Doing Time

Doing Time Book One of the Time Dancers series Raine McIntyre (c) 2008

Doing Time Book One of the Time Dancers series Raine McIntyre Published 2008 ISBN 978-1-59578-436-0 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2008, Raine McIntyre. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Gail Foreman Cover Artist April Martinez This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Chapter One I want you to know from the outset that when Gavin singled me out, making me his goal, target, raison d'être, school project, or whatever the hell I was to him, I really was minding my own business. To me, he was and always will be a big pain in the ass. He's also the one person who understood me, healed me, and made eternity seem too short a time, so I cut him some slack … sometimes, anyway. I was forty-two when I met Gavin. My life was pretty uneventful until I reached forty—the year from Hell. Besides turning forty, my husband left me, my mother died, my kids took off for college, leaving me alone for the first time in my life, and I had to start using reading glasses. Yeah, that reading-glasses thing was a total bitch. We met at a party my best friend, Tammy, threw. My friendship with Tammy confused even me. Ethereal, blond, and blue-eyed, Tammy appeared much more fragile than she was. She ruled her household and prominent social circle with her tiny iron fist. Even her real-estate-mogul husband, James (never Jim), deferred to her wishes. Trust me, only Tammy could have gotten me to a party of any kind. “Come on, Charity, you're becoming positively reclusive.” Tammy chewed her salad, the only food I ever saw her consume. I guess that's why she'd remained so slim into middle age, and I hadn't. “I really don't go much for parties. You know that.” She gave me that pained, guilt-inducing stare, and I reconsidered. After all, how bad could it be? I'd been divorced and very much alone (as in celibate) for more than two years and getting kinda itchy, if you know what I mean. However, a woman of a “certain age,” five foot five and one hundred fifty pounds isn't exactly in demand these days. Go figure. Besides, James had invited a client who was interested in the cabin my family was selling. On the surface, Gavin was the kind of guy women notice—sexy, sinfully gorgeous. He looked at me as though I were a candy bar, one he intended on thoroughly enjoying down to the last bite then licking the wrapper clean of any remnant of sweetness before tossing it away. He made my teeth sweat. We “nice girls” have sweet tooths, too. At least I used to be a nice girl. That was also before Gavin, but I'm not complaining. Nice is boring and wasteful. You squander years saying “no” to things you later regret having missed doing while you could still enjoy them. After all, we're a long time dead. What made Gavin so appealing? His curly blond hair and sapphire eyes gave him a cherubic guise. But no way, no how, in any reality, was Gavin anyone's angel. Michael, Gabriel, and all their minions would have bust a gut, if they had guts, laughing at the absurdity of such a notion. Gavin was gorgeous; he was also as devious, cunning, and seductive as any vice. Still, with all his faults, in the eons of his existence as a Time Dancer, he had saved the world, or at least kept the fabric of time from unraveling, a time or two. Yes, eons. That's the thing about Time Dancers—they're virtually immortal, with enhanced physical bodies at their peak of fitness. I haven't seen one yet who looks a day

over thirty. My name is Charity Donovan. It used to be Charity Peters, but I got my name back in the divorce. I was lucky to get that. Ed Peters, my ex, was a shark—that unique subgenre of lawyer for whom Hell has a special ring. Unlike natural predators, these sharks swim in schools, protecting their own in the “Good Ole Boy” network. I had always worked with computers, so at any rate, I wasn't dependent on the good graces of Ed Peters for my livelihood. Like any graces, good or otherwise, could be found in Ed. My straight brown hair was far removed from its original chestnut color but as close as I could come with color from a bottle. Those annoying little gray hairs, taking over like weeds, had necessitated the use of something. Surrounded by a plethora of lines, my eyes had retained their original chestnut shade, matching my original hair color. I'd always been able to find reasons to laugh and much preferred it to crying as a cathartic, even if it did show on my face. So I agreed to attend Tammy's party for family, friends, and business acquaintances. Talk about strange bedfellows. Maybe I'd find Mr. Right in such an eclectic collection of people. Right, and as they say, “Maybe monkeys will fly out my butt.” I'd been at Tammy's since early afternoon, ostensibly helping her prepare. We both knew I was more of a hindrance than a help. Tammy just wanted to check out—read “redo”—my hair, clothes, and makeup. I figured she'd redo my body, voice, and personality if possible. Luckily or unluckily, she couldn't, so I got to leave those three things as they were. She kept saying she had someone special for me, someone who'd asked to meet me in person. I couldn't imagine who'd even know me, let alone ask about me, but Tammy would say only that he was a client of James' interested in the cabin. So I spent the first half of the party anxiously awaiting Mr. Mystery Man. I should have known Tammy wasn't one to be impressed with anyone ordinary. Someone who would be a suitable date for me. Someone who wouldn't intimidate me. Someone within a decade of my age. I really should have known. I noticed Gavin right away, but then so had every other female in the place. For some reason though, he singled me out. He stared, and I tried to pretend I didn't see him, since I really didn't figure he was interested in me. But I'd never felt such a physical pull to another person, let alone a stranger. When he made a beeline for me, I turned to see who his target might be, but I stood alone. Me? Was he blind? Lost? Crazy? Fascinated, I watched the Adonis approach. He could not possibly be the man. Silly me for thinking that, after thirty-plus years of friendship, Tammy might actually know me and the type of man with whom I'd be comfortable. He stood about a foot taller than I, outweighed me by about seventy pounds, and could not have been more than thirty years old. The blue of his suit reflected and intensified the azure of his eyes. His smile wiped every bit of data from my buffer. That's computerese for: I stood there frozen in place like an empty-headed moron … and gawked. “Charity?” “Uh-huh?” He tilted his head to the side, a puzzled frown on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh.” The cocky, knowing look in his eyes disturbed the butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I prayed they didn't take flight—taking my dinner with them. “I have a proposition for you. Do you have a few minutes?” Okay, a proposition, the cabin, now that made more sense. Still, I seemed to have lost my ability for coherent thought. “Uh-huh.” He laughed outright this time. “I wish all women were as obliging as you. How about out here?” He indicated the terrace. Not wanting to be too repetitive, I switched it up a little this time. “Okay.” We strolled out onto the terrace. “Do you know anything about Einstein's Theory of Relatively and Time Travel?” he asked. I blinked at the non sequitur. Einstein? “What am I saying? Of course you do.” “Einstein?” For some unknown reason, I'd read Einstein's discourse on time relativity last week. You do a lot of strange things when you're bored, but what did that have to do with a cabin purchase and a hot young man, who, by the way, had to be more than a decade my junior? “Yes, Einstein. His theory on time folding in on itself and worm holes, the whole thing on relativity.” I think I blinked at him, which he took for a sign of intelligence or interest or something, because he continued talking about Time, The Universe, and Everything. My brain in free-fall, not with his ramblings but with the way the muted lights shone off his curls and highlighted the ocean-depth color of his eyes, I remained silent, watching his full lips move, and dreamed of kissing them. Boy, it had been awhile. His lips stopped moving, and I gazed into his eyes. He considered me, not with curiosity at my mute fascination, but with a burning intensity I couldn't quite identify. It sent frissons of excitement down my spine to settle low in an area that hadn't seen any action for quite a while. He raised his hand to my face, lightly caressing my cheek. “Me, too,” he whispered, as though he'd read my mind, and I fancied he felt the same pull I did. His hand visibly shaking, he lowered it and pulled on a polite but distant façade again. “So what do you think?” “Think about what?” He sighed and started his speech again, but stopped, seemingly considering a different tack. He smiled, something that really should be illegal around the female population, considering how lethal it was. “You know, my house is much quieter and more conducive to private conversation.” “It is?” “Oh, yeah.” He leaned against the half wall surrounding the terrace onto which we'd wandered. “Most definitely. I can guarantee we can discuss my proposition uninterrupted.” “Proposition?” “Yes, my proposition and anything else we'd care to discuss.” He straightened and moved closer, holding out his hand.

I took it. His hand engulfed mine, and he pulled me slowly but firmly toward him, stopping when only inches separated us. I stared down at our clasped hands. “Come with me?” Looking up into his eyes, I nodded. He smiled again, appearing pleased. I smiled back, pleased I'd pleased him. Putting his hand against the small of my back, he started us toward the exit. It never occurred to me at the time that no one knew, including me, where I was going and with whom. What did occur to me was that the heat branding his hand into my back could be addictive. I swore I could feel each separate finger of that hand, and I never wanted him to remove his hand or his fingers from my body. Tammy crossed the terrace where we'd left the house, directly into our path. “Oh good, you two have met.” I, of course, stood there, my mouth open in its new normal position, and blinked. “Charity and I were leaving to get better acquainted,” Gavin answered for both of us. Why I chose that moment to muster some lucidity I'll never know, but I did. I turned to him. “Uh, who are you?” He laughed, smooth to the end, the fastest thinker on two feet. “Did I forget that little detail?” Naturally, I said, “Uh-huh.” “My name is Gavin Carpenter.” He shook my hand then returned his palm to the small of my back. “Pleased to meet you. Now that we know each other, let's go get better acquainted.” “Okay.” Sanity and good sense had deserted me again. We continued past a dumbfounded Tammy, Gavin again filling any silence with a technical discourse on Time and everything you never wanted to know about it. I went along with him, not contributing anything to the conversation … monologue. We walked down the sloping driveway of James' and Tammy's comfortable Scottsdale home. Though only March, the temperature was an unseasonably warm eighty-five degrees during the day and sixty degrees now. Spring flowers had long since bloomed, unaware that Phoenix—of which Scottsdale is a suburb—always has one last winter hurrah during March, dropping temperatures and stripping blossoms. We reached the end of the drive and the glow of the artificial lighting lining the concrete. Gavin kept walking toward a silver Dodge Viper. I stopped at the end of the walkway, self-preservation again making an appearance, but he had yet to notice. He unlocked the car doors and turned, finally noting my absence. “Charity?” “What do you want with me, Mr. Carpenter?” “Gavin, please.” “Okay, Gavin, what do you want with me?” He laughed and said somewhat cryptically, “You should see the strength of your aura. It's the darkest red I've ever encountered.” “My what is what?” Okay, good looks, even really good looks go only so far. “It'll take too long to explain. Come with me, and I'll clarify everything.” “Gavin, what do you want with me? Is this even about the cabin?” He sighed and walked back to the driveway but made no move to touch me. “I'd

really like to go into depth about that, but it would be so much better away from other people.” “Better for whom?” Gavin's smile formed slowly this time, a hint of admiration in his eyes. I felt like a puppy that had learned a new trick … maybe an old dog. “Ah yes, for whom.” He moved to the split-rail fence bordering the driveway and perched sideways on the top rail, studying me. “Well, that's complicated. You could say just about everyone.” “So, are we ending world hunger or nuclear proliferation? Is the cabin going to house the homeless?” “Actually, we're saving time.” I was beginning to wonder if he wasn't a gorgeous fruit-and-nut cake. Too bad, but just my luck. “Saving time? What exactly are we going to be doing?” His eyes never left mine; not a trace of a smile touched his face. “No … big 'T' Time. We need to save Time.” While he watched me furtively back away toward the house, his expression was one of amusement, but he never cracked a smile. “I see. Well, I sorta have other plans today. Maybe we could save Time next week.” I'd made it halfway up the sidewalk when he pushed away from his seat on the fence and sighed. “I knew any match for me would never come quietly, but for a while it looked like it might be a little easier than this.” No emotion on his face, he stalked toward me. I turned to flee, but he was at my back, his arm around my waist before I'd made it two steps. I opened my mouth to scream and found myself unable to squeeze even a squeak past the pain in my midsection. “Charity, I know you're frightened, but I'm not going to hurt you. There's just no time to waste.” He sounded sincere, but he was very wrong. Oh, I had been frightened … now I was pissed. Dammit, it hurt. I clasped his pinky and pulled, bending back his little finger at the same time I stomped heavily on his instep—a move I learned in self-defense class. “Dammit! You vicious … ouch, shit, that hurt!” My words, exactly. Gavin hopped on one foot and shook his abused left hand. Again I turned to run. He snagged my dress in his right fist and pulled me toward him. He brought me close enough to snake an arm all the way around me. He slung me onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry, my stomach painfully balanced over him. Being the female I am, my first and totally useless thought was how embarrassed I was to have him lift me. One hundred fifty pounds isn't exactly light. But that was hardly the most important thing here, was it? Next, I noticed an absence of sound and movement. We were on our way to his car. I raised my head and looked around, forgetting for a moment my impulse to scream. Birds flew in the late afternoon dusk, hanging in mid-air like puppets on invisible strings. Guests at Tammy's party, drawn by our argument, had stepped onto the terrace. Like mannequins, they stood immobilized in mid-conversation. The pain in my middle increased and burned. Beginning in my gut, it radiated throughout my body. The world poised in mid-action as we passed by, I forgot screaming, kicking, or anything else. My brain froze like everything around us.

