The Taste Of Night

15

The others didn’t return to the sanctuary that dawn, the next day, or the day after, and by the time they dragged in half a week later, I was desperate for news. I’d combed through all my manuals and gone over Regan’s words in my mind, and was itching to add another corner piece to the puzzle of how this thing was being spread-but when those of us left behind gathered to greet the returning agents, I could tell from their slumped shoulders, weary and loaded, that they were no closer to knowing what had caused this plague than when they’d left.

That’s what it was being called. A plague. Newscasters and reporters nationwide had jumped on the story, and the sensationalism only increased as the number of victims continued to rise. Regan has said only a small percentage of the population was susceptible, and if those numbers were right, those who’d survived the initial onslaught were somehow passing this virus on to others. The latest official update from the television had said a few hundred deaths, but as horrible as it sounded, that number was manufactured, a blind meant to keep public panic down. So my first question when the others stumbled in was going to be, How many?But one look at their collective faces and the words dried like dust in my throat.

Warren was in the lead, as usual, but he held up a hand to stall whatever question had been about to pop from Tekla’s open mouth. She snapped it shut quickly, brows drawing tightly together, her hands white-knuckling in front of her as Gregor walked past shaking his head.

Jewell looked like a survivor of a natural disaster, a lone human barely standing while everything lay flattened around her.

Hunter looked pissed.

Vanessa had red-rimmed eyes, and Micah had his arm around her waist, like he was afraid she’d topple without his support.

I’d never seen Felix without at least a small spark of mischief glinting in his eyes.

Riddick looked small despite his bulk and size.

“Jesus,” I whispered, when they’d all passed. Chandra hadn’t even registered my presence, and that more than anything else made fright knot up beneath my breastbone. Tekla, Rena, and I automatically drew together. Marlo, who’d come late to the launchpad, pulled up short when she saw the others’ faces, and was now clasping my hand tightly. I didn’t blame her. Superheroes weren’t supposed to look inconsolable.

Tekla sighed heavily. “Give them time to find their equilibrium. Let the balm of the familiar, and the safety of sanctuary blight the images they’ve brought back with them. There will be time enough for questions tomorrow.”

“But more people will be dead tomorrow,” I said, unthinking, and was immediately ashamed. Of course the troop needed rest. But I needed to tell Micah about the virus, though I still hadn’t figured out how to do so without tipping him off to how I knew it was a virus.

“More will die anyway,” Tekla said, and wandered away, her robes and then the hallway swallowing her up. I shuddered, watching her leave. That wasn’t pessimism. It was prediction.

With a muttered good-bye, Marlo followed Tekla back to the astrolab. I swallowed hard and turned to discover Rena already facing me. Tall, she wore a shapeless, long white robe similar to Tekla’s, hazardous considering her occupation. Still, she never seemed mussed, untidy, or ruffled. Her hair, which must have been a vibrant red at one time, had faded to a soft copper, gray wisps threading away from her temples to the bun lying just above the base of her neck. Her only adornment was a pair of gold disks circling her ears, and those appeared larger than they were simply because they winked so close to her sunken and scarred eye sockets. The rest of her face was lined only with the normal evidence of age. She’d been the troop’s senior ward mother for a long time now.

And, I thought, swallowing hard, if she’d had eyes, I’d say she was glaring at me right now.

“What?” I said, resisting the urge to look behind me.

“Maybe you’re the one who should be answering a few questions,” she said, and harsh anger sharpened her words.

“What do you mean?”

Her expression tightened. “I know you left, Olivia. Not just the sanctuary, but the boneyard. I went searching for you, and followed your scent all the way until it disappeared into a solid block wall.”

Oh shit. I’d forgotten that despite the cross-hatching of scars marring the lids where her eyes should have been, Rena could see better than most people with 20/20 vision. Superheroes included.

“I have a good reason,” I started, but she waved the words away impatiently.

“There’s no good reason to ignore the direct orders of your troop leader. Ever.”

And nothing I said could change her mind. Rena High-tower was charged with raising the children of the Zodiac until they entered their third life cycle, so every troop member that’d just passed us by had been, and in a way still was, her child. All except me.

I glanced around to ensure we were alone, then stepped closer. “All I did was follow them to the place where they found their first victim. Then I came right back. I just had to see.”

