It was ice.

It was like nothing Redmond had ever experienced.

The bed was a twin with a lumpy mattress and faded, overwashed sheets that were scratchy and thin with age. He hadn't been on anything like it since his Army days at Fort Riley, when he'd shivered under coa.r.s.e blankets in a drafty barracks and you could see your own breath in the morning. But that bed-about the same size and appearance-had never been like this one. This one was ...

Endless.

He had the sensation of floating, or sinking, or falling off the end of the world. And yet the edge was never there to slip over, the wall was never there to offer a solid connection to the earth. Sheets that should have been rough and uncomfortable surrounded his limbs like ocean waters, warm and tropical and fluid, that seeped into everything and caressed him in all his most secret places. Brynna's hands followed the sensation, or maybe the sensation followed her hands-her touch was cold, then hot, then cold again, until Redmond couldn't tell which was which.

At forty, Redmond had been with his share of women, but Brynna was different. Her body was lean and supple, almost hard, but it fit fit him perfectly. None of his previous partners had looked anything like her-he'd always preferred smaller, more rounded ladies-but now they all felt lacking, in too many ways to recount. Everything about Brynna somehow eclipsed them, wiping their faces and existence from his mind until all that was left were long-ago echoes in his memory. him perfectly. None of his previous partners had looked anything like her-he'd always preferred smaller, more rounded ladies-but now they all felt lacking, in too many ways to recount. Everything about Brynna somehow eclipsed them, wiping their faces and existence from his mind until all that was left were long-ago echoes in his memory.

He felt like he was suffocating with pleasure, like all the air was disappearing from the room but oxygen itself was too trivial to matter. Brynna always seemed to know exactly what to do and how to do it, and if there was anything that could have been better about their joining, it was that she talked the entire time. Not just murmurings of endearment or the sometimes nonsensical cooing of s.e.x partners, but full, odd sentences, questions that she demanded he answer- "You're not offering me anything, right? You're not giving me anything?"

-but in only a negative way, when in reality he would have given her anything in his power.

"Not now, not ever. Right? Say it, Eran Redmond, say that you're not not giving me anything." giving me anything."

Over and over, insisting that he never, ever offer her anything more tangible than this single, ecstasy-filled night in her apartment.

She smelled of the darkness, darkness, rich and heavy, like a forbidden flower from some lost and impenetrable jungle. Her kisses were sweet and spicy-hot, her teeth and nails sharp enough across his flesh to sting but never drawing blood. It was fantastic and tortuous at the same time, a ride of sensuality that did not so much rise and fall as skyrocket and plummet, a roller coaster of the body that always seemed to teeter on the edge of simply stopping his heartbeat. rich and heavy, like a forbidden flower from some lost and impenetrable jungle. Her kisses were sweet and spicy-hot, her teeth and nails sharp enough across his flesh to sting but never drawing blood. It was fantastic and tortuous at the same time, a ride of sensuality that did not so much rise and fall as skyrocket and plummet, a roller coaster of the body that always seemed to teeter on the edge of simply stopping his heartbeat.

And the night itself felt like it stretched to infinity.

"I CAN'T GO HOME CAN'T GO HOME? Are you serious serious?"

Michael Klesowitch stared at the Holy Man, trying to fathom the bomb he'd just dropped on Michael's head. It didn't have nearly enough time to settle before the next one came down with all the gentleness of a sledgehammer.

"You can't go back to your job, either."

Klesowitch's mouth worked, but he couldn't get his brain to slow down enough to make a coherent sound come out. This wasn't what was supposed to happen-it wasn't right right. He was supposed to be rewarded for doing G.o.d's work, not punished. No job, no place to go- "It's only for a little while," the Holy Man said. His voice was soothing and gentle, but it didn't make Klesowitch feel any better.

"I don't want to be a martyr," Klesowitch blurted. "I didn't sign up for that. I just wanted to help."

"Sometimes there is a high price for doing what's right."

Klesowitch blinked at him. A high price? Had the Holy Man-Hank-really just said that? This wasn't a high price. This was everything. everything.

"I don't believe you," Klesowitch said suddenly. He didn't know why he'd said that, he just had. He felt like a teenager, spewing words at his parents without thinking about them, without regard for the consequences.