“You'll feel better when we return to the normal time flow.” I gave his words only a momentary thought. The burning pain soon took all my concentration. As he set me down in the car on the passenger side, a wave of dizziness spread like ripples across a pond throughout my body. The pain in my stomach grew and traveled into my head. I turned toward Gavin, to ask him what was happening, when everything faded into darkness then … nothing. **** I don't know how much later I came to, but light shone around the shades of windows in an unfamiliar bedroom. Completely naked, I was tucked under the sheets and comforter of a strange bed. Putting first things first, I left the bed and wrapped the coverlet around me, heading for the facilities in the adjoining bathroom. A terrycloth robe the color of Gavin's eyes hung on the back of the bathroom door. The events of the previous evening—I thought it was the previous evening—came crashing back, setting the ache in my head pounding at my temples. I tried the bedroom door. It was locked, of course. Rubbing my temples, I moved to the foot of the bed and sat, trying to relieve the pain and form a workable escape plan. It wasn't long before steps came from outside the door, and I got up to face whoever entered. As the ancient brass handle rattled and turned, keys jangled and hit the wood outside the door. The door swung heavily inward, admitting Gavin and a food tray. When he saw me, he paused, his luscious mouth forming a smile. He had replaced his elegant dress clothes of the previous evening with a black metallic jumpsuit, the fabric absorbing the light around it and reflecting it back with a life of its own. Or maybe that was just Gavin. The material set off his tawny hair and cerulean eyes like the frame on a classic painting. I had a difficult time not answering his smile with one of my own. “Good. You're awake. I brought you coffee, plenty of cream and sweetener, orange juice, toast, and scrambled eggs.” “Yeah, like I'm gonna eat or drink anything you bring me. What did you drug me with? Some kinda date-rape roofie drug?” He chuckled and moved into the room, setting the tray on the table next to the bed. “I have never drugged anyone. Especially not with any date-rape roofie drug.” “Then why did I pass out, huh? I never pass out.” I included the entire room with a sweeping gesture. “By the way, where am I? And why am I here? Where are my clothes? What time is it? For that matter, what day is it?” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door, watching me. “Well?” I ground out between clenched teeth. “My turn now?” Sarcasm is not an attractive trait. I curled both hands into fists, longing to slam them into his condescending grin. “I'd like to know where I am and what day and time it is. Then I'd like to know how I got here.” I paused, checking to make sure he was listening. “But most of all, I want to know why.” “You're in a spare bedroom in my home, about eight hours after you left Tammy's house,” he said, that smug grin still attached to his face. “As for how and why…” His shoulders shifted in a shrug. “A time-freeze shift is always … disorienting at first, but

you'll get used to it. Combined with your panicking, no wonder you passed out. No drugs were involved. Your breakfast is perfectly safe.” I faced him and made a rude noise, folding my own arms across my chest. As badly as I needed coffee and as good as it smelled, I still didn't trust him. After all, besides sounding nuts, he had kidnapped me. “Listen, Mr. Carpenter, I don't care what, when, or why anymore. As much as I've enjoyed your hospitality and our little chat, I'd like to leave now. So, if you'll just return my clothes…” He sighed heavily, something he did a lot around me. “Raphael told me my match would be a match in every way. But I didn't realize you'd be so pigheaded.” “Pigheaded? Pigheaded!” A flush roared across my face like a sunburn, and I clenched my fists, digging half-moon divots in my palms with my nails. Who did he think he was? “Listen, Mr. High and Mighty Shifter or Hop, Skip, Jumper man, I didn't ask to be brought here, and I don't want to stay.” I stopped ranting and frowned. “And who's this Raphael guy?” He watched my tirade, and his smile slowly grew. “God, you're passionate.” He uncrossed his arms and stepped away from the door to approach me. I took a step back, hitting the edge of the bed with the backs of my thighs. He raised a hand and cupped my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. “We'll do great things together.” I couldn't help it. I laughed. He dropped his hand and smiled that boyish, impish grin that, in spite of everything, I had started to crave seeing. “Listen, Gavin, I don't know if you have some type of older-woman Oedipus complex or what, but I've been through one hell of a wringer with my ex, and bullshit doesn't go down as easily as it once did.” His laugh made me burn hotter. “Despite that lovely visual,” he said, “I swear I've told you nothing but the truth.” With his right-hand palm toward me, he gave me a mock Boy Scout salute. “So help me, God.” Smiling, he lowered his hand. “I'm actually much older than I look.” His hand brushed across my face again, stroking my cheek. “Besides, what I see when I look at you is much deeper than even you can see.” When I jerked my head back, he took back his hand, straightening. “Yes, Raphael told me it would be like this.” He studied me a moment longer. “I thought or hoped that maybe…” He shook his head and started for the door, stopping at the doorway. “You'll find clean clothes in the top drawer of the bureau and in the closet. I'll be back in half an hour to bring you to see Raphael, my … supervisor.” He started to turn, halted, and faced me again with that boyish grin. “I'd drink that coffee, if I were you. You're going to need it. Besides, what do you have to lose?” “Gavin?” He waited, his expression one of patience. I blushed. “Why did you take my clothes?” “Well, we wouldn't want you to leave before we had a chance to talk to you, now would we?” “Oh.” He started to leave again. This time, I stopped him. “Who … um … undressed me

last night?” He grinned and left without another word. Well, I guess that was an answer of sorts.

Chapter Two I quickly donned the underclothes and funky metallic-looking jumpsuit, like the one Gavin had worn that morning. A hidden zipper ran from the neckline down to below the belly button. I liked the slimming black color. My head felt funny and ached so much I knew I'd need the coffee to deal with whatever came next. I took a chance on my gut feeling, no pun intended, that Gavin meant me no physical harm … yet. Note to self: Kick the caffeine habit before, one way or another, it kills me. Since I'd been too nervous to eat yesterday, I scarffed down the food and brushed my teeth with a new toothbrush I found in the bathroom. True to his word, Gavin returned in exactly thirty minutes. I had just finished exploring the room for my belongings, such as my cell phone and my illegal—but useful—mace, so I suppose I was as ready as I'd ever be. At the strewn contents of the room, Gavin raised a single eyebrow. “Find anything?” “I didn't really expect to.” I walked toward the door. “Come on. Let's get this over with.” He stepped aside to let me pass. “By all means.” I descended the staircase to the right of the bedroom door. Each creak of the hardwood floors betrayed the house's age. Matching the plank flooring, the wood-paneled walls glistened and smelled of fresh polish. Indirect lighting and a large skylight relieved the heavy darkness created by so much woodwork. An oriental runner, in mostly reds and blues, bisected the stairs. Landscapes and portraits of similar style graced the walls along the descent. Busts and other small sculptures sat here and there in recesses in the walls. The bottom of the staircase opened to a large living room that branched in opposite directions. Three green leather-upholstered chairs clustered in front of an unlit fireplace. Other furniture populated the space. That's as much as I noticed. A tall, powerfully built, dark-haired man, sporting a metallic jumpsuit similar to Gavin's and mine, sat in the chair directly facing us. Maybe they were some weird cult, like a Star Wars re-enactment club or something. Raphael had arctic blue eyes so light they were nearly clear. Eerie! He reminded me of “The Big Bad Wolf.” With his ancient eyes in stark contrast to his youthful body, I was certain he could see right through me. This would not be someone you'd choose to mess with … unless you're me. He stood as we approached, his mannerisms more in keeping with someone twice his age. He couldn't be more than thirty. This was Gavin's supervisor? He extended his right hand. “Ms. Donovan, I'm delighted to meet you.” I laid my hand in his, and he covered it with his left, doing one of those smotheringtype shakes. The kind that says how really happy he is to meet you and how you can depend on him, a used-car salesman kind of shake. “Call me Raphael.” He gave me a knowing smile. “I'm much older than I look.” I'm sure I blushed redder than that aura Gavin kept talking about. I hadn't said anything, but it was what I'd been thinking. I looked at Gavin. He shrugged and smiled,

sitting in a chair at the end of the three, leaving vacant only the chair between him and Raphael. Raphael finally released my hand. “Won't you please be seated?” He gestured at the only remaining seat. I perched on the front of the massive chair, ready to flee if given half a chance. I glanced between the two men and didn't figure I'd be given much of a chance—not even half of one. “Soooo, Mr. Raphael…” “Please, just Raphael.” “Okay. So, Raphael, what the hell am I doing here?” Gavin snickered, and Raphael grinned broadly. “You're right, Gavin, she's a perfect match for you.” His grin faded. “She is going to be difficult, though, isn't she?” “Going to be? Look at her aura, and she hasn't even been taught anything yet.” Again with that aura thing. “Now wait just a doggone minute.” I came to my feet. Gavin rose with me. Raphael remained seated, observing us as if we were a pair of amusing toys. My hands on my hips now, I glared at the two men. “I didn't ask to come here, and I sure as hell don't want to stay. One of you had better start talking and tell me what I'm doing here.” I folded my arms over my chest, my foot practically tapping in impatience. “Well?” I waited, then added when the thought occurred to me, “Hey, you're not aliens, are you? Don't tell me I've been abducted by aliens.” “Uh, no, I assure you we're no more alien than you are.” Gavin snorted. Raphael paid no attention to Gavin, smiled, and waved toward the chair I'd vacated. “Please, Ms. Donovan, sit down. I'll do my best to answer all your questions.” Steaming, I sat with my arms still crossed and waited for Raphael to continue. Gavin had crossed the room to a window on the other side and stood staring out, his hands clasped behind his back. Raphael laced his hands together and steepled his index fingers, tapping them against his bottom lip, his gaze fastened on me. The tapping stopped. “First,” he said, “you may have noticed Gavin's singular abilities.” I glanced at Gavin's back before answering. “I noticed.” “It's called Time Dancing, and Gavin 'Steps Out' better than anyone else … ever.” Gavin remained facing the window. “Steps out of what?” “Time.” “What?” Gavin sighed and turned around. “You 'Step Out' of Time when you Time Dance. It's like stepping off a spinning merry-go-round. Everyone on the merry-go-round keeps spinning, but you don't go with them. Your frame of reference has changed. In Time Dancing, you're no longer bound by any time frame of reference and move unbound between or within frames … sort of.” “Sort of?” “Most people think time is linear…” blah, blah, blah, “frame of reference…” yada, yada, yada. While listening to his lecture, I actually started a list in my head of Gavin's features. I

