at the table. “I’ve been better.” “Want to talk about it?” He looked up at her, lips knit tightly together, hard, fine lines radiating from the corners of his eyes 119

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and mouth. “Not a lot to say. This is a nightmare that won’t end. I tried to leave, and they won’t let me. I missed a day of work—you know I don’t have any vacation time—and no one can say anything but we’re sorry, too bad, sucks to be you.” He sighed and shook his head. “I just want to go home.” Poor Scott. As difficult as the last two days had been for her, at least she had someone to guide her through it, to explain everything as it happened. She felt terrible for abandoning him. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I know they’re keeping us here to make sure we’re safe, but this is about me, not you. It’s not fair to you.” “Where have you been, Serena?” he asked her with a trace of anger. She was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry if you’ve felt abandoned, Scott,” she said carefully. “This has been a crazy two days for both of us.” “You’ve been spending time with Gabriel, right?” he asked, not angrily as she’d been expecting but with a kind of resignation. “I have,” she said. “I’ve also been meeting with the council and visiting my aunt in San Pedro.” “Your aunt?” Scott asked. “You went to San Pedro today?” “We just got back,” she said. “The council thinks my family might have some answers as to why leeches are targeting me.” She considered Scott a friend and wanted to help him through this crazymaking situation, but she wasn’t ready to share her new secret. Scott took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. “This has been awful for both of us. I’m sorry for being such a whiner.” “You’re not whining. I’m sorry I didn’t check in with you till now. I was hoping Jade would act as your tour guide.” Scott lowered his eyes and stayed mum on the 120

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subject of Jade. Aha, thought Serena. “So you and Gabriel…” Scott said, raising blank blue eyes to her. She shrugged, stretched, and spread her fingers on top of the table. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said. “I’m—sorry if that upsets you.” Scott shrugged. “As long as you’re happy,” he said carefully, reciting a memorized speech. He did a poor imitation of sincerity, but she appreciated his efforts. “So, when are we allowed out of here?” he asked more briskly. “God, I wish I knew. I hope you at least can go home right away. I’ll ask Gabriel or Jade when I see them.” She smiled at him. “At least this place is slightly better than the boiler room, right?” Scott rolled his eyes. “Hard to be worse,” he commented drily. “Definitely better food.” “Lots of vegetarian stuff. It’s a nice change.” “Jade told me hunters have some kind of code about protecting life and a bunch of them interpret it as including animals. Many of them are vegetarians.” Scott concentrated on smearing butter on his biscuit. For some reason, this news annoyed Serena. Was there any aspect of her personhood that didn’t fit in with this new identity? For god’s sake, did hunters and psychics have vegetarianism encoded in their DNA? Maybe her preferences for dark chocolate and her hatred of minivans were also part of her genetic heritage. “So, did you find out anything interesting while chatting with your aunt?” Scott asked. She nodded. “I asked her about my father.” “Your father? I’ve never heard you mention him.” Serena smiled a little grimly. “Nothing to mention before today. I never knew him. The council 121

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thinks he might be the reason why the leeches are after me, so I finally started asking some questions about him.” “Whoa.” Scott took a bite of his biscuit and talked through it. “Pretty heavy stuff. Your aunt knows your father?” “She knew him thirty years ago and shared everything she can remember, which isn’t a whole heck of a lot. I’m hoping I can find out a little bit more. She told us about a friend of my mom’s; I’m hoping she can help me.” “Whoa,” Scott said again through a mouthful of now-pasty biscuit. “If you need any help, Serena, count me in.” She was touched. After everything, he was once again offering to help her out. His somewhat nauseating habit of talking while eating aside, he was a good friend. She extended her hand and placed it on his arm. “Thank you, Scott.” She smiled. He patted her hand with his and then grabbed it. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked very seriously. Oh dear. She tamped down on the nervous impulse to childishly joke, “You just did!”; after all they’d been through, he deserved an honest answer to the question that had been on his mind for several months. “Of course,” she said, and waited. Scott combed fingers through his floppy, fashionably androgynous, dark blond hairdo. “This seems like a weird place to ask this question…” For a brief, horrified moment, Serena was certain he was going to propose. Then, reason tapped her on the forehead, and she almost laughed. “…but why didn’t you and I ever, you know, go out for coffee or dinner or, you know, on a date?” There it was. “One reason,” she said, forcing a smile and desperately wishing Gabriel would return, “is my policy against dating employees or volunteers. 122

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The work we do is way too precious to mess up by bringing romantic baggage into the picture. “Secondly, I—you’re a good friend, Scott. I adore you as a friend. I just never, you know—” Oh lord, this was going poorly. Counselor, heal thyself! “Oh, god, I’m making a huge mess out of this. I know this all sounds like a line, but you’re my friend, Scott, and I’ve always been content with that.” He nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. “I value your friendship, too. But as your friend, I have to ask: Why Gabriel?” She tilted her head in confusion. “Why not Gabriel?” she asked. “Well, for one, he’s not human. For another, he’s kind of, well, snappy. Kind of cranky, you know? Like he’s mad at the world. I know you’re all about healing people’s wounds and all, but I have a hard time seeing you with someone so broody.” Serena sat back in her chair, a little stung by his words. She wasn’t personally offended, but she was troubled by Scott’s suggestion that perhaps her attraction to Gabriel stemmed from a need to counsel, to protect, someone with a troubled past. “Besides,” Scott said, leaning forward as she sat back. “Remember how he stared at you all day yesterday? He really freaked me out. I thought he looked a little like a cannibal trying to figure out which bits were tenderest.” “I get it!” she exclaimed. “Sheesh, Scott!” He stared intently at her, obviously not sure whether to grin or apologize. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gabriel enter the room and start toward them. “Speak of the cannibal,” Scott muttered. She flashed him a genuinely annoyed look and disengaged their hands. “Have a seat,” she said to Gabriel when he reached them. He nodded at Scott, who nodded back. 123

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“I don’t want to interrupt,” he said with his customary, complete lack of inflection, looking at Serena. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” He turned and walked away from them. “Cheery guy,” Scott said. “Scott, please,” Serena snapped. She sighed and decided to take advantage of the silence by tucking into her salad. “All right, I’m sorry. I’m getting some more water. Want me to grab you some?” he asked, rising from the table. “Thanks,” she said. She jabbed a fork into the marinara atop the lasagna. The sight of the shiny silver tines disappearing into the mass of curdled red goo miraculously cured her of her hunger. **** Less than an hour after retiring to his room, a loud knock on his bedroom door jerked his head up and out of the mystery he was currently enjoying. “Come in,” he rasped, knowing of course who it would be. The door swung inward and then closed, depositing Serena into the room. She stood near the doorway for a moment, staring at him as he sat in his tiny loveseat, open book resting in his lap. She was, as usual, radiant, her black hair so glossy it reflected ribbons of yellow lamplight, her brown eyes sparkling. Silent and unsmiling, she stood before him, hands dangling loosely at her sides. Not for the first time, he realized she scared him. She walked the five steps to him and, without a word, straddled his lap. Both knees rested outside his legs, and she leaned into him, pressing him backward. He didn’t even notice when his book clattered to the floor. She leaned her head down and quickly, forcefully joined their mouths. Gabriel’s response was immediate. He cupped 124

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the back of her neck and pulled her further down so he could kiss her back with the same fervor and intensity. The heat pulsed between them as their mouths moved over one another’s, seeking new angles, capturing sighed breaths, pouring and sipping small, pleasured sounds. Serena pulled his hair free of its band and used her fingers to furrow through it. She ended up gripping handfuls of hair to keep his head in place while she used her tongue to pry open his mouth. Meanwhile, her movements sent her rocking atop him, rubbing against him, folding her warmth into his. With a sound half between a growl and groan, he grabbed her shirt and tore it off her. He had more trouble with her shiny purple bra but after a moment, he managed to finally throw it on the ground where it belonged. They both reached for his shirt, but she was sitting half on it and getting it off him turned out to be troublesome. Never breaking their kiss, Serena literally tore the shirt along the left seam and threw it across the room. They both wrapped their strong, naked arms around one another and pulled the other closer. Serena wriggled atop him in that maddening, frustrating, glorious way she did. He ran his hands down her smooth, hot back. Crushed against the love seat as he was, Gabriel was all but at Serena’s mercy. When she lifted her mouth from his to nibble along his jaw, at his temple, he grabbed the opportunity to kiss her small, beautiful breasts. When his circling tongue found her nipple, she uttered the high-pitched keening sound that he found so sexy. “Take off your pants,” she gasped at him. Somehow, they managed to rise from the love seat and rid themselves of their remaining clothes, all while maintaining constant, close contact. “Now,” she said. 125

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“Now what?” “Make love to me right now,” she whispered against his lips. She tugged him behind the love seat, threw her arms over the back, and tossed him a grin over her shoulder. Gabriel bent to retrieve a condom from his jeans pocket, kissing the base of her spine on the way back up. After donning it, he gripped her hips and slowly, almost delicately, entered her. Distantly, he heard Serena cry out and thrust back against him. For him, however, sounds were like echoes and images like shadows. All that mattered was the sensation, the hot, pulsing, almost painfully intense feelings that wrapped around his body like barbed wire. He wanted to scream, he wanted to scratch and bite and bay at the moon like some mythological beast. At thirty-six, he’d learned enough self-control to keep his volume lowered and his gestures more or less constrained. It was difficult, though, given the knife-edged sensitivity of each finger, each toe, each and every square inch of his torso and legs. The feel of the wooden floor beneath his feet, the hot and slippery give of flesh beneath his fingers and thumbs, the frenzied claps of flesh: all spun through his senses, making him confuse sounds with sensation and smells with sights. After a while, as his pleasure began driving him upward, he regained an almost diamond-like clarity and sense of awareness. Serena, beautiful, wanton Serena, sweated and bucked before him, her breathless wails rising and falling like bird’s cries. The love seat, not made for this kind of activity, squeaked and shimmied beneath the weight of Serena’s upper body. He heard his own grunts, groans, sighs of pleasure as he increased their pace to match his own heartbeat. The feeling of intensity churned and swirled into something so hot it burned 126

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through him. His insides caught on fire, the painpleasure peaked in him, and he cried out with his release. Several seconds later, he collapsed briefly on top of Serena’s back. He kissed her spine once again, and the salt from her sweat burned him. “You good?” he asked her, and kissed her back one more time. “Oh my god,” she said in response. “I can live with that. Although…” She paused expectantly. “Although?” he asked dutifully. “I’m a little disappointed that I only had ten or so orgasms this time.” He chuckled, although he still wasn’t sure whether she was exaggerating. He hoped not. “I am almost thirty-seven,” he reminded her. Nonetheless, he slipped his hand around her hips and started stroking her. Serena tensed briefly beneath him before starting to groan quietly and press against his hand. “Let’s go for eleven,” he said to her. **** They lay in utter darkness on Gabriel’s bed, spooning, Serena curling around his big body. Somehow, probably because his legs were so darn long, it worked. She had tossed an arm around his waist, and her mouth pressed against the back of his head, the better for whispering things to him. “It’s only nine o’clock,” she told him, combing his soft hair with her fingers. It smelled good, like “unscented” shampoo and sweat. “I can’t believe you seduced me into bed at such an early hour.” “I’m irresponsible that way,” he said drily. His thumb stroked gentle shapes on her inner arm. “Sometimes I just sit here, reading a book, and my sexual magnetism draws random passers-by into my bedroom.” “I’m glad we can put blame where blame is due,” she teased, nuzzling into his hair. Okay, maybe she 127

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did like longer hair on men. Definitely on this man. After a few minutes, she said quietly, “You don’t have to worry about me and Scott.” “I’m not worried,” he said. She pushed herself up on an elbow and kissed his ear. Because he lay on his left side, it was the unmarred ear on the smooth half of his face. “Liar,” she whispered into his ear. He didn’t answer. She spoke quietly. “I’m coming to decipher and talk Gabriel-speak. I figured a demonstration might work better than words to convince you. That, and damn, you’re lucky I let you leave this room. I’m seriously considering chaining you to the bed, sending out for pizza, and spending the next few months in here with you.” “I like sausage and onions.” Serena laughed softly and rested her cheek against his. Not everyone here was vegetarian; she felt oddly relieved. “Serena?” he asked softly, in an oddly hesitant tone. “Mmm-hmm?” After a pause, he teased, “Can I call you Reenie?” She chuckled. It wasn’t the question he’d wanted to ask, but she knew the intimacy made him uncomfortable. She had a lot of patience to give him. “Absolutely not.” She kissed his cheek. “I like…” He paused. She raised herself up on her elbow again. The room remained utterly dark, but an awkward Gabriel demanded her full attention. “I like looking at you.” She smoothed his hair away from his face, his ear. “I noticed,” she half teased. “Why is that? Trying to figure out why this one person could cause such a ruckus?” “You’re beautiful,” he said simply. 128

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She couldn’t help it: she gasped. She’d heard the words before, even a couple of times after a particularly vigorous sexual episode, but the words had never sounded like this. He said it plainly, as if it were a scientifically proven fact. You’re beautiful. She owned a mirror; she knew she was inoffensive, even pretty to some, but beautiful? She had too many straight lines in her face and figure, her breasts were too small, her concavities too convex, her feet too big, her hair unfashionably straight and unstyled. No, she and beautiful weren’t in the same neighborhood; heck, beautiful occupied a different time zone. She knew she should graciously accept the compliment, file it under “hyperbolic compliments by a sex-satiated man,” but it felt demeaning to do that to this intense, sincere man. “I don’t know about ‘beautiful,’ ” she faltered. “ ‘Beautiful’ to me is Nadia, my assistant, or even Mia, that trollop: voluptuous, long hair, balanced features.” “Beautiful isn’t just the visual. It’s also the way a person stands, the tone of her voice, a balance between physicality, morality, and personality. It’s a natural grace and harmony, and it’s also someone’s attempts to make everyone feel good about themselves.” Gabriel grabbed her hand, reminding her briefly of Scott, but then he kissed her palm. “You’re beautiful inside and out.” Unsure how to respond, she finally, belatedly, stammered, “Thank you.” Her awkwardness got the better of her, and she quickly joked, “Why is it people tell me I’m beautiful only when the room is too dark to see anything?” “Everything is easier in darkness,” he growled. Especially when you hate the way you look, she thought, feeling a coil of tenderness unwind in her chest. Any reassuring words she had for him about his looks, his scars, his physical wounds would 129

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sound hollow and obligatory right now. Stubble scraped her lips as she kissed his jaw. “You ever think of getting your ear pierced?” she breathed into his ear. “No.” “Why not?” “I’ve experienced enough unnecessary pain in this life. Why do it voluntarily?” She laughed. “So, no tattoos?” “Nope.” “Gabriel?” “Yeah?” Luckily, he sounded amused. “Can I call you Gabe?” “Absolutely.” She laughed and poked his ribs. “Gabe?” “Reenie?” A deep breath, and then, “Did you really save that leech because of me?” He was silent. After a long moment, he said, “I didn’t have an attack of conscience, if that’s what you’re asking.” “So you…let him live just because I asked you?” The question sounded so melodramatic, so horrifying and mundane all at once. “Yeah.” “Why? You obviously disagreed with me.” “Because,” he said slowly, “you asked me to.” Serena didn’t know what to say. She rested her cheek against his and felt her arm rise as he inhaled. After maybe ten minutes of silence, she complained about being hungry. “Didn’t you just eat?” Gabriel asked, and she heard the smile in his voice. “I burned a lot of calories just now. And besides, I only ate a small salad.” She almost drooled thinking of that yummy block of lasagna she’d played with and discarded earlier this evening. 130

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“I saw you at breakfast. I know you’re not a dieter,” he said. She laughed quietly. “No, I don’t diet. I wasn’t hungry earlier, but I am now.” “Care for a midnight snack?” “It’s only half past nine.” “So, no?” “Yes, yes!” she cried, laughing, and reluctantly disengaged from him. She heard him move, and all of a sudden the darkness evaporated as he switched on a bedside lamp. He stood nude before her: tall, broad chest, long, lean legs, lightly-muscled arms, messy brown hair that reached just past his shoulders, pink and silver scars that tweaked his face, neck, arm, and torso into peaks and puckers. They stared at one another for a moment, and she noticed once again how the scar slicing through the left side of his upper lip froze his mouth into a perpetual snarl. Beautiful, she thought, but remained silent. After showering, they walked to the dining hall and grabbed plates of food. Serena ate with an enthusiasm Gabriel found both familiar (he had grown up with hunters) and endearing. “I talked to some people around here and have them researching Karen Pennington and a young student thirty years ago named Peter something-AN-G.” Gabriel sipped his ice water. “I imagine we’ll have a little more luck with your mother’s friend. Anyway, we’ll probably know something tomorrow.” “Thank you,” she said. They ate in silence for a time, a state he knew wouldn’t last very long. He didn’t mind talking; he just wasn’t used to it. He was accustomed to quietude: visual, aural, tactile, psychological. He kept to the shadows, bathed in silences, watched and listened from a distance. Even before the explosion and the scars, the weeks of physical recovery and the bitter shock of losing his 131

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father, he had always been someone who clung to obscurity. Aside from Jade, who pursued his friendship with her usual, cheerful relentlessness, he did not make close friends. He did not participate in group activities, had never sought enduring romantic relationships, avoided most situations that required casual conversation. Except for his parents, his now-deceased boyhood friend, Chas, and good ol’ stubborn Jade, he’d kept to himself his entire life. His experience after the explosion had only strengthened his taciturnity. And then he encountered Serena, a woman who had built her life around healing others, who championed equality and balked at injustice. Serena, sensually speaking, was anything but quiet. She was a presence that filled the senses, piqued participation, demanded mutuality. She dragged him out of the dark and the quiet. Serena talked, and she was interesting. She was funny. She was stubborn and idealistic. She believed in fairness and kindness and embodied innocence and audacity. She was bright colors, bright feelings, warm, and communicative. He wasn’t used to bright anything, to warmth, to talking and laughing. Sometimes he felt like a complete fool during their conversations, while other times—well, he thought he might be feeling something like comfort. “Gabriel?” Serena asked, and he almost smiled. “Yeah?” “Are there leeches in the world who live normal lives and feed off regular people?” “Yeah,” he said. “Like us, some leeches live together, and some live their lives independent of their kind. I imagine there are a number of leeches out there that we don’t even know exist.” “So anyone could be a leech? Could someone be a leech and not know it?” He thought for a minute. “I suppose so, just as 132

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you didn’t know you were—Wait a second. You don’t think you might be a leech, do you?” Serena’s eyes dropped, and she nervously grabbed her glass of water and gulped down several mouthfuls. “Well, how do you know the difference between a hunter and a leech?” “Oh, lord,” he said, deeply amused. “I can promise you you’re not a leech. First of all, try walking on the wall. Secondly, you have the hunter sense of smell; leeches don’t have that. Thirdly, you don’t smell like a leech. Reenie, you are one-hundred percent hunter.” She glared at him for a moment. “What part of ‘absolutely not’ is unclear to you? And what do you mean, I don’t smell like a leech? I thought psychics didn’t have super noses.” “We don’t,” he said, trying and failing to repress a small smile. “But I think Jade or Rain would have said something. Leeches smell very distinctive, or so the hunters tell us.” She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. “Yeah? Kind of like vinegar? I noticed a weird, sharp smell from Shar and Terryl.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems every hunter describes the smell differently.” She nodded absently. “I wondered if they’d just eaten some food that had gone off.” She smiled somewhat shyly at him. “So, no leech?” “No leech,” he agreed. “One more question,” she said, and he raised his eyebrows. She grinned self-consciously and said, “Okay, probably a few more. How come psychics don’t have all the physical benefits that hunters do? Well, I mean, you have some very definite physical benefits—” She gave him a significant look, just in case he wasn’t following. “—but no super strength and slightly less super healing. Why’s that?” “Good question,” he said, shrugging. 133

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She stared intently, unblinkingly, at him for a moment. “So you guys fight leeches alongside the hunters? Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” He gestured to the almost-empty room. “Most psychics aren’t trained for fieldwork. Most stay here and provide information the hunters need to stay alive in the field. I volunteered when I was very young to be a field psychic.” “But leeches are super strong and super fast,” she informed him. “I seem to recall that.” “Who takes care of you?” He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’ve survived longer than most field psychics; I know of only two who are older than me. I’m senior enough to lead most field missions I embark on.” He took a drink of his water. Serena grimaced. “That came out wrong. I’m sorry. I just…it seems like you have some disadvantages during fights with leeches.” He nodded slowly. “I do. I’ve worked hard to hone my advantages.” “But it’s still really dangerous.” He looked at her for a moment, focusing alternately on her left and right eyes. “This is war,” he said. She stared back at him, eyes burning. Other than not being too pleased with his answers, he couldn’t imagine what she was thinking to make her look so intent. “I think I’d like to start training for the field, too,” she said slowly. “If there’s a war, you need every soldier, right?” He leaned back in surprise but kept his face impassive. A minute or more passed while he struggled to define what he was feeling and how he should respond: Does this mean you’re staying? You’re a healer, not a fighter. Didn’t you hear yourself—this is dangerous! Finally, he settled on, 134

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“We’ll talk to Rain tomorrow.” “Gabe?” “Reenie?” Didn’t she know her annoyed expression made it irresistible? She asked the question on an exhale: “Will you tell me sometime about the explosion that took your father?” He pushed his empty plate away and took another drink of water. Finally, he nodded. “One more question?” she teased. He inclined his head in agreement. “Your voice. Did you…the explosion…?” “No,” he said. “Just after my thirtieth birthday, I met up with some leeches. I fought this one crazy bastard who tried to strangle me. They’re damn strong; he damaged my throat, and I couldn’t breathe.” Serena dropped her eyes to the table. “Afterward, one of the hunters did an emergency tracheotomy; you’ve probably noticed the scar. Was it the damage to my throat, or the scar tissue from the breathing tube?” He shrugged. “I’m alive.” She was silent, head bent toward the tabletop. “Serena?” She raised her head, and her kind, expressive brown eyes had blurred with tears. She blinked, and water trickled down her cheeks. He rose to his feet, startled. What had he done to make her cry? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, wiping the tears from her cheek. He wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for crying, for asking him to tell the story, or for the story itself. He didn’t really care; the last thing he ever wanted was to see her sad. A little roughly, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He pushed her head against his chest and rested his chin on top. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. 135

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He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go to bed,” he rumbled. Later, in the privacy and darkness of his room, he kissed the tears from her cheeks.