“Imagine the trouble I could get myself into if I just had to see?” she said, so bitingly I had to wince. “Restrictions are put on us for a reason. You were told to stay here and you should have done just that.”

“But-”

“Don’t but me, Olivia Archer,” and I knew I was in trouble because she’d never used my full name before. “You disobeyed a direct order, and as soon as Warren doesn’t act like another disappointment is going to crush him, I’m going to tell him.”

“No!” My voice came out louder and harsher than I intended, and I grabbed her hand without thinking. She jerked back with more strength than I knew she possessed, and I’d already started apologizing when she grabbed my hand again. “Where did you get this?”

I should’ve known Rena would be the first to notice the ring, even without eyesight. I considered lying for a moment, but the question had been asked with more curiosity than anger. “My locker,” I said, causing her to nod to herself as the metal circling my finger warmed beneath her touch. “It was…waiting for me when I came back this time.”

Waiting was the only way to describe the way the locker proffered its occasional contents.

“She must’ve left it for you,” she said, and her expression softened as she rubbed the ring with her thumb, then smiled. She sighed it away almost immediately, and dropped my hand. Louder, she said, “It’s a special ring, Olivia. One you’re obviously meant to have.”

The discovery had taken some of the venom from her voice, and that relieved me enough to have me regarding it anew. “Yes, but why?”

“That’s up to you to discover, but I can tell you what it does…or at least what it did for your mother.” She reached for my hand again and lifted it high, tracing the grooves around the cloudy stone. “Though it’s beautiful, it’s not only an ornament. See how the slits carve up and under the stone?”

I nodded before realizing she couldn’t see the movement. “Yes,” I said.

“If you follow those grooves and pull up on the stone, it’ll unhinge. Depress it again, and in that moment, you’ll have the power to call anyone to you, no matter where you are, and no matter what the circumstances.”

I’d known there was a way to call enemy agents to you, though call was a deceiving term. Invoking an enemy’s name would reveal your location by loosening your scent on the wind, so we trained to dampen our emotions and keep this from happening. It’d never occurred to me to draw them to me on purpose. And, I thought, studying the ring with renewed interest, it’d never dawned on me that there might be a way to call allies to your side as well. “You mean…like a get-out-of-jail-free card?”

She almost smiled at that, and inclined her head. “All you have to do is think of that person, and they’ll be there.”

“That’s awesome,” I said, studying the ring with new-found awe.

“Yes, but…”

I sighed, dropping my hand. “There’s always a but.”

And now the smile came. “And this time it’s also a condition. You can only use this ring once. After that it loses all powers and must be passed onto someone else.”

But one shot was all I’d need. I knew exactly who I’d call…and Rena did too. She shook her head and gave me a sorrowful smile. “Your decision cannot be made lightly, Olivia. You were given this ring for a purpose, and regardless of what you want, that purpose must serve the troop and the citizens of this valley. It’s a great honor to be gifted with a physical totem. You must choose wisely.”

I sighed, my heart sinking. Why’d there have to be a friggin’ lesson in everything?

Glancing back up at Rena, I saw some of the tension had left her body. Obviously if the locker was showering me with gifts of this magnitude, she’d trust I was still doing my best for the troop. Now to convince her that keeping silent would do the same. “Please, Rena. I need a little more time.”

Rena’s look was both patient and critical. She’d been a mother for a long time. “You keep doing things on your own and you’re going to find yourself with all the time in the world. Alone.” She took a symbolic step backward, and I suddenly felt just that. “I know you’ve had only yourself to depend on in the past, but you have to learn to work within the structure of this group. You can’t keep going off on your own because you have a hunch you think might help.”

“I’m trying to work with the group. If you haven’t noticed, I’m the one who’s been left behind.”

She said nothing, which I found encouraging.

“Just…” I blew out a long breath, trying to figure a way to explain myself without giving anything away. “There are things I know…or not know but feel, because of my Shadow side. Warren wants me to pretend it doesn’t exist, and Tekla wants me to stomp it down until it really doesn’t, but if restrictions are put on us for a reason, Rena, then so are abilities. What good is such a skill if I don’t use it for Light?”