told myself that later, I might have to identify him to the authorities. He bore a faint scar along his right cheek, and a bump ruined the perfect slope of his nose. Altogether, it was the most beautifully imperfect face I'd ever seen. I doubt even the passing of decades could remove my fascination with it. “Ms. Donovan?” My attention snapped to Raphael. “Uh-huh?” Raphael looked amused. “The science lesson is over for now. I asked if you had any questions so far.” Gavin had returned to his vigil in front of the window. “Is there going to be a test?” Raphael laughed. “Not immediately.” “Good. When do I get out of here?” Gavin, his back to us, shook his head, telling me his feigned disinterest was … well, feigned. Raphael, however, seemed undaunted by my attitude. He stared at me but spoke to Gavin. “She is a perfect match for you. I'm sure she'll give you every bit as much trouble as you gave me.” Gavin didn't answer or comment. With his back still to us, he gave Raphael the finger. Raphael laughed and returned to me. “Where was I? Oh, yes, I'm afraid you're to be our guest for awhile.” “Well, that isn't going to work for me, Raphael. I have a job, family, and friends who will start to wonder about me, and by the way, they saw me leave with Mr. Science Guy over there. I do have a life, such as it is. It may not be exciting, but it's all mine.” “No one will wonder about you. For them, the party hasn't even happened yet. By the time it does, everything will be worked out and come together, be woven, as it were, into the correct fabric of time and space.” I sat back in my chair and gawked at Raphael. I know my mouth had to have been hanging open, because I shut it a few minutes later. I wondered why Rod Serling had invited me to this little soiree in the Twilight Zone and how I was going to get out of it. “Okay. Well, I'm sure you guys believe you, ah, step around time…” “Step Out,” Raphael said. “Yes, right, Step Out of time, and I'm really not sure exactly what I saw and experienced, but what you're telling me is more than a little hard to swallow. I mean, no one can really control time.” Raphael remained unmoved by my disbelief. “You don't believe the evidence of your own eyes?” I smiled. “Now, Raphael, we're both sophisticated enough to know there's more than one explanation for what I've seen. You guys could be like David Copperfield, or better yet, Penn and Teller. The last time I took someone at face value, I ended up married to the Antichrist for twenty-two years.” Gavin nearly choked on his laughter. “And you thought she might be difficult.” Raphael sent him a frown. “You're not helping.” To me, he replied, “I know you find all of this difficult to … um … comprehend.” “I'm not stupid, Raphael, I comprehend fine. I just don't happen to believe it, or rather, I don't buy your explanation.”

Raphael visibly stiffened. As he left the window to walk toward me, Gavin chuckled. He rested his hand on my cheek again, something he seemed unable not to do … a lot. “What exactly would convince you we're telling you the truth?” My headache returned, running along the back of my head and neck, and a different kind of ache spread elsewhere. I wished again he didn't have that kind of effect on me. It scrambled my brains, to say the least. “Yeah, well, I'm not sure there would be anything. After all, most any scene could be staged.” I paused, thinking. “Can we go back and see my mom?” Gavin shook his head. “No, Charity. You couldn't see any part of her life after your conception. And if you couldn't talk to her, you'd never be satisfied it wasn't a trick. Talking to your mother would be too risky. You might inadvertently say something to affect the future. We can't risk letting you screw up your own future.” I didn't see why not. I'd done a great job of messing up my past all by myself. I crossed my arms. “Then I guess we're at an impasse.” Gavin watched me steadily for a moment and, strangely enough, Raphael watched Gavin. After a long pause, Gavin smiled. “I believe I have a solution. I'll Step Out with you to a scenario you know we couldn't possibly have staged, but also one you'll easily recognize.” “Where's that?” Gavin didn't answer and glanced at Raphael. “Rafe?” Raphael nodded. Gavin calmly approached me. Something in his determined expression warned me this might not be all that much fun. My head throbbed, and I stood, pressing and rubbing my temples with my fingertips. I'm not quite sure exactly where I planned on going, just somewhere else. Before I knew it, Gavin had me around the middle, making my destination moot anyway. He pulled me tightly up against his body, his hand and arm firmly against my stomach. Before the burning began again, I made two remarkable observations. First, Raphael had remained in his chair, his elbows resting on the arms, his gaze dispassionate, merely observing us. Second, Gavin had a hard-on pressed up against my rump. Seems I wasn't the only one affected that way. In a strange way, I was flattered. It had been years since I'd had that effect on anyone. Unfortunately, the burning in my middle increased and became unpleasant, chasing all other thoughts from my mind. **** Multi-colored lights flickered in front of me like remnants of colorful flashbulbs. As abruptly as it had started, the burning and the light-show stopped. We were no longer in the house but outside on a grassy hill, a kind … of … knoll. A grassy knoll? Ohmigod! Everywhere, people were dressed in clothes reminiscent of an earlier time. A time when I had been too young to care about anything but my next bottle and having my diapers changed. Gavin supported me around the middle, his erection still pressed firmly against my back. As I leaned into him, he brought up his other arm to hold me close, my head tucked

under his chin. “Just watch, Charity,” he whispered. “Try not to react strangely.” Strangely? How did one usually act while watching a presidential assassination? The crowd surged forward before I could ask, people shading their eyes and pointing up the street. A midnight blue convertible came into view, bearing the august pair seated in the back seat, the woman in that ridiculous, pink, pillbox hat. They waved at the crowd. “Stop him, Gavin!” He didn't pretend to misunderstand. “No, Charity. We're not here for that. The Time Continuum has to play out as intended to keep fate on track. We can't change anything without changing everything, tearing the fabric of Time completely apart. Just observe.” He kissed the hair at my temple, and I swear he sniffed my hair. Weird, huh? At that moment, though, as the surreal events of November 22, 1963 in Dallas, Texas played out in front of us, I could only watch, transfixed in horror. When the shots rang out, and the crowd stirred, I cringed, not comprehending at first what had taken place. Screams penetrated the sultry afternoon air. Knowing the shots meant the end of a country's innocence, I choked back a sob. Gavin gently rocked me back and forth. “Shhh, it's okay. These events happened a long time ago.” The sparkling lights appeared at the same time the familiar burning started. Parts of me clenched against the pain, lessening the intensity. If I concentrated, I could make the sensation negligible, sort of like labor pains. I guess, in a way, they're a lot alike—each a passage into a new world. **** We returned to the living room where we'd started. Raphael sat in his chair, his position unchanged, still every bit the enigma. Gavin held me close, his erection even more pronounced. Ambivalent about my feelings concerning Gavin and not wanting to be even more confused by his feelings— his reaction to me—I attempted to slip away. His embrace tightened. “You can let me go now, Gavin.” “I could, but I won't.” “I'm not going anywhere.” “No, you're not.” I tugged again, tentatively trying his hold, only half-heartedly making an effort to break free of his grasp. “Gavin,” Raphael warned, “you don't want to rush things now, do you?” “I thought that was the point. Or did I misunderstand the part about time being of the essence?” Raphael frowned and leaned forward. “She has a choice, Gavin,” he said, his tone that of a parent patiently trying to convince a recalcitrant child to behave, “about when … and for a short while yet.” He eased back into his chair. “You haven't trained all this time, watched and waited centuries, to scare her off, have you?” Gavin stiffened and released me reluctantly. “Until later, then.” His words sounded stilted but perhaps a touch rueful, too. I turned toward him, and he bowed slightly, his manner strangely anachronistic, and made his way back to his window, his hands again clasped behind him. Odd, but I felt

even more alone. “Who are you guys,” I asked Raphael, “and what does all this have to do with me?” Raphael remained silent, those spooky eyes of his raising the hair on the back of my neck. So I bluffed—a whistle in the dark. “Look, Raphael, I don't have an Irish name for nothing. Trust me, I have a bitch of a temper, and you're really starting to piss me off.” Raphael cocked his eyebrows at my empty threat. After all, what could I do against men who could step through time? “Tell her, Raphael,” Gavin said, not moving from his position at the window. “She needs to know.” “Yes, she does.” Raphael seemed to gather his thoughts, perhaps searching for the best way to handle me. He looked up. “Please, Charity, sit down. This will take awhile.” He'd called me Charity, not Ms. Donovan. Uh, oh. I sat and studied him, searching for telltale signs of his mood and, better yet, his veracity. “The Creator of the universe and all those existing within and without…” Raphael began. When I started to ask about that “without” part, Raphael raised his hand, preventing me from interrupting. “The Creator is pure good,” he continued, “in whom no evil can be found. The opposing force—Satan, the Devil, or whatever you choose to call it—is pure evil, in which no good can be found.” I did interrupt now. “This sounds like Sunday School, but you don't look like any preacher I've ever seen.” Raphael's grin, reminiscent of all the boys your mother warns you about, appealed to a part of me I didn't care to investigate any further. Somehow, it didn't seem appropriate, like lusting after the parish priest. “I assure you, I'm no preacher.” A snicker came from Gavin. Raphael went on, his expression … expressionless. “Order decays into Chaos, the natural progression of things. Evil attempts to corrupt, to defile everything before its time. One of those things is Time. Even time frames erode eventually. Time Dancers repair the wear and tear on them, the rifts. 'A stitch in time saves nine,' you know.” “He's been using that one since Ben Franklin said it.” Gavin had joined us again. He stood in my peripheral vision, a little to the rear and left of my chair. I spared him a brief glance. His arms were casually folded over his chest but his posture alert. I guessed he had moved up beside me to prevent my bolting when I heard whatever it was Raphael had to say next. I decided to take the plunge and get it over with. “And this has to do with me how?” Raphael bypassed my question to continue his soliloquy. “Normal rifts are fairly routine to repair. A single Dancer can repair them quickly and easily. However, every couple of centuries or millennia or so, Lucifer or Satan or the Devil—Evil, if you will— gets it into his head to try to take out all Creation in one fell swoop. “He concentrates all his minions and power against a single rift. Should he succeed in tearing a large enough hole, Time would unravel uncontrollably. Like dominoes falling or a nuclear reaction, all atoms would be torn apart and scattered unpredictably. And, like a nuclear reaction, once the chain of events begins, it picks up speed geometrically, soon

involving everything and everyone. All Creation would implode and explode simultaneously.” “Bummer.” What else could I say? Gavin snorted. However, I don't think Raphael was at all amused. “To put it mildly,” Raphael said, “it's our job as Dancers to see that Evil doesn't succeed.” “Sounds like you have your work cut out for you,” I remarked. “I assume Satan is being naughty again and planning on giving it another try soon, right?” “That about sums it up.” “And you are going to tell me eventually how this all has anything whatsoever to do with me?” Raphael considered me with his arctic eyes, and cold seeped through my skin. I knew right then I wasn't going to like this. He moved forward in his chair, coming closer to me. I instinctively leaned toward him to hear him better. “That's where you come in,” he said, “you and Gavin.” “Me and Gavin?” “Yes, you and Gavin. As soon as we detect it, we need the concentrated force of a specialized energy to repair the rift Evil opens. If we're too slow, it won't be enough.” “Okay. You have a lot of these Dancing guys, right?” “Legions.” “So … why the hell am I here?” Raphael sat back again. “Have you ever asked yourself if you have a soul mate?” “A what?” He had shifted gears faster than a NASCAR driver. “A soul mate. Someone who fits together with you to make a union stronger than either of you alone—synergy, but greater than synergy—the antithesis of individual effort. Instead of adding the output of each of you, the total force is equal to raising the product of each output several powers.” “Uh, yeah. That's a helluva lot more math than I want to do. I'd have to say a big NO to the soul-mate thing. If there's one thing my ex taught me, it's we come in alone, we go out alone, and we're probably better off alone in between. Period. End of story.” “I warned you, Raphael,” Gavin piped up. Raphael directed his frown first at Gavin and then at me. “You have a soul mate, Charity.” He'd used my first name again. Not a good sign. “Okay, well, we'll just have to agree to disagree there, Raphael. Besides, what does a soul mate have to do with Satan, time rifts, and, most importantly, me?” Behind me, Gavin spoke softly. “Soul mates are needed to heal the rift. Not all the Dancers in the Universe will be enough. However, the concentration of the specialized energy created by soul mates will. But these 'special' rifts require preordained healers.” That icy chill from earlier now penetrated to my bones. I swallowed convulsively and whispered hoarsely past the growing lump in my throat, “They do?” Gavin came closer and laid a hand on my shoulder. Whether to comfort or restrain me, I didn't know, but his touch started a fire to melt the glacier forming around my heart. I looked up at him, into those soul-stealing, forever eyes. “We're soul mates, Charity. We'll have to heal the rift together. It's our fate.” I had to go and ask, didn't I?