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Chapter Ten After a night of deep sleep—and an even more satisfying morning—the following day glowed with promise. Sunlight sparkled in the windowpanes, floated downward, and kissed the bed and floor. When Serena opened the door to the hallway, she found her mother’s old, light blue, hard-shelled suitcase sitting right outside. Inside it were several changes of clothing and some of her toiletries. Refusing to be creeped out by the thought of strangers rifling through her drawers, she chose instead to be thrilled by the presence of her own clothing. She immediately threw off Jade’s sweats and donned a pair of her own jeans and an emerald green T-shirt emblazoned with a neon yellow, cartoon frog. She slipped her feet into her white running shoes. Gabriel silently retrieved Jade’s clothes from the back of the love seat and folded them into his hamper. At breakfast, Serena challenged Gabriel to bring her a glass of “my all-time favorite” juice. He returned a moment later with a clear tumbler filled with grapefruit juice. Her smirk waned as his waxed. After breakfast, Gabriel told her he once again needed to chat with some people. He urged her to visit with Jade, but she wanted to take a walk around the property instead. She wandered outside, walking from shadow to shadow, communing with the fluffy trees and the unusually green lawn. Flower gardens, ablaze with rainbows of color, lay 137

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along the grounds like random presents. Beyond labeling them “pretty,” Serena couldn’t identify even one of the blooms; she knew words like “hydrangea” and “columbine” but couldn’t categorize anything more exotic than a poppy. Some California girl she was. She wound her way around the main building, basking in the gentle, autumn heat. The sky shone an unusually clear blue, as if even the smog had decided to take a sick day. On one side of the Jackand-the-Beanstalk mansion, nestled between the building and a row of, um, pretty trees, a small group of teenaged girls practiced some kind of martial arts. They moved in perfect synchronicity, their bodies straight, their arms making decisive chopping motions, their legs whipping forth in deadly kicks. They were stunning in their discipline, their serenity, their poise and lethality. The woman leading them stopped suddenly and turned to Serena. Tall and thin, she was maybe Gabriel’s age and composed entirely of straight lines. Her face, her body, even her bright red, brush-cut hair: all were stark, severe, a collection of lines and angles. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Serena stammered. “No worries,” the leader said, smiling easily. “We only have ten minutes left, anyway, and I imagine ending early won’t make us too sad, eh, girls?” The five students all grinned at her, and one sassy girl, hair gathered into dozen of tiny braids, teased, “We’ll try to contain the tears.” “You’re Serena, right?” the leader asked. Serena nodded, smiling. “I’m Brynn. Say hi to Serena, girls. This is the newest hunter.” The girls all waved or greeted her. Brynn dismissed them, and they scampered off, laughing 138

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and teasing one another. “Heading back?” Brynn asked. Serena shrugged. “I could be. I’d love some company.” They strolled back the way Serena had come. “I’m so glad to meet you,” Brynn said warmly, and patted her arm. “Rumors are flying around, of course. If you listen to them, you’re a super hunter who, sans any training, pulverizes leeches. You apparently beat steel safes into submission. Oh, and you and Gabriel are having a torrid affair.” Serena ducked her head, embarrassed and amused. “Sorry,” Brynn said cheerfully. “I guess one of the rumors had to be true, right? Gossipers can’t be wrong all the time.” “I guarantee the one about being a super hunter is entirely fictional,” Serena said, smiling. “I’m not even a good amateur hunter. I’d like to learn how to fight, though.” Brynn turned to her, sharp features pointed into a warm smile. “Yeah? You just find out, and you’re already revving to join the fight? You sound like a hunter to me! You want me to talk with Sage about starting to train you? I know it might be awkward, but she might let you join the young teens in Beginning Fighting. There are other classes you could take, too: Anatomy and Physiology, Weapons Training, and so on.” And here she’d thought she’d finished with classes after graduating with her degree. “I took several bio and anatomy classes in college,” she said. “It’s required of all counseling majors.” Brynn grinned at her. “Slightly different emphasis,” she said. “You want me to talk to Sage, maybe to Rain or other council members?” “Thank you,” Serena said. “No worries. Hey, aren’t these dahlias 139

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gorgeous?” “The, um, pink ones? Beautiful.” Brynn laughed. This tall, angular woman was a study in the folly of superficial judgments; her stark, severe angularity contained a flexible, generous, and cheerful disposition. “Brynn, can I ask you a question?” “Shoot,” the woman said. Her eyes had returned to the glorious flowerbeds. Serena smiled, reminded of her aunt. “Is it just me, or do hunters all have short names?” Brynn nodded. “Not just you. It’s not law or anything, but I think the common wisdom is for their mothers to name a hunter something short, preferably one syllable, so her team can call for her more quickly during battle. You can imagine someone yelling out ‘Anastasia!’ or ‘Marguerite!’ during a fight. By the time they got done yelling, the battle would be over.” She grinned. Dear lord. Gabriel hadn’t been exaggerating two days ago when he’d said hunters and psychics existed for the sole purpose of fighting leeches. Even their names, brief and utilitarian, spoke of a commitment to necessity over sentiment. “But not psychics?” she asked, thinking of Gabriel. “Nope. They get whatever name tickles their fathers’ fancies. They don’t need to worry about fighting in the field. Unless, of course”—Brynn gestured to Serena—“they become field psychics like Gabriel. But not many do.” “Because it’s so dangerous?” she asked grimly. The red-haired woman glanced in her direction. “The same danger that hunters face every day. It’s often a short and brutal life. You sure you want to learn to fight?” Serena wasn’t sure, not one little bit. She’d 140

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always abhorred violence, always voted for politicians who spoke of peace, always preached the benefits of negotiating over fighting. She was an academic, a counselor, a person devoted to theories and healing. A violent act had taken her mother from her. Fighting—violence—seemed anathema to the lifestyle she’d built. And yet, violence had saved her and Scott. Her own descent into ferocity had saved Gabriel. How could something so terrible, so destructive, also be so needful, so functional? “I’m sure,” she lied. **** He saw the bright yellow frog on her shirt before he actually recognized Serena’s smiling face. The frog, a pink tulip snapped in its mouth, was winking and spinning around on its pointed frog toes. He’d never really thought before about how conservatively he and his cohorts dressed, how pragmatic the clothes and subdued the colors. He was standing in the middle of the hallway that led to his bedroom. Serena approached him with a huge smile. Reaching him, she stepped on her tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth. “Hola, amigo,” she said. Her greeting felt homey and familiar. “¿Habla español?” he asked, and wasn’t surprised to find himself smiling back at her. “Poquito,” she said cheerfully. “One of my volunteers has been trying to teach me, but I find I’m embarrassingly dense when it comes to learning. Don’t tell me you speak Spanish, too.” “Sí,” he said, still smiling. “My mother taught me.” “Was your mother a native Spanish speaker?” “Second generation Mexican-American,” he said, “and devout Catholic. I really was named after an angel.” She linked her arm through his and walked with 141

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him toward his room. “I thought psychics’ fathers named them.” He looked down at her. She’d been busy in the couple of hours since he’d last seen her. “They usually do, but my mother was a very persuasive person; my father never had a chance.” “My kind of woman,” she said, grinning. “And how was your alone time?” “Un-alone,” he said. “I talked with some researchers. They managed to track down a woman named Karen Maidanik, previously known as Karen Pennington.” “Excellent. Does she live nearby, or are we calling?” They reached his bedroom. He opened the door and ushered them both inside. “More or less nearby. I thought we’d leave right away, take one of the clan cars.” “Whoa. You mean leave now?” He nodded and grabbed his wallet and a small notepad from the top of his bookcase. “If you need to change or grab something, now’s the time.” “Change?” she asked, smiling and putting her hands on her hips. “Are you implying something about the shirt? I saw you eyeballing it a minute ago.” He grabbed her, pulled her close, and kissed her soundly. “I like the frog,” he said. **** Serena heroically resisted the impulse to ask if they were there yet. They’d been driving north for well over three hours, and she regretted the soda she’d finished over an hour ago. She instead decided to grumble, “Don’t you think it’s politically incorrect for you to drive all the time?” Gabriel did his eyebrow-raising thing, and although he remained as stoic as usual, she would swear he was amused. All he said, however, was, 142

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“The second you’re out of danger or acquire defensive driving skills, you’re welcome to the wheel.” She harrumphed. “I learned during our last outing: you ignore all traffic laws and speed a lot. See? I could practically teach the class.” “Next time, we can have Jade chauffeur us while we sit in the back, okay?” She tried to remain grumpy but couldn’t help leering, just a little. “As long as you’re promising some serious necking and heavy petting, I’m game.” Although he continued to stare straight ahead, he did finally smile. A quarter of an hour later, they reached Fresno. Shorty thereafter, they swung into a middle-class neighborhood, complete with tract housing, yards just big enough for potted plants, and a smattering of shiny Audis and Volvos. Karen Maidanik lived in a light yellow, two-story house with cheerful blue trim and a tiny driveway. Gabriel pulled up in front of the house, and they both exited the car. In front of the dark blue door, Serena suddenly had to blot her palms on her jeans; however, her hand was steady as she knocked. A moment passed. Just as she raised her hand to knock again, the door swung open. Before her stood a small, stout, lightskinned woman in her mid-fifties. She wore khaki shorts, a sleeveless polo shirt, and her salt-andpepper hair cut short. “Hi,” Serena said nervously. “Are you Karen Maidanik?” The woman’s smile was small and ironic. “Pronounced a little differently, but good enough, I guess.” “I was wondering if we could speak with you for a bit…” “Are you Jehovah’s Witnesses?” Karen asked, lips pursed. “No, no! Um, my name is Serena O’Donnell, and 143

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this is…” “Ava’s girl?” Karen asked with much more interest. Her narrow face, fleshed out a bit with age, brightened slightly. Serena nodded, relieved. “Yeah. And this is my friend, Gabriel. We were wondering if we could chat with you a little bit.” “Sure! Come on in!” She moved aside, swung the door wide, and gestured for them to enter. The house was larger, newer, and—let’s face it—outfitted with better matched and more expensive furnishings than Aunt Mona’s. It was also devoid of the coziness and character of her aunt’s home. Pleasant enough, with its vaulted ceilings and carefully off-white walls and ecru carpet, but not a place she could imagine playing in as a child. “Please have a seat,” Karen offered, gesturing to her well-stuffed, tan sectional sofa, apparently willing to play hostess now that she knew they hadn’t come bearing copies of The Watchtower. “Would you like something to drink? I have some diet soda and orange juice. I could also brew up a pot of coffee.” Serena and Gabriel politely demurred. Karen sat down in a rocking chair opposite the couch, folding her hands in her lap. The three stared at one another for a minute while Serena shuffled through possible phrasings of her many questions. “I heard about your mother,” Karen finally, and very carefully, said. “I’m so sorry.” “Thank you,” Serena said. “I came here to ask you some questions about her.” “I figured,” Karen said, smiling. Serena breathed in, out, very slowly and carefully. “I actually wanted to ask you about the man who—fathered me. I’m trying to track him down.” Karen nodded knowingly. “I told Ava she should 144

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tell you everything. Why insist on this secrecy? Basic child psychology: you make something mysterious, a kid is that much likelier to want it.” She smiled. “But you know your mother. She’s very particular in her approaches and beliefs.” “She was,” Serena quietly agreed. “We were inseparable during college, you know. We called ourselves the Two Musketeers. I met Ava in a History of Western Civilization class. The professor droned on and on; we were so bored, we wanted to tear our hair out. We started passing notes back and forth about different ways of shutting up the professor or of stuffing our ears. Next thing you know, we’re best friends. “We were going to change the world. Hard to imagine college kids thinking that, isn’t it?” She rolled her eyes. “We got caught up in women’s lib—it was the seventies, you know…” “What?” Serena squeaked. “Women’s lib. You know: consciousness raising, rallies, letter-writing, staring at your hoo-hoo in a handheld mirror.” Karen glanced apologetically at Gabriel but ploughed ever onward. “We did it all. We were never like the hard-core feminists; we mostly just wanted equal pay, the right to play in sports. You know, Equal Rights Amendment stuff. We were both Catholics from very strict families, so we never got involved in the reproductive rights stuff.” Serena hardly heard her past the first couple of sentences. Never in her entire life had she wanted to know her mother had stared at her own hoo-hoo. “Of course, after college, she got a job as a secretary, and I worked as a kindergarten teacher. The world ate up our grand ideas, the way it does. I got married to my first husband. We stayed friends, though.” Serena tried to wrap herself around these new aspects of her mother. It was disconcerting to 145

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imagine her mother younger than she, Serena, was now, filled with the promise of a liberal arts education. “I know it’s an old story, almost a cliché, really, but your mother fell hard for your father. We were in our mid-twenties then, and Ava had done some dating. I know it was the seventies and all, but keep in mind she was Catholic. Most of us good Catholic girls walk down the aisle with a slight paunch, if you catch my meaning. Your mother wasn’t serious about anyone till Peter. She met him over summer vacation. She’d been out of school for a year or two— amazing how the little details escape me! Peter, though, had just graduated; he was a couple of years younger than us. Cutest thing you’ve seen, and so smooth and charming. Got his degree in…hmmmm. Economics, maybe? Something that seemed impossibly boring to us back then. “I was married, or else I would have pursued the heck out of Peter.” Karen wriggled her eyebrows. “Ava would have skinned me alive. She thought he was the answer to all her prayers. She never said it, but of course I knew she wanted to marry him. He was smart, handsome, so charming, and came from money. Ah, my heart goes pitter-pat just thinking about him. Sadly for me, though, he seemed devoted to her, too.” She smiled to show she was joking. Mostly. “Come August, or maybe it was September, though, he told her he was moving back East to attend grad school. Ava was crushed. Of course, he promised to stay in touch and keep a picture of her next to his bed and all the things men say at the end of an affair.” Once again, she threw a glance at Gabriel. “Ava cried and cried after he left. They exchanged some letters, and then—ta-dah!—Ava found out she was pregnant. Out went the letter along with, between you and me, a hope he’d rush 146

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back to L.A. with a ring box in his hand. “We waited for a response. And waited. After a month, she sent another one. After all, he might not have received the first one, right? No response. She tried calling, of course, but the phone number he gave her never worked.” Karen’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I wish I would offer you a more romantic story.” Serena nodded. She understood why her mother never spoke of the man who’d fathered her daughter. The story was tawdry, embarrassing, and disturbingly common. “What was his name?” she asked Karen. “Peter Yang. He was half Chinese, you know.” “I heard,” Serena said. “His father was Chinese and his mother was Northern European—Norwegian or something. It was a bit of a scandal back then, which made Peter even more exciting to us.” She rolled her eyes again. “Who knew I’d end up marrying a Russian Jew in my forties?” Gabriel grabbed Serena’s hand. His was warm, rough, and large enough to wrap fully around hers. “Do you remember which college he attended in the East?” Gabriel asked Karen. Her eyes moved to his, and Serena watched her take him in: his dark brown, wavy hair pulled into a low ponytail, the scars that corrugated the skin of his face, neck, and hand. “No,” she said slowly. “One of the big ones. I remember being impressed, but I can’t remember specifically. Was it Harvard? Yale? Something like that.” “Ms. Maidanik, did…?” Serena began. “Mrs., please,” Karen said. “I was never big on that ‘Ms.’ notion.” “Mrs. Maidanik,” Serena amended. “How come you and my mother ended your friendship?” 147

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Karen thought for a moment. “We never ended it, exactly. It’s more like it just lapsed. You know? After she had you, it’s like everything else stopped mattering to your mother. Motherhood takes some women like that, but I didn’t know that then. I was young and self-centered. Your mother stopped wanting to talk about the state of the world or about anything that didn’t involve you. She didn’t even seem mad at Peter for being what he was; she was just resigned. I wasn’t even thirty yet, and I wanted to have more fun. Our friendship slipped slowly away. I thought about her a lot, though.” They were all silent for a moment, each lost in their thoughts. Finally, Gabriel asked, “Can you remember anything else that might help us track down Peter Yang? His father’s name? His old address?” “Hmm. Definitely not his father’s name, except for the ‘Yang’ part, of course. His old address? I don’t remember the number, but I do remember he used to live in Silver Lake somewhere on Olympic Boulevard.” The street was huge, and innumerable Angelenos lived along its route, but the information still helped narrow their search. In fact, thanks to Karen Maidanik, they now knew Peter’s last name, age, and educational history. “Anything else you remember?” Gabriel pressed. “Did he ever strike you as unusual in any way?” Karen’s face was a mask of polite confusion. “Nothing odd or unusual about him except how charming he was. Well, and he was half Chinese, which was remarkable back then for two whitebread Catholic girls.” “Thank you so much,” Serena said, squeezing Gabriel’s hand. “You’ve been more helpful than you know.” “I’m glad I could do something for Ava’s girl,” 148

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Karen said, twisting her wedding ring around her ring finger. “You know,” she said suddenly, “your mother probably told you this, but she named you Serena because she wanted you to have a calm, happy life.” Serena smiled politely. She wondered what her mother would think of her life over the past few days. “She never said, but I assumed.” “Any more questions?” Serena knew a hint when she heard one. “If I can think of any more, may I please call you?” She scooted to the edge of the couch. “Of course. I’ll write my number down for you.” Gabriel handed her his small notebook, and she wrote her name and number in it before handing it back. “We’ll be headed back to L.A., then. Thank you so much,” Serena said, rising. “You drove up here all the way from L.A.? Are you sure you don’t want a soda or some water before you head back down?” “No thanks, but I would appreciate the use of your facilities,” she said, smiling. Karen pointed the way. After using the spotless, stark white bathroom, Serena grabbed the moment to stare at herself in the mirror over the sink. Irish, Norwegian, Chinese heritage. Depressed but devoted mother, Prince Charming father who ran screaming at the first sign of responsibility. Human mother, superhuman father. How much of those facts had shaped who she was? She gazed into her dark, dark brown eyes. Was that a hint of the Asian epicanthic fold? In contrast to her delicate, almond-shaped eyes, her face spread, wide and blunt, to her dimpled chin. Her straight, black hair—hair that had defied all teenaged battles with curling irons—brushed her shoulders. She 149

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smiled, thinking how her teenaged self would have killed for Gabriel’s soft, thick, wavy hair, longer by a couple of inches than her current style. Serena washed her hands and dried them on a gleaming white hand towel. Relieved of her burden, she thought she might just take Karen up on her offer of a soda. After all, two hundred miles and a few hours lay between them and Los Angeles. Mouth opened to ask Karen for a parting caffeine fix, she strode into the living room. She stopped, heart pounding, breathing a muted, vinegary smell.

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Chapter Eleven Karen lay on the pristine ecru carpet near the rocking chair, eclipsed in the shadow cast by Gabriel’s tall form. Behind him, one hand clamped over his mouth, another holding a knife edge against his throat, stood Mia. “I told you we’d continue this,” a deep voice said, and Serena’s head snapped to the left. Shar, the bald, blue-eyed leech, stood in the entrance to the foyer. “Don’t hurt his throat,” Serena said stupidly, her throat clogged, her words thick. She remembered him telling her about the leech who crushed his throat and the hunter who’d later scarred it. Just leave his throat alone! she wanted to shriek. Mia grinned at her. “Hi to you, too,” she said. “Miss me?” Peeking out from behind Gabriel, she looked as Barbie-doll gorgeous as usual. “Miss you?” Serena asked. “I don’t even know you. What the hell do you want from me? I’m a nobody!” “Now, now, aren’t you psychologists all about self-esteem? Darn it, everyone’s someone special,” Mia teased. “Besides, you’ve probably figured out by now that you actually are a someone, right? You are a very special someone, and we find you très intéressante.” “Lots of women are hunters!” she cried. “Why target me?” Shar replied for everyone. “Because we can.” Serena’s eyes darted around the room, looking for some kind of weapon, some hope of distraction. 151

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Finally, she looked back at Mia. “Well, I’m here. You have me. Why bother hurting Karen and threatening Gabriel?” “Sweetie,” Mia said, smiling. She looked like a beauty contestant just asked why she’d make the best Ms. Whatever. “You should be thrilled we knocked out grandma. If we let her listen to us discuss our little secrets, we’d have to kill her pretty darn dead before we left. Right now, she’s just knocked out. “As for loverboy, we somehow thought you’d be a little more agreeable if we kept him subdued.” “I couldn’t be more agreeable,” Serena snapped. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.” “He’s kind of cute, isn’t he, Shar?” Mia asked. “I’ve always been partial to tall men, especially ones that look like they wouldn’t avoid a fight.” “Delicious,” Shar said automatically, with no real conviction. “You think Ms. Thing would be miffed with us if we cut up her boyfriend?” “Probably swear and everything,” Shar replied. “What the hell do you want?” Serena yelled. “I’m here! I’m not fighting you. Quit screwing around!” Her nostrils flared, and her hands bunched into fists. She took a step toward Mia, and Shar darted quickly in front of her, partially blocking her view of Mia. “Calm down, little girl,” Mia said with no little amusement. She had to lean a bit more to the left to be able to see Serena around Shar’s ample bulk. “As for what we want, it’s pretty simple: someone wants you dead, and they sent us. No reason we can’t have a little fun in the meantime, though, right?” Hearing it said, Serena went cold. The air in her lungs froze, burning her chest and throat. Nonetheless, she forced her numb lips to say, “Okay, but no need to threaten Gabriel. Let him go, and I’m 152

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all yours.” She stared into his eyes, which blazed with fury. He didn’t even look scared, just supremely pissed off. Shar started laughing, and Mia joined in. “Oh my god,” Mia gasped. “You are so damn cute. We really should keep her for a while, shouldn’t we, Shar?” “She makes a great toy,” Shar agreed. “Thinks this is all prime-time TV where the good guy gets to negotiate and sacrifice himself.” “There is no exchange, sweetie,” Mia giggled. “You’re going to die, and so is your boyfriend. He’s only alive right now because we need him to keep you subdued.” Mia’s logic wasn’t making sense to Serena, perhaps because her ability to think rationally had evaporated with the sight of a sharp knife and the words “someone wants you dead.” A small voice, though, whispered something about fighting if they were going to kill her and Gabriel, anyway. Gabriel must have had the same thought. He lunged to the left, throwing Mia, who was already off-balance, to her knees. Serena didn’t see what happened, but she saw blood stream from his throat where the knife had been, and she screamed. Then Shar stepped in front of her, completely obscuring her view. A warm, all-encompassing rage—as red, velvety, and comfortable as an old afghan—settled in Serena’s body. The next few minutes were a flurry of movements and sensation, but she felt instead a curiously soundless, red-veiled rage that stung through her veins and pressed against the backs of her eyes. With an inhuman growl, she stepped forward and kicked Shar as hard as she could in the stomach, twisting and using the side of her foot as she’d seen Jade do when kicking the door. Shar 153

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slammed backward to the ground and jumped immediately back to her feet. Snarling, Shar stood before her, swaying from side to side in a menacing way. Even to her own inexperienced self, it seemed like a stupid move, but Serena rushed toward her anyway, swinging her fist at Shar’s jaw. Shar twisted neatly to the side, receiving only a small percentage of the punch’s force. While Serena was so nearby, however, Shar drew back her elbow and slammed it into Serena’s ribs. Perhaps Serena screamed, perhaps not. Remembering briefly, hazily that leeches didn’t heal as quickly as hunters, Serena launched a kick at Shar’s wounded knee. Shar cried out. The two women broke apart and circled each other warily, painfully. Finally, Shar stepped forward on her left foot. Serena rocked to the right to protect herself, possibly lessening the blow, but Shar’s right foot still shot out and connected painfully with Serena’s hip. She fell backward a few steps, grinding her teeth. Shar exploited her advantage and advanced toward Serena, right fist flying. Serena stepped back in alarm, mitigating the blow, but it still connected with her cheek and snapped her head back. Tears squirted out of Serena’s eyes, but before her head had even swung forward again, Serena had delivered a hammer blow to Shar’s midsection. In her rage, she made noises she didn’t hear, experienced pain she didn’t fully feel. The only reality to her was the need to hurt, to punish, to give physical voice to the fury blanketing her sense of self. Shar gasped and, very slightly, bent double. Serena took the opportunity to draw back her foot and, once again, and maybe again, and as many goddamn times as it took, kick Shar’s wounded knee. Shar screamed at her, and Serena drew back her foot and kicked the blue-eyed woman one more time. 154

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Shar hit her in the face, more a high-velocity, openhanded slap than anything else. Serena smiled at her and kicked her knee again. Shar screamed something at her. She hobbled backward, and when Serena pursued her, she threw a mean, roundhouse punch that Serena managed mostly to deflect. The logic didn’t occur to her till later, but attacking an opponent’s legs was a grand idea, since it limited their movement, compromised their balance, and all but eliminated their ability to effectively kick. She only knew right then that Shar’s left knee and shin were vulnerable. Knowing her opponent’s weakness sharpened the fury to a fierce point; a toothy grin tightened the skin on Serena’s face as she absorbed and avoided Shar’s punches. The crunch of bone and cartilage under her shoe’s sole felt to her body like music sounded to her ears. She wanted to dance to the sound, preferably on top of Shar’s hateful body. Shar bent over, perhaps to grab Serena’s foot, perhaps in mindless pain. With a smile that gave her name a new meaning, Serena lifted her knee and caught Shar under the chin. With a crack and a muffled scream, Shar went down. Serena bent down to pursue the cowering woman, but then she heard someone shouting her name. Standing up woozily, ears stuffed with wool, eyes trying to focus beyond a red funnel, she stared ahead and to the right. After a moment, her stupor vanished, and she saw Mia crouching over an unconscious Gabriel. Blood splashed his face and chest. His face was slack and gray. Worse, Mia held a knife pointed at his throat. “Leave Shar alone,” Mia said calmly, slowly, as if to a recalcitrant child. “Gabriel’s not dead yet, but he will be if you don’t back away.” Serena’s lip curled. “You lying bitch,” she growled. “As soon as I leave her alone, you’ll kill us 155

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both.” Mia grinned saucily at her. “Okay, you’re right. How about this: I’ll leave Gabriel alone first if you promise to back away from Shar. Then, she and I will both leave. Hell, I’ll even call 911 for you, so you can be sure we won’t stay around. We both have something the other wants.” “Leave him alone, grab your trash, and go,” Serena snarled at her. True to her word, Mia tucked her knife into a holder on her belt, although not before wiping the blood on Gabriel’s sleeve. Serena backed away a few steps as Mia approached Shar and helped her to her feet. Together, arms around one another’s shoulders, the duo limped to Karen’s front door. “We’ll see you soon, sweetie,” Mia said cheerfully as she opened the door, stepped through, and closed it behind them. It was ridiculous, even pointless, but Serena plodded to the door and engaged the deadbolt. Then, she walked to a black, cordless phone wall mount. Her fingers were calm, steady, and marble-cold as she dialed the number. “Two people are hurt really bad. Please come right away,” she said calmly. Serena’s calm lasted through the arrival of the police and paramedics, throughout their questions, during the ride in the police car to the hospital, and even through her examinations. She asked politely to ride in the ambulance with Gabriel, but the paramedics told her somewhat gravely that it wasn’t such a great idea. That didn’t seem like good news. “Please don’t let him die,” she said with her distant politeness. They assured her they would do all they could. She sat on the edge of Karen’s couch, eyes riveted to the paramedics who tended Karen and 156