Rena’s lips thinned as she searched for an argument. “We’ve always gotten by without the help of Shadow intuition before. The power of Light has always been enough.”

“Yes, but have you ever seen anything like this before?” I said, throwing an arm out to the chute, and the world above. I didn’t say the second sign of the Zodiac had been fulfilled, but I decided to hint at it. “You know we’re the real targets, don’t you? These mortals are only collateral damage. They’re coming for us, they’re coming here to the sanctuary, and they won’t stop until every child of yours burns.”

Rena gasped and I winced, knowing she was putting the scent that lingered in the air together with the faces she’d traced beneath her fingertips every day.

“Shouldn’t we use any tool available to see that doesn’t happen?” I said, softer now that I saw her wavering. “Even an instinct derived from the Shadow side?”

She made me wait for her answer, but finally heaved a sigh, causing her gold hoops to jangle. “All right. I’ll keep silent,” she said, before holding up a finger. “But only because I scent a grain of truth in what you’re saying.”

And because of the ring, I thought, though I wasn’t about to question it. I opened my mouth to thank her but she held up her hand. “And only for a short while longer. After that-”

“I know,” I said, nodding. “You’ll have to tell Warren. I understand.”

“Oh no. You don’t understand.” She shook her head, and that fierce resolve returned, her voice hot in warning, fear, and the frustration of finding herself stuck. “After that, you’ll have to tell him. He’ll decide what’s to be done with you and your instincts.”

Another day passed before Warren told the rest of us there’d been nothing the troop could do to help the mortals of Las Vegas. They’d spent their days easing the suffering of those victims found still alive, and hid as many of the bodies as they possibly could.

Why hide them?

Well, first, each body the troop stumbled on had to undergo a thorough examination, and it wasn’t of the open-your-mouth-and-say-ah variety either. If unofficial autopsies started showing up all over the valley, it would send up red flags to both the mortal authorities and the Shadows. Additionally, if we could keep the perceived number of deaths below the expected tally, maybe it would draw one or more of the Shadows from hiding to see what was going on. But that hadn’t happened. And knowing what I did about the use of initiates in such situations, I knew it wouldn’t.

But what was most discouraging was the number of victims.

“How many?” I gasped, when we’d all finally gathered back in the briefing room. Hunter was missing-he’d been out in the field twice as long as anyone else, and seen so much he didn’t need to be briefed-but everyone else seemed rested, showered, and calmed, if not exactly chipper.

“Two thousand, seven hundred, and thirty-one,” Micah said tersely. A cursed battlefield. He then flipped open a notebook and began to read from it, putting whatever was written there in laymen’s terms so the rest of us could understand it. “Basically, it’s an extremely rapid breakdown of the body’s tissue upon contact with something else. Food, maybe, because of the mouth. Or it could be some sort of flesh-eating disease, but I don’t think so.”

“So not burn marks?” Felix asked, leaning on his back chair legs.

Micah shook his head. “From what I can see it looks more like the decaying process that occurs after death. There’s a systematic breakdown occurring in the tissue in three distinct areas-mouths, hands, genitalia-though that alone shouldn’t be fatal.”

That made me pause. Strange that the virus would affect only three parts of the body. Why hands? Was it symbolic because we didn’t possess fingerprints? Because the Shadows didn’t want the mortals to discover this anomaly if an agent of Light were to fall? Whatever it was, I needed to speak up now, let Micah know it was a virus so he could focus on answering these questions himself…and work to find a cure.

But how to let them know without giving away what I’d done…and without jeopardizing what I needed to do next?

While I wondered, Chandra spoke up. “What about a biological attack?”

My head shot up. Yes. Closer…

“You mean like anthrax or ricin?” Micah shrugged and flipped his notebook shut. “Something like that could certainly affect a large group of people, but it would start in a contained area. Or at least have a point of origin we could trace it back to. These victims are spread all around the valley. Different social classes, workplaces, lifestyles. Nothing to unite them at work, play, or socially.”

“So nothing other than they all live in Las Vegas?” asked Felix.