Chapter Three “Gavin, you're certifiable, you know that? We're not married or dating or anything. We don't even know each other. How can we be soul mates? Besides, I have other plans.” I started to rise. Gavin's hand on my shoulder prevented it. “Charity, I wish it were as easy to dismiss as simply certifying me.” He looked at Raphael. “My turn.” Raphael shrugged. “We'll talk again, Ms. Donovan. I'm truly sorry I couldn't convince you with logic.” “W-W-What?” “It's a shame, really,” Raphael said, “but it does seem that all too often people base important decisions on the state of their hormones rather than rational thinking.” He smiled before adding, “Try not to wear her out, Gavin.” Gavin scowled. “Don't be crude. Come, Charity, we have much to discuss and little time to do it.” I stared at his extended hand a moment before taking it. Don't ask me why I took it. I don't know. I'd like to say I had a plan to lull him into thinking I was compliant, but I didn't. I just went where Gavin wanted to take me. Seems I always did. When I stood, his mouth curved into a smile, his gaze never veering from mine. Then in front of God and Raphael, Gavin lowered his head and kissed me. The world dropped away. His hands started in my hair, holding my head up at a slant, the perfect angle for his mouth. My hands hung loosely at my sides, and I moved them up to cover his. Warm and supple, his fingers held me tenderly, but they contained a leashed power. He tasted me, pulling my bottom lip into his mouth and suckling it. I whimpered, anxious for more of something, an urge to crawl into his skin, to taste more of him. Still cupping my head with his right hand, he slid his left around my waist and drew me closer. The ridge of his erection pressed into my abdomen. I wriggled, rubbing my breasts against him, my nipples throbbing with pleasure. He groaned, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, my tongue jousting and entwining with his. He tasted clean and delicious—mint and cloves, a spicy combination—I wanted to eat him up. After all, I had folded myself around him like a tortilla with a chewy Gavin center. My heart raced, and pounding pulsed in my neck and chest and down much lower. His arousal drew an answering wetness between my legs and a visceral longing ache I needed to appease. The burning pain from before had changed into the sweet ache of desire. When I could draw a breath, the scent of warm, aroused male filled every pore out to my fingers and toes, chaining opposing forces of lethargic heat and tingling excitement … with me at the center. I would die if I couldn't fulfill this yearning, and yet the intense pleasure might very well kill me. I could have stayed there for hours, just kissing. I'm not so sure I didn't. All I know is, that by the time he drew away, we were somewhere outside, and I'd draped myself

around him. He didn't seem to mind, even laughed at my efforts to extricate myself. I blushed and avoided eye contact, hoping he didn't notice that, too. Finally, I took stock of my surroundings and stood, gaping. “Hey, don't look now, Toto, but I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.” Gavin's laughter indicated he found me amusing, in spite of my besotted behavior. I wondered how old you have to be to stop behaving and feeling foolish. Maybe you never get that old. Then again, maybe the joy leaves if you do. In any case, I had yet to lose either the foolishness or the joy. “So, Gavin, what exactly is it we're supposed to do together?” “Let's walk.” He grabbed my hand, towing me along with him. Thank God we weren't on a grassy knoll again. “Hey, slow down there.” I pulled back, making him stop. He gave me an impassive look and picked up my other hand. “We're going to save Time, the Universe, and, by default, Everything. Sound like fun?” Dropping my hands, he walked over to the hefty branch of a fallen tree, resting about three feet off the ground, and sat on it, scrutinizing me. After a few moments, he patted the tree branch beside him. He cocked his head to one side. “You know, I've seen all your life up to this point. Not always in order, and some parts more than once.” His grin was just a little bit like a leer. “I especially liked Prom night.” Remembering the night I lost my virginity, my cheeks heated up. “Yeah, so did my ex. Exactly how much did you see?” He sat there, grinning long enough that I didn't think he intended to answer, but he finally did. “More than your ex and probably more than you.” “Pervert.” No sense worrying over what had already happened, what I hadn't even known had happened. A laugh shook his chest. “Your thinking is certainly unique, definitely outside the box. You don't really care what I've seen, do you?” “Would caring make any difference?” That set him off but good. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. I looked away, my face on fire now, but not sure why. After all, I already knew I thought a little differently than most people. Okay, a great deal differently than most people. I've tried all my life to be like everyone else, or at least to understand everyone else. I've never succeeded. Not even a little. It hasn't been about whether I see the glass halfempty or half-full, but because I wonder if it makes a difference what's in the glass as to how you see it. It does to me. A slight breeze teased my hair and flung a few strands across my face. For the first time, I noticed our serene surroundings seemed absolutely devoid of any other human life. I tossed my head, shaking the wayward locks away, and walked to the tree to share his seat. Perching on the limb sidewise, I wiggled against the bark, seeking a comfortable position facing him. He, too, turned sidewise to face me. “So tell me, Time Lord, why haven't you seen anything in my life beyond today? I could use a few tips. God knows it's got to be better than it's been lately.”

His gaze steady, his features again serious, he said, “I can't see your future because, from now on, for better or for worse, you and I share a future. Besides, futures are nearly impossible to see. Unlike the past, the future is influenced by choices in the present and constantly changes.” I looked off into the distance and marveled at my calm acceptance of the preposterous events of the last day. I guess I bought into it but figured I might wake up any minute to find it had all been a dream. Hawks circled in the distance, hunting their suppers in the fields below, their cries piercing the eerie quiet. Through the brilliant blue sky, low, stark white clouds floated over the verdant grasslands. The wind, heavy with moisture, had picked up speed. With the clean blue and gray of the skies and the copious wildlife, we couldn't be anywhere near a city—not a modern one. I brought my gaze back to him. “So where are we now?” He smiled and scooted closer, brushing the hair off my face with his hand. “That's it? I tell you we're fated to be together from here to eternity and all you want to know is where we are?” “Well, I'd also like to know when, if it matters any. It doesn't appear to be near my time.” He laughed again, really laughed, as though I were the most hilarious creature on two legs. I suppose it's good when people think you're funny, but it's better if you actually mean to be funny. He treated me like a precocious child—with an amused but patronizing attitude. Gavin finally caught his breath and rested his hand against my cheek. “You really are amazing, you know. I doubt I'll ever be bored again. To answer your questions, we're on the plains of Wyoming, mid-summer around 1870. There weren't or aren't many people in this area. I come here to think. You like?” “Very nice.” I hopped off the tree and brushed the bark off my rear. “Well, what's first?” He left the tree, too, and dusted himself off. “You train and learn how to channel power. Then we practice together. And finally, we fight the bad guys and live happily ever after.” “Hmm. Well, since I seem to have no choice, sounds like a plan. How long do we have to train?” “At least six months. Conditions won't be right for that long.” I skipped the “conditions” part to ask about the six months. “Uh, Gavin? I'm not in … um … very good shape. Hell, I get tired walking a mile. I don't think six months is going to do it. I'll try, but maybe you could find another soul mate—a younger, fitter one.” He chuckled and cupped my cheeks, kissing me on the forehead. “You're priceless. Don't worry, Raphael takes care of that part. Be prepared for a treat. Your body has to be changed. You need a more resilient … model. You need the body you had at eighteen, your peak.” “Don't we all?” “Well, in this case, that's exactly what you get.” “Huh? Some kind of surgery? Wait. No surgery gives you an eighteen-year-old body, outside and inside. Do we take some kind of vitamins or magic elixir or

something? Is there really such a thing? How is Raphael going to give me back my eighteen-year-old body?” “It really isn't a matter of giving you back your body but more like freezing time in the exact moment you were at your peak and plucking out your body from that moment to prevent it from aging and deteriorating any further.” “Okay. But how does that body, uh, get here now?” “That's just it. It doesn't come to you. You go to it to make the second you.” “Second me? A clone?” “Not really. We capture two distinct time lines out of the infinite number of possibilities. You sort of jump forward with your enhanced body to the place on the new time line where the two threads separate while the 'other you' continues on the original timeline. “Both of you retain the same memories up to yesterday at the party, but only the new you will have your memories after the moment we met on this time stream. The 'other you' will never meet me at the party and will live your life after that point.” I know I stared at him for quite awhile. I remember thinking, “Yeah, that makes sense,” while simultaneously considering maybe I was the one who was certifiable. A thousand questions flashed through my mind, instead, I asked, “So is that what you did?” “Yes, a very long time ago.” “But you don't look eighteen.” He smiled. “My peak was at twenty-five. Besides, we always look older than our apparent chronological age. All our experiences and knowledge, simply having lived, shows on a person. Eyes are the windows to the soul, after all. After enhancing your body, we train like crazy.” “Why does Raphael have to do it? You're a Time whatever.” “Dancer.” “A Time Dancer. Can't you do it?” “I can isolate the two lines, but I can't bring you back here. We share a destiny. I could take you to right before we met, but it's too close to 'now.' Two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. If we got caught in the same time frame as our other selves, the result would be disastrous. The chance of creating a dissonance and, as a result, fracturing our time lines, is too great.” He moved my hair, lifting it and caressing the back of my neck. “We need to return to Raphael now and get started.” Now came my favorite part, the kissing part. I'd have to ask about why it was necessary. Maybe later would be soon enough. Nah. When he leaned in, I stopped him with a finger against his lips. “I have a couple more questions.” He sighed, slipping his free hand and arm around my waist to pull me closer. “Why am I not surprised?” “First, how old were you when you were changed and how long ago?” “I was nearly forty. Raphael removed me from Pompeii the night before Vesuvius erupted. And that's really two questions, but for the sake of expediency, go ahead and ask your other question.”