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Gabriel, folded hands dangling between her knees. The police kept asking her questions, and she answered them with some vagueness, mumbling something about people with knives breaking in. The paramedics told her she was hurt, she assured them she was much less hurt than Gabriel and Karen, and they kindly and slowly informed her that yes, she was correct, but that didn’t mean she didn’t need treatment. Officer Bradley, a large, kindly police officer with shiny black skin and a gentle voice, offered to drive her to the hospital. “We can question you further there, while you keep an eye on your friends,” he soothed in a deep, rich voice that sounded designed for crooning love songs. Serena knew he was exchanging meaningful glances over her head with the paramedics, but she didn’t care. She nodded. Officer Bradley grabbed a comforter from another room and wrapped it around her. Serena felt like pointing out it was October in Southern California and probably eighty degrees outside, but she was surprised by how comfortable, how safe and warm, the comforter made her feel. She walked with it to the police car and huddled in the backseat. At the hospital, Officer Bradley did indeed question her further, asking in his patient and comforting voice for more details. Meanwhile, she sat on a table, clad in one of those godawful, dignitymurdering paper gowns while white-clad people took her vitals and hissed in sympathy over her bright purple hips and ribs, black eye, fractured cheekbone, and various other knots and discolorations. Throughout her dissertation on those bad people with knives, Serena’s eyes remained on the bloodied frog shirt, which sat crumpled and discarded on the comforter-shrouded, plastic chair. “I’ll be okay,” she kept saying, even as someone 157

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applied tape to her painful, throbbing ribs. Counselor Serena, noted pacifist who preached the benefits of negotiation over violence, briefly considered punching them. “I just need to sleep.” No, she didn’t want a CT scan of her cheekbone. She slipped sedately into a white terrycloth robe and paper-thin slippers that a kindly nurse brought her. Officer Bradley and his coworkers left a couple of hours later, seeming mostly satisfied with her account. She’d been in the bathroom; people broke in and attacked Karen and Gabriel; she got there in time to attack one of them; she managed to grab the phone and dialed 911, and they left in a panic. No, she didn’t know them. No, they didn’t seem to be looking for anything. Yes, she’d be happy to make a statement, pick people out of a lineup, press charges, make sure these thugs faced their day in court, participate as a cog in the machinery of justice. Yes, thank goodness she wasn’t hurt more. Yes, yes, yes. Meanwhile, Serena wondered how to let Jade and the others know what had happened. She had left her dead cell phone back at the mansion, and as far as she knew, Gabriel always seemed to forget his. She’d decide what to do later. Karen was quickly determined to be suffering from a concussion. The hospital decided to keep her overnight “for observation,” a phrase Serena had thought people only used in police dramas on TV. Visiting her in her room, Serena exuded sympathy and good will while her insides shriveled with guilt as Karen sobbed and apologized. Her husband was a criminal lawyer, she said; she lived in fear of one of his clients someday retaliating. How awful, how tragic it had happened during a visit by Ava’s daughter. Would Serena mind calling her home number and leaving a message for Larry when he got home, since he was currently in court? Serena hugged her and told her yes, yes, of course, yes, and 158

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to focus on healing. “Is your friend okay?” Karen asked her. After a moment of silence, Serena turned around and left Karen’s room. A nurse let her use a hospital phone to call the Maidanik home and leave a message for Larry; ten seconds after hanging up, she couldn’t recall a word she’d said. In spite of everyone’s soothing words about watching over Gabriel, in fact, she’d been forbidden to spend any time with him. He’d gone through surgery to close the wound in his throat. After Serena left Karen’s room, she found a nurse and demanded to be apprised of Gabriel’s condition. “I’m a counselor!” she added loudly, as if that somehow earned her a right to the unvarnished truth. As her voice rose, the nurse ushered her to a waiting room, muttering soothing, nonsensical words in a tone laden with weary irritation. A moment later, a tall, willowy doctor with cool eyes entered the room. Speaking in a low, respectful, and distant tone, the doctor talked to Serena about “tracheal lacerations” and “nicked carotid artery.” It could have been much worse, she explained; thank goodness his head had been tilted back and he already had knots of scar tissue on his thyroid. They had stitched up the various slice and stab wounds. “So he’s going to live?” Serena finally asked. “He lost more blood than we would have liked, but he’s young and strong and is responding very well to our ministrations. He should be just fine,” the doctor concluded. “Should or will?” Serena asked flatly. “I’ve been a doctor for thirteen years, and the only certainty in this business is that I can’t guarantee anything. However, I can tell you he seems fine, and I predict he’ll recover quickly.” The doctor turned and took a step away from Serena. “When can I see him?” Serena asked. 159

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“Are you family?” the doctor asked. “I’m his wife,” Serena lied, even though she’d told every other hospital and police employee the truth. The doctor’s eyebrows furrowed, but she told Serena she could visit him as soon as he returned from the “recovery room.” Serena rode the elevator to the fourth floor, checked in with the floor nurse, and sank down once again in a waiting room. She rested her head in her hands as her left leg jiggled, telling the rest of her body that, rather than sitting and moldering in this too-bright room, it would rather be up and moving. Meanwhile, unsolicited thoughts and questions swooped through her head like unruly birds. Was Gabriel really okay? Had she said too much to the police? Were she and Gabriel in any danger here at the hospital? Who would pay for all this? She’d told the admitting nurse she had no insurance. How could she let Jade know about this? Why? Why? Why, why, why, whywhywhywhywhywhywhy? The last time she’d been in a hospital. Her mother, lying small and white. Sitting next to Ava’s bedside, waiting for her to wake up. Flat, sterile smells. Sobbing apologies, pleas. Coma, kidney failure, too many pills, too much time. Hissing of the respirator. After two days, a flat line. Serena had never entered another hospital. Till now, today. She felt her breath seize and her heart flutter. Sweat poured off her forehead and mixed with her tears in her cupped hands. Her breath stretched in her throat like taffy. Just an anxiety attack, she told herself, but the knowledge didn’t expand her swollen throat or calm her erratic heartbeat. She saw brief images of her tiny mother in the hospital bed, of Gabriel’s blood-soaked shirt, of their unconscious, slack mouths. Stop it, she told herself. He’s not going to die. He’s going to be okay. Not even a lot of sutures. 160

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Her heart continued knocking against her breastbone. An hour later, Serena walked into a tiny, hushed hospital room. Gabriel lay nearest the opposite wall in one of room’s two beds. The other bed—crisp, white, and antiseptic—sat empty. Serena forced herself not to run to him, and then she forced herself not to run away. He lay disturbingly still in his hospital bed, a thin, white blanket tucked under his armpits. His normally-swarthy complexion was gray (the word “ecru” reoccurred to her), a nasal cannula clipped to his septum, and his dark hair lay strewn and tangled against his pillow. Around his neck was a plastic brace, and various tubes and wires sprouted from his wrist, his nose, his index finger. Gabriel, lover of shadows, diligent warden of his secrets and dignity, lay unconscious and vulnerable in this fluorescent prison. She wanted to scoop him up and carry him back to Los Angeles, back to the mansion and his lightless bedroom. She wanted to dim the lights and pull his wavy hair into the ponytail he favored. Instead, she sat down in the padded chair next to his bed and stared at the beeping displays on the screen next to his bed. She understood what most of the individual numbers meant but was ignorant of the story conveyed in their totality. She imagined the bleep of his heartbeat as a message in Morse code, beating his private thoughts out to her. “I should have been a doctor,” she muttered, aware even as she uttered it that it was irrational. Would being a doctor have saved her mother? Would she have grabbed Karen’s sewing kit and patched Gabriel together at the house? Or maybe she could have known the exact placement of nerves in a human (or superhuman, as the case may be) body and used a Vulcan nerve pinch on Mia and Shar? 161

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Yep, it was definitely her lack of a medical degree that had landed them all in this situation. Sitting on Gabriel’s right side, she slid her fingers underneath his, cradling his palm in her own. He was warm, thank god, and real, and not dead or a ghost or a hallucination. He was going to be okay. Not dead, not cold, not stiff and white and gone and leaving her and going someplace she couldn’t go and silent when she laughed because he was gone and not enjoying their private jokes because only they knew and not warm and sexy and shy in the morning and abandoning her and why, and why, and WHY? She rose blindly to her feet and leaned over Gabriel, weeping uncontrollably and pressing his hand to her mouth again and again. Breathing, see? Pulse, feel? Spicy Gabriel scent, smell? Warm and sick but alive. Still here, not gone like Mom. Still alive, Gabriel, don’t you dare, why do this to me again? Her tears washed over his hand, her heart thudded hard enough in her chest to make her gasp. When a nurse came in and pulled her away from Gabriel, she went without protest. **** Why is it that professionals always give hysterical people something to drink? Serena thought wryly as she sat in a waiting room, sipping water from a paper cone. Is it to bring them back to the material world from their own private hells? To establish a normal scene in the face of personal chaos? Whatever it was, Serena did feel marginally better as she sat in the familiar waiting room, clad in her oversized, and thankfully not paper, hospital robe, shaking hands spilling drops of water down her modest cleavage. “I’m coming right back,” she’d told the nurse as she’d dragged her away, and the nurse had the sense 162

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not to argue. In fact, as soon as she pulled herself together, stopped merging past and present, gained a slightly stronger foothold on the reality of this situation, she did plan on returning to Gabriel’s hospital room. My god, she thought distantly. I’m one of those hysterical, grieving people medical professionals send to me to counsel. The irony almost made her giggle; luckily, she managed to refrain. A moment ago, she’d heard the nurse muttering to another about antianxiety meds; the last thing she needed to do was start chortling like a maniac. “You can wait in here, miss,” a professional voice said to someone in the hallway. Footsteps entered the room. God. Sharing the waiting room with another person was the last thing she wanted as she tried to calm herself. “Serena!” a voice cried, and she looked up sharply. Standing before her, short, curly hair worried into disorderly tufts, dark face screwed into anxiety, was Jade. “Oh my god!” she breathed, rising to her feet and embracing her with a fierceness that might have broken bones on someone less sturdy. All of a sudden, she was crying—again—and Jade was stroking her hair and crooning to her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Serena sobbed. After a time, they sat down next to one another, Jade firmly holding her hand. “How is he?” Jade asked. “I asked the nurses, but they didn’t tell me shit.” Serena nodded and wiped her eyes on her sleeves. “The doctor said he should be okay. He had his th—” Her own throat seized up. Gritting her teeth, she continued. “Mia cut his throat, but she only nicked an artery. He lost a lot of blood, but it wasn’t fatal. I’m not sure what else. The doctor said something about putting sutures in his thyroid and 163

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trachea, but she didn’t make that part sound dire. Doc says he’s probably fine.” Jade hugged her again and then asked such a Jade-esque question, Serena had to smile: “Did you manage to put some dents into Mia’s face before she ran away yelping?” “I was busy fighting Shar while Gabriel fought Mia. I dented her up but never laid a finger on Mia.” Her hands clenched, spilling water over her fingers. Jade gently extricated the paper cup from Serena’s grasp. “I don’t know Shar, but I’m glad you pounded a leech into paste. I hope she’s hurting really good right about now.” Jade’s lips pulled back from her teeth, and Serena—pacifist, counselor Serena—felt a hot slice of relief to know someone else shared her dark red rage. Jade focused on Serena’s face, and her own expression softened. “Hey, girl,” she said quietly. “You look awful.” Serena managed a smile, although she imagined it wasn’t entirely convincing. “I feel okay,” she said. “Just need a little sleep, you know?” “Better than most,” Jade agreed, smiling. “I’m proud of you, Serena. You’re a brand, spanking new hunter, and you did what any well-trained hunter would do. You saved this situation. You saved Gabe.” Serena looked away, feeling her damn heart start to speed up. Calm down, she counseled herself. Calm down. It’s okay. It’s okay. “Hey, hey,” Jade said softly. “You okay?” Serena, mouth pursed and eyes filled with tears, looked back at Jade and shook her head. “I—” she began before her throat closed. She took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m a basket case,” she said. “I keep flashing back to my mom when she died in the hospital, and I know the doc said he should be okay, but what if he’s not? She cut his throat, Jade! 164

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All this blood. I didn’t know someone could lose so much blood. And, I mean, he’s already had his throat hurt. Why again? I went in to hold his hand, and I…I just…I lost it. I’m having panic attacks and the nurses want to give me meds. I keep thinking…I mean, I know it’s been three days, but…” She took another breath, and it shuddered through her. “I lost it,” she quietly concluded. Jade was shaking her head in sympathy. In a move that smacked strongly of Gabriel, she placed her broad hand behind Serena’s neck and pulled Serena’s head to her shoulder. “This is the hardest part of this whole stupid war,” she said quietly. Serena was crying again. Dammit, when would the tears stop? Maybe that was the real reason behind the cup of water; it was to fuel the inevitable flood. “I lost my mom,” she said. “I can’t do this again.” “I know, honey, I know,” Jade crooned. “Love sucks big time.” Serena cried against her shoulder, her hands still bunched against her thighs. After a few minutes, she finally withdrew, smiling shakily. “Maybe I do need the anti-anxiety meds,” she joked feebly. “Oh, sweetie, that’s the second hardest part of being a hunter. Your metabolism is too high for meds to be effective.” Serena’s stinging, swollen eyes widened. “Is that true?” “Sad but true. It’s one of the reasons why I like sex so much; Prozac won’t touch me, the finest liquor just burns my throat. All I have left is that fabulous natural high.” Jade grinned saucily at her, and Serena made herself smile back. Taking a deep breath, Serena felt the panic recede. Belatedly, she realized she hadn’t asked about Jade, this tough and funny woman who so 165

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fiercely loved Gabriel. “Jade, are you okay?” she asked quietly. Jade sucked the inside of her cheek and ostentatiously widened her eyes. “I’m not real happy right now. I wish I had Mia, that treacherous bitch, right here, and I’d finish what I started a few days ago.” “Yeah,” Serena agreed softly. “I’m glad the doc said he’ll be okay. As soon as Henri told me I needed to head up north to check in on you and Gabe in the hospital…” She shook her head. “Damn psychics. They see ten percent of what you need to know. ‘Is he okay?’ ‘Is she okay?’ I kept asking. ‘Serena’s safe,’ he said after ten minutes of me badgering him. That’s it. I drove up here as fast as I could. I blew every traffic law ever invented, and a few that should have been. “I hate hospitals,” she said quietly. “I hate them with their scalpels and their padded shoes and their white linens and floors so the blood can be bleached out. I hate that my friends’ and family members’ lives hinge on these people’s decisions and competence. I hate them for every person I’ve ever lost.” So said the hunter. Serena shuddered briefly, thinking with shame of her own breakdown in the midst of this chaos. Gabriel and Jade deserved her strength, needed a person on whom to rely, not someone else to have to coddle. A minute passed, followed by two or three of its friends. Finally, Serena looked at Jade and said quietly, “I’m ready.” Jade stood up. “Let’s go.” Gabriel’s wife and sister (the nurse took one look at Jade’s darker skin, broad features, and tightly curled hair and shook her head on a sigh) entered his room shortly thereafter. “He looks awful,” his sister whispered. 166

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“Shh,” his wife hissed. “They say people in comas can hear everything that happens around them.” “Sweetie, he’s asleep, not in a coma. Besides, I’ve experienced both; you don’t hear a thing during either one. What should we do?” “I think we’re supposed to hold his hand and tell him everything will be all right.” “I can’t hold his left one, since it has all that equipment. You want the right one, or should we both lay some kind of claim to it? That’s weird, though, right? Damn, I really think we should consider rolling him out of here and back to L.A.” His wife nodded. “I was thinking the same thing earlier.” “Right then! You grab the IV thingy, I’ll push the bed…” “Jade!” Gabriel’s sister grinned. His wife grinned back. “You’re a good friend, Jade,” Serena said. “I’m so glad you’re here.” “I think you meant ‘sister and sister-in-law.’ And I’m glad I’m here, too. I’m especially glad he—things are A-okay.” Serena sat next to Gabriel and once again held his hand in hers. It was still faintly damp; she used her thumb to rub away the moisture. After a minute, she asked somewhat shyly, “You ever notice how handsome he is?” “ ’Course. In a, um, brotherly way, of course.” Jade winked. “You should have seen him before the scars. Tall, dark, sexy. All of us younger girls thought he was crazy dreamy.” “I don’t know,” Serena muttered. “I think his scars make him beautiful in a different way from everyone else.” “You made me vomit just a little bit,” Jade said, but her smile was warm and, truth told, sisterly. “Be 167

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moony on your own time, girl.” A few minutes passed. “How long ago did the explosion happen?” Serena asked, her eyes on Gabriel, her voice very quiet. “Couple years, I think. Yeah, that sounds right. He and his dad were out in the field—his dad, Marcus, was a field psychic, too—and next thing we hear, Marcus is dead and Gabe’s in the hospital. No one knew if he’d survive.” “Didn’t the healers take care of him?” Serena asked, pulse beginning to accelerate. Jade shook her head. “Some healers can’t deal with extreme situations like Gabe’s. At the time, we had another chief healer, and she didn’t know how to deal with his kinds of wounds. He spent a week or more in the hospital before they finally released him to the healers. He had a lot of physical therapy he needed to do, especially for his left arm.” “Were you two friends back then?” Serena asked quietly. Her tone was subdued, but her insides churned. “Casual ones, like most of Gabe’s friends. But after the explosion, I kept bugging him. He seemed even more depressed and withdrawn than usual and boy, that man could already do dark and broody with the best of them. I refused to leave when he told me to and kept bringing him stuff he needed and spending time with him. I even read him some of his books; although, between you and me, those mysteries he likes are so fake. I bet none of those authors ever saw blood that a phlebotomist didn’t draw from them. “It was probably the crush at first, but soon I realized hey, this guy is pretty great. Super smart, surprisingly funny. Once I liked him, the opportunity for lighthearted sex was out. So, well, I decided to become his friend.” She grinned. “He 168

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finally, grudgingly, let me. You may not have noticed, but Gabe is seriously devoted to his solitude. Beyond the occasional affair with some hunter, I’ve never seen him seriously date or befriend anyone. Oh, hey, was that wrong to say?” Serena smiled and shook her head. “I didn’t think he was in cryogenic stasis before I knew him,” she said. Jade grinned back. “Yeah, right? But humans seem to get really weird about sex. Like it’s dirty and shameful on the one hand, but, on the other, that makes it into some kind of weird fetish. Crazy how something so normal and natural can make so many people act like idiots. “But anyway, I was saying how shocked I was when I woke up on the concrete floor of that boilinghot hell room and saw you and Gabe snuggling. I wondered if I was hallucinating for a second. It was pretty hot in there.” Serena smiled but did not respond. “Then I thought, ‘Maybe they’re just hot on each other.’ I can get behind that. But he was all over you, helping you to the door, goggling at you while I hugged him. I’m still not sure I forgive him for that, but it’s not like he’ll ever apologize. I was finally like, ‘Hey, Gabe has a crush on this new little hunter.’” Serena’s smile widened, in part because no one had ever called her “little.” “Did you know I was a hunter?” “Honey, you and I beat the hell out of a steel door. You don’t smell like a leech, so that left one option. But you know that’s not my point, right? You’re getting my subtle message? Gabe’s crazy about you.” Serena glanced down, the tips of her mouth turning upward. “I got the hidden subtext of your story.” 169

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“You love him, yeah?” Serena’s heart started banging against her ribs. She told herself to breathe slowly, carefully. Still avoiding Jade’s eyes, she said, “It’s only been three days…” “Oh, honey, save it for the humans. The lives of hunters and psychics don’t work like that. We’re like those mega-hot stars they talk about in astronomy class. You know, the blue ones? We burn hotter and brighter, but for a shorter amount of time.” “Life of a hunter is ‘brutal and short,’” Serena muttered. Her stomach swishing, sloshing. “And intense. So be honest, sweetie, and quit with the human rationalizing crap.” Serena glanced at the large, limp hand resting on top of hers before looking at Jade and smiling. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said. “ ’Course I am.” She sniffed, and then grinned. “I swear, who’s the shrink here?” Serena smiled back, riding a wave of intense affection for this world-wise, younger woman, feeling hope and anxiety twine around her ribs. And all the while, her insides kept roiling.

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Chapter Twelve “Was that an eyelid twitch?” a fuzzy, light blue voice asked. “I don’t think so,” a smooth voice, shiny and more amber than orange, responded. “I think it was. I think he might be waking up.” “He would have squeezed my hand or something,” Amber voice argued. “Seriously, girl, you’ve seen way too many madefor-TV movies. It’s not all about yes-and-no hand grips and significant last words.” Fuzzy’s voice slid up and down. “No last words,” Amber voice said sharply. “He’s going to be fine.” “I know, sweetie.” Feeling muzzy, cottony, surreal, Gabriel cracked open his eyes. The blast of fluorescents made him squeeze them closed again. “I definitely saw eye activity!” a voice said excitedly. “Gabriel?” Quiet, tender voice. Earthy and precious, like a polished chunk of amber. Without opening his eyes again, he weakly grated, “Serena,” and tried to smile, but his throat spasmed weakly. “Turn off the damn light,” he whispered. Various activities flapped around his bedside, including the distinct sound of blinds being yanked downward. “God, even flat on his back in a hospital bed, the man is bossy as hell,” another voice said. He wanted to smile again but didn’t, couldn’t. “Jade,” he whispered. His eyelids fluttered open 171

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again, and he saw two silhouetted faces, both peering down at him. The room, thank god, was significantly darker. My favorite people, he thought, and his eyelashes sank to his cheeks. “Oh my god, he’s flying high on morphine,” Jade’s voice, becoming fuzzy once again, cackled. Had he said it out loud? He felt lips brush his cheek, and he whispered “Serena” again before sinking back into sleep. Minutes later, or so it seemed to him, Gabriel opened his eyes to a room illuminated only by lights trickling in from the hallway. Looking up at the ceiling and at a television bolted to the far wall, he realized immediately where he was. He still felt hazy and exhausted but could distinguish sight from sound and label and categorize his various aches and pains. Last time he’d been in a hospital, beige bandages had wrapped his left arm and bright white gauze pads had feathered over the left side of his face. This time, he recognized the immobilized head, the dull ache in his neck and throat. He vaguely remembered grappling with Mia and a spurt of bright red blood. He was guessing the blood had been his and not hers. Too bad. Something next to him moved very slightly, and his eyes shifted rapidly from the television to someone sitting on his right. Serena, leaning back in a chair and staring out a darkened window. Given the limitations of his head movement, he could barely see her, but he could tell from this angle that her face was mottled with bruises. She should be sleeping, healing, not sitting vigil by his bedside. He felt like clearing his throat but knew from experience the folly of doing so. Instead, he relied on her excellent hearing as he whispered, “Hey.” Her head whipped around as she jumped to her 172

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feet. She stepped to his bedside and grabbed his free hand. Hers was cold. “Hey,” she said quietly. Her cheekbone was broken, just as it had been in his vision. He felt infuriated with himself for failing to honor his duty to her. He’d tossed her into danger and been too weak to protect her. “Your eye okay?” he whispered. It was almost swollen shut. She nodded, smiling very slightly. “Doc says I didn’t damage my eye, just the cheekbone. I can see just fine out of it, even though I know everyone else probably can’t see my eye.” “Why aren’t you sleeping?” She shrugged. “I was bored, thought I’d veg out in this hospital room. Can’t beat the ambiance.” “You need to heal. Go home.” She tilted her head at him. “Stop telling me what to do, Bossy Cow. Besides, we’re two hundredplus miles from home.” “Hotel. Use the credit card in my wallet.” His eyes slid around the room. “Where’s Jade?” “You remember her being here? She’s grabbing us some food from the cafeteria. I’m so hungry I thought of chewing on your big toe.” She smiled at him. “Metabolism,” he whispered, hoping it made sense to her. His eyelids fluttered again, dammit. Before he slid back into sleep, though, he wanted to make sure she knew. “The ambush. I’m sorry,” he whispered softly, hardly more than a breath. Serena was silent for a minute. Her voice, when it came, startled him back into wakefulness. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything. I’m sorry I let Mia do this. I’m so sorry I got you hurt.” Oh, lord. “How about we both shut up about who’s at fault and move on?” So saying, he slid back into sleep. Jade convinced Serena to sleep for a few hours 173

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in a local hotel. After all, as she pointed out, the nurses might become a bit concerned when she went to sleep in Gabriel’s room looking like a punching bag and woke up beaming with health and vitality. The two women drove to a twenty-four-hour discount store, and Jade bought Serena a change of clothes. As comfortable as the robe was, Serena doubted the hospital staff would let her wear it indefinitely. Serena dropped Jade off at the hospital along with the robe and then paid cash for a cheap hotel room. Maybe she was paranoid, but she didn’t want the leeches to be able to easily track her. She lay sleepless in the bed for more than an hour, the past, present, and future agitating in her noggin. Most of all, she wondered if she really would wake up in a few hours, cheekbone healed, eye unblemished, cracked ribs mended, bruises faded. What kind of magic was that? Her dreams were filled with wounded birds, blood, and a dancing frog that twirled and twirled until it fell to the ground, exhausted. When she awakened sometime past dawn, she looked in the mirror over the sink and found herself as pink, new, and healthy as a little girl. **** Jade had sprawled in the rollaway cot propped up next to Gabriel’s bed. Entering the room, Serena stopped for a moment and smiled at the sleeping pair. The blinds were drawn once again, casting a pall over the room. It might have been wishful thinking, but she thought Gabriel looked a little better this morning, a little less ecru and a little more olive. He’s really going to be okay, she thought. This time. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. When she opened them, Gabriel was staring at her. “Morning,” she whispered, smiling slightly. 174