Hank looked wounded. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Klesowitch didn't answer. He couldn't. If Hank had had lied, how would he know? lied, how would he know?

Can't go home. Can't go to work. Can't go home.

It just kept repeating in his head, like the chorus of a hymn. Hank had intercepted him coming out of the grocery store, walking along to Klesowitch's car and watching as he put his two bags inside. These two bags-there was nothing else. Other than his car, his gun, and the clothes on his back, this was everything he owned in the world now. Klesowitch's eyes burned with tears. He would be a street person, a homeless man sleeping on park benches and eating from the garbage cans behind restaurants, huddling beneath cardboard boxes over the steam grates on Lower Wacker Drive in the dead of winter. How had all that had been his life up to now come to this? And this man, with his pristine hair and clothes by designers whose names Klesowitch couldn't even p.r.o.nounce-what did he know of homelessness and street life? Of poverty? For that matter, what did Michael himself know about it?

"I will take care of you." The Holy Man's melodious voice cut into his chaotic thoughts. "You must finish the last task a.s.signed to you and then I will send you someplace where you will have an entirely new existence."

"I can't!" Klesowitch cried. "She isn't like the others. There are people watching her, cops-"

"She is the hardest one because she is the one who most needs to be eliminated," Hank broke in. "But I, too, have helpers. I will keep you safe and then you will finish your task. Then everything will be all right."

"It will?"

"Yes. I promise. After this is done, you will have a new start. Haven't I guided you so far? Even today, I've kept you from walking right into a trap."

Michael swallowed and considered this. He'd always thought of himself as an a.n.a.lytical man, but there was so much conflicting information. If the girl-his target-was so evil, why was she being protected? And why had he ended up being hunted by the police?

"There is so much going on that normal people don't understand," the Holy Man said. Again, always, always, it was as if he could read Michael's mind. "It's only the special ones, the it was as if he could read Michael's mind. "It's only the special ones, the chosen chosen ones like you, who have those like me to guide them to those who must be eliminated. It's for the greater good, Michael. ones like you, who have those like me to guide them to those who must be eliminated. It's for the greater good, Michael. You You are one of the people who make that greater good possible." are one of the people who make that greater good possible."

Michael exhaled, willing himself to calm down and think, dammit, think. think. "What do I do in the meantime?" he finally asked. "Where do I go?" "What do I do in the meantime?" he finally asked. "Where do I go?"

"There's a restaurant on Irving Park called McNamara's," the Holy Man told him. "Up near the Kennedy Expressway. It's quiet during the day. Go there and wait for me."

Klesowitch rubbed his eyes. "I'm supposed to just sit in there for what? Hours? You think they won't notice?"

"Have a sandwich," Hank said. "Read the paper. Be resourceful, Michael. I'll come for you."

Michael bit back the protest that came to his lips and focused on his shoes instead. They were Nikes, a pair he'd seen advertised on television last year but which had been way out of his price range. He'd hunted around and found them on eBay, then won a late-night auction and gotten them for a great price when the original ones were three times higher.

Be resourceful. He could do that, couldn't he? Just like he had with his Nikes. He was an intelligent man. He was He could do that, couldn't he? Just like he had with his Nikes. He was an intelligent man. He was resourceful. resourceful.

He looked up again, but the Holy Man was gone. The summer sun bled enough heat onto Michael's forehead to make him feel faint, and he knew the car wasn't going to be much better. There were a couple of frozen dinners and some other stuff in his bags that ought to be kept cold, but there was no help for it. He thought briefly about taking them back in and asking for his money back, then decided that was stupid. What a way to draw attention to himself.

After a minute or two of indecision, he pulled out the perishable items, dropped them on the ground next to his car, and drove away.

Eighteen Morning's light warmed the sheets hanging at the window and brightened up the tiny, dark apartment. Brynna had marked the pa.s.sing of the night by listening to Redmond's heart, a steady pulse that slowed when he slept but had pounded to his own staccato rhythm at the height of their lovemaking.

Lovemaking.