Except that they were all gathered outside Valhalla the night of the fireworks…

Micah ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully. “There is one thing, actually. A similarity in DNA, a strain of chromosomes that might indicate a propensity toward mutation of sorts. I haven’t had time to study it further, but my bet is the answer lies there. I’d have to get back to the lab to know for sure, though.” And his legs twitched beneath him, indicating he wanted to do just that.

“Wait!” I said as he began to rise. They all looked at me and I bit my lip, thinking fast. “Um, what about motive? I mean, maybe if we discover why the Shadows have suddenly decided to begin mass murdering innocents it’ll lead us to how.”

“They’re Shadows,” Chandra snapped. “Do they need a reason?”

“They don’t need it, but they probably have one,” I said, snapping back before turning away from her and addressing the rest of the room. “I mean, even if you’re right and they’re trying to draw me out in the open, it still seems a little extreme. What if it’s a trial run for something else? Something bigger?”

“That’s not how they operate, Olivia,” Warren said, squashing the idea immediately. “Humans are sometimes affected by our paranormal battles, and it’s our job to keep those individuals safe, but the Shadows don’t target groups of people. Otherwise, why not wipe out the entire city? Why not do it years ago?”

I crossed my legs, my foot bobbing impatiently. “You’re operating on the premise that the Shadows seek balance, like you do. What if that’s changed? What if they want a greater influence over the valley? What if the Tulpa wants annihilation?”

Chandra scoffed. “You can’t annihilate an entire city. Without mortals the Shadows would have no one to influence, to carry out their schemes and autosuggestions, to create chaos on their behalf.”

“Not the mortals, Chandra,” I said bitingly. “Us. What if it’s a trial run for us?”

An unsettling silence fell over the room as they each considered my words. Even Warren was listening, eyes fixed on me as if seeing me for the first time.

“I’m just saying if I were-” I was going to say Shadow, but I was half that, and wouldn’t be doing myself any favors reminding them of it. “If I were a Shadow agent and I was going to do something this big, I’d test it first. Make sure it would invade or infect the way I thought it would.”

“Test it on monkeys,” Micah murmured, mind working.

“Test it on mortals,” I corrected, because the whole of the valley had become a part of the Shadows’ experiment. They all were silent after that.

“Maybe we should…” Chandra trailed off, her own gaze far-off and thoughtful.

“Go ahead, Chandra,” Warren said to her.

“I was just thinking maybe we should all give blood samples to Micah. You know, in case it is a biological weapon. Then we can rule out for sure that none of us are…”

Infected. The word she couldn’t speak was on everyone else’s faces. Vanessa and Felix looked at each other. Riddick and Jewell did the same. Warren cleared his throat, and all eyes returned to him as he reluctantly nodded his agreement. “It’s a good idea. Everybody hit the lab so Chandra can take a sample of your blood. I doubt we’ve anything to be worried about, but it’s best to be safe.”

I swallowed hard, realizing what I’d just gotten myself into. If the virus could show up in the blood, then couldn’t the immunity do the same? After all, what was immunity but a sampling of the toxin turned safe? If I gave blood, would it send me into further lockdown? Would biology give up the secret I’d worked so hard to keep?

But if my blood did possess the immunity-and all I had was Regan’s faithless word on that-then I owed it to my troop, and the city, to offer it up. And studying the samples would take time. If Micah hadn’t discovered my immunity himself by morning, I swore I’d tell him myself. But dawn was fast approaching, and Joaquin’s address was flashing like neon in my mind. Warren could lock me up in the sanctuary for as long as it took to find a cure, but I wanted, and needed, to end Joaquin’s contemptible life tonight. Talk about a cure for the world’s ills. So I left the meeting and headed back to my room in preparation for escaping the boneyard one last time.

“That you, Olivia?”

I jumped, automatically feeling at my hip for a weapon that wasn’t there. A chuckle came at me from the darkness, and my heart settled enough to make out the shape of the man coming at me from an adjacent passageway. An orange ember was brought to his lips, flared, then obscured again in a puff of smoke.

“Shit. Hunter.” I put a hand to my chest and inched closer, joining him in the shadows. “What are you doing loitering in the dark?”

“Is that what it looks like I’m doing?” That laugh again, a sound void of humor, then another deep inhalation on his cigarette. I hadn’t even known he smoked. “I’m not loitering in the dark, dear, dear Olivia. I’m reveling in it. I’m bathing in it. Fuck, I’m…I’m one with it.” He motioned widely around him, then leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He wasn’t bathing in the darkness, I thought, sniffing as I approached him. He was drowning in it…it and the bottle both.