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“Hey,” he whispered back. She suspected it had more to do with his damaged throat than with a concern over waking Jade. “You…you’re looking better today.” “I’m not a hunter or anything, but I eat my Wheaties.” Delivered straight-faced, with no humorous inflection, the comment felt incongruous to her. “This morning you’re eating a yummy glucose mix,” she said. “You look perfect,” he whispered. Under different circumstances, it could have sounded like a lover’s sweet nothing; this morning, in this situation, it fell awkwardly on her ears. “I am a hunter, I guess,” she said quietly, smiling awkwardly. “Who grew up thinking she was human,” he said with a complete lack of inflection. Something was wrong. “Are you okay?” she asked him. “I’m fine. I’m going to be fine. This is part of my life,” he said. O-kay. “Mind if I sit down?” He used his right hand to gesture toward the chair. Serena scooted past Jade, walked over the strong, brown arms tossed with abandon across the cold tile. They sat in silence for a minute. As a counselor, she knew ignoring tension was the worst thing she could do. “Gabriel, what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Can I do something for you?” she asked. “You seem upset this morning.” A minute ticked by. Finally Gabriel whispered, “Big, bad psychic, acting like a pouting child. I’m sorry, Serena. You deserve better. I deserve better.” “I have to admit, that did not clear anything up,” she said slowly. Gabriel had to crane his eyes to look at her, so she stood up again and stepped to his bedside. Her heart started pounding at his serious, 175

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intense expression. “Serena,” he began gently. He lifted his right hand to his head and tapped it with his forefinger. “Remember what I am. I’m not a mind reader, but things come to me. Sometimes I just know.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat that thickened the air in her lungs to syrup. “I woke up just now,” he whispered, and his lips stretched upward very slightly, “and I knew.” Her lips parted on a heavy breath. She looked away from him and at the beeping monitor. “Serena!” Jade said, stretching, groaning, and delivering a weak kick to Serena’s leg. “Ooh, sorry!” Serena met Gabriel’s eyes again. “Good morning, Jade.” “Ain’t nothin’ good about them,” Jade grumbled. “If I wake up before eleven, I shame myself into going back to sleep. Is our boy awake?” “Yep.” Serena stepped back, allowing Jade to rise to her feet. “Hey, handsome,” Jade said, and grabbed his right hand. “You know how I feel about flattery,” he whispered. “You bet: The more the better!” “Exactly.” Jade grinned at him, and Serena felt an icy hot shard scrape against her breastbone. I’m jealous, she realized with some wonderment. An only child with few serious relationships, she didn’t think she’d ever felt this kind of jealousy before now. “You’re looking rosy and healthy this morning.” “So everyone tells me.” Jade snorted. “You faking all this sickness for attention?” “You know me.” “Attention whore.” “Too much is never enough.” He smiled very 176

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slightly at her. Jade squeezed his hand. “You ever make me worry like this again, I’ll kick your ass back to childhood.” That should have been me saying that, Serena thought. Well, not exactly like that, but in general… Gabriel’s eyes switched to Serena’s, and he said very seriously. “No promises in the life of a psychic.” Predictably, the hospital staff was amazed by Gabriel’s progress. Later that afternoon, when Gabriel’s doctor, Dr. Fredricsson, came to visit, she exclaimed in delight over him. She fled the room and returned ten minutes later with a colleague. They spoke in low and excited tones, and Gabriel’s doctor preened just the tiniest bit when she loudly and authoritatively asked him questions and he answered her in the raspy voice Serena knew. Serena stood with her back to Dr. Fredricsson, staring out the window. She was unsure whether the doctor would recognize her as the battered, wildeyed woman from yesterday, but she didn’t want to take the chance. Two medical miracles might be a bit much for one day. “What do you say?” Jade asked after the doctor had left, chatting excitedly with her coworker. “You think we can blow this joint tomorrow?” “Tomorrow or the next day,” Gabriel agreed. “Who’s paying for this?” Serena, the pragmatist, had to ask, turning from the window. “The clan,” Jade said. “For you, too, since you’re a part of us now. Don’t worry, favorite sis-in-law.” “Sis-in-law, huh? Did Serena marry that halfbrother of yours when I was out of it?” Gabriel asked drily. “You might want to know Serena married my very favorite brother, the annoying and bossy one. Some people, they don’t see the resemblance, even when I tell them you and me are twins.” She grinned 177

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at him. “We had to smudge the truth a little to gain access to your room,” Serena said. Gabriel raised his eyebrows in a gesture endearing in its familiarity. “My twin,” he repeated in amusement. “And my wife.” His smile faded when he looked at Serena. She looked away. “We’re so out of here tomorrow!” Jade said brightly. “I’ll call Henri a little later and let him know.” She launched into another complaint about the psychic’s vague, terrifying vision that had sent her rocketing to Fresno. Serena turned back to the window and stared at the hospital grounds below. Come evening time, Jade informed them she was leaving. “I’ve been in this sterilized hell for over a day,” she said. “I deserve a long, hot shower in some cheap motel with crappy towels the size of potholders.” “I’ll stay here,” Serena said. “I don’t need a damn babysitter,” Gabriel snapped. “I’ll stay,” Serena repeated. Jade patted Serena’s arm. “Think of the grumpiness as a sign of healing. Serena, you can finish reading him that godawful tripe. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” She hugged Serena and whispered in her ear, “Work it out, whatever it is.” She kissed Gabriel’s cheek and left. Serena stared at the doorway. “The room always seems a little dimmer when she leaves,” she commented. When Gabriel didn’t respond, she turned to him. She was more than a little surprised to find he was smiling at her. “Shall we have our talk?” he asked her gently. “You’re the most unpredictable person I’ve ever met,” Serena said honestly as she walked to his bedside. 178

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“So I hear,” he said. He drew a deep breath and said on a sigh, “You really don’t have to stay here tonight, Serena. I’m healing more quickly than even I’m used to. I don’t need anything.” “I kind of need to,” she admitted. “Paying penance?” he asked. She was silent, looking at him. It was a tender, intimate act, a way to commune without the muddying effects of words. He closed his eyes briefly. “Okay,” he said. “Stay.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her. At that moment, a nurse bustled into the room, smiling brightly. “Good to see you looking so cheerful,” she chirped to Gabriel. “Even smiling and using muscles that were damaged. You’re our miracle boy; it’s no wonder you’re feeling perky! Either you’re a fast healer, or Dr. Fredricsson is as talented as she brags.” She winked at them. Serena inched closer and surreptitiously sniffed the nurse. No vinegar smell. The cute, round, pink-cheeked nurse chattered while checking Gabriel’s numbers and charts. In between discussions of her two kids and their poodle, Mimi, she asked Gabriel various and embarrassing questions. She winked flirtatiously at him, although he was completely (and, let’s face it, flatteringly) oblivious. Serena wanted to be annoyed with the nurse, but she was just too damned cute. A good twenty minutes later, the nurse zoomed back out of the room, her words trailing behind her like the tail of a comet. Serena glanced at Gabriel, and his eyes were closed. She could understand needing a nap after that; the nurse’s energy level could tire an Olympic athlete. “You sleeping?” she whispered. His eyes crept upward, slowly and blurrily. “I’m 179

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tired, Reenie. I’m going to sleep for a bit.” She felt a familiar heaviness in her chest. Her idiotic eyes, which she seriously considered bringing up on charges of treason, grew heavy once again with tears. Without taking too long to ponder the wisdom of it, she let her hand drift to his forehead. Her cool fingers smoothed over his eyebrows, across his scars, around his temples. She continued stroking his head as she leaned over and kissed him, very gently, on the mouth. “Go to sleep,” she whispered, and stroked his forehead until he dropped into slumber. While Gabriel slept, Serena slipped out of the room, hit the stairs, and bolted for the main entrance. Fresh, desert-dry, Fresno air seared her nostrils. She felt like running, like screaming, like finding a punching bag and kicking it to shreds. Instead, she walked swiftly around the sizable perimeter of the hospital. When she finished, she started another lap, and another. She sincerely hoped to find a mugger accosting a feisty old woman, or maybe some jerk abusing his disabled partner. She envisioned herself joining forces with the old woman, the cane-wielding partner, and beating the Bad Guys into sniveling puddles of contrition. She suddenly gleaned the secret of superheroes, both real and fictional: they were guilty, pissed off, depressed, or otherwise screwed up and thrilled to have a righteous reason to vent their spleen. Flower beds lined half of her route. There were probably dahlias and columbines everywhere, she thought suspiciously. Their determined, geometric cheerfulness depressed her. “Stupid Fresno,” she said aloud, and then immediately felt guilty. It wasn’t Fresno’s fault the leeches had found them. The bone-dry heat and the suspiciously persistent flowers, however, were 180

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another story. How had they found Gabriel and her, anyway? She hadn’t even known about Karen Maidanik till this morning. Had the leeches followed them all the way from L.A.? Given Gabriel’s hypervigilance while driving, she tended to doubt it. Did they have their own psychic, then? Or maybe an informant? She stepped off a sidewalk and into the parking lot that wound around three-quarters of the main buildings. The pavement burned through the thin soles of her cheap sandals. She still had no clue why these beings wanted her dead. “Because we can,” Shar had said. Illuminating, that. They’d put a lot of thought, preparation, and people power into finding her and trying to kill her. And after all that, they’d left her and her three cohorts virtually defenseless in a lockbox for eight hours instead of strolling back with fresh leeches and picking them off at their leisure. Nothing made sense! Mia’s comments made it clear they knew she was a hunter; that certainly had something to do with their enmity. Yet… She couldn’t remember them ever mentioning that during their first encounter. “She’s strong,” Shar had complained. If they knew she was a hunter, why comment on a trait common to all hunters? Had Shar not known? Had they been toying with her? Did her comment mean anything? “Your boyfriend” they’d called Gabriel. Were they guessing, mocking her, or did they know? Serena’s feet pounded with rhythm and determination on the black asphalt. Did her parentage have anything to do with this? She now knew she was a hunter, and the leeches obviously had known or had learned about Karen Maidanik. Did that mean Peter Yang was 181

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significant to solving this puzzle? Was she pursuing information the leeches already knew, or were the leeches merely reacting to her movements? If the former, was Peter Yang in danger? Just a few thoughts to juggle. She was thankful yet again for super healing. They needed to move tomorrow, to learn more, to track down the man who’d fathered her. She was tired of living life as a series of blind leaps. The sooner she solved this mystery, the sooner she could return to her safe little existence, where the concept of “saving lives” was a bit more abstract. That thought brought her full circle. Gabriel. Funny how it always came back to him. The smartest, sweetest, most intense, downright sexiest man she’d ever met. He was stubborn, bossy, moody, and religiously devoted to his privacy. He was also one of the kindest, gentlest, and most insightful people she’d ever met. He got her sense of humor, thought she was funny. He listened when she talked. He cared. He’d called her beautiful and meant it. She loved him. Not in a love-at-first-sight-withswelling-music-and-soft-focus kind of way; more like a I’ve-spent-four-days-straight-with-you-and-findyou-as-satisfying-and-yummy-as-chocolate kind of way. She knew about trauma-bond relationships and didn’t think it felt like that. She wasn’t riding a roller coaster of emotions; she felt uplifted, right, downright cozy, with him. The man knew her favorite juice, for god’s sake. All this after four days. Four days. Imagine what they’d have in four months, four years, four decades. Only, psychics didn’t have four decades, did they? Most of them didn’t have four years to put into a relationship. “I’ve survived longer than most field psychics; I know of only two who are older than me.” He’d said that to her only two nights ago. 182

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Her feet stomped the pavement. Her cheeks reddened from her exertion. Her eyes sparkled. People scurried out of her way as she steamed past them. **** Before he even opened his eyes, he knew exactly where she was in the room, what she looked like, how heavy her thoughts. It worked like that sometimes, although only with certain people. Five of them, to be precise, and three of them were now gone. His eyelids lifted, and he stared at the picture she made, feet drawn up under her on the large, padded chair. She pondered the sky through the window, and the gravity of her thoughts had pulled her face into blank smoothness. She was beautiful, the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen in his long, but far too short, life. He wanted to stare at her forever, to look at the angularity of her white face, the slight uptilt of her laughing eyes, the movement of her straight, thick hair across her jaw when she shook her head. He was pretty sure he could stare at her for years and never have enough of her, never fill the hole that thirty-six years without her had carved. And now she wanted to say goodbye to him. Ah, Serena. “Feeling better?” she asked him quietly, turning toward him. He must have made a noise, or maybe that slight mental vibration traveled in both directions. In fact, he felt better by the hour. “Good enough for our talk,” he said. Serena stood and stepped to his beside, not exactly a lengthy stroll in this tiny hospital room. “Psychics are a little spooky sometimes,” she said, smiling slightly, awkwardly. He looked at her, the strong symmetry in her 183

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face, the very slight dimple in her chin. He wondered suddenly about the fate of the frog shirt. Probably stained, battered, and discarded. Serena took a deep breath. “I’m not really sure how to begin.” He raised his eyebrows. “Yesterday seems like a convenient starting place. Your opinion changed somewhere between the drive and my awakening in this damn place.” She laughed, a short, barky noise. “If you know what I’m going to say, why bother having the conversation?” Gabriel smiled at her. “I’m not letting you get off the hook that easily. You want to do this? Okay, let’s do it.” “Not going to make this easy, huh?” she asked, tilting her head. “Not even a little bit. Come on, Reenie, I’m sure you rehearsed something.” She dropped her eyes, embarrassed and probably a little pissed off. Her eyes still stared at the railing on the side of his bed, but she extended her hands in the way she did when making a difficult point. “This life sucks,” she said. Okay, maybe she hadn’t rehearsed anything. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “In lots of ways, it does.” “I mean, wow, being a hunter, being a psychic. Super-duper strong, mega fast, heal quickly, predict the future, save lives. It sounds so glamorous and exciting. But it’s not. It’s horrible. It’s pain and blood and war and losing people you love. It’s never knowing whether your best friend or lover will come home. It’s being the oldest field psychic at age thirtysix. It means driving defensively, combat training, always looking over your shoulder.” She raised her eyes then, and they were alight with pain, with fury. “It’s watching someone you 184

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care about get their throat slit and not knowing whether you can get them help in time. It’s hearing the goddamn paramedics tell you, ‘Sorry, but you can’t ride in the ambulance with him.’ It’s looking down at your shirt and pants and not knowing which bloodstains are yours. It’s walking into a hospital and reliving the horror of your mother dying and wondering if someone else you care about is going to wither and finally blow away.” His self-righteous anger evaporated. Of course she felt this way; she hadn’t been raised as a hunter, wasn’t used to the effects of living a war. He grabbed her arm and drew her down to him. She rested her head on his chest. “I lost it yesterday,” she whispered. He could barely hear her over the hiss and beep of the various machinery. “I was a basket case, incoherent, panicking, wailing like...I’ve had clients have less dramatic breakdowns in my office. I kept remembering my mom, dying slowly but surely, and I...I just don’t think I’m that strong, Gabriel. Losing my mom was devastating. I lost her for no reason. I know you have a reason, and it’s a good one, but this fieldwork you do seems just as suicidal. “I can’t imagine losing you, Gabe.” He smoothed his hand over her hair. He understood. God knew, he got everything she was saying. Like her, he lived a life of emotional asceticism, paring down his loved ones to the smallest number possible. He knew what it felt like to watch your parents die. He understood the agony of losing close friends. He got the logic of having as few people as possible to love and lose. Still, he couldn’t help but say, albeit gently, “So you’d rather walk away and lose me?” She chuckled against his chest. “I never said it was rational. I just know it hurts. Knowing you’re living on borrowed time hurts. Knowing how close 185

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you came to dying yesterday hurts.” She straightened and met his eyes. “Leaving you feels…” She shook her head. “I’ve never…you’re…” She smiled and took a steadying breath. “I really like you. This hurts right now, but imagine how much I’d…like you in a year, when Jade delivered the news that you’d died in the field.” She looked toward the door. “Besides, it’s only been four days, right?” He let the four-day comment slide. “You’re living the future before it’s happened. You’re arranging your life according to suppositions, to possibilities.” She snorted, and her answering smile was lopsided. “If you were a tax accountant, sure. But you’re a field psychic, one of the few who’s made it to his mid-thirties. I’d say my supposition is a little more than some outlandish possibility.” Her reasoning was sound. He couldn’t argue that he lived a dangerous life and that she had every right to fear for his safety and their future. But he also knew she was wrong. She raised a hand to her mouth and chewed absently on her thumbnail. She began a sentence, hesitated, and then fell silent. Finally, she said quietly, tentatively, “Maybe you could, you know, not do it. Retire? We could find something to fill your days.” She smiled, but thinly. How to explain to someone raised as a human the life of a psychic, a hunter? “There is no retire, honey,” he said gently. “I was born to this life, raised to do what I’m doing. This isn’t my occupation; it’s my identity.” Serena looked down, looked back up. “If you belong to this life, then how much of you could I ever have, anyway?” “All of me,” he said immediately. She stared at him, lips slightly parted. You know what I’m saying. He said more slowly, to emphasize his point, “I’m not choosing this life over you, Serena. This is my life. If 186

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you can accept me as a man, as a field psychic, as someone raised to save lives in his own way, I’m yours. “But if not,” he continued. “I accept that, too.” Not really, but this was as much of the truth as she could handle right now. She was silent for a long time, sometimes meeting his eyes, sometimes not. A few minutes ticked by. He found himself somewhat heartened by her silence, her reluctance to simply turn around and bolt from the very hospital that had prompted this discussion. “I’m not sure what to say,” she finally muttered. You might try “I love you,” he thought, and sighed. But he respected her need to come to terms with the intensity of this, for her, new way of living. However, she was a hunter, and whether she’d been raised as one or not, this was now her life. He wished she’d quit fighting this and stop delaying the inevitable, but he was a patient man. Actually, no, he wasn’t a patient man, but for her, he would wait. “I don’t think I’m going to change my mind, Gabe, but I’m going to think about…all this. Give me some time to do that, okay?” she asked very quietly. It was more than he had expected for right now. Serena slept on the cot next to Gabriel’s bed. His night nurses seemed to think it was not only unnecessary but a bit inconvenient, but at least one of them recognized Serena from the day before and remained silent in confusion. Serena awakened the next morning in a panic. It was nine o’clock on Monday morning, and she hadn’t called Nadia to tell her she wouldn’t be in. She asked the nurses if any of them had a cell phone she might borrow, but one of them sternly, if kindly, informed her that cell phones were forbidden on the hospital campus. Sighing in annoyance, Serena grabbed the 187

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corded phone on Gabriel’s bedside table and collect called the office. Nadia answered on the first ring, accepted the charges, and then yelled in Serena’s ear, “Where are you? I’ve been worried sick.” A little tardy in the concern department, Serena thought in amusement, holding the phone a foot from her head. I’m safe…again. “I’m so sorry, Nadia,” Serena said. “This has been the most insane weekend you can imagine. I’m visiting a friend in the hospital after he…got hurt. I’m going to help him for a few days after this, so I’m taking this week off. Sorry for the lack of notice.” Nadia took a deep, heavy breath. “It’s Scott, isn’t it?” she asked flatly, in a resigned tone. “I knew something was up. Then, he didn’t show up for his shift today, and you were gone.” “I know. I’m sorry, Nadia. But no, Scott’s not the one in the hospital; in fact, last I heard he was having a pretty boring weekend.” Sort of. “But I don’t think he’ll be in for a few days, either.” Lord, she sucked at this dissembling thing. She wished she could have texted Nadia on her cell phone. Nadia was silent. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Level with me, mija.” Oh my god! “You and Scott are shacked up somewhere, aren’t you? I didn’t believe Lily, but now you’re both gone…” Serena’s giggle quickly turned into a full-bellied laugh. “No!” she gasped, and laughed again. “No, I swear!” “You know I don’t judge premarital stuff. It’s not like me and Victor are waiting!” Serena continued laughing. “I’m not even in the same city as Scott right now!” she protested, grinning. “I’m up north with my friend, two hundred miles away. That would be a mighty big shack!” “Really?” Nadia asked slowly, suspiciously. 188

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“Trust me, amiga. I know things have been crazy lately, but they’ll get back to normal soon. I need a week to…stay with my friend.” A brief, thoughtful silence. “Your male friend?” “My friend who happens to be male, yes.” “I see,” she said slowly, significantly. Serena grinned again. It had only been a few days, but she missed Nadia. “Is your friend helping you with your broken foot?” she asked carefully. Ah, hell. “We’re helping each other.” Suddenly her friend sounded much more cheerful. “I bet you are!” Serena could practically hear her friend’s leer. “I can’t wait to hear everything when you come back. You’re really coming back next Monday?” “Promise.” She hoped. “Okay. I’ll reschedule your appointments and manage the lines. I’m good at that stuff.” “I know you are. Thank you, Nadia. You saved me.” “You can thank me with stories when you come back,” Nadia said, and Serena definitely heard a smile. “Sorry again for scaring you.” “Ehh,” she grumbled with good-natured crankiness. “Go take care of your friend who happens to be male.” Smiling, Serena said, “Bye, Nadia.” “Bye, sweetie.” She turned from the phone, still smiling. Catching Gabriel’s eye, she transferred the smile to him. “Are we breaking you out today?” she asked him. “Absolutely,” he responded. “As soon as Jade gets here, we’ll set the wheels in motion.” “I’d pack your stuff, but…” She opened her arms to encompass the bare room. “I hope Jade 189

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remembers to bring you some clothes; otherwise you’ll be sneaking out of here in your hospital gown.” Her joke felt only a little bit mechanical. But Gabriel, face grim, was staring at the privacy curtain to his left. Whereas previously, it had been bunched up between his bed and the empty one next to it, now it was drawn completely around the other bed, obscuring it from view. In her mad rush to find a phone, Serena hadn’t noticed till now. It’s not what you think, she wanted to say, to scream. Another patient came in during the night, or maybe a nurse wanted to air out the curtains. She felt angry all of a sudden, furious that he would ask her to join a world where paranoia, suspicion, and hypervigilance were not only acceptable but, even worse, necessary. Serena stood next to the wall, and she grabbed the edge of the curtain. She would have yanked it along its track but hesitated. What if it wasn’t paranoia? What if they weren’t safe, even in this place of safety and recovery? She met Gabriel’s eyes, and she knew he saw her hesitation. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the curtain back.