Odd that lovemaking lovemaking was the word that had slipped into her mind when she thought of what they had done last night. She was not immune to it-no one, human or celestial, was. G.o.d had created everything out of just that, and even the least of the creatures in existence experienced their own form of it. But for Brynna, love had been so long ago it was almost beyond memory, and with a being who had so closed himself off that the only thing left in his center was an abyss filled with malevolence. Love itself had become so far out of reach that Brynna had never thought herself capable of feeling such a thing again. was the word that had slipped into her mind when she thought of what they had done last night. She was not immune to it-no one, human or celestial, was. G.o.d had created everything out of just that, and even the least of the creatures in existence experienced their own form of it. But for Brynna, love had been so long ago it was almost beyond memory, and with a being who had so closed himself off that the only thing left in his center was an abyss filled with malevolence. Love itself had become so far out of reach that Brynna had never thought herself capable of feeling such a thing again.

She had been with countless others, male and female, since her fall from Grace, but no one had touched her like Redmond. And touched touched was something that meant so much more than the physical. Even that part of it had been exquisite and rapturous and unique, like nothing she had ever experienced. How could that be? was something that meant so much more than the physical. Even that part of it had been exquisite and rapturous and unique, like nothing she had ever experienced. How could that be? She She should be the one giving that to him, not the other way around. Eran Redmond had gone past her detachment and distance to reawaken a part of herself that she'd thought was forever dead. He had made her should be the one giving that to him, not the other way around. Eran Redmond had gone past her detachment and distance to reawaken a part of herself that she'd thought was forever dead. He had made her want, want, both physically and emotionally. Now, like any creature rising from a too-long hibernation, she was wide-eyed and ravenous, aching for- both physically and emotionally. Now, like any creature rising from a too-long hibernation, she was wide-eyed and ravenous, aching for- "Good morning."

Brynna turned her head and saw Redmond regarding her. His eyes were puffy with sleep and relaxation, and when he stretched, he reminded her of a well-fed wolf. Looking at him made her breathing quicken and she rolled out of bed and stood before anything else could happen. She knew from experience that it wasn't a good idea to have a repeat performance so soon-even the strongest of humans faltered when faced with a creature as addictive as Brynna. She had the feeling that in the future there would be many things she wanted for Eran, but addiction to her wasn't one of them.

"I need to get dressed," she said. One of the newest additions to the apartment was an old but working wall clock in the shape of a metal sunburst; a glance at it made her realize she'd made the very human mistake of staying in bed too long. "I have to be downtown before nine."

"I'll drive you." He threw aside the sheet and stood, and before she could move away, he pulled her into his arms. "Thank you," he said against the side of her neck. "I've never ... had a night like that before."

Brynna slipped out of his embrace quickly. She didn't know what to say, so she settled for "You're welcome" and ducked into the bathroom.

"Hey," he said from the other side of the door when she deftly closed it before he could crowd in after her. "I have to ask you."

"What?"

"What happened to your belly b.u.t.ton?"

Brynna had to laugh. Humans could be so dense. dense. "Silly-I was made, not born. "Silly-I was made, not born.

"I never had one."

"HI."

Mireva jerked around, then relaxed when she saw Gavino leaning against the door that led from the roof to the interior of the building. "Hey." She pulled her gaze from him and went back to studying her plants, but it took effort. There was something enticing about him that she couldn't identify. Sure, he was the best eye candy she'd ever seen outside of a television screen, but it went beyond that. She couldn't figure it out. Hormones? Maybe. At seventeen Mireva was still a virgin, even though she'd been on birth control pills since she was fifteen. Her mother had told her it was to keep her from suffering from monthly cramps, but Mireva knew better. She'd never known her father and, oddly, had never wanted to, but simple math made it easy to figure out her mother had hardly been older than Mireva was now when she had conceived. Hormones could be a disastrous thing, but screw that-Mireva wasn't about to let a chemical reaction in her body make her do something that would change her entire life, no matter how cute the guy was. She was too smart for that.

Gavino watched her for a few minutes before he spoke. "So, how's it going? All ready for your science fair?"

"I'm pretty up on it," she answered. She glanced at the sky involuntarily-she always seemed to do that when thinking about the effect of the heat on the plants. "Everything will be okay if the plants can stand the heat."