“I thought you were sleeping,” I said, alarmed because Hunter never, ever drank. I’d never learned the reason behind that, but the fact he’d abandoned one of his most stringent personal mores had me biting my lip in worry.

“Sleep?” His head rolled forward on his neck. “Nooo…”

I gingerly tipped up his chin, and saw it wasn’t just drink that kept him from focusing on my face. His eyes looked burned out, like they couldn’t bear letting in another appalling sight, and his breathing was shallow…and reluctant. That’s why I hadn’t sensed him there. He was almost devoid of anything that passed for human life.

“You’re very drunk.”

“You’re very right.”

“C’mon, Hunter,” I said, taking his hands. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Absolutely. Bed is where I need to be.” He let me shift him to his feet, but his acquiescence was more surrender than agreement. We maneuvered down the hallways, his cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, the smoke making my eyes sting. Though he was moving his feet, I got the feeling he didn’t care whether he came or went, stayed or left, lived or died. Bone-deep didn’t even begin to describe his fatigue.

“This is it, right?” I asked, steering him to a nondescript door off the top of the Z-shaped barracks.

“Home sweet home,” he agreed, and blew the air out of his nose while dropping his face against the wall. It was as close as I’d ever heard Hunter come to a giggle. He fumbled to get his hand aligned with the palm plate, and nearly fell inward when the door swung open. We stumbled in, and I jumped as a clap of thunder split the room in two and rain began to hammer on the window opposite the door.

A holograph, I thought, sighing. We had the option of programming three-dimensional images onto the walls in our rooms-a green meadow, a streetscape, anything to further personalize our space-but I hadn’t activated the feature in my room, forgetting it even existed until now. A holograph of a soft summer shower might be relaxing, one with light from a far-off street lamp playing over slowly streaking walls, and headlights from cars ferrying souls unlucky enough not to be tucked snugly in bed adding to the comfort and security of being nestled inside.

But this wasn’t womblike and warm. This assaulted the senses, an angry attack from the heavens that ripped through the bruised sky to punish the pane.

“God, no wonder you needed to get out of here. This is…”

“Atmospheric,” he finished, opening his arms wide to throw himself off balance again. I let him stumble since he was headed toward the bed, but he righted himself again in an exaggerated sway and offered me an equally overstated grin. I smiled back weakly. Seeing a heroic man this drunk was like seeing a rhino tottering about after receiving a tranquilizer dart. You really didn’t want to be near it when it fell.

“I was going to say depressing.”

“What? You don’t like rain?” He maneuvered over to the wall, touched the faux window, and came away with wet fingers. A water wall too, I realized, as he rubbed his smooth fingertips together. “I love rain,” he whispered. “It makes me feel small. It feels like baptism.”

The note of loss in his voice bored a hole straight through my chest, and another sharp bolt of light cracked through the room, lighting the hollows under his eyes. I felt the air escape me as his shoulders slumped, and crossed the room quickly, putting my arm around him again, this time in comfort rather than support. He turned into me, and heat leached from my body into his and back again. I imagined it driving the cold spots from the crevices of his heart, held him for a long minute, then squeezed him hard before pulling away.

He pulled me close again.

“Hunter,” I said, my voice muffled against his chest. God, but his skin smelled good, even with the alcohol and sorrow permeating his pores. Still. “Let go of me.”

He released me enough to stare down at me, eyes so dark his golden skin appeared whitewashed in contrast. “I’m sorry, Olivia, but you’re being a tightass, and this is for your own good.”

And he kissed me. And that’s when I realized that whenever he did so, I thought of violence. Sure, it was tempered with warmth and the softness of his full lips, but there was a firmness in his embrace, a determination to infiltrate, overpower, and conquer that made some primal need in me rear up to do the same.