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Chapter Thirteen Their ride home was largely silent. Gabriel didn’t consider words necessary, or even often useful. But Serena did. She’d built her life on the power of words, made sense of things only when she could build verbal houses around them. The silence between the two of them was unusual, even slightly tense. They’d faced leeches, identity revelations, phenomenal lovemaking, and eccentric family members, and they’d never once experienced awkwardness. Until Serena’s decision to step back from him, from them. Jade had left at the same time as they had, but they’d had to stop for gas. That, plus the way she drove ensured she would be back home at least a half hour before them. She had indeed brought Gabriel some clothes, although he’d been less than thrilled she’d underestimated his size. “I thought ‘medium’ meant average in men’s sizes,” she said defensively. As a result, his black Tshirt stretched tightly across his chest and ended just below his belly button. The black shorts—“I know you like all broody colors!”—didn’t fit unless he left the button and zipper undone. Staring at the small band of belly peeking from between the hem of the shirt and the gaping waistband of the shorts, Jade and Serena had poked each other and exchanged enormously entertained glances. He was not as entertained. “Note to self,” he said slowly, seriously, staring straight at Jade. “Never ask Jade for fashion advice.” With Serena’s help, he had removed his IV and 191

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neck brace only a few minutes earlier and had drawn his hair into a sloppy ponytail. He certainly didn’t feel anything like normal, but he could walk, he could talk, and he sure as hell didn’t plan to spend one more unnecessary moment in this damn place. If the hospital staff and visitors wanted to stare at his stomach and dark gray boxers, he welcomed their perusal. Nonetheless, as they made their way to the main entrance (without bothering to clear it with hospital personnel), Serena stood directly in front of him, protecting his privacy and dignity. In spite of everything, he felt warmed by the gesture. Jade pulled her car up to the front of the hospital, gathered the couple, and then drove them to the car Gabriel had driven up from Los Angeles. He assumed he would drive Serena and him home, but the women herded him to the passenger’s seat, talking loudly about Fresno weather over his protests. He still didn’t think Serena should be driving, especially given recent circumstances, but he had to admit he wasn’t feeling in top form. On their way home, Gabriel read and reread the crumpled note lying smooth and flat on his hairy lap—the shorts were true to their name. Serena glanced at it from time to time, her expression grim. It was the note they’d found lying folded on the pillow of the hospital bed next to Gabriel’s. When Serena unfolded it, she’d read aloud the following words, written in flamboyant, girlish cursive: “Get well soon, handsome. XOXO, Mia and pals.” **** The moment Serena and Gabriel entered the mansion, a tall, thin, middle-aged man scurried to Serena’s side. She was slightly startled, especially since she was certain she’d never had the pleasure. “I’m glad you’re back, Serena,” he said, not quite wringing his hands. 192

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“Uh, thanks,” she said. “We’ve been trying to talk to Scott. He’s, well, not entirely comfortable with this current situation. He’s been threatening to contact members of the media if we don’t allow him to leave shortly. I sent Jade in a while ago to calm him down, but if she’s unsuccessful, would you be willing to try?” “Of course,” Serena said calmly. “Lucas, where is Scott right now?” Gabriel asked. “Oh, Gabriel. Welcome home and thank appropriate deities you’re looking so well recovered.” Lucas smiled for an entire two seconds before turning his worried expression back to Serena. “Scott is in the room he’s been occupying lately. Room two sixteen.” “Thank you, Lucas,” Serena said, smiling. She turned to Gabriel as Lucas shuffled away. “You go talk him down,” he said. “Up the stairs, take an immediate left. It’s the eighth door on your right. After I change, I’ll go discuss with our investigative team the new information about Peter Yang.” “Okay, but then go lie down; you look peaked,” she said, eyebrows creased in concern. “How I can resist such flattery?” he asked, eyebrows raised, mouth pursing into a small smile. She smiled back at him, patted his arm, and ran up the stairs. As she approached the room, she encountered Jade exiting it. Her light brown face was unusually serious. “No luck?” Serena asked. Jade shook her head. “There’s only so much patience I can dole out before I want to resort to punches.” “Ah.” “I’m kinda done with him, you know? Boyfriend 193

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needs a mommy more than he does a bed buddy.” Her face suddenly blossomed into a more familiar grin. “I’d rather dance with a chainsaw-wielding leech than someone who can’t appreciate all this.” She gestured fluidly at her curvaceous form. Wondering what Scott had said to hurt Jade’s feelings, she quickly hugged her friend before knocking on the door. “Discussion over!” Scott yelled. She frowned; in the year she’d known him, she’d never known him to raise his voice. “Scott, it’s Serena. May I come in?” she asked loudly. After a brief silence, she heard him say, “Okay.” She turned the knob and walked inside. The room was slightly larger than Gabriel’s but shaped similarly; in other words, it was an unimaginative rectangle. Scott sat on a blue denim love seat opposite the door. Perpendicular to him was a double bed, its covers tousled into knots. The dresser next to the bed sported an opened, overflowing backpack; someone or ones must have brought him several changes of clothing as well. Scott sat silently, watchfully, on the loveseat, one leg folded in front of him, a wrist propped on his knee. His hair was uncombed or perhaps merely tousled. His mouth formed a straight line. Serena looked for a place to sit; she knew it was important to talk to people on their literal, physical level when having a serious discussion. “Want to sit here?” he asked, patting the love seat cushion next to him. She really didn’t, but it beat the bed. She sat down next to him and swiveled so she could look him in the eye. “How are you doing, Scott?” she asked him. “Fabulous. You?” he asked. “I’ve been better. I’m no psychic, but I somehow sense you’re not doing fabulously. Want to chat 194

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about it?” He smiled at her, and she was surprised that the smile had an edge to it. “You’re not a psychic, are you? But I’ve heard the rumors about you. Turns out you’re a hunter, just like Jade and all the other women around here.” His smile stretched into a grin, and Serena started feeling a little nervous. “Turns out,” she said slowly. “Does that bother you?” “Bother me? No. I always knew you were different, Serena.” His smile faded. “I just hate to think of you stuck in this place, held here because you happened to have been born like them. You deserve the freedom, don’t you think?” “I do,” she said slowly. “Once my safety is assured, I deserve the right to decide how to spend my life.” “Exactly. You have more options now, and options are always good. But most important is having the perfect freedom to choose among them.” Serena put her hand on his wrist. “I know you feel as though your freedom has been taken away. This is a difficult and unfair situation.” He stared at her for a long moment, blue eyes sparkling. Finally, he said, “This is definitely a crappy situation. I don’t want to be here anymore, Serena.” “I know,” she sighed, patting his hand. “I’m so sorry.” His breath whistled out through puckered lips. “I’ve been here for five days. I’ve had to miss two days of work so far. Who knows how many more they’ll make me miss until this stupid situation is over. I know they said they’d reimburse me the lost money, but what if my boss gets sick of my excuses and fires me? I never asked to be caught up in this superhero drama. I’m just some guy from Burbank.” “I’m glad about the money, but you’re right— 195

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this isn’t fair to you. I’m so sorry you got sucked into this craziness,” Serena said. “This morning, I woke up and thought, ‘Why not just leave today? Nobody wants me; I’m totally unimportant.’ But no one wants to let me go till”— his tone became prissy, officious—“ ‘this situation is fully resolved.’ But when will that be? What if it’s not tomorrow or this Friday but sometime next March?” “It’s overwhelming,” Serena agreed. “But I worry about your safety, too, Scott. I know you don’t feel important, but we don’t know what the leeches are up to, so we don’t know how you might figure into this.” “I was just the dumb guy who went with you to the university. Who cares about me?” he asked. “Or if nothing else, shouldn’t I have the right to decide my own actions?” “I think the people here are worried about you, especially since they know the leeches better than either of us. There may be dangers neither of us can anticipate,” Serena said. “Given a choice between staying here indefinitely and taking my chances with the leeches, I think I choose the leeches,” Scott said gloomily. That’s probably because you haven’t had them press a knife against your throat, she thought distantly. Out loud, she said, “I agree with everyone here who thinks it’s too dangerous for you to leave right now, Scott. No one here, me most especially, wants anything to happen to you. Please reconsider leaving. Most of all, though—” Her tone was dry, and she nudged his leg with hers. “Please reconsider threatening them with media exposure. They’re just about to pop a cork.” “You know I’d never really do it. I was just getting their attention, hitting them where it hurts.” He grinned at her. He straightened the leg he’d 196

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drawn up. His hand, beneath hers, gripped her fingers tightly. “Would you really be sad if something happened to me?” he asked seriously. This conversation felt more like a minefield than social intercourse. Smiling, trying to inject some lightness into the moment, she responded, “I’m just a baby hunter, but I’ll kick anyone’s ass who even thinks about messing with my homie.” “You and I have done some uncharacteristic things this weekend. You being all rough and tough hunter, sleeping with someone you just met, me threatening to call the media on people who want to help me. Maybe after all this is over, things can go back to normal, right?” Annoyed with his many assumptions, including that he had a right to talk about, let alone pathologize, her relationship with Gabriel, she opened her mouth to, as pop psychologists would put it, “lay down some boundaries.” Perhaps misinterpreting her movement as an invitation, Scott leaned toward her and joined their mouths. It took a moment for Serena to respond, but it was long enough for her to feel the tip of his tongue stroking her upper lip. She drew back, angry with him. Given everything, she could understand a quick kiss, even a comfort kiss, but he’d been trying to tongue kiss her, for god’s sake! What the hell was going through this man’s head? “That’s not appropriate,” she said quietly, trying to keep the knife edge out of her tone. She gestured toward the bed. “You can’t have sex with Jade fifteen minutes ago and then try that with me, Scott.” He drew back in confusion and consternation. He sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair. “Did Jade say something on the way out?” he asked. “I already knew,” she said. “But as you mentioned, I’m a hunter, and that means I 197

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apparently have a supernose.” She looked significantly at him while waving a hand at the bed. Scott winced and looked away. “Jade…she’s sweet and funny. But it didn’t mean anything. You were with Gabriel, so it didn’t seem wrong…” “My relationship with Gabriel has nothing to do with you and Jade,” she said, not bothering this time to weed out the sharpness. “I’m sorry, Serena,” Scott said softly, staring at his hands, which were now folded in his lap. “I shouldn’t have done…that.” She took a deep breath before forcing a small smile. “Let’s chalk it all up to temporary insanity, okay?” “Deal,” he said. “This has been one heck of a weekend.” “Amen to that.” She stood up from the love seat, needing to put some distance between them. “So can I go downstairs and reassure anxious folks that you won’t contact the media?” “No media. Cross my heart,” he said, using his forefinger to do so. “Good boy,” she said, smiling a bit more genuinely. “Bye, Serena,” he said. “See you later, Scott.” She shut the door gently behind her. Outside, she leaned against the door for a moment, not sure how to untangle the last ten minutes. **** An hour or so after he’d arrived back home, Gabriel walked slowly, mechanically back to his bedroom. He hated to admit it, but he felt squeezed dry of energy and feeling. Maybe a short nap would replenish his reserves. With a small sigh of relief, he reached his bedroom and turned the knob. To his surprise, Serena sat cross-legged on his bed, elbows on her 198

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knees and chin in her hands. She looked like a forlorn little girl. “I didn’t know where else to go,” she said. He understood, perhaps better than she, the scope of her words. “You’re always welcome here, Serena,” he said quietly. That’s what home is, he thought. She scooted over on the bed, to what he’d come to think of as her side. She patted the place where she’d been sitting. “Lie down, Gabe,” she ordered. “You look terrible.” “Quit telling me what to do, Bossy Cow,” he teased, but obeyed her words. After kicking off his shoes, he did indeed lay down beside her. His overtaxed body melted into the soft contours of the bed. He couldn’t help his soft groan of relief. “How did it go with Scott?” She was silent for so long, he turned his head to look at her. If she was trying for a blank expression, she needed a lot more practice. “Pretty well,” she said finally. Evade all you want, he thought tiredly. I’ll get the truth eventually. “What about your meeting?” she asked. “Very productive. Lucky for us, fifty-three-yearold, half-Chinese, half-Swedish—not Norwegian— Peter Yang hasn’t bothered to keep a low profile. He’s the marketing director for Mackoh Enterprises, an international corporation. He spends time in L.A., New York, and Shanghai.” “Let me guess—he’s currently in Shanghai.” “Good guess, but wrong. He’s in L.A. I called and made an appointment for you and me to meet with him at eleven tomorrow morning.” Serena drew in her breath. “Are you serious?” she breathed. “Quite.” “I’m less than twenty hours away from meeting 199

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the man who fathered me?” “Eighteen or so.” She took another deep breath, let it out. “Thank you,” she said. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Great work.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “Instead of looking for excuses to kiss me, why not just give in and come here?” She chuckled. “Your ego knows no bounds,” she said. “And besides, in spite of the bravado, you’re in no condition for any kind of carnal activity beyond a peck on the cheek. Go to sleep.” His smile remained on his face. He wanted to ask her to stroke his head in that soothing way she had but felt too reluctant—ah, hell, call it what it was: embarrassed—to do so. In spite of his childish shyness to ask her what he wanted, she placed her warm hand on his forehead and smoothed his eyebrows, his hairline. He sank swiftly into sleep. A while later, Serena answered a soft knock on the door. A short, middle-aged Asian woman, unremarkable in every way except for a handful of freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, smiled at her. “Glad to meet you, Serena,” she said, and extended a hand. “I’m Sage.” As Serena extended a hand, she flipped through her mental files, trying to remember where she’d heard the name before. Sage grinned. “Brynn’s partner?” she prompted. “The one who teaches Beginning Combat?” “Brynn!” Serena exclaimed. “Of course!” Then, she glanced guiltily behind her. “Sorry, but would you mind if we walked to a common room? Gabriel is sleeping.” “No worries!” Sage said, and Serena grinned back, remembering Brynn using that very expression. “How’s he doing?” 200

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“Much, much better,” Serena said, slipping out of the room and shutting the door behind her. “I still can’t get over how fast everyone heals around here. I mean, thank goodness and all, but it’s still a little…disconcerting.” The duo walked down the corridor toward the main part of the house. “I bet,” Sage said. “I attended public school among humans, and I remember being horrified that cuts, bruises, and scrapes took days, sometimes weeks, to heal.” After a pause, she said, “Brynn tells me you’re interested in learning how to fight.” Serena looked down at the marble floor, up at the tall, beige ceiling. “I was. I don’t know anymore, though. I’m not sure how much contact I’m going to have with…here when I eventually return to my life.” Sage was silent. They walked on for a bit, took a right, and headed toward the stairs. “What made you think to ask Brynn for help getting fight lessons in the first place?” They began descending the stairs, which gave Serena an excuse to stare at her feet rather than Sage. “It’s kind of embarrassing,” she muttered. Sage flashed her a smile. “You have no idea how many excuses I’ve heard, and most of them are really only the same two or three: I want to help humans, I want to make leeches suffer, or I want to keep my loved ones safe. Which one are you, Serena?” “Maybe a little bit of all three,” she said shyly. “But mostly the last one.” “Thought so. You found out how dangerous fieldwork is, and you want to be able to keep Gabriel safe, right?” Serena bowed her head, letting her hair swing forward and obscure her face. “It sounds so childish when you say it out loud,” she sighed. 201

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They finished descending the stairs and headed toward one of the fairy rings of chairs. Sage was smiling gently at her. “None of those reasons are childish, and I don’t discount or judge any of them. I don’t give a damn whether it’s altruism or revenge that motivates you as long as you’re willing to commit to the training. It’s grueling work, and you’re fifteen years older than most of the girls who start. You need to figure this out before you jump into it.” They sank down into plush, dark red chairs. “I’m a counselor,” Serena said awkwardly. “I heal wounds.” Her head slowly nodding, Sage laced her fingers together over her stomach. “I train hunters to protect humans and each other, and that often means hurting leeches. If I’ve saved one human from serving as a food source for those abominations, one little girl or boy from living with, or without, a depressed or violent parent, I’ve lived a good life. “I respect what you do as a human, Serena, but if I can help train hunters to prevent any of the traumas that bring these people to you, color me ecstatic. It’ll never happen, of course, but if you went out of business because of me and others like me, I’d do a little happy jig.” “Me, too,” Serena said. “And, you know, if you ever wanted to set up shop and help people who need to talk, you could do worse than here.” Sage shrugged. “You wanna talk to people who have lost loved ones, who are healing physically and emotionally? This mansion is crawling with people who fit the bill.” “Yeah,” Serena agreed. “That’s part of my problem. I just…” She didn’t want to tell this woman, who’d probably lost countless people she knew, that she dreaded losing Gabriel. Her fears, her desire to run away, suddenly seemed a little 202

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selfish in the light of hunters’ and psychics’ sacrifices. “Yeah,” Sage said, nodding. “I know. I can’t go into the field anymore, ever since my heart started doing its arrhythmia thing. But Brynn still does it from time to time, and I want to tie a rope to her and drag her back at the first sign of danger. I want to shake everyone on her team and tell them to watch out for her. It goes against everything I teach the girls, even against the life I’ve led, but I never want her to go into the field again.” Sage was silent for a minute. “Don’t ever tell her I said that, okay?” “I promise,” Serena said softly. Her chest constricted for this smart, fierce woman, who so often made the kind of sacrifice that Serena so feared. Sage literally shook herself out of her mood. She smiled again. “This must be pretty scary, especially for someone raised human. I know someone else who might be able to talk with you about this. He’s a human, and his partner is a hunter. “By the way, I know you’re feeling weird about this right now, but I wanted to tell you…welcome. Also, I’m glad you’re with Gabriel. He’s such a quiet guy, an enigma. I always hoped he’d find someone special.” “Thanks,” Serena said. “Although I have to admit, what I feel weirdest about is everyone knowing every single detail of my life, past and present.” Sage laughed. “And future, if you count the psychics.” Serena snorted with laughter. **** Hot, steamy showers might very well be the single greatest perk of modern civilization. After removing his bandage, Gabriel washed his hair, soaped up, and let the water pool on his head and 203

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stream like tears down his entire body. Afterward, white towel wrapped around his waist, he stared at his throat wound in the bathroom mirror. He knew his doctor would disapprove of showering, but given his healing capacity, he doubted he’d done any damage. The lips of his wound were still slightly raw looking, but the stitches were clean and the flesh healthy. He should be fully healed in less than a week. He taped a new bandage over his throat, tossed on his midnight blue robe, and shuffled contentedly back to his room. He walked in and inhaled a delicious, beefy aroma. On the coffee table in front of his love seat, Serena had arranged a few dishes, including a rich, brown soup, some mashed potatoes with brown gravy, and a mug of hot tea. “Have a seat,” she said, waving him toward the love seat. She sat cross-legged on their bed. “I know you want to tell me you’re up to gnawing on charred cow flesh and potato chips, but your throat needs some finesse. It’s soft foods for the next few days.” Vegetarians had such a cheerful way of describing meat. Nonetheless, the food smelled heavenly. He sat down as ordered and tucked into his throat-finessing feast. “The tea is English Breakfast, your favorite. I cheated, though, and asked the cooks.” He took a sip, and it was indeed his favorite tea, except she’d left it unsweetened. “It’s a good thing you have them here,” she continued. “Anything I made you, no matter how soft, would stick in your throat.” “You don’t agree with Aunt Mona that the way to my heart is through my stomach?” he teased. “The way to your heartburn is through stomaching my culinary creations,” she said drily. “And besides, I can’t imagine any hunter here cooking unless she really wanted to.” 204

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Gabriel nodded. “That’s so. My mother couldn’t have told you the difference between a skillet and a spatula.” As he sipped the hot, rich broth from the spoon, he watched Serena open her mouth to ask a question and then hesitate. Finally, as he’d known it would, her curiosity won. “Were you and your mother close?” she finally asked. He shrugged. “We got along just fine. My father did most of the raising after she left. Poor guy, he thought the sun rose and set with her. I was mad at her for a while for leaving Marcus, but after I grew up, I realized some people are meant to be monogamous, some not. She needed variety, and my father is a—was a single-mate person.” “She passed when you were a teenager?” she asked gently. Something she could relate to, he realized, surprised it hadn’t occurred to him before now. “I was fifteen,” he said. When he didn’t expand, she asked slowly, “Was it field-related?” He nodded and spooned more of the chunky beef stew, minus the chunks, into his oh-so-happy mouth. “One more question,” she said, and then grinned when she saw him glance skeptically at her. “What was her name?” “Nia, daughter of Ana.” He took a bite of the mashed potatoes, which very slightly abraded his throat but were still delectable to the point of being spiritual. Nothing like imbibing meals via IV to make a person appreciate the finer things in life. He looked over at Serena, and she was staring at him, practically vibrating with the need to ask fifty, a hundred more questions. Thinking of their earlier, quiet tension in the car, he found himself pleased with this, for her, more normal behavior. 205

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“My father’s name was Marcus, son of Gregory,” he said. She flashed a quick, grateful grin at him. “Yes, I got along very well with him. He was a calm, quiet man, hard to get to know. I had great respect for him as a father and as a field psychic.” “What kind of psychic was he?” she asked. “Future-seer, like me. He understood…what that meant.” Serena tilted her head but didn’t ask him to clarify. Looking at her, he knew the story she wanted. He saw no reason not to tell it. “We were both on a field mission when I lost him,” he said, putting down his spoon for now. “That’s unusual. Field psychics are pretty rare, and the Council almost never puts us on missions together. But this time they did. It was a serious one: explosives in a downtown restaurant. Largescale violence is rare for leeches, but they do it sometimes because the grief, from friends, family members, and even strangers, is widespread and public enough to feed a lot of them for a while. Marcus and I had to intuit where the explosives were. “But we failed. We found one of the hidey holes, but there were two. We were smart enough to make sure the owners evacuated the building; we did it by calling in a bomb threat, incidentally. We got most of the people out of the restaurant, but my father and I were still hunting for any other caches. I was facing a waist-high counter while Marcus checked behind it. Suddenly, he yelled at me to run; I still don’t know if he saw something or had a vision. I turned away to run, and that’s all I remember.” His voice was very calm, his eyes dry, his face composed. He picked up his spoon and took another bite of the potatoes. He could have said they tasted like cardboard after his dramatic story, but he’d be lying. The well-buttered potatoes, with their thick, 206

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rich, beef gravy, filled his mouth and wove through his senses. That was one of the hardest lessons he’d had to learn about losing loved ones: they were gone, could no longer eat or laugh or make love, but that didn’t mean those things lost their appeal for the living. Even when sometimes the survivors wished it wouldn’t, life, with its colors and textures and sunrises and salty beef gravy, chugged right along. He finished the potatoes and gently placed the spoon in the almost-empty stew bowl. Knowing Serena, he wasn’t surprised when, after a long moment, she rose from the bed and padded to the back of the love seat. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “I’m so sorry,” she said. She must have kneeled, because her cheek was all of a sudden pressed against his. “You’re a strong and loving man who’s saved countless lives, including mine. You’re a good man, and in that, you honor your father every day.” She rubbed her cheek against his. “I would thank him if he were here for raising someone like you.” My god, he thought. “Come here,” he growled. She rose and walked around to the front of the love seat. She shoved the coffee table out of the way and rested on her knees in front of him. He grabbed her hands, which she’d placed on his knees to help her balance. “You make it pretty hard to ever think of letting you go,” he commented roughly. She looked down, face very serious. “There’s one more thing I have to tell you,” she almost whispered. “Remember what you told me about beauty?” He stared silently at the top of her head, noticing the way the lamplight shone in twin streams on each side of the natural part in her hair. “I know you don’t like the way you look now. Jade told me you were more traditionally handsome before the explosion, before your scars. I didn’t know you then, but I know you now. You’re who you are 207

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now, with memories and experiences that I get to touch, to be a part of. You told me beautiful wasn’t just visual but emotional and tactile. Your scars are you then, and you now. They look beautiful to me, they tell me a poignant story, and most of all for me, they feel like you to me. You’re like no one else in the world, with a handsomeness and a physicality that no other man can compare to. “You’re beautiful, Gabriel.” The room was silent. Serena kept her head bowed; he thought she might be staring at their intertwined hands. Or maybe at nothing at all. Feeling a soul-deep calmness, a vast and complete inner silence previously unknown to him, Gabriel raised their hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. He pulled Serena onto the love seat next to him. She looked at him finally, face pale, eyes wide and apprehensive. This woman. He raised a hand to her face and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I love you, Serena,” he said. She tried to pull away, but he held her hand firmly. “Please don’t ruin this moment by being scared. Just let me tell you what we both know. You can be scared later.” She leaned against him and rested her head against his shoulder. He stroked her hair, the curve of her neck, the bow of her cheek. After a long while, he repeated his words, and she let him. They went to bed a few hours later. “No funny business,” Serena told him, shaking a stern finger. “You’re not the one who has to guard his honor with a horny hunter in the room,” Gabriel said very seriously, “one who told me just a few days ago that she has designs on my pants.” Serena choked on laughter while slipping into Jade’s nightshirt. Gabriel kept his boxers on, and they both crawled primly into bed. 208

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Gabriel snapped off the light. Serena stared into the perfect blackness, listening to the gentle sounds of breathing coming from her left. “You know,” she said conversationally after a minute or two. “Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t get frisky. You’re still healing.” “My honor is starting to feel a little threatened.” Serena giggled and nudged his arm with hers. “Plus,” she said, “it wouldn’t be right when I’m still processing everything.” “I think I’m flattered that you’re working so hard to convince yourself.” “How come you’re so cheerful?” she grumbled. He reached out an arm and dragged her toward him. She snuggled against him as he wrapped himself around her. He brushed her hair from her ear and said gently, “I know everything is going to be all right between us. The only things standing between us are time and fear. Both of those will pass.”

