Breathe, Lannes told himself. Breathe.

But it was too much. He needed air. He turned around and walked back out to the porch. He saw Rictor in the distance, at the cemetery. Koni perched on the edge of the rail, his arms folded over his chest. Lethe was out there, too, her eyes dark, thoughtful. Lannes felt like everyone was watching him, and they were.

"You must have been a kid down here," he said roughly, and remembered the little boy William was holding in the group picture-how that child had seemed oddly familiar. "You were young."

"I was three," Frederick said quietly, close behind him. "But I wasn't here because I was like the others. My father was the one who had...talents. It was his connection with Will's parents that brought him to this place. I just tagged along. I think he hoped I would discover something about myself, though I never did. I remained, as ever, painfully human."

Lannes turned on him. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Say what? I didn't know any of this was related. I had no idea who Orwell Price was when you showed me that name." Frederick closed his eyes, rubbing his neck with a shaky hand. "I knew him as Marcellus Bredow. It wasn't until I talked to Charlie and heard him mention Etta's name that I started making connections."

Lannes closed his eyes, and felt Lethe's hand slide down his wrist.

He means it, she said in his mind. He's as confused and hurt by all this as you are.

Yes. He could sense that pain from Frederick's mind. It gave him no satisfaction. He loved Frederick, just as much as his own brothers. The man was his oldest friend.

"I never lied to you," Frederick whispered. "But the subject never came up. And I couldn't talk about this place. It was not my secret to give."

"Did-" Lannes had to stop and take a breath. "Did your father tell these people about us? Did he share our secrets?"

"No," Will interjected firmly. "Until your brother joined the agency, I had never heard one breath about your kind."

"My father would have died before giving you up," said Frederick quietly. "As would I. The rest...was past and done. It wasn't until I talked to Charlie about his new employer and heard that name..."

The old man stopped, rubbing his face. "It doesn't matter now anyway. I'm here because you need me."

Lannes wanted to sit down. "How's that?"

Frederick gave him a long, tired, look. "Because I'm the only one who knows where Simon is."

Louisville. It was a private hospital. Frederick had been paying the bills for years. During the telling of it, Lannes' friend grew even paler, his cheeks sunken and shadows filling his gaze. The old man looked as though he had been wrestling with demons. He sat in a rocking chair on the porch.

"I always called him Sal," he said.

Lannes shook his head in disbelief. "Sal? Coma Sal? The Sal you've been talking to on the phone at night?"

"He needed help. He's also a distant cousin. Not something I confess easily, even though we were, at one time, close. He's had a pathetic life. I don't say that to make excuses, but it's the truth. None of them did well after they left this place. Karma, I suppose."

"Did you know what he did to Milly and Runa?"

Something awful pa.s.sed through Frederick's gaze. "I was too young to understand. Only, Milly disappeared, as did her mother, and there was a great deal of shouting and crying afterwards. My father was furious. I thought he would kill the old Sayers man with his bare hands."

"And later?"

Frederick closed his eyes. "Later, nothing. Except that ten years ago, Simon called me out of the blue, desperate. He had no one and was ill with cancer. I felt bad for him. He was afraid of death, and the only friends he'd ever had were ones he eventually manipulated. His finances were in ruin. He had no skills. Not a great personality. All I did in the beginning was pay his bills and occasionally make a call."

"So, now what?" Lethe spoke up. "How do you confront a man in a coma?"

"You pull the plug," Rictor said, stepping up on the porch. Lannes had not heard his approach; the man moved like a ghost.

Frederick stared at him, pure uncertainty flickering through his eyes. "I know your face."

"You're older," Rictor said, and moved past the old man to stand just inside the house, in the shadows.

Lethe frowned at his back. "I don't know if murder should be an option."

"It should be," Koni said, golden eyes briefly glowing. "You can try to reason with Simon when he's capable of talking to you, but in the meantime you'll still be dodging bullets. Or, I suppose, you wait for him to die. But that could be a while."

"And eventually, Runa will take over," Lannes said.

"You're for this, too?" Lethe asked him.

"I'm for keeping you safe. And let's face it, Simon's not exactly helpless."

"He's an old man," Frederick growled. "As so many of us are. I didn't come here for you to murder him."

"Then, what?" Lannes asked, knowing his anger showed, but unable to help himself. "He himself is a murderer. And even if you could chalk up what he did in his childhood to accident, he's been trying to kill Lethe. And he's done so with such ease and so little apparent conscience that I can only a.s.sume he's had considerable practice at this sort of thing in the past."