"Told you I'd water for you."

Mireva intentionally didn't look at him. She'd thought long and hard about Brynna's words and decided that even if Brynna was wrong, she couldn't take the chance. At least Brynna lived in the building; for all Mireva knew, Gavino lived on the other side of the city. "I've got it covered." This time she did glance at him. "How'd you get past the cops?"

Gavino shrugged. "I have my ways. Cops have never been able to keep up with me."

"Ah." She poked her fingertips around the bases of a few plants, checking the surface moisture of the soil and pulling out the ever-present contingent of tiny weeds. Did he think she would be impressed? Some girls might be, but Mireva's thoughts ran opposite to the p.u.b.escent norm. Why, she wondered, would the police have have to keep up with him? And what had he done in the past to gain that kind of experience? to keep up with him? And what had he done in the past to gain that kind of experience?

She straightened and stretched, working the stiffness out of her back. Yeah, the more she thought about it, the more she realized Brynna had given her a good warning. She wanted to believe that Gavino would never do anything to intentionally harm her, but then, what did she really know about him? Not much. Like Brynna had said, he talked a good game, but for Mireva the history just wasn't sliding into place. Unintentional was a nice sentiment, but it wouldn't regrow her plants if he screwed up. Mireva also knew she had a tendency to think the best of people where others, like her mother and uncle, were perpetually rooted in pessimism. Her optimism could bite her in the b.u.t.t if she didn't keep a handle on it.

"So, are you done here? For the day, I mean."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

Gavino shrugged again, and Mireva had to stop herself from saying something. She hated that movement because it conveyed everything she didn't didn't believe in-carelessness most of all. He met her eyes, then stepped forward and squared his shoulders, almost as if he could read in her body language that she wasn't all that high on him. "I mean there's a Cubs game this afternoon. As in Wrigley Field, peanuts, hot dogs, and good old Chicago baseball." He held up one hand and wiggled a couple pieces of brightly laminated paper in her direction. "They usually start at one-twenty, but there's some kind of road work issue on Addison, so it's not going to begin until four o'clock. And I've got tickets." believe in-carelessness most of all. He met her eyes, then stepped forward and squared his shoulders, almost as if he could read in her body language that she wasn't all that high on him. "I mean there's a Cubs game this afternoon. As in Wrigley Field, peanuts, hot dogs, and good old Chicago baseball." He held up one hand and wiggled a couple pieces of brightly laminated paper in her direction. "They usually start at one-twenty, but there's some kind of road work issue on Addison, so it's not going to begin until four o'clock. And I've got tickets."

Mireva stared at the tickets, not quite believing what she'd heard. Go to an actual Cubs game? She'd been a fan ever since she could remember-and she was pretty good on the softball field herself-but actually going going to a game had never been a possibility. It was too far, it was too expensive; it was, frankly, something done by people who had a whole lot more money than she did. to a game had never been a possibility. It was too far, it was too expensive; it was, frankly, something done by people who had a whole lot more money than she did.

"No, thanks. I ... I can't." It was her voice, but it wasn't. It was, however, the voice of reality.

"Aw, come on. Why not?" Gavino pointed to the rows of lush green plants behind her. "Plants are watered for the day, right? And knowing you, you've probably already done your homework three times over, plus extra-credit stuff."

Well ... yeah, she had. But that wasn't the only thing going on, and Mireva was a long way from forgetting the bullets that had whizzed at her yesterday, right on her own front doorstep. If it hadn't been for her backpack full of books taking the first two, she'd be dead right now instead of standing on this roof. On the other hand, how likely was it that the guy-a.s.suming it had been a male-who'd shot at her yesterday was going to be waiting out front today? There was nothing surrept.i.tious about her security force: two squad cars out front, one out back, uniformed cops both in and out of the building. And speaking of- "How did you get up here, anyway?"

"It wasn't hard," he said. Mireva's eyes narrowed at the indifferent tone of his voice. He caught her expression and added quickly, "The cop was on his cell phone, talking to his girlfriend or something. I mean, despite all the excitement yesterday, I don't think they really believe that person is going to come back here. And with all the cops hanging around, he'd have to be crazy to show up, right?"