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Chapter Fourteen Serena stood before the reflective elevator door, smoothing her hair, checking her teeth for flecks of oatmeal, wondering if her summery dress was completely inappropriate. It was the only slightly dressy item she’d found in her suitcase; she wasn’t sure large yellow and pink flowers on a white background were appropriate attire when meeting a marketing manager, let alone one’s estranged father. Besides, the strappy black sandals that Jade had purchased for her so didn’t match. “This is the girliest I’ve ever seen you,” Gabriel muttered from behind her. She glared at him in the reflection and ran a fingertip under her bottom lip, eliminating a slight lipstick smudge. Called Peony, it was the same lipstick she’d offered to hurl at attacking leeches just last week. The elevator emitted a distinguished bell tone— no garish, mechanical ping in this building—and the shiny doors slid open before them. Serena kept her head high and her expression composed, but she grabbed Gabriel’s hand and tugged him after her. He pressed the button for the fifteenth floor and stood beside her, calm and confident. He wore his usual black—not a lot of chromatic diversity in the man’s wardrobe—but this morning he was garbed in a black dress shirt and black jeans. He’d even included a tie, although she was unsurprised that it, too, was solid black. He’d pulled his hair neatly back into his puffy ponytail. Even with the flash of white bandage at his throat, the Johnny Cash look suited him. Granted, a gunny sack and neon green Crocs would 210

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look sexy on this man, but still. They exited on the fifteenth floor and strolled down a very short hallway to a cozy, burgundy and brown reception area. A pleasant-faced, young Asian woman smiled at them as they entered and bid them welcome. “Ms. O’Donnell and Mr. Marcus to see Mr. Yang,” Gabriel said smoothly. The woman smiled with professional warmth and buzzed her boss. Serena drew breath in through pursed lips. She held it, then exhaled, wondering all the while if these calming exercises worked as poorly for her clients as they did for her. “You look beautiful,” Gabriel murmured behind her. She flashed him a quick smile. “Mr. Yang is happy to receive you in his office,” the young receptionist said, standing and opening a rich, mahogany door looming behind her and to the right. Serena smiled mechanically, her chest tightening. Her breath scraped her throat. She and Gabriel strode into the office of Mackoh Enterprise’s marketing manager. The office was decorated in a contemporary theme reflecting, literally as well as figuratively, a loveless marriage of chrome and glass. The tables, bookshelves, even Peter Yang’s desk reflected the frigid perfection of shiny metal and transparent glass. Behind the desk, and bracketed by mirrored vertical blinds that put Serena strongly in mind of swords, a large, tinted window framed a vast and godlike view of downtown Los Angeles. In the middle of this chrome heaven loomed Peter Yang, a tall, broad-shouldered football player of a corporate executive. He stood in front of his desk, his pale, strongly angular face softened by a welcoming smile. Silver spiderwebs wove through his carefully cut and coiffed, shiny black hair, and 211

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shallow laugh lines cushioned his dark brown eyes. His chin, Serena noted in passing, featured a slight cleft. “Welcome, and I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Marcus and Ms. O’Donnell,” Peter Yang said, extending a hand and walking toward them. He approached her first, and she inhaled deeply before shaking his hand. He wasn’t a leech, she realized. Until now, she hadn’t even known she’d expected him to be. He had a firm, warm handshake, she noted, not sure what, if anything, that was supposed to mean. Gabriel likewise shook his hand. “Thank you for seeing us,” he said. “Please have a seat,” Peter Yang—she couldn’t seem to think of him as anything but his full name— offered, gesturing toward two leather and chrome chairs in front of his desk. The leather-padded chairs flanking the corner conference table featured more shiny silver than Serena had ever seen on a device meant to cushion her behind. They sat silently, and he retired to the larger, and shinier, executive chair behind his desk. Peter Yang was a big man, but the black leather chair curved loosely around him, the top extending a good five inches above his head. “I’m surprised, and grateful, that you could see us on such short notice,” Serena said, listening with relief to the shiny-smooth timbre of her voice. She glanced at the right corner of his desk at a family picture entombed in a thick chunk of clear glass. Peter Yang steepled his hands on the glass of his desk. “Mr. Marcus made it sound somewhat dire. I certainly hope I can help solve this mystery you referred to on the phone. I hope the young woman in question is safe and healthy.” “She is indeed,” Serena said coolly. “We’re also hoping we can find out how you fit into this crazy scenario.” 212

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“Mr. Marcus was sparing with details. Please feel free to expand on this, and I’ll tell you of any overlaps I can find,” he offered, the model of politeness. Serena offered him a small, perfunctory smile in return. Playing the impersonal investigator made this meeting much more manageable. “The young woman in question is a suicide and depression counselor here in L.A. In the past week, she’s survived several attempts on her life. My partner, Mr. Marcus, and I have been investigating this and have run across your name.” “In what capacity, may I ask?” Serena snuck a glance at the family portrait. In the black and white photo, four black-clad people— Peter Yang, a beautiful Asian woman of his approximate age, and two teenaged girls posed against a black backdrop. “If you don’t mind,” she said smoothly, “may I first ask you a few questions, partially to ensure you’re the Peter Yang we’ve been looking for?” “Certainly.” Peter Yang smiled, nodding his head in a tiny bow at her. “You attended college here about thirty years ago, correct?” “Has it been that long?” he asked. “I believe that’s correct. I earned my BS here and left for Harvard when I was, oh, twenty-three.” “Harvard?” Serena asked politely. “That’s impressive. What degree did you pursue?” “Comments like ‘impressive’ almost make the two years of torture worthwhile,” he said, smiling again. “I earned my MBA there, after which I went to work with my father. Eventually, I left the company to work here. “My family and I took that picture a little over a year ago.” Serena’s eyes snapped back up to Peter Yang’s 213

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politely smiling face. “I was just thinking what a beautiful family you have.” Once again, he bowed his head at her, a gesture perhaps gleaned from his international trips. “My thanks. I’m enormously proud of my family. My wife recently won a community award for philanthropic service; she’d be a little hurt that I forgot the exact cause. My girls are straight-A students. The one on the left is Mary; she wants to go into advertising. The other one is Lillian; she’s a little younger and wants to be a singer.” He rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. “Teenagers are a handful, but they’re my treasures.” “Family is important,” Serena agreed, nodding and smiling mechanically. “Yours is beautiful,” she repeated stupidly. She stopped nodding before she put him in mind of a bobble-headed car ornament. “Forgive my bragging,” Peter Yang said. “You were asking questions about my education. Did I answer them satisfactorily?” “Yes, thank you.” Serena paused, unsure what else to ask him. “Mr. Yang,” Gabriel said quietly. “Did you have a relationship thirty years ago with a young woman named Ava?” Peter stared silently, with a polite smile that couldn’t have been cooler and more rigid had it been carved out of glass. Serena watched him inhale deeply and exhale quietly. She hoped the technique worked better for him. “It took me a moment to remember,” Peter Yang said, “but I did have a friend during my last undergraduate year. Her name was Ava.” He paused. “May I ask why this is important?” Serena sat forward in her chair. “As it turns out,” she said slowly, “the young woman whose background we’ve been investigating is Ava’s daughter. She’s twenty-nine years old.” She sat 214

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back, heart fluttering madly in her chest. Peter Yang stared at her for a long, long moment before transferring his mask of cool-eyed interest to Gabriel. Finally, he looked back at Serena, face serene but eyes riveted on hers. “Ava O’Donnell was her name,” he said. Serena nodded silently. Bumblebees buzzed in her chest, bouncing off her ribcage. Peter Yang rose from his leather and chrome throne. He turned, joined his hands behind his back, and stared out the gray-filmed window. “I see,” he said. After a moment, he turned back around, expression still one of pleasant inquiry. “And did you two concoct this story about an endangered young woman so that you might gain entrance to my office and spring this surprise on me?” So much for tearful, father-daughter reunions. She hadn’t expected poetry and roasting fatted calves or anything, but his cool distaste of their presence stung just a little. “No,” Gabriel said. “We didn’t make up anything. Serena and I have been investigating this for a week now, ever since she survived the first attempt on her life. Your name has come up several times in our investigation.” Peter Yang stared at her, head slightly tilted. “Serena,” he said. He nodded. He turned back to Gabriel. “And have I solved any mysteries for you?” “Not yet,” Gabriel said. Serena became aware that she was staring directly into eyes as dark as her own; sometime in the last minute, she had risen from the leather chair. “You do have a lovely family, one you obviously love,” she said very quietly. “I don’t want to in any way infringe on the life you’ve built with the beautiful woman in that picture. I don’t want anything from you but the answers to a few questions. First of all, I want to know why you didn’t 215

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write my mother back.” Peter Yang stared at her for a long moment, his eyes tracking over her face. “I believe you,” he said calmly. “I believe you’re…Ava’s daughter. I also believe you don’t want anything from me. That’s good, because I don’t have much to give right now.” He moved to his chair again and sat down. Had he been able to remain still, she’d never know from his composed features that he was agitated. Reflecting his gesture, she likewise reseated herself. “I was twenty-three, as I told you,” Peter Yang began in his clear voice. “Ava was sweet and smart. I met her after I graduated with my BS, and we spent the summer together. At the end of the summer, I had to leave to attend graduate school. I missed her, of course, but life as a Harvard MBA candidate was grueling. I just never found the time to return her letters.” Serena was silent for a moment before finally deciding to stop pussyfooting around the tough questions. “What happened when you found out she was pregnant?” she asked. His broad face, with its cute little chin dimple, remained blank, although his tongue wet his lips after a moment. He took a lengthy breath. “I didn’t believe her at first. She didn’t take my move very well, and I thought she might be trying to get my attention again.” “And after the second letter?” “I figured if it was true, she would decide what to do and let me know. It’s a woman’s choice, after all. She never contacted me again, so I assumed she had taken care of the situation.” Once again, Peter Yang folded his hands in front of him on his desk. She suspected it was contrived to make him look wise, or at least contemplative. Serena sat back in her chair, satisfied with his answers. So now she knew. 216

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“I have a few more questions, and then we’ll leave you alone, Mr. Yang,” Gabriel said quietly. Peter Yang nodded at him. “As I said, we didn’t make up our story about Serena’s life being in danger. The group after her seems to have some interest in her parentage, her heritage. Is there anything about you, any extraordinary genetic condition, for example, that might have attracted their attention?” Peter Yang’s face allowed itself to relax a bit into slight confusion. “My father had a heart condition,” he said. “My daughter, Mary, has asthma. Is that what you mean?” “No,” Gabriel said shortly. “Think of these people who are after Serena as conspiracy theorists. They think certain people are genetic mutants. Some of these mutants supposedly have heightened mental abilities; in other words, they can tell the future, sense others’ feelings, move objects with their minds.” Peter Yang looked torn between genteel disgust and skepticism. “Like that movie?” he asked. “Have you ever experienced anything that, after you told someone about it, might make them imagine you had psychic powers?” “Like what, precisely?” Gabriel pursed his lips. “Dreaming about the future, knowing what someone is going to say before they say it, moving items without touching them.” Eyebrows firmly pinched together, Peter Yang shook his head. “These are ridiculous scenarios. If science fiction fiends are threatening you, Ms. O’Donnell, I suggest you report it to the police. No one in my life thinks or has ever thought I’m a genetic mutant who can move cars with the force of my mind alone.” Serena stared down at her hands, which she’d clasped in her lap. For some reason, she felt close to 217

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laughing. Instead, she rose again to her feet, smiling easily. “I think those are the only questions we have, Mr. Yang,” she said smoothly. She did not bother extending her hand again. She glanced at Gabriel, who was staring at Peter Yang. “Come on, Gabriel,” she said softly. Gabriel stood up and walked to the edge of the gleaming desk. “You didn’t ask,” he said quietly, “but I’m going to tell you. Serena is a suicide counselor, as we said. She’s saved several lives and healed countless others. Her favorite color is yellow. You never will, but you should ask her why sometime. Her mother, your lover, died twelve years ago. In her kindness, her generosity, and her commitment to equality, Serena is one of the strongest people I have ever known. She gave you several gifts today, including forgiveness; I hope you’re grateful.” He turned and stepped with Serena out of the office. They walked silently to the elevator and from there to the car. “He wasn’t a leech,” Serena commented while staring straight ahead. It was the first time she’d spoken since they’d exited the Los Angeles Branch of Mackoh Enterprises. Gabriel was merging onto the 110 south. He’d insisted on driving today, and Serena hadn’t protested. From the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her. “I told you you’re not a leech, Serena. Leeches beget leeches, hunters and psychics beget their own.” She shrugged. “I don’t think I fully believed that till I met him. He’s not a leech. Do you think he’s lying about being a psychic?” “No,” Gabriel said. “Neither do I,” Serena said. “He lives a lofty life, even seems bigger than life, but the longer I talked to him the smaller he became.” They were silent for a while as Gabriel 218

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maneuvered through downtown Los Angeles in noontime traffic. The sky at its zenith shone a brilliant, cerulean blue that faded to a dirty gray near the horizon. “I think I half believed he was behind everything,” Serena said slowly and with a tinge of irony. “It’s pretty embarrassing to think I’d give in to the temptation of thinking this man cared enough about my existence to send assassins after me. Talk about craving any kind of parental recognition.” Gabriel grabbed her hand. “I wondered about him, too,” he admitted. She smiled at him. “Maybe we’re just a couple of sentimentalists,” she said. “It’s kind of touching to think my long lost dad would care enough to send the very deadliest. And now we know he’s not even a psychic.” She shook her head and said more quietly, “He’s just some guy who knocked up his summer fling.” “Probably the single best thing he ever did,” Gabriel growled. She squeezed his hand and turned back to the front. Before them, concrete arcs soared over their heads like some abstract sculpture writ large. They were headed into South L.A.; if they kept following this route, they would eventually end up in San Pedro. Smiling, Serena nodded and said quietly, “Aunt Mona.” He glanced at her again. “Aunt Mona.” Aunt Mona threw open the door as they were ascending the porch steps. She whisked them inside and threw her arms around Serena and then around Gabriel. He had to stoop down to receive her embrace, but he did so without comment; he had a feeling if he didn’t, she’d climb up to him. “Perfect timing, kids,” she said brightly. “Lunch is ready.” Serena threw him an amused glance. “Did you 219

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really make lunch for us, Aunt Mona?” she asked. “Don’t doubt it, missy miss, even though I always have a hard time figuring out what you vegetarians eat. I made some salad and chicken with dumplings for Gabriel and me. You can have the salad, and I made you a couple of PBJ sandwiches.” She ushered them past preening, ankle-rubbing felines and into the tiny dining room outside the kitchen. “You sit here, Gabriel and you’re here, Serena,” she said, beaming at them. “I’ll be right back with your soup and salad.” Serena was seated on his left and the other place setting sat opposite them. He glanced at Serena, and her face was bright with affection for her aunt. “Did you stay with her after your mother died?” he asked. She shook her head. “Not right after. I spent the last two months of the school year at my friend, Lissa’s, house. It would have been too crazy for Aunt Mona to drive me to L.A. from San Pedro every day. After the school year was up, I spent the next couple of months here. I stayed in college dorms as often as possible after that. Don’t get me wrong—I didn’t want to avoid my family.” Gabriel nodded. “You were worried about being a burden.” She nodded back at him, smiling slightly. “Yeah.” “Here we go!” Aunt Mona announced, holding two steaming bowls of soup. “I could spoon you up some, too, sweetie,” she said to Serena, “and fish out the chicken chunks.” “Thanks for the offer,” Serena said, smiling, “but you sold me on the PBJ. Can I help you—” “No, no, no. Stay right there. It’s been a rough time for you lately; you need the rest.” After setting the bowls down atop the flowered tablecloth, Mona 220

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zipped back inside the kitchen. “God probably told her,” Serena whispered, tossing him an “isn’t she zany” grin? He understood; to any human, Mona must seem wildly eccentric. “Something did,” he said quietly, meaningfully. Serena’s smile faded, and Mona reentered the dining room carrying a large, clear plastic salad bowl filled with greens, tomatoes, cucumbers, and other goodies. In her other hand were two bottles of salad dressing. “I always keep bottles of that bitter vinaigrette stuff Reenie loves,” she said, smiling at Gabriel. “But I imagine you like the creamy dressings, right? My Charlie loves the bleu cheese.” “Bleu cheese is my favorite,” he said, smiling, and saw Serena frown. “You know my fondness for cheese.” Mona smiled at him, held up a finger, and said, “One more trip, then I’m done.” She sped into the kitchen and returned ten seconds later carrying plates, forks, and Serena’s sandwiches. “I know you like the wheat, honey,” she said, “but you know Charlie loves the white. It’s all we ever keep around here.” “This meal is wonderful,” Serena said warmly. Mona smoothed the wrinkles out of her blue and white dress and sat down on the other side of the table. “I normally say grace,” she said in a stage whisper to Gabriel, “but Serena isn’t much of a believer anymore. College does that. Were you raised to believe, Gabriel?” “Aunt Mona!” Serena admonished, but her aunt brushed a hand at her and continued staring expectantly at him. “My mother raised me in the Catholic faith,” he said. She beamed at him. “Two versus one,” she said to Serena, and immediately launched into a 221

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somewhat lengthy mealtime prayer. “…amen. What happened with your neck, my dear?” As usual, he was lagging behind Aunt Mona; it took him a moment to realize she’d asked him a question. One of her cats—the fluffy orange one— chose that moment to wind around his ankle. He reached down and scratched him behind his ears. “I wasn’t paying enough attention and managed to garner a nick.” Mona stared at him for a moment while blowing on a spoonful of soup. “How did it go with Karen Pennington?” she asked and took a small sip. “I assumed you found her.” A seeming non sequitur that wasn’t. “We did,” Serena agreed. “She lives in Fresno, so we drove up and chatted with her. It went…well, in terms of the information we gathered.” Mona sipped soup from her spoon while her eyes narrowed in recognition of the evasiveness of her niece’s response.“How’s she doing?” “Well, she’s married to a lawyer now and living in a cute house.” “Any children?” Serena’s smile looked slightly nervous and guilty even to him. “Um, I don’t think I remembered to ask.” Mona clucked her tongue; he imagined her disapproval was aimed both at her niece and Karen Maidanik. “Any cats? Dogs?” “I don’t think so.” Mona shook her head sadly. “How can anyone be happy without children or pets? Maybe you can pass along her number to me, and I can suggest some good cat rescues in her area.” “I don’t know that she wants to have you preach the word of pets to her,” Serena said drily. “Don’t be sacrilegious, Serena Agnes. I don’t worship my cats, nor do I ever preach.” 222

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“There’s a joke about dogma looming over this conversation,” Gabriel said seriously. Serena turned a smile on him, an unrestrained, genuinely amused and affectionate grin that contained within it no memory of the tension that had recently entered their relationship. He sunned himself in it for a moment. When he looked back at Aunt Mona, she was smiling at him. Dotty old Aunt Mona with a mind like a piano wire garrote; he doubted she missed any details. “What did you find out about your father?” she asked Serena. Gabriel ate a bite of the thick soup; it was spicy, salty, delicious. His throat didn’t even hurt. “His name,” Serena replied. “It’s Peter Yang.” Aunt Mona nodded vigorously, spoon in the air. “That’s right. Yang. I knew it sounded something like that.” “I found out enough about him to find him— well, Gabriel did. Turns out he spends part of his year here in L.A.” “No!” Serena nodded. “Eat! Eat!” Mona commanded, gesturing toward Serena’s sandwiches. “Do you plan to ever meet him?” she asked. Serena looked at her over a mouthful of white bread, peanut butter, and jelly. After she swallowed, she said, “You know I love grape jelly, Aunt Mona. Thank you.” Mona waved away her compliment. “Your father?” she prompted. “We just came from a meeting with Peter Yang,” Gabriel said. A drop of broth splashed on his—or, rather, on his fellow psychic, Aaron’s, black silk tie. This was why he tried never to wear anything fancier than shirts and jeans. Mona was silent, waiting for them to continue. 223

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She placed her spoon back in the soup bowl. “He was very polite and very handsome, just as you said,” Serena said. “He’s a successful businessman and is married with two beautiful daughters. He probably drives a Mercedes.” “Did you tell him who you are?” Mona asked quietly, soberly. Slowly, Serena nodded. “He was a little…disconcerted.” “Does he want…I mean, do you think he might…?” “No.” Mona stared hard at her for a moment and then nodded. “What an idiot,” she said flatly. Gabriel couldn’t help it—he laughed. It felt good, almost as good as hearing Mona verbalize his impression of Peter Yang. “I told you I liked your aunt,” he told Serena, still grinning. “Why, Gabriel, I like you, too!” Mona exclaimed, smiling widely at him. “And I definitely approve of the effect you’ve had on the frequency of my niece’s visits.” Gabriel was still smiling. He definitely approved of the effect this family had on his mood. “Ms. Keller…” he began. “Oh, phooey—call me Aunt Mona,” she said, shooting a not-entirely-subtle glance at Serena. “Aunt Mona,” he said. “I’d like to ask you some questions about your family.” “Understandably,” she said, nodding wisely. “I remember you talking about your sons. My apologies if this is a sensitive question, but did you adopt them?” “It’s no secret,” Mona said. “Charlie and I tried for a number of years before finally deciding to adopt. We found a couple of young brothers who needed a family, and there you are. If you’re worried about fertility in our family, don’t. I never told 224

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Charlie but—” She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “—the doctor told me most infertility comes from low you-know-what counts in men. I always knew it was Charlie’s fault.” Serena put her head in her hands. Gabriel nodded slowly at Mona. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he promised. “No worries about my little Reenie. Solid girl, big hips. I see at least one strapping boy in her future.” This time, especially given the small smile on her face, he was certain Aunt Mona was teasing her niece. Serena shook her head without bothering to lift it from her hands. When Gabriel turned back to her, Mona winked at him. “I also wanted to ask you a little bit about the messages that God sends you.” Mona stared hard at him, eyes slightly narrowed, head tilted in consideration. “I know you’re a good, Catholic boy, Gabriel,” she said slowly, “but if you’re not a believer in the power of divine communication, I have no great wish to discuss this with you. No offense, of course, but I’ve had enough of being called crazy.” “I never said you were crazy!” Serena protested, finally lifting her head. Mona shook her head. “Don’t think I don’t know you wrote a paper on me, Miss College Degree in Psychology.” Serena fidgeted and threw a defensive look at Gabriel. “It’s counseling! And maybe I did, kind of, but after eight years of college, I eventually wrote a paper on everyone I knew!” “Aunt Mona,” Gabriel said sincerely, reaching down once again to pet the huge orange cat. “I promise you I don’t think your…gifts are crazy or outlandish. I would really like to hear about them.” “Gifts,” Aunt Mona said thoughtfully. “That’s a 225

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good word for them. God sends me these occasional little packages. He tells me when people need me, when they’re coming to see me, what kinds of things I might buy or do or say that will make life a little easier and happier for someone. “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” she said severely, pointing an accusing finger at him, and Gabriel’s spine met the back of his chair. He really didn’t think she did. “It sounds like divination, right? And everyone knows divination is a sin. But it’s not divination when God is the one that sends me the information. He obviously wants me to do something with it or else he wouldn’t send me the ideas, right?” “Makes sense,” Gabriel said, nodding. “So it’s not crazy and it’s not divination. It’s God sending me the occasional package. Kind of like, ‘Ding-dong! Special delivery from the Almighty!’ ” Gabriel nodded again. It was a terrific way for a human to comfortably cope with what would otherwise be disturbing glimpses into the present and future. He saw no reason to challenge her clever explanation. “I’ve heard,” he said, “of these kinds of gifts being family traits. Like if a person is sensitive and receptive enough to these messages, maybe their children will be, too.” Mona nodded enthusiastically. “My father was the same way, may he rest in peace. Serena never got to meet him, since he passed before she was born. But he had quite a thriving relationship with God. He was always telling us who was on the phone before we answered it or knowing when something bad was happening in the lives of our neighbors and friends. He had quite the reputation for showing up at just the right time to help people.” “He did?” Serena asked. “How come I never knew that?” She was absently picking the cucumbers 226

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out of her salad and popping them in her mouth. Mona shrugged. “I never tried to hide it. Maybe you never asked. Your mother, the college-educated one—” She said this with a hint of pride, Gabriel noted with interest, rather than mockery. “— thought he was lucky, or maybe people humored him. I knew differently, of course, and this one time, I was right.” You were, Gabriel thought. You were so right. “So Mom never received any of these divine UPS packages?” Serena asked. Mona narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you mock me, missy,” she said, shaking a fork at her. “But no, I don’t think she did. It’s not that she wasn’t devout, mind you; your mother was a spiritual force unto herself. But perhaps because she didn’t truly believe in it, it never came to her.” Gabriel looked at Serena, and she stared back at him. Mystery, at least this one, solved. Peter Yang had nothing to do with her hunter genes; he was merely the lucky man who got to participate in the reproduction of this incredible family. “Why are you smiling?” Serena asked him, smiling back at him. He hadn’t really noticed he was. “I like this whole family,” he said. Perhaps sensing the tenderness of the moment, the orange cat decided to collapse across Gabriel’s foot and began snoring thunderously. Before they left Aunt Mona’s house, Gabriel insisted on helping Mona clear the table. Suddenly the best of buddies, he and Mona gently refused Serena’s assistance and shooed her into the living room, where she passed the time petting the aggressive Gruyère and a shy but affectionate brown tabby named Gouda. A quarter of an hour later, they kissed Aunt Mona’s cheeks and promised to return within two 227

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weeks. Serena noticed Gabriel’s eyes returning frequently to the sides and rearview mirror as he drove. There was no danger, at least not yet; he was merely always watchful. As for her, her head practically sloshed, it was packed so full of informational droplets that had yet to freeze into coherent thoughts. “I really hope you have some kind of scientific explanation ready for me,” she said finally. “My aunt, the psychic? Isn’t she a little too female for that?” “One of the clan’s cohorts is a biologist. I imagine he could help flesh this out,” Gabriel said. Serena narrowed her eyes at him. “You obviously have a theory if you’re willing to drag us to discuss this with a biologist. Out with it.” He glanced at her before sweeping his eyes over the mirrors once again. “The big truth is, no one knows exactly how this all works. Once in a while, we see male hunters and female psychics, although it’s pretty rare. Simon has proposed…” “I know Simon!” Serena exclaimed. “Curly hair, accent, likes art?” “That’s the one. He gave a lecture a couple of months back about this phenomenon. He said he thought it has something to do with sex chromosomes. You know: Xs and Ys. I don’t really remember the details, but some people fall somewhere between your traditional male and female. Earlier today, I started thinking about his lecture and Aunt Mona and wondering if she might be one of these chromosomally nontraditional people.” After a long moment, Serena said slowly, “And less likely to be fertile. That’s how you knew Jamie and Jeremy were adopted.” He shrugged. “Just testing a theory.” 228

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“But if she’s somewhere in between, shouldn’t Aunt Mona be both a hunter and a psychic?” she asked. Gabriel shook his head. “I’m the last person to ask. We should have a conversation with Simon about it. Whether it’s chromosomal or something else, though, it’s pretty clear she’s a psychic.” “And so was my grandfather,” Serena said wonderingly. “Kind of makes you wonder how many psychics and hunters are running around out there, confused and upset about being so different.” He glanced at her again. “It sounds like helping track down these people might be a good project for someone to pursue.” Huh. She sank back into herself, wondering how to go about undertaking such a task. She would have to contact other mental health care professionals, perhaps ask more leading questions when discussing depression and suicide with her clients… “Why wasn’t my mother a hunter?” she asked suddenly. “I don’t know.” “You think…maybe she was? I knew her for seventeen years, but a lot of women learn to hide their strength. I went twenty-nine years without knowing about me, for god’s sake. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why she was so depressed…” Her voice trailed off. “Nothing is impossible,” Gabriel said gently. After a moment, she said hesitantly, “I, you know, wouldn’t mind finding and helping other people who are suffering because they feel different from other humans.” Gabriel nodded. “It’s a good project,” he repeated. She slumped again her seat, pondering the logistics of such an undertaking. It was a good project, a service not many human counselors could 229

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offer and a much-needed bridge between two very different worlds. She might not make a website about it—although hey, why not?—but she could definitely start talking to other counselors and psychiatrists. Assuming, of course, she managed to survive long enough to teach others how to do so. “How did you know my favorite color is yellow?” Serena asked him a while later. He knew she’d ask the tough questions sooner or later. “I can’t move cars with my mind or anything, but I pick up the occasional random factoid,” he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn to him, unsmiling. “And why is yellow my favorite color?” No answer like a truthful one, he supposed. “You read a study a decade or so ago about Americans’ favorite colors,” he said. “This part is a little fuzzy for me, but I gather yellow ranked really low. You felt sorry for yellow and decided you would be its champion.” “Jesus Christ,” she whispered. She looked away from him, out her passenger window. After a while she asked, while still looking away, “You know a bunch of these little things about me, don’t you?” “I do,” he agreed. “Like how I prefer oatmeal, my favorite juice. You even knew my favorite tea.” He glanced at her. After a long moment, he carefully said, “You never asked me how I knew what you did for a living. Or your last name. Or a bunch of minutiae.” She turned and stared at him. He wondered how a hunter raised as a human would deal with this. A minute stretched between them. Another. Finally, she sighed. “Damn spooky psychics,” she said. “Hard to keep secrets with you around.” “I didn’t know your first name when I met you,” 230

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he protested, but he was smiling. “I also had no idea you were wearing purple underclothes.” “Truly important details,” she said drily. “The facts I get are scattered, sometimes trivial. I knew how your hair would smell, how tall you are. I even know you didn’t lie about your weight on your driver’s license.” He was relieved when she laughed. “But I didn’t know the sound of your voice or that your ears are pierced twice.” “Whoa,” she breathed. She expelled her next breath noisily. “I thought you only saw the future.” He inhaled deeply, held his breath, remained silent for a long time. With her extra-sensitive hearing, he was surprised she couldn’t hear the clamor of his thoughts. Finally, and with a touch of self-disgust, he said, “It’s a bit more complicated than that.” “Is this something all psychics do?” “No.” “Is this something you do with everyone?” “No,” he said honestly, and glanced at her. Catching sight of her expression, he smiled very slightly; underneath her slight perplexity, she looked just the faintest bit smug.