My hands were on him before I could stop them. We over-balanced-he was drunk and had an excuse; I simply had a sudden and blinding need to taste and feel more-and we crashed against that wall of water, the pane shaking beneath our combined body weight. He could match my strength, so I wasn’t gentle, concentrating solely on my hunger as lightning scorched the sky behind him. In the brief illumination I saw water sluicing over the sides of his silhouette, plastering his hair to his skull, his T-shirt to his back, molding his jeans to his ass. I lowered my hands, pulled in close, and he dropped his head back on a rich, musical moan. A single trail of water coursed over his left cheek, and I caught it at his neckline, stroked upward with my tongue, found his ear, pressed closer.

His hands were on my waist then, beneath my shirt, printless fingertips gliding along my sides. They dipped to the small of my back, met there, and I quivered as they lowered, cupping me from behind. He was towering over me now, head bent, his lips so close to mine, I scented his breath on mine.

“Joanna…”

My name, whispered, brought me to my senses. It wasn’t supposed to be paired with his. Not in my dreams, or in my life, not even surrounded by a punishing rainstorm bested only by his heart against my own. It was supposed to be Joanna and Ben. The way it’d always been. The way it always would be.

So what the hell was I doing? This wasn’t a flirtation, or a game, or fun. This was a wild bid to escape whatever had buried itself in his mind. I pulled away despite a desire to curl up into his core, knowing there was no epiphany to be found in his arms. Or mine.

“How altruistic of you,” I managed, when I got my breath back. I licked the taste of him from my lips and met his gaze. “Now let me go.”

His mouth quirked, like I’d told a joke, but he let his arms drop. I felt unbalanced; free, but fettered at the same time. Hunter seemed to know it. Letting out a deep sigh, I shook my head and headed to the door. His voice stopped me halfway across the room.

“Jo.”

I turned back warily. As the only member of the troop outside of Warren and Micah who knew my true name, he also knew not to use it. But he used it again now that we were alone, tongue silky over the single word. “Jo. You think I don’t know how you want me? That I can’t see what’s going on inside you? Or feel it?”

I gave my head a short jerk. “I know you know.”

“Because you know me too. Because when you gave me the aureole we became joined.” He took a step forward, steadier now. “You’ve already let me inside of you.”

I swallowed hard. “Not on purpose.”

Another step. “You don’t have to be alone.”

I looked over his shoulder to the wall of glass and falling rain. What he meant was we didn’t have to be alone. Me, him, and the emotions that’d lain him flat tonight. If I stuck around I’d learn about them all, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I had my own failures to be haunted by, my own epiphanies to seek.

“Hunter, I-”

“Need an ally,” he interrupted, as sober as he could manage. “Someone who knows your secrets and has seen into your Shadow side…and still stands by you. Warren won’t, you know. You don’t want him to know about your daughter-”

“Not my daughter.” I was getting tired of having to remind people of that.

“The child who carries your lineage in her blood, then,” he said sharply, and that somehow sounded worse. Maybe because it was the truth, and someday soon I was going to have to face it…and do something about it. I dropped my head, saying nothing, and a moment later the warmth of his palm glided up my arm, sending chill bumps along my side, while he rested his hand on my shoulder. His weight against me was solid and reassuring. “Warren can sense you’re not telling him everything. He’s waiting for you to make even one false step. If anything reminds him remotely of the Shadows he’ll name you a rogue, just like his father.”

I jerked away, my hands automatically clenching into fists. “Thanks for lumping me in with a murderer.”

“I didn’t. I lumped you in with the other person Warren loved and still killed out of duty.” His eyes were half shut with fatigue and drink, but what I saw of them was calculating and too knowing for my liking.

I looked away, staring at the storm flailing at his false window. It suddenly felt like I was out in it. Warren wasn’t doing that. Was he? Look for faults, waiting for me to screw up?

“Look.” Hunter sighed. “I want to help you. I’ll keep your identity, your daughter, and your moves against Joaquin hidden. I can do that, you know. I can be your secret keeper.”

He said it like he meant love slave. Damn those lips, that voice…

“In exchange for what?” I managed, falling back on my trusty sword of sarcasm. “My bed?”

Because the mention of Warren’s rogue father had been a veiled threat. So had the reference to Ashlyn, whom Hunter knew about because of the aureole, but Warren did not. Venom coated my words, anger boiling in my core. I thought my Shadow side must be peeking through; there was just a hint of smoke rising in the thundering air, possibly a deepening of my eyes, though I’d have to look in a mirror to know for sure. I didn’t want to do that.