I stood there, my thoughts spinning. “Almost two thousand years ago?” “What?” “Vesuvius erupted in the first century A.D., nearly two thousand years ago.” I kick ass at Trivial Pursuit. “I won't ask how you know that, but yeah, a couple of thousand years ago. So what's your next question?” “Okay.” I hesitated. I guess I'd deal with our age difference later. “Why are you always kissing me? Is it part of the Dancing? Will Raphael have to kiss me to change me?” “He'd better not.” “What?” “Raphael won't have to kiss you. As for me, I like touching you, kissing you. You're my soul mate, after all. Besides, Stepping Out is easier using our combined energies.” “You don't even know me. We just met. Even if we really are soul mates, it takes a little longer than a day to develop a 'touching' kind of relationship. Even longer for a 'kissing' one.” “But I've known you all your life.” “Well, I haven't known you.” “You will. Besides, you don't seem to mind my touching and kissing.” He nuzzled my neck again, breathing deeply, inhaling my scent. “And you smell so good.” “Uh, thank you, I guess.” I had trouble keeping my train of thought. I looked at him, really looked at him. His deep blue eyes seemed at once ageless and vulnerable. I sensed the yearning hunger when he gazed at me and couldn't help my immediate and instinctual reaction. I wanted to soothe and remove that vulnerable look and satisfy his hunger, so he no longer yearned for anything or anyone. For the first time in my life, the missing pieces started to fit together, and it made me quake inside. I didn't want to need anyone. I didn't want to want someone so much. I didn't want to feel that helpless loss of control. But it was already too late. My control was relentlessly slipping away, like sand through my fingers. I pressed my hand to the side of his face, and he stilled, as though he feared I would take it back if he moved. He had high cheekbones, large, widely spaced eyes, curls the color of wheat and as soft as a child's, giving him the perpetual look of youth. He wore his hair a little longer than fashionable, adding to his boyish good looks. He had such kissable lips, full bottom lip and bow-shaped upper lip, opening on even, white teeth. He said he was from Pompeii, but Celtic ancestry sculpted his features, nothing Italian or Mediterranean. I started to ask him about it, but he kissed me then, and nothing else seemed quite as important. I fastened my arms tightly around him and returned the kiss wholeheartedly. I couldn't seem to help it. Maybe later I'd be able to figure out why. **** “Gavin? Ms. Donovan?” “Unh, huh?” Gavin and I said together. “You two seem to be getting along fairly well. I assume you told her everything?” Raphael asked.

“She knows about the change.” “And?” “She agrees.” “You know that's not all I'm asking.” “It's enough for now. Have I been wrong yet?” Gavin stepped back and scooted me toward Raphael. “You'd better get going. She'll need recovery time.” By their short exchange, they weren't telling me something important, something I should know, but that “recovery time” thing caught my attention and pushed out other thoughts. “Hey, wait. Why will I need recovery time?” I backed away from Raphael, preventing him from touching me. “I assure you, Ms. Donovan…” “Yeah, yeah. You're always assuring me of something or other. And call me Charity, dammit. Gavin, why will I need recovery time?” Gavin reached for me. I stepped away from him, too, not wanting the distraction of his touch. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at Raphael and then back at me. “Charity, splitting you into two separate time lines is … stressful,” Raphael said, “and a tad painful. Well, not really painful, a little uncomfortable.” I folded my arms over my chest and arched an eyebrow. “A little uncomfortable like having your teeth cleaned, or a little uncomfortable like having a tooth knocked out?” When Raphael shrugged, Gavin said, “As I recall, probably more the latter. However, you sleep for a day or so, and you wake up feeling better than you have in years.” “And just how long is this uncomfortable part?” “No time at all,” Raphael said. “Before you know it…” Gavin interrupted. “About an hour.” My tense muscles relaxed. Hell, a toothache for an hour? Piece of cake. “Will my other self feel any discomfort?” “No, she continues on the same path, uninterrupted. You, however, have to be pulled from the thread, and your body will be enhanced. No light matter.” I uncrossed my arms and walked to Raphael. “Well, come on. Let's get this over with.” Raphael shook his head and stepped forward, taking my hands and looking into my eyes. “Now, Gavin told me I don't have to kiss you to do this,” I remarked, just in case he wanted to try anything funny. Raphael glanced at Gavin, who shrugged, and returned his gaze to me. “I bet he did,” he said. “As much as I'm sure I'd enjoy kissing you, Ms. Donovan…” “Charity,” I said with more than a bit of impatience in my tone. “Charity. I do not need to kiss you to do this.” “Good.” Raphael's eyes opened wider, and he laughed. “That sounds suspiciously like an insult.” “No offense, Raphael, you're just not my type.” “Now I know I've been insulted.” With a smile, he pulled me closer. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman. Now close your eyes.” “Why?”

“Gavin, does she ever do anything without questioning it?” “Do I?” Gavin asked. Raphael snorted, bringing a slight quirk to Gavin's lips. “Then why would she?” A sigh gusted from Raphael. “I guess that would be too much to expect. Ms., uh, Charity, closing your eyes will help keep you from getting dizzy. Keep them open if you prefer.” “No, that's okay. I just wondered why.” I closed my eyes, waiting for some magical experience. The whole thing was over before it had really begun. I wasn't sure what the big deal was. Maybe it's different for everyone, and then maybe it's as simple as the difference between men and women. You've heard the old saying about there being a lot fewer babies if men had to have them, right? The most uncomfortable parts were the memories. Bittersweet, I experienced my life condensed into sound bites and video clips. My father and mother happily cooing over my bassinet, a memory I'd not known consciously, gave me a different perspective on the people I'd never considered like other people. They were my parents. I never allowed them to be fallible human beings until I had no choice. The fights, the petty, unreasonable accusations of divorce—my parents' divorce had exposed their clay feet and forced me to face the insecurity of having “normal” people for parents instead of people who could do anything, fix anything, keep my world safe. Later, my own divorce looked no better. Regardless of which of us had the majority of blame, there was plenty to go around. My children were full-grown by the time of our divorce, but the hurt reflected in their faces, something I'd been unable to recognize at the time, was every bit as painful as mine had been at my parents' divorce when I was twelve. The inevitable loss of innocence hits all of us hard. If you're ready, it can help you grow, be beneficial, in fact. If you're not, well … not so much. I watched my children grow up again. I cringed at my failures with them and rejoiced again at the successes. In spite of what we do or don't do, our children grow up and leave for lives of their own. My first words, first steps, first kiss, and the enormously embarrassing first sexual experience flashed before me big as life. The hurt, the joy, the sorrow, and the ecstasy hurtled through my brain at a dizzying pace. My father had died years earlier in a car accident. The funeral wasn't any more fun the second time around. My mother's death hit me harder, because of the closeness we'd always shared and my ex's timing in leaving me the same month. I cried for both of my parents again, sad there would never be another chance to say anything. It's not the things we do that produce the most regret in our lives, but the things we leave undone, unsaid. When my life finished replaying, Raphael took me to my eighteen-year-old self. I barely recall the person I was then on the outside, but the person inside still existed in my middle-aged body. Strange how that works. Time, experience, and people change our behavior, but we're really the same person all our lives. Wherever you go, there you are. A single moment of intense discomfort during the actual separation of the two time threads, then nausea as we sped along the path taking us back to where we'd started, made up the whole of my journey to my new self and my new life.

While years literally flew by in a matter of seconds, surrounded by a display of flashing lights and swirling colors, Raphael held me tightly against him, murmuring reassurances. Odors and sounds assailed me, faster and faster, until I could no longer distinguish between them. Cramping in my lower abdomen grew uncomfortable but manageable. The noise and movement was a different matter. I heaved on Raphael's shoes. He, of course, assured me it didn't matter. We returned to the living room, where Gavin waited in his usual spot in front of the window. I heard him ask Raphael how it went, but I seemed unable to keep my eyes open for long. Gavin took a step toward us, and the room tilted. Concern surfaced on Gavin's face, and Raphael pulled me closer, supporting me on my trip to the floor. Gavin knelt next to us and lifted me easily into his arms. “Oops! I don't seem to be as heavy as I was.” “No, you're not.” Gavin's voice held laughter. “Let's go to bed.” “I don't know you well enough for that.” We'd already started up the stairs. Well, Gavin had started up the stairs, carrying me. I was glad I didn't weigh as much as the last time he'd carried me. “Don't worry. You're the only one going to bed. I'd never take advantage of a lady.” “Yeah, right.” That pesky sarcasm. It comes so naturally to me. He laid me on the bed and removed my shoes. “You know, Gavin, I wouldn't mind if you wanted to stay with me while I fall asleep.” “You wouldn't, huh? I guess I have a couple of minutes to spare.” He covered me with the comforter. “Only a couple of minutes?” “That's all it's going to take for you to fall asleep.” I heard him walk to the other side of the bed, and the mattress dipped when he sat down. A few minutes later, two thuds indicated he'd removed his shoes. He crawled under the comforter and pulled me to him, spooning along my back, something I'd definitely missed in my single life. I sighed and settled against him. It felt so natural. In spite of everything, for once, my sleep was restful and uninterrupted. **** Something was different. I sat up without having to roll over first, without groaning, without pain. The sun was high and my bladder full. I hurried to the bathroom and took care of things, noticing Gavin had slept next to me, fully clothed the entire night. He muttered a grumpy sentence about five more minutes, rolled over, and fell back asleep. It registered that all my clothes hung off me, but I never liked staring into a mirror. I figured I knew what I looked like; there was really no sense in belaboring the point. So when I dropped my pants and started the shower, it didn't immediately occur to me to check myself out. I was too busy thinking about how goddamn hungry I was. I hadn't been this hungry in years. And my head felt fuzzy, like waking after a long sleep, where dreams and waking reality intertwine and have to be separated slowly. I stepped into the warm water and soaped my hands, preparing to wash, when two

thoughts came to me simultaneously. One, I was hungry but didn't crave coffee. Two, the body I had started to wash was unfamiliar, mostly, yet hauntingly familiar at the same time. Sorta like a flavor you haven't tasted in awhile that travels over your tongue, and you swallow before having a chance to identify it. My hands stilled, and I looked down. Ohmigod! It was me at 120 pounds, only more toned than I'd ever been, even at eighteen. Gavin and Raphael said it would happen, but I didn't really think it would happen exactly the way they said. I had a body I feared touching, in case It disappeared or turned back into the fortytwo-year-old, sagging, plump woman I'd been yesterday. Tentatively, I touched it, first through the soap and then under the running water. Nothing disappeared. In fact, everything tingled, like new skin under a blister, only without the pain. Nothing sagged, the skin stretched firm over the muscle beneath it. I ran my fingers over my face. My cheekbones stood out, the skin taut. I had a collarbone again and, miracle of miracles, hipbones that protruded farther than my gut. My paunch had disappeared back into the abdomen from which it had sprung so many years ago. The water turned tepid, so I quickly washed my hair. I couldn't help pausing, though, to run my fingers through the smooth locks. The elasticity of strong, healthy hair replaced the dry, metallic feel of dyed locks. I examined the strands. Even wet, they glowed with natural highlights. I turned off the water and grabbed a towel to wrap around my hair, and another to dry my skin. I stepped out of the shower and over to the mirror, holding the second towel in front of me. Anxiety churning in my gut, I lowered the towel and caught my first look of the new shell I owned. It was indeed the body of my youth, without the drawbacks—no acne, no raging hormones—just the fit, healthy glow of youth. I picked up the toothbrush I'd used the day before and spread a thick dollop atop the bristles. I opened my mouth, the stark whiteness drawing my gaze. Gone were the stains of coffee and age. The chip on my upper incisor had disappeared, as well as the remaining wisdom tooth I hadn't yet removed. I ran my tongue over my front teeth, top and bottom, relishing their smooth surface. I know you'll think I'm crazy or crazier, but of all the changes to my physical body, the ones that meant the most were my hair and teeth … and of course not having to wear reading glasses any more. I must have spent five minutes reading the small print on the labels of every product on the bathroom shelves and on the Newsweek magazine lying on the counter. I inspected the perky body a few times in the mirror. It seemed apart from me, more a memory than an old friend. Because, despite the beauty of youth, I had come to terms with aging and mortality—two conditions that no longer applied to me. I tucked the towel around my torso and shook out my hair, leaving it wet. No way was I going to blow-dry a single strand. I had makeup available and enjoyed not using any. As I finished combing out my hair, a determined knocking sounded at the door. I opened it, catching Gavin in mid-knock, his hand poised to strike again. He looked me up and down. I hadn't realized before how much I wanted his approval, but now it seemed important.