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Chapter Fifteen The rhythm and monotony of Los Angeles freeways lulled Serena into deep introspection. Peter Yang, her aunt the psychic, the disconcerting revelation from Gabriel that he could undress her memories and psyche: everything slithered through her brain, winding around and battering long-held understandings and ways of making sense of her world. She knew the brain had no nerve endings; nonetheless, she was pretty sure she had a brainache. All of a sudden, she was jerked back into mindfulness as the car careened into the emergency lane. Gabriel stood on the brakes, throwing them both against their seatbelts, just before slamming the gear into park. Serena twisted in her seat, exclaiming wordlessly in surprise. She watched Gabriel, eyes closed, face scrunched in pain, buck against the back of his seat. His fists clenched tightly in his lap, and his face burned a bright, strained red, making his scars blaze in white stripes across his face and neck. Serena looked out all the windows, expecting to see a nearby car filled with leering leeches. What the hell had happened, was happening? She saw no one, nothing, except traffic as it whipped by, rocking the car. “Gabe?” she asked. He did not respond. “Gabriel!” Nothing. She leaned closer to him. “Are you okay? Gabriel?” His eyes opened so suddenly, she gasped and jumped back. The red was draining very slowly from 232

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his face. “Mia has Scott,” he said tightly, fists unclenching. “That was a vision?” Serena cried. “You’re okay?” He turned to her and nodded. “Mia has Scott,” he said again. “She’s been trying to call your cell phone.” “Oh, god,” Serena said. “I left it at the mansion.” “Let’s go get it,” he said, flipping on the turn signal and swerving back out into freeway traffic. Serena cupped her hands over her mouth, suddenly feeling equal amount of horror and nausea. Thanks to her, Scott’s life was in danger. Hers, too. Mia would want her to exchange her own life for Scott’s, of course, but how could she trust her? And if…when she did the right thing, wasn’t she condemning herself? I don’t want Scott to die, she thought, throat closing, breath snagging. But I don’t want to die, either. Her stomach roiled and bile rose in her throat. She swallowed repeatedly. Gabriel’s hand slid over her leg and grabbed hers. She squeezed tightly, felt him jerk slightly, remembered, and relaxed her grip. Superhuman strength, and she was still shaking in fear and horror. Jade met them at the door, face grim. “Scott slipped out a couple of hours ago,” she told them. “The council is not very happy.” “Mia has him,” Gabriel said shortly, striding toward his room. Goddamn Scott, sneaking away and getting himself kidnapped. “What the hell?” Jade snarled, her long legs effortlessly matching his stride. After glancing behind him and seeing Serena’s shorter legs pumping, he slowed down just a bit. “Mia,” he said. “We’re here to take her call on 233

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Serena’s cell phone.” “That traitorous bitch,” Jade spat. She continued walking with them. “I’d love to have the chance to finish grating those collagened lips on the concrete.” “Traitor?” Serena asked. Gabriel wasn’t the poster child of good health right now, and walking multiple hallways at a rapid pace swiftly winded him. He pushed on. “She betrayed us when she became a crossover,” Jade said. “We raised the dumb bitch, fed her, trained her to…” “I don’t understand,” Serena said. “Didn’t Gabe tell you about crossovers? Gabe, how could you…ah hell, never mind. I’ll tell you now, Serena. Don’t ask me to explain the science or magic or whatever behind it, but a hunter can go bad. All she has to do is intentionally and maliciously violate our credo—protect the sanctity of life, blah, blah, blah—and all of a sudden, she’s the best of both leech and hunter worlds: strong, fast, quick healing, and in possession of all those tasty fear-munching abilities.” Jade took a deep breath. “It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes a hunter decides to switch sides. The leeches love it, since they now have the equivalent of a superleech.” Serena was breathing heavily, but not, Gabriel knew, from the exertions of walking. “How does she become this superleech?” “She intentionally kills an innocent,” Gabriel said. “What, like a child?” “A human, the people we’re supposed to protect,” Jade said. Serena halted very suddenly, simply stopped walking right in the middle of the hallway. Gabriel and Jade glanced at each other in confusion and 234

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turned around to look at her. Her face was furious, her teeth clenched. “I’ve been pursued by this crossover superleech being, and no one told me all this till now?” she demanded. Other than when she was fighting, this was the angriest he’d ever seen her. “Why did you all keep me in the goddamn dark?” “Hey, girl, I’m sorry,” Jade said sincerely. “I thought you knew.” Serena looked at him then, and her eyes glittered with fury. He was surprised by her vehemence and ashamed of himself for forgetting to share this last bit of her new life with her. “I forgot, and that was stupid,” he said. He watched Angry Serena wrestle with Counselor Serena, one side desperate to rhapsodize on his stupidity and the other trained to mediate, moderate, and validate. Finally, she sighed grumpily and said, “I guess it’s done now. But didn’t it occur to anyone that this info is essential to this situation?” Gabriel and Jade stared at her for a moment. Gabriel got it first. “You think Mia isn’t trying to kill you; she wants to convert you.” “It makes sense to me,” Serena agreed. She walked past them. They followed. Once in Gabriel’s room, he and Jade hovered near the door while Serena strode to the nightstand where her phone was charging. She flipped it open, frowned, took a deep breath, and pressed a button. After a moment, she said. “Yes.” Shortly thereafter, she said, “Yeah, we know.” She looked up at Gabriel. “Yeah.” She took another deep breath. “Okay. We’re on our way.” She flipped the phone closed. Serena stared at him for a moment. Finally, she said, “She wants you and me, and no one else, to meet her ‘you know where.’ I told her I did.” “That damn college basement,” Jade said. “To 235

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hell with what she wants. I’ll be waiting outside with a team of hunters.” “She said she’ll have people watching to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Serena said quietly, grimly. “Then I’ll bring a bunch of twenty-year-old hunters, dress them in miniskirts and backpacks, and tell them to giggle a lot,” Jade snapped. “Bitch won’t know some of the transfer girls; she’s been gone for three years.” “Good plan,” Gabriel said. “Get it ready; leave in no more than fifteen minutes, preferably less.” Jade spun around, threw open the door, and literally ran out of the room. Gabriel shut the door behind her. Serena threw her dress over her head and drew on a loose pair of jeans. The T-shirt she chose, he noticed fondly, was bright pink. She grabbed her cell phone and Mia’s switchblade knife from the dresser top and slipped them into her pocket. “I never thought I’d ask this of a man I’m dating, but can I borrow a hair tie?” she asked, smiling slightly. He wasn’t sure why, but her remark warmed him. It was probably her use of the word “dating.” Lord, man, focus. Walking toward her, he grabbed her dress from the back of the loveseat, absently folded it, and placed it atop her suitcase. When Serena donned socks and slipped wellworn tennis shoes on her feet, she looked the picture of a hunter. Well, perhaps minus the eye-searingly bright shirt, but that was the uniqueness of Serena the Hunter. “As for the hair band,” he said. “They’re in the bathroom drawer. I’ll change really quick and meet you in the foyer in a second.” Serena nodded absently and slipped out the room. Ten minutes later, they pulled off the property 236

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in the same car in which they’d just arrived. Politically correct or not, Serena felt relieved to let Gabriel drive while she tried to deep breathe her way into a more sedate heart rate. Initially, they were both silent, each treading through their own churning thoughts. Finally, Gabriel spoke. “If you’re right about Mia, this is good news. She has nothing to gain by killing you.” Serena bit her bottom lip. “But she could use you or Scott as leverage. She specifically ordered me to bring you. That’s not a coincidence. She wants to use you against me somehow.” “Then don’t let her,” Gabriel said calmly. She threw a confused and slightly annoyed expression at him. “I’m not the one in charge here,” she reminded him. “Yes,” he said firmly, “you are. You have what she needs, which makes you the most powerful person in the room.” She didn’t feel very empowered. “But she has Scott,” she reminded him. “And you have you,” he said. “Stalemate. Don’t assume she has the power; you’re at least equal here. She can’t call the shots when you know you have bargaining chips, too.” “Having you there swings the balance; she knows about you and me,” she said. “You should stay behind.” “She threatened Scott if you showed up without me, though, didn’t she?” Serena sighed and slammed her fist down on her thigh. “Yeah.” “Okay, then, how about you let me take care of me, and you focus on you and Scott?” She snuck a glance at him. When she spoke, she was disgusted to hear her voice shake, just a little. “I didn’t even start my training.” His eyes flicked to her and then back to the 237

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road. “You’ve beat the hell out of two leeches so far. I believe in you. Besides, you have an advantage they don’t have.” She raised her eyebrows. “What’s that?” “Your witty counseling repartee.” She chuckled. “By that logic, I should thank my lucky stars for growing up a repressed Catholic girl. I have a lot of anger and guilt to project.” “That’s the spirit!” He smiled at her. She smiled back, even if it was a little shaky. “Do you always provide pep talks on your missions?” His mouth snagged into a tiny smile. “I’m not much of the talking type with most people, Reenie.” “Well, thanks for talking to me,” she said quietly. “Just remember you’re at least as powerful in this situation. Don’t give up any advantage, no matter how much she threatens you or what she says about me.” Don’t be badgered into giving up any advantage. Huh. “Kind of like in the cop shows when the villain says, ‘Throw down your gun or the broad gets it!’ and the idiot cop does it?” she asked, smiling. “Um, sure,” he said. Not ten minutes later, they pulled in front of the college’s administration building. Serena was humiliated when her teeth began chattering. God, some hunter she was. “I forgot to pay my parking ticket,” she tried to joke, but the words were stiff and breathy. Gabriel parked the car in a metered space and shut off the engine. In the sudden quiet, Serena took several deep breaths. “Okay,” she whispered, not looking at him, “let’s go.” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “No,” Gabriel said quietly. He also unbuckled his belt and turned to face her. “Hold on a minute while I tell you something.” 238

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Confused, she turned slightly in her seat as well. Gabriel, perhaps imbued with the worst sense of timing in the world, looked slightly nervous. My god, the man wasn’t choosing now to be tender, was he? She enjoyed romance as much as anyone, but now really wasn’t a chocolate and roses kind of moment. Gabriel, his normally stoic face pinched very slightly with tension, looked at her, and suddenly his face smoothed into a smile. “Quit looking so horrified. Everything is going to be okay,” he said. He was comforting her with a platitude? “Thanks,” she said, and patted his hand. “We should—” “Hold on,” he said, smiling. “I’m not reassuring you. I’m telling you. You’re going to be fine, I’m going to be fine. We’re going to survive.” She caught her breath. “Are you saying you’ve had a vision and know this?” He nodded and grabbed her hand. “I need to tell you something. I know this seems like a stupid time, and it is. I should have said this earlier, but I’m finding I can sometimes be a coward. I haven’t seen this situation before today, but I have seen several beyond it.” He took a deep breath and looked down briefly at their hands, another nervous gesture that surprised her. “I’ve seen us, Reenie, and we get older together. I don’t know how much older, but we age.” Her lips separated on a breath. “And I’d give you all the time in the world to decide if we’re supposed to be together, but—” He smiled at her. “—I already know we do.” He leaned toward her, and she saw his pulse throbbing wildly in his right temple. “I shouldn’t say any of this; psychics are not supposed to divulge anything that won’t directly save someone. But I want you to know 239

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that you and I leave this situation alive. And I know you love me. You know I love you. You don’t have to say anything now, but we both know. And you finally let me marry you. We don’t live happily ever after, because that doesn’t exist, but we belong to each other, and we’re content.” Serena stared at him, too stunned, too flummoxed, too relieved and angry and baffled and a hundred other feelings, to say anything. “One more thing, and then we’ll go,” he said, still holding her hand, her tough, taciturn, bossy Gabriel still looking earnest and vulnerable. “I wasn’t forthright with you when you asked me this afternoon how I knew all those details about you. My information is spotty, as I said, but I’ve been collecting it for twenty years or more.” “Collecting it on me?” she whispered stupidly. “Yeah.” “But I was nine.” He smiled again. “Not in my visions. You were this age and older. Over the years, I came to know several things about you, this woman who would come into my life. I didn’t know when, and I didn’t know your first name and a million other things. But I saw you in a hundred different scenarios, always through my older self’s eyes. I waited for this beautiful healer to come heal me and be healed. I’ve been waiting for you since I was a young teen. “I’ll tell you more when you want to hear it,” he said quietly. “I know this isn’t the best time or place for this, but I need you to know that, whatever happens in there, whatever words and violence we endure, we survive.” He twisted his lips into a brief smile. “And eventually you come to your senses and stop making me wait for you.” Serena licked her lips, rubbed a hand absently over her mouth. After drawing in another deep breath, she said very quietly, “Let’s go.” 240

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They exited the car. As they walked toward the side of the building, Serena spoke without looking at him, “Thank you for that. Those were beautiful words. I believe you, and I also appreciate your attempt to reassure me. “But didn’t you also say when I first met you that you see possibilities, not necessarily the reality?” Gabriel did not respond. When she glanced at him, he did not meet her eyes. They descended the stairs and approached the room where they had met. The tortured door still rocked limply on its cracked hinges; perhaps the university lacked the funds to repair or replace it. Before they reached the door, Gabriel considered stopping Serena, grabbing her hand, telling her he loved her. He didn’t. He’d told her everything she needed to hear—and probably a whole lot more. Any attempts for him to touch her, reassure her wouldn’t be about comforting her but soothing his own fears of losing her. Instead of touching her, he thrust his right hand into the pocket of his leather jacket and palmed a switchblade. His left pocket contained his trusty stun gun. He also remembered Jade’s plan and hoped she and her coterie of giggling killers were close by. Serena continued stiffly in front of him, never glancing around her or at him. She reached the door and, face frozen into impassivity, walked right in. He followed directly behind her. Serena stared straight in front of her at Mia and Scott, but Gabriel’s eyes darted around the room in search of hidden leeches, traps, anything that might endanger them or in some way tip the balance of the situation. No leeches clung to the cement ceiling, the walls remained as shadowed and bare as before, and since their last visit, someone had cleaned the floor 241

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of blood. Finally, he turned most of his attention to Mia, whose group stood between them and the boiler. If they had hidden anything, it was behind the boiler. God, it was hot in here. He’d almost forgotten how stifling, how oppressive the heat was. It rolled through his nostrils in billowing, scalding waves and coated his lungs with damp heat. About fifteen feet away from them, looking like nothing so much as a spa attendee, luxuriating in the damp heat while waiting for someone to deliver her white robe and slippers, posed Mia. This creature, with her pouty, perfectly painted lips—he couldn’t help but remember Jade’s snipe about collagen—taut skin, and exaggerated curves, looked to him like some reality show vixen. Even her stance—weight resting on straightened right leg, left leg stretching before her, hand resting on hips that were probably exactly ten inches bigger around than her waist—smacked of cheap, comically exaggerated, artificial womanhood. She looked like a picture from one of those entertainment rags, not like a real woman, a lover, a friend. And really, what had driven this woman, a seasoned fighter, to wear her hair long and unbound? Looming just behind her, wrists bound behind his back, stood Scott. He looked miserable, the moron: just as guilty and scared as he should. Aside from tousled blond hair, he looked otherwise unharmed. Behind Scott stood three leeches. Shar was not among them; he sincerely hoped Serena had inflicted permanent damage on her. However, the leech calling himself Terryl was, as were two others from the initial mission. One he recognized as Kenyon, a tall, middle-aged, disturbingly broad black man. The other was a petite, quietly smiling young white 242

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woman with, he was gratified to see, her light brown hair pulled into a braid in the back. Four against two. Not exactly fair, but not insurmountable, either, especially with Jade nearby. After pausing to let them take in her smooth, plastic beauty, Mia smiled broadly. “Thanks for coming,” she said warmly. “Serena, you’re looking lovely. Gabriel, I’m thrilled you’re up and about. Shar can’t yet say the same, unfortunately, but she did ask me to send her regards.” Serena remained silent, staring intently at Mia. The moment stretched. “Really, you two could use some manners,” Mia said, frowning in a way that somehow managed to emphasize her full lips. He had a sneaking suspicion he and Serena were on the receiving end of a wellrehearsed pout. “What’s the game plan?” Gabriel asked. Serena continued to stare blank faced at Mia. “Well, if I have my way, our group will walk out of here in ten minutes after having messily killed both of you,” Mia said, winking. “No,” Serena said calmly. “He means the real game plan. I know what you are, Mia, and I know why the leeches want me. So let’s quit BS-ing, shall we?” Mia smirked. “Oh, cutie, you couldn’t handle the truth if it dipped itself in caramel.” “Let’s talk,” Serena said, ignoring Mia’s taunt. “You want me, right? Remember our deal last time? You release Scott, and I promise you can have me.” Mia pursed her lips, tilted her head, and tapped her finger to her lips in an exaggerated mimicry of thought. “Hmm,” she drawled. “Tempting. And very fair, to be sure. But I think I’m going to have to decline your generous offer.” Serena looked at her, face smooth of any expression. 243

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“Sweetie, you have no idea how much of your life over the past week has been shaped by me. Nothing you’ve done has been without my approval, from finding out you’re a hunter in a most dramatic way—nice door, by the way!—to falling for poor, scarred Gabriel. So please don’t start thinking you can make deals with me. You’re exactly where I want you.” Mia smiled sweetly at Serena. Serena smiled back at her. “I still have me, so as far as I’m concerned, let’s not take deals off the table.” Mia started to look a little annoyed with her. Pointing at Serena, she said with a tinge of sharpness, “You only have you because I set up this whole situation for you to find out your heritage. You should be thanking me for my gifts.” Serena tilted her head. “How did you know?” she asked softly. Ever the mistress of the situation, Mia managed an exaggeratedly bored and languorous stretch toward the ceiling. “Oh, Serena, my love,” she said, smiling, “we have so many resources you could take advantage of. Imagine: A whole list of latent hunters and psychics! Imagine helping us find them, guiding them through their own transformations. Helping them finally find the freedom to be themselves. You’re one of the first; we knew with your background, you’d be perfect at helping us help these people.” “The freedom to become crossovers?” Serena asked mildly. “Exactly. You’ve been brainwashed by the council and the others. We’re not evil, Serena. I know my methods were harsh, but my intentions were good. I wanted you to have complete freedom to become the person you’re meant to be. Hunters and psychics spend their entire lives fighting us, training, denying themselves everything. Imagine 244

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being a hunter but also being free to live life as you want, true to all the powers buried in you.” Serena snorted. “I can’t help but notice you’re not giving me a lot of choice in this freedom. Standing two feet behind you is my friend. What happens to Scott if I turn around and walk away from you, from Gabriel, from all this?” A giant, megawatt grin brightened Mia’s face. “Is that what’s holding you back? Then, sweetie, wait to be dazzled, because I hereby promise on my mother’s grave not to harm a hair on Scott’s pretty little head.” “Your mother is alive and well,” Gabriel remarked. She sent a brief glare his way. “Okay, then, I pinky promise, I swear to heaven and hell, whatever you want, neither I nor my gang will hurt sweet Scott in any way.” “Okay, then,” Serena said, eyes narrowing. “Let him go.” Mia shrugged. “Abracadabra, alakazam, voulez vous coucher. You’re now free to go, Scott.” She took a step away from him. Gabriel’s heart sped up. Next to him, Serena took a small step forward before stopping herself. Standing fifteen feet in front of them, a beatific smile blossoming across his face, Scott flexed his shoulders and brought his hands to the front. He clasped them together in front of his heart, like a little boy saying a prayer. Instead of a prayer book, though, this little boy clutched a Glock 26. Still smiling, he pointed it at Gabriel and squeezed the trigger.