And I didn’t want to admit Hunter would be a great ally. He had more patience with me than Warren, and seemed able to face those black holes in me that even I could not. Like now, I thought wryly, watching him stare at me. Even at a time when I was afraid to face a mirror.

“I didn’t say you should barter your body,” he said carefully, reading my mood. Then he licked his lips. “Just…share it with me.”

Don’t you just love semantics?

I studiously kept my eyes off his lips…and his hands, and his eyes. And the rest of him too. Because even though I could use an ally, what I didn’t need right now was a lover. Unfortunately they were being offered as a package deal. I lifted my chin and steeled myself against the offer, the need. The understanding.

“I still love him,” I said flatly, and had to watch Hunter wince. He didn’t recover as quickly as he would’ve were he sober-a stab of pain, then disappointment blazing in his eyes as the next arrow of lightning flashed through the room-but eventually his expression closed.

“Which is why you should let him go.”

He knew all about Ben, of course, had learned about him and more when we’d swapped memories and emotions through the magic of the aureole. And I could see why he wanted to feel it again. I’d never felt more understood than in those brief moments. I’d never been less alone than when Hunter had seen the Shadow in me and hadn’t shied away, but accepted it and my thoughts as his own. I knew, in exchange for helping shoulder his own mental burdens, he was offering to do the same now.

But he was in a self-destructive mood.

“And letting you into my body as well as my mind is going to help with that?” I said, forcing a note of detachment into my voice that I didn’t really feel.

He shrugged, offered me a rare if lopsided grin. “Can’t hurt.”

“You know that’s not true.”

But I swallowed hard. I’d enjoy having him inside me, that much was true. You didn’t have to know Hunter when he was sober, and in save-the-world superhero mode, to know there was a world of possibilities waiting in those arms. Even now, with him smelling of booze and staggering slightly, his focus was like the sun through a magnifying glass.

And me, I thought, shifting my feet, just a little ol’ bug.

“Sleep it off, Hunter,” I said, my voice more callous than I intended as I turned from him and opened the door. I escaped into the light and sterility of the hallway, blinking hard, because this was what felt unreal. It was a too-abrupt end to the violent music of the thunderstorm, and the heated tension between Hunter and me as we faced off in the near dark. I turned back a second too late. He had followed me to the door, and when I looked up the lust in his gaze had been shuttered, and all that remained was the cold depths of the emotions he was trying to escape.

“Look, I’m sorr-” I started, but the door clicked firmly shut in my face, and the silence of the hallway rose to a buzz in my ears. I finally got my feet moving, my footsteps filling the silence. By the time I reached my room, I was breathing in time to them, a steady beat despite my own erratic heart, as the possibilities Hunter had spoken of died around me.

I made my move on Joaquin the following night. I’d have gone the previous dawn, but I slept badly after fending off Hunter’s advances, dreaming of making love with Ben while another man watched through a rain-streaked window. I dreamed I was back in my old body, which would’ve made me happy if I hadn’t realized someone else was inside my dreaming flesh as well, curled around Ben, sharing it-and him-with me.

It also seemed poetic to attack Joaquin in the hours he’d first attacked me. It was the same time of year, and the same desert sage rose to perfume the air in the predawn hours, when decent people were still sleeping off the hangovers of the night before.

So I used my daylight hours to rest, and to plan. There were detailed maps of the city archived in the record room adjacent to Tekla’s astrolab, and I spent half the day there, poring over photos of street maps, imagining and reimagining scenarios of approach, infiltration, and escape, and staring at the home of the man who’d affected my life more than any other since the one who spawned me.

I used the photocopier to make duplicates of the residential streets and his home, and sat down to study them, thinking I really should make more use of this room. I knew the arteries and thoroughfares of Vegas as intimately as I knew the veins webbing my wrists, but there were other Vegases in the journals and books and registers here-line-drawn depictions of the original settlements-Indian, Spanish, Mormon-and those primitive roads lay like ghosts beneath the alternately beautiful and stark streets I knew. Someday I’d like to know them all.

“Later,” I said aloud, and shut off the lights as I exited the room. First I had another man to make into a ghost.