Mireva poked at her plants again, her mind spinning. Everything he said sounded so reasonable. Only a fool would come back here now-the cops had checked every car parked out front, ha.s.sled every person going in and out of the building, and basically followed her everywhere but into the bathroom. The only reason she'd been able to convince them it was okay to come up to the roof was because they believed the guy who'd shot at her wasn't inclined to go above sidewalk level.

She turned to face Gavino. "But what about going out? Maybe we could have one of the cops go with us."

Gavino shook his head. "Nah, they'd never go for that. You know how paranoid cops are. They think bad guys are going to jump out of every shadow." He gave her a handsome grin. "Think about it, Mireva. Wrigley Field holds over forty-one thousand people. Even if someone was still after you-which is doubtful-how the h.e.l.l would he find you? You're much more of an easy target right here."

"Forty-one thousand?" Mireva echoed.

"Forty-one thousand, one hundred and eighteen, to be exact. As of 1998." When she raised an eyebrow, Gavino's grin widened and he gave her a conspiratorial look. "Us baseball people know stuff like that." He held up the tickets again. "Come on, what do you say? You can leave your mom a note or something."

Mireva considered the idea of a note, then rejected it. She knew exactly what would happen once her mother read it, and how embarra.s.sing would it be for her mother to send the cops to the baseball park to find her? It wasn't such a stretch, considering biometrics and the number of video cameras that were popping up nowadays. She'd once heard a politician on television say that it was easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission. She'd never used that principle before, but maybe she could, just this one time. She wanted to act cool and unconcerned, but in spite of everything a small churning ball of excited b.u.t.terflies seemed to be banging against the walls of her stomach.

"Okay," she heard herself say. "Let me get my Cubs cap, then we'll see if you're good enough to get us out of here without getting caught."

ERAN WASN'T WAITING FOR her when Brynna got off work, so she dug out her money and rode the bus like everyone else. By the eighth stop she had a seat by a window; that gave her plenty of time to watch the world go by and think about what had rolled through her mind when she'd walked out of the Dirksen Federal Building and realized she was on her own for transportation. That was no big deal, obviously, but the disappointment she'd felt that Eran wasn't waiting troubled her. Well, that didn't really cover it. It bugged the s.h.i.t out of her-he was a human, she was a fallen angel. her when Brynna got off work, so she dug out her money and rode the bus like everyone else. By the eighth stop she had a seat by a window; that gave her plenty of time to watch the world go by and think about what had rolled through her mind when she'd walked out of the Dirksen Federal Building and realized she was on her own for transportation. That was no big deal, obviously, but the disappointment she'd felt that Eran wasn't waiting troubled her. Well, that didn't really cover it. It bugged the s.h.i.t out of her-he was a human, she was a fallen angel. And never the twain shall meet, And never the twain shall meet, her mind supplied snidely, but that wasn't true, wasn't it? They'd met last night, all right, and that "meeting" had opened up a whole new set of dark and dangerous doors. her mind supplied snidely, but that wasn't true, wasn't it? They'd met last night, all right, and that "meeting" had opened up a whole new set of dark and dangerous doors.

It occurred to Brynna that things were going a little too smoothly. Yes, Mireva had been shot at and Brynna had taken a bullet for her, but that was all on a human level; where Brynna came from, things could, and usually did, get much, much much worse. She was, in fact, relaxing a little worse. She was, in fact, relaxing a little too too much-when was the last time she'd seriously thought about Hunters? Sure, she found herself glancing around now and then, but she was paying a whole lot more attention to Eran and Mireva and her nearly daily commutes downtown for interpreter jobs, really getting caught up in the human world. The sudden realization of how completely careless she'd been almost made Brynna cringe. much-when was the last time she'd seriously thought about Hunters? Sure, she found herself glancing around now and then, but she was paying a whole lot more attention to Eran and Mireva and her nearly daily commutes downtown for interpreter jobs, really getting caught up in the human world. The sudden realization of how completely careless she'd been almost made Brynna cringe.