When he kept staring, his hand still held in mid-air, I turned around slowly. “So what do you think?” I took another glance down my new, old body or old, new body, something like that. When he remained silent, I looked up into his face. The tingling along my spine the intense expression in his eyes inspired made me realize that modeling first thing in the morning in a towel might not be smart. He tilted up my chin with the fingers of his knocking hand, turning my face from side to side, peering deeply, searching for something. Then he smiled. “Still in there.” It wasn't a question. That annoying blush again. I looked away and strode up to him to enter the room and search for clothes. “Of course I'm still in here. Where else would I be?” I had nearly made it past him when Gavin grabbed my arm and tugged me back in front of him. “You know, I don't think I really got a good look at the new you.” He didn't look at my body, though, but inspected my face, seeming fascinated with exploring every part of it. When he'd satisfied himself, he looked into my eyes and smiled. I couldn't help but smile, too. Lowering his head, he lightly kissed me. I forgot how little I had on and put my arms around his neck, pressing my full body length against him. As he wholeheartedly wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me firmly against him, he chuckled against my lips, a deep, satisfied, male chuckle. The towel around me slid down, aided by Gavin's roving hands. Only our bodies pressed together kept the towel from falling completely. I pulled back, sliding my hands down his sides, to look at him. A burning intensity had replaced his playful smile. His gaze meshed with mine. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled the towel from between us, held it out straight, and dropped it to the floor. When his gaze raked over my body, my nipples tightened, and my belly clenched. He smiled, but the smile, ravenous and carnal, did nothing to relieve the amatory tension running along my nerves and interfering with my breathing. He cupped my face and pulled me to him. When he slanted his mouth over mine, not knowing exactly what to do with my hands, I held his waist loosely. With an arm around my waist, he clasped me tightly against him, running his fingers through my damp hair and cupping the back of my head. Warm and inviting, like coming home, his lips tasted mine, making me feel wanted and desired. His hand fisted in my hair, the one splayed against my back holding me secure, keeping me positioned against him, so he could continue to explore my mouth and rub all my sensitive spots and his. He tumbled us back onto the bed, me on top, keeping us clamped firmly together. I lifted my upper body, my weight supported by my hands against the bed on either side of him. He released my lips but kept his arms around me, his hands fastened securely in my hair and around my middle. While I stared into his eyes, he slid his hand from my waist and down my back and thighs. The gleam in the blue forever of his eyes changed, flared into that look, the look men get when they have no intention of going back, when releasing you will come only after they finish with you … or at death. It had been years since I'd seen that look and even longer since it had flared from me. I didn't want this, and I couldn't live without it. This was the point of no return—on one side sanity, autonomy, and on the other … paradise. An insistent knock broke the spell. I glanced over my shoulder at the door, as though I wasn't quite sure what it was.

Gavin's response was more colorful and succinct. “Fuck!” He released me, and I scrambled off him and the bed, grabbing up my discarded towel, and hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I listened at the door to muted voices and the distinct bang of the bedroom door closing. Off the hook on the back of the door, I grabbed the robe I'd worn the day before and slipped into it, belting it tightly. Cracking open the door, I peeked through the small opening. The room was empty. Someone had left a new jumpsuit and underclothes on the bed. To this day, I wonder which side of my own personal rift I'd have chosen. I had no doubt which side Gavin chose. Would it have made any difference? Since the day I'd met him, my fate was sealed, maybe even before that. After all, he'll always be my favorite poison, my special vice. I took my time dressing, enjoying it. Clothes fit as though made for me, and I suppose, in a way, they were, now that I had the body for which manufacturers made clothes. I hurried downstairs for breakfast.

Chapter Four I entered the living room and came across Raphael seated in his usual chair. He studied me in silence for a moment. “Ready to begin training?” he asked. With a glare in his direction, I braced my hands on my hips. “Don't you know to stand when a lady enters the room?” He rose slowly, smiling dryly, and bowed. “Do forgive my faux pas. I was dazzled for a moment by your beauty and forgot myself.” “Humph.” Okay, apology accepted. “I believe the word you're looking for is 'whatever.' You must learn to adopt the lingo befitting your new body,” Gavin said, walking past me toward the kitchen. “Coffee? Or would you rather have Fruit Loops?” “Whatever,” I muttered. Raphael also headed for the kitchen. “If you're pouring, Gavin, I'll take some.” He turned to me. “Charity?” I followed them. “I think caffeine would be overkill today. I am hungry, though.” I sent Gavin a pointed glance. “And as much as I appreciate Gavin's generous offer, if we're going to be working hard, I'd much prefer protein instead of carbs. Are there any eggs?” Both men stared at me, their cups halfway to their mouths. “I can cook, you know,” I said, frowning at their stunned expressions. Blink. Blink. I could see I wouldn't get far with these two, so I helped myself to the fridge. Fully stocked, it contained eggs and bacon. I pulled them out along with the butter and milk. I found a skillet in a cupboard and even non-stick spray. The men still stood, looking at me as though I were an alien who'd beamed down into the kitchen. “So, scrambled okay? Fellas? H-e-e-l-l-l-l-o-o?” Gavin reacted first, his grin endearing. “You'll have to excuse us, but most, uh, female Dancers won't eat the calories at first, let alone cook for us.” I cocked an eyebrow. “And how's that usually work out for them?” “Not so good,” Raphael said. “We usually have to spend the first couple of days helping them recover, until they realize they have to eat.” I started the bacon strips, smiling over my shoulder. “You should have picked pleasantly plump women, like me. We know how to eat when we're hungry. And most of us know how to cook, too.” Raphael sat at the counter, sipping his coffee. He set his cup down. I sensed his penetrating gaze before he asked, “You do understand Dancers are fated, not picked, don't you?” “Yeah, you mentioned that. How do you know who's fated?” Raphael hesitated, so I turned around to ask again. I didn't get the chance. “How about if I just say it's my job to know and leave it at that.” “Whatever.” I could appreciate the addictive quality of that one-word answer. I went back to my cooking, figuring I had a lot of time to wheedle answers out of Raphael and Gavin, so I'd bide my time.

Gavin came up behind me, but I never expected him to reach around me for some bacon. I swatted his hand with the spatula. Hey, I couldn't help it. I reacted. Besides, I don't think I really hurt him. Raphael began laughing, which probably didn't help any. Gavin shook his hand and scowled. You know, scowling, smiling, it didn't matter. He was just plain delectable. I gave him an extra piece of bacon to make up for the spatula thing. The twinkle in his eye made me wonder if extra bacon had been what he was even after. **** We spent the morning learning how to stretch and meditate. Tai Chi and Yoga-type stuff. I nearly fell asleep several times, especially during the Yoga. I figured we were ready for the martial-arts fighting lessons after lunch. I was wrong. We spent the afternoon finding our centers. Well, my center anyway. That's right, finding my center. When I got close, warmth formed in the pit of my stomach or diaphragm and spread outward until my hands and feet radiated heat. It gave me a horrible headache. I learned later what to do with the concentrated power. First control, then power— lots of power. I had my eyes closed, fixated on locating my center, when Gavin came from behind me to circle his arms around me, his hands splayed over my stomach, pressing in with his hand. “Feel the center here?” If I hadn't felt it, I might have considered elbowing him in the same place he pushed on me. Although his hands made concentrating difficult, the power surging through me at his touch dwarfed any solo effort on my part and needed little direction from me to expand. I leaned into him, giving way as he tugged me back into his groin. His erection sprang to life, and I responded with a thrill of excitement and answering arousal. His hands moved to my hips, drawing me into him tighter, his pelvis nestled firmly into my back. I definitely felt something, but I didn't think it was my center. No, it was much lower than that. In all the time I Danced, I never failed to become aroused, even if only a little. When we Stepped Out together, the feelings grew even more intense. I closed my eyes and gave in to the sweet erotic tingle rolling over me and to the burning power flowing through me. Gavin swept my hair aside, nuzzling my neck where it met my shoulder. Though the afternoon was warm, I shivered. His hands moved off my hips to reach up and release the zipper of my jumpsuit. Cupping my breasts, he thumbed my nipples through the lace of my bra. I groaned, arching my back, thrusting my breasts more firmly into his hands. “Come with me,” he whispered. “Where?” “No questions. Just come.” “Mm-hmm.” Lethargic from the afternoon sun and his hands on me, it was the most I could manage. I opened my eyes at a gust of wind sending grass and leaves spiraling around our feet. We stood under a tree on a grass-covered hill, overlooking other rolling hills. Like an emerald sea, the undulating landscape, dotted with groves of trees, continued as far as

the eye could see. The gray sky held bruised clouds in darker shades of charcoal and purple. At a distance off to the right, cliffs jutted starkly from the hills, powerful waves pounding against them. I stepped out of Gavin's arms, pulling up the zipper of my jumpsuit, and spun in a circle, taking in a panoramic view. When I shivered in the chill air, he enclosed me in his arms, resting his chin on my head. “So where are we?” I asked, settling into the warm comfort of his arms. “Where I grew up. It's part of the British Isles now.” “I thought you came from Pompeii.” As he shrugged, his chest shifted against my back. “Not originally. It's a long story for another time. This is where my heart lives and has always lived.” I snuggled farther back into him. “Even after all these years?” “So it would seem,” he murmured. Thunder rumbled softly, and a light mist fell around us. Wind rattled the leaves overhead, and I moved closer still to Gavin's warm body. He wrapped himself more securely around me. I looked up at him over my shoulder. He had tilted up his face into the rain. His expression reflected his enjoyment. The drizzle became rain, and I stuck out my hand to catch the moisture in my palm. Unlike the thick drops of home, the rain was soft, coating my hand rather than plopping into it. I wiggled my bare toes in the turf and shivered again. “You're cold. We should go,” he said. Releasing me, he turned me to face him. “Take my hand, and I'll let you drive.” My limbs trembling, I placed both my hands in his, gripping him tightly. “What do I do first?” He laughed at my obvious nervousness. “First, you loosen your grip so I can get my circulation back.” “Oh, sorry.” I let go of him completely. He pulled me to him, bringing me into his arms. “Maybe for the first time, we should get a little closer.” I had no problems with that. Winding my arms around him, I laid my head on his chest. His heat penetrated his shirt, warming my cheek. When I tightened my hold, I listened to his heartbeat speed up. I inhaled deeply, loving the clean, earthy smell of the rain and Gavin's heady, sensual scent mixing around me. “Let the power roll through you and carry you with it. Like surfing or skiing, ride the crest with the power behind, pushing you,” he said. The burn started in my gut, but I moved ahead of the pain, like stepping onto an escalator. Warmth and a feeling of well-being filled me, similar to the flood of endorphins after a race. When I peered into his face, his eyes darkened and pulled at my core. The rain, pain, and pleasure, the power and magnetism of his eyes, gathered and merged in a collage of color and lights. I instinctively knew where to go and how to get there, so I Stepped Out and escaped the tug of the time frames we left behind. The lights, color, and motion stopped, leaving us at home in the backyard. Gavin unzipped me again, slipping his hands into the opening, his fingers cool against my heated flesh. The power I'd only barely experienced before expanded, the warmth