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Chapter Sixteen Serena smiled back at Scott. Something was up, she knew, but if she could get him free before Mia sprang her trap, she was pretty certain she could take care of herself. When she saw the gun in his hands, she internally cheered. He’d snuck it from one of the leeches. Good job, Scott! she mentally cheered. Her smile turned into a grin as she watched him lift the gun and aim in Mia’s general direction, although maybe not quite far enough to the right… BOOMBOOM! Beside her, Gabriel fell. The world shrank to a tiny collage of too-bright colors and disjointed sounds. A scream echoed, louder than anything she’d ever experienced, loud enough to halt the world in its rotation. The Earth stopped; her body tilted forward. She looked down in horror but, because he was wearing all black, his damn black, she couldn’t tell where Gabriel had been shot. He lay on the ground at her feet, not moving, not breathing, his scars pale against his reddened face. His chest wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed. His mouth lay open, slack and dry. He was still. A pair of arms surrounded her. “Shh, shh, shh,” a soft voice said. The body shuddered against her. Serena stood stiffly for a moment, her mind numb, her body rigid. She heard the sound of her breathing in her ears, breathing that Gabriel wasn’t doing. Her lungs hurt. She lifted her eyes, saw who was holding her. She pushed away, but weakly. “Get away from me,” she murmured through lips that throbbed with every 246

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heartbeat. “Don’t be mad at me,” Mia whispered, huge green eyes brimming with tears. “Scott killed him, Serena.” Scott, Scott, Scott. She repeated the name so many times in her head, it stopped making sense. The world was fuzzy, gray, hot. Scott, Scott, Scott. “Scott killed Gabriel,” Mia whispered, her eyes two green oceans that leaked rivers of sorrow, compassion, and kindness. Scott killed him. Scott, Scott… “Did it work?” a voice asked. Serena raised blank eyes and stared into the fevered blue eyes of her friend. Scott, his hands twisting, stood a few feet in front of her. “He did it,” Mia whispered, and Serena snapped her eyes back to Mia’s. “Serena?” Scott asked tentatively. “Do you feel any different?” She looked back at him. Scott. Scott killed Gabriel. The pinpoint of light exploded around her, bringing the world back into stark, overwhelming, agonizing focus. Serena screamed again and backhanded Scott. His head snapped backward, and he slammed to the ground. His eyes were wide and terrified as she walked slowly toward him. His cheek was bright red and already swelling. “Serena!” he cried. “It’s me!” Scott. He did it. She drew a foot back to kick him. The moment before her foot made contact with his ribs, some small part of her softened the blow into one that bruised rather than cracked. She growled through clenched teeth, most of her wanting to kick, punch, tear, and bite until those eyes were no longer blue, till those arms could no longer support their own weight, let alone that of a gun. And yet… 247

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Serena circled Scott’s prone form, walking quickly, agitatedly. She waited for the internal struggle to quiet, for her mind to shut down completely so she could continue tearing him apart. Scott watched her with huge, terrified eyes from which tears ran in fat droplets. Round and round she walked, teeth bared, fists clenched into white battering rams. Her eyes never left his. “Please don’t,” he whispered. “I did it to help you.” Her stomach burned with the need to jump on this man and make him pay, make him suffer, hurt him, make him bleed, kick and smash and pound and gouge and crack. She groaned in pain, head aching, fists itching, leg muscles cramping, but she maintained her circuit. Finally, she stopped. Scott cringed, pulling himself into as small a target as he could. She stared at him, trying to remember to breathe. “Why?” she snarled, leaning toward him. “To free you!” he cried. “Everything I did was for you.” “Why?” “Because I love you!” “Why did you kill him?” He cringed, and more tears squirted from his eyes. “It was the only way to free you. To become a crossover, you need to feel great pain, great fury, embrace that part of you. I wanted you to be free, Serena, to live the life you want.” Something was wrong with his argument, but she couldn’t focus on it long enough. “You killed him,” she hissed, leaning closer. Scott sobbed and wrapped his arms around his head. “I love you for who you are, Serena, not for who I want you to be, how well you fit into my world,” he said quickly, his voice muffled against his arm. “I helped Mia set you free so we could be 248

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together, you and me, living lives free from expectations and constraints. I love you.” She was breathing hard. “Don’t,” she growled through teeth that ground together, “ever say that again.” A soft hand smelling softly of lavender soap slipped over her shoulder, rubbed across the back of her neck. She turned her head and stared into loving green eyes. “What are you waiting for, sweetie?” Mia asked gently. “Scott killed Gabriel. You know there’s only one way to make sure he never hurts anyone again.” Her words made perfect sense, were untainted with the cloudiness and ambivalence coloring the rest of the world. Serena nodded slowly in agreement. “Mia!” Scott gasped, and Serena looked back at him. Her lip curled back from her teeth. “What are you doing?” “He did it,” Mia whispered. “Stop him from doing it again.” Serena’s body trembled, pulled in two different directions. Hurt, punish, make him stop. “Serena, don’t listen to her! You can’t hurt me! I set you free!” Stop, breathe, listen, think. “He killed him.” “Mia told me to! She said it was the only way to help you cross over!” Mia’s hand massaged the back of her neck. “He did it.” Stop, silence, listen, hurt. “I did everything for you!” She closed her eyes. Eventually you come to your senses and stop making me wait for you. Come to your senses, Reenie. She opened her eyes, looked briefly at Mia’s 249

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mien, which brimmed with sympathetic sorrow and pain, and snapped her elbow into her gorgeous face. Mia stumbled backward but did not fall down. Serena stared at her tanned, perfectly formed forehead—finally remembering to avoid her eyes— and growled at her, “You set me up.” For once, Mia did not smile, choosing instead to tenderly rub her jaw. “I said that earlier. Weren’t you listening?” “How much of this…” “All of it,” Mia bit off. “I approached Scott, we organized the initial phone call and meeting. I arranged for you to spend hours locked up with Scott—after we messed you two up a bit, of course— but Gabriel and Jade showed up. But hey, it worked out much better than I thought, since Scott was obviously delusional, thinking you were on the verge of falling in love with him.” Mia rolled her eyes at the folly of malekind. “But Gabriel—I couldn’t have ordered a better situation. I improvised, subbed Gabriel in my plans for the obviously inferior Scott, and it all worked out beautifully. “Everything, Serena, was me. Scott told me where you were, I showed up to scare you. Ooga booga, and all that. You know, send you into the arms of your man. Bonding experiences, having to defend him, hospital vigils. I even let you beat up Shar. I owe you for that, by the way. For all the stuff that sells Hallmark cards, you have me to thank.” “Oh, I’m eternally grateful,” Serena spat. Mia grinned at her, teeth flashing whitely. “Without me, you’d still be an inconsequential little human, toiling about your tiny life, steeped in selfimportance and insignificance, a walking buffet for those like me. This way, you got to meet Gabriel, realize you’re so much more than human, experience the exquisite pain of loss, decide how to punish Scott for his treachery.” 250

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“You set all this up to get me to kill Scott and cross over,” Serena said flatly. “Damn elaborate plan, but it worked pretty decently. Better than I expected, actually, especially in the middle. The original plan had you falling for Scott, arranging for a human to kill him—maybe a mugging or something—and having you to kill the human in retaliation. This way worked even better, or at least I thought it did. Maybe having you kill your friend was asking a little much. I thought the treachery would push you over the edge, and it almost did, but you pulled back. Hey, this is my first crossover mission. We all live and learn, you know?” Mia suddenly smiled coquettishly, an expression meant to highlight the dimples she didn’t have. “I don’t suppose I can still convince you to kill this sniveling coward that betrayed you? Imagine a life where you’re strong and fast and have a neverending food supply. It’s a peaceful life, all in all, minus the occasional hunters.” Serena smiled at her. “How could I live a selfish life like that, give up helping others, abandon everything I’ve worked so hard for? I’m Catholic, Mia; try to imagine the guilt.” She glanced down at Gabriel’s still form. Her smile faded, her eyes narrowed. “Besides, Mia, you did it. You killed Gabriel. You, Mia.” Mia adjusted her stance very slightly in anticipation for the attack. “You want to pretend it was more me than Scott? Have at it. But, Serena, do you really think you stand a chance fighting me? We’re physically matched, and I’ve had years of combat training.” Serena nodded slowly. “True. But I grew up never knowing my father and losing my mother to suicide when I was seventeen. Talk about abandonment issues. Imagine all the reservoirs of rage you helped me tap when you took Gabe away, 251

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too.” She took a calm step toward Mia. “You’re messed up,” Mia hissed, stepping back. “I just said that. Weren’t you listening?” She increased her speed, then, and feigned a right-armed punch, which Mia blocked. It wasn’t pretty or particularly fair, but she also raised her foot and smashed it into Mia’s knee, a place she’d learned was especially vulnerable. Mia hopped back from her. She glanced behind Serena, which was all the warning Serena needed to duck and move to the side. She swiveled a neat ninety degrees in order to keep both Mia and the other person, which turned out to be her old friend, Terryl, in her line of vision. Terryl smiled and waved at her. Likely unaware of the TV-prescribed order of attack, which included fighting one on one sequentially, Mia and Terryl attacked simultaneously. Not fair, but unfortunately effective. Serena ducked to avoid Mia’s face punch, and Terryl raised a knee and caught her under the chin. Her teeth clacked together, hard, as a spiky ball of pain rolled through her head. Serena staggered back and, as they pursued her, used the side of her foot to connect with Terryl’s stomach. He doubled over with an “Oomph.” Mia brought her fist down on Serena’s shin, a shockingly painful move that threw Serena off balance once again. She fell back once again as she hopped and windmilled, desperate to remain standing. As she regained her balance, a loud noise startled her into looking to the right. Jade and three other, brightly-clad young hunters had entered the room and were engaging the remaining leeches, including a recovered Terryl. She felt a grim satisfaction, not because their presence ensured victory but because now she could fight Mia without fear of intervention. 252

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At the very last moment, she saw the fist speeding toward her face. Serena turned her head to minimize the blow, and Mia’s fist grated along her jawline to her ear. Her head swiveled painfully on her neck, and she kicked out blindly, only hoping to make some kind of contact. Mia grunted, and Serena felt her own lips pull back from her teeth. Turning her head, she saw Mia’s other arm slamming toward her face. She grabbed it and tried to twist it around Mia’s back and into some kind of hold, but Mia danced around, wriggling her arm, hissing in pain as it twisted in other ways. Serena wrenched Mia’s arm as hard as she could in a direction it wasn’t meant to go, and Mia screamed. At the same time, she kicked Mia as hard as she could in her new favorite spot: the knee. Mia’s free hand rose, and Serena saw it coming toward her but was literally too wrapped up in holding Mia to stop it. Her uppercut caught Serena on the jaw again, and for a moment, Serena was overwhelmed with pain, the hot, throbbing sensations drowning out the other four of her senses. She was momentarily frozen before once again remembering her new favorite hobby; she kicked Mia’s knee. Snarling, Mia placed her free hand against Serena’s chest and shoved her as hard as she could. It should have been ineffective, but Serena’s face, her head, still swam in a purple, gauzy haze of pain, and a part of her welcomed to opportunity to let go and rub her tender face. The two women stared at each other, glaring, swelling, hobbling in a small circle as they waited for the other to attack. Serena had a vague awareness of other sounds of combat but was too preoccupied, too focused, too damn enraged to take her eyes off Mia. Mia suddenly plunged her hand into her pocket and withdrew a knife. She rushed Serena, flicking 253

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open the switchblade as she lunged. Serena dodged, throwing up her arms for protection, and felt the knife skitter along her forearm. The pain was icy and sharp. Serena brought her arms down swiftly, hammering Mia’s hands and arms. Her blood slicked over them both. Serena darted back and pulled Mia’s old knife from her own pocket. Mia’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. They each held aloft their knives in their right hands, walking in a tight, counterclockwise circle as if led by their knife arms. Finally, Mia darted in, thrusting rather than slashing, and Serena almost fell over as she twisted to avoid the blade. As it was, it pierced her side. Her arms flew in front of her in order to help her maintain her balance; as soon as she stabilized, she punched Mia’s ribs. She heard a crack, a sound more beautiful to her than any sonata. Drunk on that beautiful sound, she stepped forward when she should have retreated, desperate to hear more, more. Like the amateur she was, she threw herself against the confused and disconcerted Mia, barely feeling the knife’s icy plunge into her abdomen. She clasped Mia to her, trapping her arms inside the iron-like circle of her own, smashing her head against the woman’s perfect face. She knew she made a keening sound but couldn’t focus on it for more than a millisecond. The knife had dropped from her hand. She was possessed with a rage that only flesh against flesh could slake. Her arms tightened; Mia wriggled and bit; Serena’s forehead and crown met cartilage, bone, and teeth; Mia tried to kick her but was too close, too intimate. A warm, sticky redness flowed over her eyes and into her mouth. Through the liquid in her mouth, she continued her eerie wail. She hugged Mia even tighter to her, feeling and hearing the shifting and cracking of bones. 254

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Mia screamed. Serena keened. Instead of flailing against her, beating and pounding her, Serena kept her arms wrapped tightly around Mia’s chest. Mia stopped screaming. Serena’s arms trembled and burned. Mia started convulsing in her arms. After a moment, Serena let Mia drop to the ground. She wasn’t dead; she’d passed out from lack of oxygen. Serena looked up from Mia’s slack form and found four hunters staring at her, two in sympathetic rage, two with unreadable expressions. The three leeches lay motionless on the hot, salty concrete floor. She didn’t care if they were dead or not. Scott pressed himself against the far wall, cradling his gun in his hands. Jade’s mouth trembled as she took a hesitant step toward her. “Status,” she quietly commanded. “Gabe’s dead,” Serena said quietly, gesturing toward the fallen black form. A hunter handed her a wadded-up article of clothing, which she used to wipe her face, to press against the bite wounds on her neck and face. “Scott betrayed us.” She looked down at her own shirt, which pressed wetly against her leaking stomach and chest. “I think Mia stabbed me.” Jade caught the eye of one of the hunters and jerked her head toward Scott. A tall, lanky woman with severely spiky hair approached him and gently took the gun from his hands. Jade nodded quickly, stiffly, at Serena. “Let’s get you to a healer.” Serena smiled at her with tender warmth and affection. “No, thanks,” she said gently. “I’d really rather stay here right now.” Arm pressed against her throbbing, flowing stomach wound, she limped to 255

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Gabriel and sat down beside him. She continued to wipe the blood from her head, her hair, her neck, face, and hands. “You’re in shock, you fool,” Jade snapped, but her voice trembled and tears glittered in her eyes. Serena nodded gently at her. “I know,” she said. After a pause, she said quietly, “I can’t believe how stupid I was. Can you believe the pure idiocy of holding back from Gabriel instead of enjoying every single second? What a stupid, stupid woman I am.” She looked at Scott. “Freedom isn’t ignoring your responsibilities or wallowing in personal gratification. It’s being strong and smart enough to seek a balance between your rights and others’, to unhook yourself from the past and live the life that’s happening, to find meaning and contentment in serving others and yourself equally. “I wasted it. I had freedom to recreate myself into someone new and happy, someone who could serve humanity in multiple ways and be with someone I respect and love, and I was too scared. I am a fool.” Pressed against Gabriel’s side, she stared blankly in front of her, content to sit here for a few hours, or forever, or until Mia woke up. Whatever. “That was quite a soliloquy.” Serena gasped, and her aching head jerked around. Gabriel’s eyes were still closed. But…she’d heard him—she’d heard him. “Are you dead?” she whispered tremulously, and poked his arm. “No,” he whispered back, still not opening his eyes. She fell back, scrambled in her effort to lean over him, and ended up falling messily, bloodily onto his chest. His breath exploded out of his lungs with a pained groan. “Are you faking it?” she shrieked, detaching herself from his chest and placing her face mere 256

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inches from his. Her eyes flicked over his face, looking for more signs of animation. “Being alive or being dead?” he wheezed, and finally opened his eyes. “You look horrible.” Serena stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment, and then laughed, albeit a little shrilly. She kissed his cheek, his nose, his lips, his eyebrow, the scar bisecting his upper lip. “You faked it!” she accused him, laughing and crying. “You bastard!” She kissed his lips again. “I’m gonna kick your ass.” “I did not,” he protested, but he was smiling. “One of the bullets slammed against my diaphragm, I think. I couldn’t breathe, I hit my head; something made me pass out. The next thing I know Jade was ordering a status check.” “Kevlar, Gabe?” Jade called, and Serena heard the laughter in her voice. “Kevlar,” he agreed. “How did you know? Or do you always wear a vest?” Serena asked breathlessly. She touched his face to make sure it was warm and moving, that she wasn’t having some kind of auditory hallucination. Her bloody hand left more smears of red across his cheek. “I saw it in the vision. I didn’t see who did it, but I knew someone shot me in the chest.” He paused. “Are you okay, Reenie? You have blood in your hair. And may I get up now?” “No,” Serena snapped. “You can explain why you didn’t tell me, why you let me think you were dead. I thought you were dead, Gabriel.” Her teeth clacked together in some kind of delayed reaction. “I know, honey,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t let anyone know. Leeches feed off grief and pain; they’d know if you were faking it.” She stared at him, his earnest, scarred, beautiful face, and she couldn’t decide whether to 257

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punch or kiss him. Finally, she lightly punched his arm. “Don’t you ever, ever, ever do that to me again,” she said quietly. “I mean it.” “I know. And ouch.” She smiled at him, and his image rippled before her. She pulled back slightly, trying to keep from baptizing this moment with an embarrassing waterworks display. The room was hot, but her sweat was cold. Her stomach wound felt oddly chilly to her. “I love you,” she said quietly. “Yeah, I know,” he said, smiling. “I’ve made my decision about us,” she pointed out. “I got that from the speech.” “You wanna get married?” Gabriel pursed his lips together. “I’m going to need some time to think about it.” She chuckled, and it sounded weak and watery even to her. “Time’s up.” “Okay,” he said. “How about next week?” she whispered. “You read my mind.” “Gabe?” she breathed. “Mm-hmm?” “I don’t feel very well.” She lay carefully down beside him. Gabriel sat up, winced, and took a good look at her. He shouted something at her, at Jade, at the room in general. Serena closed her eyes and smiled. She heard movement around her, listened to agitated voices, felt someone take her hand. Mia, Scott, medical care, cleanup: there was a lot left to do. But she’d done her part; she let the others take care of the rest. **** Serena groaned and stretched. Her eyelids 258

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fluttered open, and her face stretched into a sweet, lazy smile. “Mornin’,” she rasped. Gabriel quietly closed his book. She squinted her eyes against the soft light of the bedside lamp. “Are we in your room?” she asked. “Yeah.” She closed her eyes, stretched again, and nodded. “What time is it?” “Around two in the morning.” He sat next to her on the bed, propped up against the headboard. He placed his book on the bedside table. “Did I dream all that?” she asked him, eyes still closed. “If so, you have a scary imagination.” She opened her eyes again. “Are you okay?” Her left hand moved gently to his chest. “Bruised but alive. How are you?” “Tired but alive.” She sat up, looked at him for a moment, and then snuggled against his chest. “What about Mia and the others?” “Against my wishes, the council told us to leave Mia alive,” Gabriel said in disgust. “They seem to think the leeches needed to know pursuing you was a waste of time. I told them an email would suffice, but they didn’t listen.” She took a deep, deep breath. “And Scott?” Gabriel remained silent for a moment before finally saying, “Human life is sacred to us; it’s why we fight the leeches. But when they ally themselves with the leeches and try to harm us or other humans, their lives are forfeit under our laws. He tried to kill me; his punishment was my choice.” Serena’s breath left her in a sigh. Slowly, she nodded. “Okay.” “I left him there,” Gabriel said. “I figured either he could flee or the leeches could sort it all out.” “Thank you.” 259

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His arm tightened around her. “You’re welcome.” After a long moment, she said, “Do I seem to remember you begging me to marry you?” Against her ear, his chest rumbled in a chuckle. “You were helpless to resist my magnetism.” “We should call Aunt Mona and tell her. Then again, she probably already knows by now. Damn spooky psychics.” Silence. “Gabriel?” “Yes?” “Does that silence mean what I think it means?” “Your aunt and I might have already chatted in the kitchen,” he confessed. “However, you’ll be happy to know we have her blessing.” Silence. “And I love you,” he added. She chuckled. “Always a good save,” she told him. After a moment, she said, “I have—” “One more question,” Gabriel said quietly. “I’ve been waiting for this one.” “Yeah?” “Free will, right?” She nodded. “How can I trust you love me when you think you were destined to marry me?” Gabriel inhaled deeply. “First of all, a very wise woman once reminded me that we future seers tend to see possibilities, not inevitabilities. I knew my visions of you, of us, might not happen. I hoped they would, since they were pretty damn great, but I didn’t know for sure. “You worry that I love you because of the visions, but I didn’t believe fully in them until I got to know you.” Serena pulled away from him and stared for a moment. She glanced away, looked back at him, and finally said, “Talking suits you.” Gabriel cracked a 260

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small smile. She inhaled to say something more, made a disgusted noise, and sniffed again. “Is that me?” she asked. “We washed your hands and face, but we couldn’t give you a shower. You have some dried blood in your hair.” She sat up. “Eww. I think I’ll jump in the shower.” She gave him an exaggerated wink. “Want to join me?” He grinned at her. “Flattered, but not all of us have hunter healing powers. Besides, I haven’t slept yet.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “I’ll catch you tomorrow, then. We need to fit as much hot, single sex in as possible before we become old married fogies.” “Tomorrow,” he agreed, and stretched out on the bed. “Good night,” she whispered, getting to her feet. “Night.” “Sweet dreams.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “They are.”

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Epilogue A few months later By the end of their session, the woman had promised Serena she would share some of her concerns with her partner. It wasn’t a life-changing decision, but it was a step forward, and Serena found it an immensely gratifying end to their discussion. Flouting professionalism, Serena briefly and intensely hugged the shorter woman. “Brynn is a lucky woman,” she said. “I keep trying to tell her,” Sage joked. She pulled back. “You ready to head back home?” “Nadia and I will lock up, and then we’re out of here,” Serena said. She shoved her paperwork into a slightly neater pile on the right corner of her desk. Feeling as though she’d managed to accomplish some essential administrative work, she nodded to Sage to open the office door. Sage grinned, hand on the doorknob. “Ready for tonight’s fun?” she asked. “We’re learning some new moves.” “Um, yay?” With some maneuvering, Sage managed to open the door. “Hey, somebody’s gotta keep Gabriel out of trouble, right?” “Someone needs to,” a voice from the waiting room said. They squeezed out of Serena’s office. “Hey, Serena,” Nadia said. “Some guy walked in off the street asking for you.” She grinned at her husband. “Come to take me 262

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home?” “I thought I’d give Sage the night off,” he replied. “I’m out of here, then. Hey, Gabriel. Bye, Nadia. See you tonight at practice, Serena,” Sage said, tipping an imaginary hat and disappearing out the front door. “You two newlyweds drive off into the sunset together,” Nadia said. “I’ll close up shop. Hasta mañana, amigos.” “Buenas noches, Nadia,” Serena said, throwing her a kiss. Gabriel nodded and smiled his farewell. They left the building and walked to the car. Serena linked her arm through Gabriel’s. “Nice to see you,” she said. “Same here. Plus, I thought we could discuss the agenda for tonight’s meeting on the way home,” he said in his quiet, raspy voice. She groaned. “Tonight is a busy one. Is there no rest for the wicked?” “Or the weary.” Gabriel drove them home. He still claimed to feel more comfortable because he’d had defensive driving education and experience, but she knew that, all excuses aside, he simply hated to hand over control. She chose to indulge him. They discussed ideas for the meeting Gabriel had called for this evening. The council had put him in charge of finding out more about the list of potential hunters Mia had mentioned. He’d appointed Serena as his second, and together they devised plans for gathering more information about, and ultimately thwarting, the leeches’ plans to find and corrupt “sleepers,” a term Gabriel had coined to refer to hunters and psychics who remained unaware of their talents. Between this, her full-time job—which now included hunter and psychic as well as human 263

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clients, her combat and educational training, and her regular visits with Aunt Mona, Serena’s spare time was almost nonexistent. She was busy, and although she wanted more time to spend with her new husband, she also thrived in her new life. When she was seventeen, she chose to devote herself to helping others survive, and in every way possible, she was fulfilling her life’s ambition. “Hey, woolgatherer,” Gabriel said gently. She jerked her head up and grinned guiltily. “I heard every word,” she said. “Liar. But I have something more interesting than tonight’s agenda. See the bag in the back? It has presents.” Whooping, she snatched the heavy, bulky cloth bag from the backseat and plunged a hand inside. The first thing she pulled out was a button-up, burgundy shirt. “It’s great, honey,” she said tentatively, not wanting to hurt his feelings. She loved burgundy, but the shirt was decidedly masculine. Besides, she didn’t wear button-ups. He grinned. “It’s mine,” he said. “My present is a shirt for you?” He nodded. “It’s red,” he said. Suddenly, she understood. “You look scrumptious in any color,” she said softly. He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “It’s symbolic,” he said. She put a hand on his leg. “It’s the perfect present, and I can’t wait to see you in it. Or, for that matter…” “Out of it?” he finished drily, eyebrows raised. “Are you doing your psychic thing?” she asked suspiciously. “Husband thing. I know what a letch you are.” Serena laughed and swatted his leg. He smiled very slightly. “Speaking of knowing 264

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you, there are a couple more presents in there.” She thrust her hand back inside the bag and drew out a thick, heavy boot. It was ankle high and made of smooth, dark brown leather. “I know you don’t like leather, but the best steeltoed boots are made of it.” “You bought me steel-toed boots?” Serena asked, laughing. “So you can kick ass,” he said. “And save my toes?” “The thought crossed my mind,” he admitted. “It’s perfect. Who knew I’d ever appreciate asskicking boots?” She laughed. “One more gift,” Gabriel said. Once more, she plundered the bag, brushing aside the other boot. She found, crammed into a bottom fold of the bag, a gold foil box about the size of a small jewelry box. “Is this chocolate?” she breathed. Gabriel nodded. “Dark,” he announced. “Ha! I knew you were working your psychic mojo!” He shook his head, smiling smugly. “I didn’t know about dark chocolate. I figured it out on my own.” He glanced over at her. A web of scars snagged his lips, rendering his tiny smile uneven and slightly sinister. Her beautiful husband. Breath cloyed in her throat. “That is the oddest and most wonderful group of presents I’ve ever received,” she said softly. “I couldn’t have asked for a better combo. And they work beautifully together, don’t you think? You put on the shirt, every straight woman in the county tries to jump you, and I throw on my boots and save you from the mob.” “What about the chocolate?” he asked. “One never needs a reason for chocolate,” she said seriously. “I’d offer you some, but I know you 265

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prefer milk chocolate.” “How’d you know that?” She grinned, leaned over, and kissed his cheek. “Who needs to be a psychic when you’re a superhuman mutant with a mixed racial heritage?”

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A word about the author... By day, Elle is a not-so-mild-mannered college instructor. By night, she rescues animals and pens poetry and prose. She urges everyone to become a superhero and adopt their pets from animal shelters. Please visit her at www.ellehill.com.

Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press publication. For other wonderful stories of romance, please visit our on-line bookstore at www.thewildrosepress.com. For questions or more information contact us at [email protected]. The Wild Rose Press www.TheWildRosePress.com To visit with authors of The Wild Rose Press join our yahoo loop at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thewildrosepress/