Was it possible that Lucifer simply wasn't looking for her anymore, that he wasn't going to bother? Such an idea brought up strangely complex emotions, the biggest of which was the one most likely to be true: it was utterly absurd. Lucifer was greedy, l.u.s.tful, and possessive. While there might have been a time when he had loved her, that era was long gone. Now, as far as he was concerned, he simply owned her. And he did not allow possessions to leave.

On the other hand, what if he truly no longer cared? Part of her would rejoice in her freedom-if she could confirm it-while another part of her felt stung by the notion that she might have given up everything for someone who ultimately didn't even care enough to try to bring her back. She didn't want to return, of course, and she would die rather than do so, but she had literally given up G.o.d's she could confirm it-while another part of her felt stung by the notion that she might have given up everything for someone who ultimately didn't even care enough to try to bring her back. She didn't want to return, of course, and she would die rather than do so, but she had literally given up G.o.d's Grace Grace to stay by Lucifer's side. Ultimately it wasn't that he held her in so little regard, but that she had made an error in judgment that was so monumental it could never be equaled by anyone, in Heaven to stay by Lucifer's side. Ultimately it wasn't that he held her in so little regard, but that she had made an error in judgment that was so monumental it could never be equaled by anyone, in Heaven or or on Earth. How could she have been so completely senseless? on Earth. How could she have been so completely senseless?

Before Brynna could berate herself further, the bus turned onto her street and she gathered up her purse and stood. The bus slowed and she glanced forward automatically, then stiffened. Her building was about half a block down, and through the windshield she could see three squad cars pulled to the curb in front of it. As the bus slowed to a stop and the doors hissed open, Brynna realized that Eran's car was also there, sandwiched between two of the CPD's Crown Victorias. This couldn't be good.

Someone must have told him she was coming, because by the time she made it to the building's door, Eran was waiting. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Where's Mireva? Is she all right?"

"That's the problem," Eran said. His face was grim and tight. "We don't know where where she is. Somehow Officer Cutler there managed to lose her." Eran shot an angry look toward a round-faced cop with dark hair who was staring at his shoes while his sergeant spoke to him in low, rapid tones. she is. Somehow Officer Cutler there managed to lose her." Eran shot an angry look toward a round-faced cop with dark hair who was staring at his shoes while his sergeant spoke to him in low, rapid tones.

Brynna sucked in a breath. "How long ago?"

"No d.a.m.ned idea," Eran answered. "The last time that Eagle Eye can place her, she was headed up to the roof to water her plants after she got home from cla.s.s. As near as he can recall, that was about two o'clock."

Over two hours ago. "She could be anywhere."

Eran ran one hand nervously over his hair. "I was hoping you might be able to help me look for her," he finally got out. "Take a look at her room, her stuff. You know, like you did with Cho Kim."

"Absolutely. Let's go." She was already moving toward the stairs.

In the apartment, Abrienda was pacing the small living room, her movements tight and efficient, like a high-strung lioness. Sathi was stationed by the window, his sharp dark eyes watching everything that happened on the street below; a young, uniformed officer stood by the front door, and it was clear from his stance that he just wanted to avoid the trouble that Cutler had gotten himself into.

"Ramiro is on his way," Abrienda said when she saw Brynna. She waited for the span of a double heartbeat, then asked, "Do you think she is already dead?"

Eran's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to answer, but Brynna beat him to it. "It depends on where she's gone, and with whom," she answered honestly. "She has a better chance if she's by herself than with Gavino."

Abrienda's face darkened. "Gavino-that boy I saw in the hallway."

"Yes."

Her seething gaze found Eran. "If you knew he was a bad person, that he would harm my Mireva, then why did you not arrest him?"

"He hadn't done anything wrong," Eran said. "And there's no proof that he has now, or that he's even with Mireva."

Abrienda turned to glare at Brynna. "But you-you knew, didn't you?"

Careful now, Brynna thought. This was Abrienda she was talking to, not Eran. "I had a bad feeling about him," she said. "That's why I made him leave the build-"

"Ms. Cocinero," Eran cut in, "may we take a look at Mireva's room? Maybe there's something in there that will help us figure out where she is."

Abrienda folded her arms. Her back was straight, her shoulders stiff. "Fine. Do whatever you need to. Just find her. Alive. Alive."