flushing my face and spreading outward into my fingers and toes. Like a drug, it gave me an awareness of omnipotence and an eagerness to explore more of Gavin's touch. But it occurred to me that my new body might be new in a lot of still undiscovered ways. “Uh, Gavin?” “Mmm-hmm?” I straightened, loosening his hold. “Is this body I have the one before or after Prom night?” “What?” The corners of his mouth winged downward in a puzzled frown. “Before we take this any further, I'd just like to know has it, or, have I ever, uh…” Suddenly at a loss for words, my question fell away, and fire kindled in my cheeks. He burst out laughing, raucously, and I thought he might seriously injure himself, get a hernia or something if he didn't calm down. Finally, he caught his breath enough to talk, though laughter still flickered in his eyes. “Charity, I think if you're going to fuck someone, you should be able to say the word, don't you?” Obviously, he wasn't one to mince words. I whirled around and stomped away, his laughter following me back into the house. Hey, it was getting late anyway and time to quit … everything. Besides, I think my concentration was shot for the day. I did know I didn't need to see Gavin for awhile. He was right about one thing, though, I wasn't ready for this. The pull Gavin evoked in me since we had first met had only grown. Desire for him was a hunger, an itch I figured I'd scratch sooner or later. I ran up the stairs to my room before I got any itchier. **** Dinner that night was delicious. I learned we had a seldom-seen staff of three—cook, maid, and general, all-around handyman. That would explain the clean clothes and clean rooms. All during the meal, Gavin's smirk followed me. Neither of us talked much, though. It must have driven Raphael bonkers, because after a few minutes of my avoiding eye contact with both of them and Gavin's suppressed laughter, Raphael sat back and folded his arms across his chest, sending an inquisitive look from Gavin to me and back again. “Okay. What happened?” “Nothing,” I muttered. Now I really couldn't look Raphael in the eye. “Gavin?” “Nothing. Charity and I simply spent a little time learning more about each other. We're practicing forging connections.” He said it with a straight face. Raphael considered us silently for a few minutes. “Fine. Then you should be ready to show her some uses for those suits. We're about done here, right?” Gavin answered Raphael but stared at me. “Hmm, more time with Charity? It's a lot to ask, but I guess I'm up to the task.” He stood and held out his hand. “Coming, Charity?” I got to my feet and ignored his invitation. I really didn't want to touch him anymore than necessary right then. He would mess up my concentration, let alone my tantrum. “I'll try and not be a burden,” I said, my answer this side of snide. His response was a laugh. It was nearly impossible to insult Gavin. He found everything so goddamn funny. I preceded him out of the dining room into the living

room, his laughter trailing after me. In the middle of the room, I stopped and confronted him. “What do I do first?” “Well, first you smile,” he said in a husky whisper, his palm stroking my cheek, sending shivers down my spine. I smiled in spite of myself, and he kissed the corner of my mouth. His tongue ran along the seam of my lips, separating them. Both hands now cupped my face, allowing him control of our kiss, his kiss, his possession. Forgetting that Raphael watched us, my mother's best advice, and every shred of self-respect I still called my own, I fisted my hands in his shirt and yanked him to me, immersing myself in the decadent pleasure of his body. With Gavin, embers of feelings sprang to life within me I'd thought long dead. They ignited a conflagration I feared would consume, not only my body, but also the innermost part I'd protected for so long. Fear and need played tug o' war in the pit of my stomach. The familiar burning ache and tingling along my nerve endings warned me we had started traveling to a distant time and place. I leaned back to look into his forever eyes. Seeing the path to Heaven or Hell, I knew eventually I wouldn't care which path I took, as long as I took it with him. The spatial disorientation ceased. I looked around at the desolate landscape. Heat emanated from the baked and cracked ground. It was full daylight, about noon, the absolute worst time of day for this place. “Let me guess, Death Valley?” “How'd you know?” His surprise was evident. “Hmm, maybe the total lack of any life or the feeling of being baked alive. Also, they filmed part of Star Wars here.” “Glad to see your education is so diverse.” Gavin turned slowly around and pointed. “Appearances can be deceiving. Regardless of how it looks, life is all around us. For instance, right over here is a rift in progress with your name on it.” The rift appeared to be about three feet long, two or three inches wide, and about a foot off the ground. Light and color bent around the borders of the tear. The whole thing resembled a slit in a movie screen on which the scene in front of us was projected. I wondered how I'd never noticed one before. I asked Gavin. “You've never seen them because you've never been in the same Time and Space frame with any of them before. This … place exists out of phase with the normal or 'real' world in which we live. This is one of the parallel planes, the one through which Time flows like air through ductwork—sort of like between then and now and later. “How far into the future and past does this plane we're on extend?” Facing me, he put his hands loosely on my waist. “We're at the front or nose, the part that pushes forward into the future. Even microseconds ahead are being chained or woven into this plane of existence. Stepping into the future takes more control and skill than Stepping into the past, because the shifting present constantly changes the future. “The farther forward you go, the easier it is to Step there, because you have less of a chance of being caught at the cusp where the present and future mesh.” “What happens if you're caught on the cusp?” He frowned. “I'm not exactly sure. When I asked Rafe, he shrugged. I do know the ones who got caught there no longer exist.” “Dancers can die? I thought we were immortal.” Gavin shook his head emphatically. “No, virtually immortal. We don't age. That wouldn't be conducive to Time Dancing. We don't get ill. Viruses and bacteria wouldn't

survive Stepping Out. By the same token, we're sterile, because those types of cells couldn't survive Dancing, either.” He smiled, bringing me closer and resting his forehead against mine. “That's why Dancers are taken later in life, after they've had and raised children or gotten past that time in life when it's of paramount importance.” I pulled back to see him better. “And how far into the past does this plane extend?” He smiled. “The past rolls off the plane like taffy onto a table. It folds onto itself. And like taffy, each of the layers is of varying thickness. Just as in the future, the farther back you go, the less chance you have of getting caught at the fold or joint.” He dropped his hands from my waist and turned me to face the rift. “Let's get acquainted with our friend here.” His smile had vanished; his tone was now all business. He pointed to the aperture. Vibrations came from the general area he indicated. I walked toward the emanations, my hands extended. The farther I walked, the faster the air surrounding me beat and pulsed—a living thing. The tactile, invisible curtain I reached gave weight and dimension to the rift. A sensual, vibrant cloak I wanted to wrap around me in order to become part of it. When I stepped forward, Gavin held my arms from behind, keeping me from moving. “Yes, it calls, Charity, but don't answer like that. Slowly, like a reluctant maid, you have to charm her. Seduce the rift, or you'll be the one consumed. Here, I'll show you. We'll Dance together.” He ran his fingers down the backs of my arms and hands, stopping to fit his hands against mine. Gavin clasped me closer, and the siren song of the rift intensified. As Gavin again grew hard, I realized we both felt the sensuous pull. His erection aroused me even further, the call of the Dance stirring both our reactions. I closed my eyes, allowing all the sensations bombarding me time to settle and separate into individual, identifiable pieces. The harmonic dissonance was, at first, jarring. “Here, Charity.” Gavin pushed in again on my stomach. “Can you feel the temporal alignment when the frequencies match?” The vibrations fought to align then failed when they came close. “Not quite. It's like they hover around each other and then overshoot. What am I doing wrong?” I looked over my shoulder at his frown and pursed lips. Pulling off his top, he tossed it aside. Grabbing the hem of my top, he started tugging it up. I quickly lowered my arms and grabbed at it, stepping away from him. “What are you doing?” He laughed. “I'm trying to improve the touch.” He reached for my top again. I stepped back farther. “How is stripping going to improve the touch, except for in the obvious way?” He put his hands on his hips. “Charity, the clothes are interfering with the sensitivity. I need to help you feel the vibrations.” While I eyed him, undecided how far I wanted to go with this, he lowered his hands from his hips and reached slowly toward me, his voice cajoling. “Let me show you. It's like using a tuning fork to adjust the pitch on a musical instrument.” I didn't resist this time when he slipped behind me and pulled off my top. He laid his arms along the back of mine and laced our fingers, stretching both our hands out toward

the rift. The warm breath of his whisper disturbed the hair by my ear. “Can you feel the vibrations?” When I nodded, he moved our hands closer to the pulsing lights. Vibrations traveled along my arms, raising the hairs. I shivered and pushed back into him. He lowered his left arm, cinching it around my middle, tugging me closer. “Has the burning started here yet?” he asked, his hand stroking my stomach. I hadn't noticed before, but smoldering had begun in the area of my diaphragm. Not as unpleasant as Stepping Out, more like indigestion. “Uh huh.” “Good. That means you're aligning your body to the rhythm of the rift.” We reached for the rift again. A low thrum vibrated through my body. I adjusted to the cadence, aligning frequencies to match its rhythm. Locking in and docking into the pattern, we reached synchronicity, the resulting hum melodious and haunting. Our palms flat against the fissure's outer shell, Gavin directed our hands into the pulsating fracture. Instantly, like a parted curtain or dipping one's hand into a river of glowing paint, light in shades of violet, purple, and blue streamed from the rift's core. Reds in cerise and fuchsia poured from us, covering the streaming beams and drowning them in magenta waves. Golf balls of energy struck my arms. The fire in my stomach matched the burning of my hands. “Charity, now push back into the rift. Time flows like water in a river, like electricity through wires, like the blood in your veins. Match your inner rhythm to the rhythm of the flow and push back. Dance with Time.” Heat left through my fingertips. Gavin pulled our hands out of the rift's center and rested them against the outer shell once again. The flow from our hands increased. The resulting current washed over the fissure, seeping into it. A lurid sucking noise accompanied the ebb of the amethyst glow, and the vibrations ceased. We had sealed the rift. “That should do it,” Gavin whispered and folded his arms around me, capturing my arms in the embrace. Remnants of my earlier arousal leapt to life. I leaned into him, craving the feel of his body against mine. A burning ache stabbed along my arms, jerking me out of whatever sensual stupor I'd been in. Unwrapping myself from Gavin's hold, I rubbed each of my forearms in turn and looked down at the streaks of red and blue bruises along each arm. I turned around and held out my arms. “What the hell is this?” He opened his hands, palms up. “It's the reason we wear these suits. You'll stop bruising so easily after a couple of months. A couple more months and you'll hardly hurt at all, even for the most damaged fractures.” He picked up my top, shook it out, and handed it to me. Struck by a sudden bolt of self-consciousness, I turned my back, pulling on the top over my head, and faced him again. The pain did me one favor. It distracted me from the lure of his body. I've never wanted anyone, ever, as much as I wanted Gavin. So maybe this soul-mate thing had merit. He tenderly touched my shoulder. “Does it hurt that much?” “Does what hurt that much?” I'd already forgotten the pain.