Exhaustion filled Frederick's face. Lethe grabbed Lannes' arm. "The issue isn't what he's done wrong. The issue is whether you're going to stoop to his level."

"Of course I will," Lannes replied. "I won't enjoy it. I won't want to do it. But if it keeps you safe, I will end that man's life."

"Enough," Will said quietly. He had to be older than Fredrick by almost fifteen years, but he looked as though he could run a marathon, chop down a tree, and juggle rocks one-handed-all in the same day. He was youth, bottled up, and it hurt Lannes to see Frederick look so frail in comparison.

"We'll go to him," Will continued, with a sudden formality that reminded Lannes of why he was the boss- even if it seemed that most of the people in his employ had never seen him. "We'll see what can be done. Ms. Lethe, I recommend that you remain here. I'm certain that Rictor won't mind keeping you company."

Rictor raised an eyebrow. Lannes said, "Not to step on any toes, but I prefer to stay with her as well."

Will smiled faintly. "I know you would. But you have some mental abilities, and besides me and perhaps Ms. Lethe, there's no one else here with that skill." He glanced at Rictor, whose jaw tightened, his gaze flicking away to the forest. "I would say that two of us, in dealing with Simon, are better than one."

Lethe nudged Lannes with her elbow. "I'll be fine."

Maybe, he whispered in her mind. But I don't like it.

Conversation was limited after that. Everyone started heading toward the cars. Lannes held back, catching Lethe's hand. He pulled her near, watching the concern in her eyes, sensing the unease in her heart. The bond between them felt as strong as a vein of marble cut from a mountain: old and weathered, timeless.

"Don't," she whispered. "Don't do anything you'll regret, just for me."

"It wouldn't just be for you." Lannes cupped her face in his palm, riding a sense of wonder that his hand-his real hand, dark and craggy-was touching her cheek. And that her eyes were gazing into his real face with a warmth that he could not fathom.

"It would kill me to lose you," he said.

"Lannes," she whispered, and he swooped close, pressing his mouth to her ear.

"I am almost eighty years old," he told her softly, "and I have never been in love. But I love you. I love you, Lethe. And no matter what you say, I will protect you."

He pulled back just enough to kiss her, his sun-warmed wings arched and aching. Lethe clung to him. And when he moved yet again to look into her eyes, he found them glistening with unshed years.

"I want you to be safe, too," she said hoa.r.s.ely, rubbing her eyes.

He tried to smile for her, and pointed at his face. "Take a good look," he told her, then reached deep, searching for the magical mask, triggering the spell, embracing the energy flowing through his heart. His hand, still touching her cheek, began to shimmer. Within moments, the illusion was remade. He looked human again.

Lethe smiled, shaking her head. "I hope you believe me one day when I tell you that I prefer you the other way."

"Just don't ever stop saying it," he said, and kissed her cheek.

He left her standing on the porch. Rictor was in front of him, near the cars. Lannes paused by the green-eyed man. "Koni says you're immortal."

Rictor shrugged. "I suppose." It was said as if it was nothing, a bore, even a burden.

Lannes looked him dead in the eyes. "If she gets hurt, I'll put you in a place no one will ever find you. And you'll just sit there. Forever."

Rictor smiled coldly. "Doesn't sound much different from what I'm doing now."

Lannes shook his head. "Just take care of her."

Then he got into the Humvee with the others, and they drove out.

It took them an hour to get to Louisville. No one talked much until the end.

"You've changed," Frederick suddenly said to Will. "You used to be nothing but an innocent farm boy in love with the land."

"And you were in love with words." Will's gaze grew thoughtful. "Being able to see into the minds of others can change a person. There are no masks, no walls, no prisons. You find yourself wishing that there were."

Simon was being treated in a private establishment on the east side, near the old neighborhoods where the city's rich kept their homes. The streets were filled with golden fallen leaves. Lannes thought of the Yellow Brick Road. Memories flashed in his head. Everything made him think of Lethe. He was wearing the illusion, but it felt different now. He had changed on the inside. No matter how many different ways he looked at his situation, he no longer felt as though he was hiding.

Instead, he was simply traveling. It was as though the illusion were nothing more than the key to a door. Not a mask, not a burden. He was not afraid. He was not cowering behind a psychic trick of light. And though it might seem weak and silly, the memories of Lethe's eyes when she had looked into his true face were pillars inside his heart, holding up everything. There had been no fear in her gaze. No disgust. Just acceptance. And desire.

She did not care that he was different from her. Not one iota. She had made love to him.

They had made love.

"Are you certain that Simon never managed to manipulate you?" he asked Frederick, wondering briefly if he could trust his friend. He had no mental bond with the old man- certainly nothing that could provide him with the certainty he needed-but the emotions that rolled off Frederick when he asked that question were genuine enough, and made him hurt a little for his friend.

"I'm certain," Frederick said quietly. "You don't live among individuals of certain talents without acquiring a particular awareness of things."

"Does my father know?"

"Undoubtedly," replied the old man. "You remember how they were. Like brothers."

Like us, Lannes thought. "And here, now? How do we handle Simon?"

"You don't," Will interjected grimly.

"He's near death," Frederick said.

"He's a murderer," Lannes replied.

Koni said, "There are cops outside the hospital," speaking for the first time in an hour. He pulled over to the side of the road, and all the men peered out the window. No police sedans were in sight, but there were several men and women in uniform standing in front of the double gla.s.s doors of the modern structure, walkie-talkies in hand.

"Would he know that we're coming?" asked Lannes.

"Come on," Will said, opening his door. "Best to just ask."

Lannes thought that asking the police anything at all was inviting trouble, but he followed the two old men. Koni stayed with the car. Ready for a fast getaway, he supposed, which was little comfort.

The three of them, Lannes, Will and Frederick, strolled up to the hospital as though they owned the place, and when they got to the doors and began to go in-without being stopped or questioned-Will paused and looked one of the three loitering officers in the eye.

"My goodness," he said, every inch the distinguished gentleman. "Has anything happened?"

"Eh," said the officer, shrugging. "Weirdos."

"I see," replied Will, who continued on into the hospital.

The lobby was large, decorated in natural earth tones that were pleasant but dull. Some women wearing badges around their necks sat behind a half-moon circle that seemed to be one ma.s.sive front desk.

Will leaned into Frederick and Lannes. "It's nothing. Apparently, some individuals have made death threats against one of the patients. It's terribly sad."

"Heartbreaking," Lannes muttered, then felt bad for Frederick, who appeared rather ill. Will gave him a look that was particularly compa.s.sionate.

"You were trying to be a good person," he said gently. "We try to hold forgiveness in our hearts. But sometimes that's not enough."

"He's been in and out of a coma," Frederick told him. "I never dreamed he would be capable of this. Not now, after all these years."

They went upstairs to the patient rooms. The nurses at the small station recognized Frederick's name and seemed genuinely happy to meet him for the first time. The women let them into Simon's room and shut the door when they left. Lannes hardly noticed. He was too busy taking the measure of the old man who'd caused so much unhappiness.

Simon Sayers was emaciated, a skeleton in a hospital gown tucked securely within a large bed. He seemed to be breathing on his own, but an oxygen mask covered his face, and the rest of him was hooked up to a variety of humming machines. He did not look dangerous. Frederick was right. He seemed pathetic. One long life, reduced to skin and bone.

"He could have had everything," Frederick said quietly. "But he squandered it all on selfishness. And now, this is life."

"He's gone visiting," said Will, frowning. "He's empty on the inside."

Lannes placed a finger against Simon's wrist. The man's skin was cold and papery thin, and the energy in his body was weak. There was not much time left. Not much at all, and he had spent it conniving and scheming to hurt others. He was still searching for everything that had eluded him in eighty-odd years of living.

"He wanted power," Lannes said. "He had power, but he wanted more. He wanted respect. And he never got it, did he? He never had enough."

"You can't make people love you," Will said. "He had a crush on Milly, did you know that? And in the beginning, he worshipped Runa. But he couldn't handle it when she would criticize him. It made him angry. And when Milly stopped playing his games, he started to bully her."

"Simon sacrificed her to summon a demon." Lannes had not been able to name it until now, but the word rolled off his lips. Demon. He felt chilled, even dirty, and stopped touching the old man.

"You covered it up," he said, turning to Will. "Paid off the local cops."

"Not us. Them. We went along with it because we had little alternative. No one could afford the scrutiny. The Bredows and Sayers were no longer welcome after that, though. And I never heard about this again until some notes fell on my desk regarding Etta. I contacted her, and she was...willing to intervene. I didn't expect her to take poison, though. I underestimated the burden of her guilt."

A wave of nausea pa.s.sed through Lannes.

And then it hit him again, followed by a pain in his head so shocking, so agonizing, he thought for certain someone had stabbed him.