“The bruises.” I glanced down and realized I'd been rubbing my arms. “No, not really.” I gave him a saucy smile. “Besides, it's only temporary, right?” His return smile started my heart racing again. I edged back and averted my eyes, self-preservation being one of my stronger instincts. “So what's next, Boss?” When he didn't answer, I ventured a look. He walked closer but didn't try touching me—still, his heat touched me, branded me, a living thing that called me to step into the flames—just a tad. A little singeing around the edges wouldn't hurt. But once I entered, I'd be drained. Then there'd be nothing left of me … again. My husband left me for another woman and nearly destroyed me. I fought and healed, building a new person who was stronger than the original. Yet somehow, I suspected if Gavin left, my annihilation would be complete. The logic of that notion struck me as insane. After all, I'd known him only a short time, but the notion stuck. Yeah, maybe this soul-mate thing did have merit. He cocked his head to the side and observed me silently, studying me as though he could see inside me. His frown showed he had yet to decipher whatever code unlocked the hidden me. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but the moment passed. I chuckled at the absurdity of my thoughts. Gavin's frown deepened, turning my chortles to all out, belly-shaking, maniacal laughter. The harder I laughed, the more puzzled his expression became, until I bent over from the cramps in my stomach my laughter caused. His puzzlement switched in an instant to alarm. I don't know, maybe I just needed the emotional release from the strain of the last few days. Men never seem to appreciate the release we women feel from letting go and shoving all emotion outside. It's like spring cleaning, though most of us cry, not laugh. As I said, I don't find crying all that rewarding. Laughter, on the other hand, is purely liberating. I sat in the sun-stroked dirt, my chuckles winding down, and wiped the tears from my cheeks. Gavin bent over me, probably wishing he had a strait-jacket handy. I reassured him I was fine. And I was. The release was enough to carry me through until the next time. I'd have to get Gavin to loosen up, though. He couldn't have a conniption fit every time I had a … well, a conniption fit. One of us had to be stable, and I chose him.

Chapter Five As I sat in the dirt, dread slowly replaced my euphoric feelings. I looked for Gavin. He was glancing around. He bent, helped me to stand, and sniffed the air like a bloodhound. Worry ate at my composure. “Gavin?” His nose wrinkled, and he coughed, his body obviously anxious to rid itself of the noxious fumes now oozing all around us. “Demons.” He spat the word like a curse. “How do you know?” I didn't see anything. “Besides the stench, watch the ground around the rift.” Gavin pointed to the area where the rift had been before we closed it. Malodorous air now wafting across the desert like a stinking cesspool, I held my arm over my nose. My stomach took a couple of tentative heaves and settled down into painful cramping. One hand over my mouth and nose and one hand clutching my stomach, I squinted, finally spotting insect-like movement over the parched land. The ground roiled and heaved like an infestation of Guinea worms. Flashes of malevolent beings popped into view now and then, worms ripe and ready to emerge from the skin of the earth. “They nibble away at the leavings of damaged rifts,” Gavin said, “increasing the mutilation. It takes many of them a lot of time to hurt a rift badly, but their smell is really rank.” He turned away from the awful creatures. I had no desire to get any closer. I was more than eager to leave the fetid stench, but like a bystander at a car accident, I couldn't seem to look away. “Why are they so loathsome? How could anyone choose the darkness with these things as examples?” Gavin snorted. “They're just soldiers, the dregs of the Underworld. Evil can present a beautiful face when it so desires. Now let's get out of here before I rolf.” He took my arm, and we Stepped Out. **** We trained intensively for a few more weeks. I learned moves that caused even my young, enhanced body morning-after pain. We repaired rifts of varying sizes, yet the colors pouring from us were always reds. I learned that the hues indicated the strength of the seepage, the blues at the opposite end of the spectrum from red being the weakest. The rift we would eventually seal would be darkest crimson. My mind wandered when Raphael and Gavin explained the physics behind color, energy, and drowning or flooding rifts to stop the bleeding. I Danced by feel. I guess you could say I had natural rhythm. When I felt the energy in certain places in my body, when I sensed the most propitious moment to caress the flow, I'd do it. This ability of mine frustrated Gavin and amused Raphael. Strangely, Gavin's patience with me seemed boundless and so did his appeal. He'd begin by demonstrating with his body how my body should Dance. He always ended by touching me more than physically. His company and caresses became the chocolate I craved—sweet, decadent, never enough and, oh so very bad for me.

For some reason, though, I held off taking that final step. I sensed sex with Gavin meant more than simply sex. Something told me to wait. One evening, I learned the secret Gavin and Raphael had kept from me. The three of us ate dinner together each night and discussed everything from history to philosophy. The evenings always began with a strange ritual. When we walked into the house, no matter the time, Raphael awaited us in the living room in his favorite chair, his index fingers steepled, his brow furrowed in thought, his eyes staring into the far reaches of a time and place no one else could see. He would look up as we entered the room. His gaze would mesh with Gavin's. Silently, they would assess each other, waiting … for something or other. Raphael would finally ask, “Well?” and Gavin would answer, “Not yet.” Raphael would sigh, and we would all go into the dining room to eat the meal prepared by the hidden cook and served by the invisible maid. I knew they were keeping something from me. I knew I wouldn't like whatever it was. But even my fertile imagination couldn't come up with a possible answer to what the “thing” could be. Of course, when I asked about the ritual and the illusive servants, Raphael and Gavin played dumb, smiled mysteriously, or pretended they didn't hear me. I didn't push the issue, figuring it wouldn't do any good. Another thing life teaches, if you're smart enough to pay attention, is to choose your battles wisely. The one thing I've always had in abundance is patience. It's the sustaining part of innate stubbornness—my most pronounced personality trait. It sustained me through many years of marriage to a louse who didn't know the meaning of loyalty. It sustained me through raising two independent and intelligent children without losing sight of the goal or my temper very often. It even sustained me through making my way in a male-dominated career field full of land mines for the unwary and topped by the proverbial glass ceiling. Two men, ancient and experienced though they were, could not outwait and outlast me once my mind was set and my curiosity roused. The house was large and airy. I'd heard it dated from the Civil War era. Although never a working ranch, it resembled a large hacienda. The original terracotta tile and expansive hardwood floors with thick, stucco-glazed, adobe and wooden walls still graced the home. Though thoroughly modernized, the house still held an abundance of old-world charm and appeal. I explored whenever I had a chance, poking into every nook and cranny. I had been going through old clothing stored in a large walk-in closet next to the front room. Short, beaded, flapper dresses shared space with floor-length ball gowns and men's suits of every era. At first, I barely noticed Gavin and Raphael talking in the other room. When their conversation heated up a few decibels, I unashamedly crept closer to the closet entrance to listen. “Rafe, why do you keep pestering me about this?” I could imagine Gavin's hand raking through his hair, showing his frustration. Most of the times we worked together, Gavin's tone remained even, but his hair ended up in total disarray by the time we finished. “I told you I'll know when the time is right.” “Unfortunately, Gavin, there's no time left to be the right time.” “What do you mean? You said six months. It's barely been one.” “It seems we underestimated his ability to concentrate efforts on this front. He's

never before been able to marshal forces this quickly. I suppose his determination has increased, considering the Age of Man soon draws to an end.” “One last hurrah, huh?” Gavin sounded resigned. “So it would seem.” There was a marked pause, and I considered leaving my hiding spot, when Gavin spoke nearly too softly for my hearing. “How soon?” “Another month if we're lucky, only a couple of weeks if we're not.” “She's not ready.” “I thought she exceeded all your expectations.” “She does in training, in her obstinate refusal to concede defeat, even in how much she personally appeals to me, but she's not ready to be joined.” “You know if you'd told her about the necessity of joining sooner, she'd be ready by now.” “No, Rafe, she wouldn't, because she wouldn't be here.” “But surely her duty…” “Her duty is not how she decides things. Oh, she'll do it, eventually, but I don't know how to present it to her so she doesn't feel betrayed.” “There isn't time for eventually, either. For Heaven's sake, Gavin, just seduce her.” Gavin's laughter had a hard biting edge to it that did nothing to melt the ice encasing my heart. “Seduce her? Seduce her and then the morning after casually mention that now we're bonded mind, body, and soul? That what happens to one of us now happens to both? “I might even have been able to do it that way earlier, when I didn't know the inner her as well. God knows I want her more each day, but the time for sex to be even remotely casual between us has long passed. It would irreparably hurt her and our relationship.” A chair creaked as Raphael left it. His words became fainter; he must have followed Gavin from the room. “Gavin, there's no choice. You need the two weeks to acquaint her with reading auras and for her to get comfortable dealing with the joining. Gavin there Is. No. More. Time!” They continued arguing on their way to the dining room, their voices fading away. As though struck by lightning, I remained motionless for several minutes and thought over what I'd heard, chewing on it awhile. Somehow, obviously with sex, Gavin and I had to join to fight whatever evil forces were now making trouble. While finally being with Gavin, being filled and possessed by him made my nerves tingle, having no choice … even worse, being tricked into it, countered those feelings. I left my hiding place, taking care to make as little noise as possible, and climbed the stairs to my room. I locked the door, though the simple barrier could stop neither Raphael nor Gavin for long. I counted on their reluctance to intrude on my privacy—for a short time. A short time was all I needed. I used precious minutes changing into fresh clothes and hunting up sunglasses. Because my adventure hadn't seemed real, and certainly not permanent, I had yet to miss my family and friends. Reality has a funny way of attacking when you least expect it. Reality had finally slugged me on the shoulder. I found my sunglasses right where I had left them, in the purse I hadn't used since I

got here. Surprising it was even here, since I didn't have it with me when I left Tammy's. Another one of those thoughtful gestures Gavin did to make me feel more at home. It made my blood boil. Why couldn't he be a self-centered, insensitive jerk like the men I was accustomed to so I could discount and ignore my growing feelings? I hadn't yet learned how to travel through time, but I did know how to skip through space. It's much easier to maneuver around in one time frame than it is to Step Out of the frame. I had to get away for a little while. I wasn't sure where to go or for how long, but my nature didn't take kindly to being finessed and lied to. I'd had a lifetime of that already. I put the glasses on top of my head, tucked my slim wallet into a zippered front pocket, and sat cross-legged on the floor, my eyes closed, finding my center of power. At first, I found it difficult to clear my mind and shut out distractions, but I finally managed. The familiar burning started, and I clamped down, separating myself from the pain, controlling the steps, Dancing. As I Stepped Out, I opened my eyes. Gavin stood framed in the doorway, his expression harsh and resolute with a pinch of regret. “Charity, stay. There's nowhere to go I won't follow. For good or evil, we're tied together now … forever.” “Perhaps.” I wrenched my gaze from the hypnotic tug of his eyes. “Perhaps not.” I Jumped, escaping before he had time to move. He'd follow, but I hoped he wouldn't find me right away. I had no definite plans and no idea what I wanted to accomplish by leaving. I'd already embraced my role as a Dancer, but the deception still grated. Funny thing was, I'd fallen completely in love with Gavin despite my oath never to allow anyone that much control again, and I'd done it in record time. Oddly relieved I finally knew all there was to know, I still hated giving up control. It hadn't worked out well the last time. But Gavin wasn't Ed, and I wasn't a naïve girl. Gavin would take turns being on top. I smiled at the turn of my thoughts and realized I was close to accepting what seemed inevitable … but not quite. **** I chose to visit my son first. He taught computer classes at ASU. I could easily melt into the throng of students attending his introductory computer course. Newly graduated and working on his Masters degree, Ian had the least technical but most crowded classes, as is normal in a university. I found an empty seat in the back of the large amphitheater and removed my sunglasses. Even with my odd clothes, if Ian noticed me, he still wouldn't recognize me. Who expects to see their eighteen-year-old mother sitting in the back of their classroom? I didn't pay much attention to his lecture but spent the hour drinking in the sight of my oldest child. Probably for the last time. I remembered the day he made me a first-time mother. Regardless of popular belief, that's truly the day a girl becomes a woman. Ian had been the happiest little boy, his blond curls bouncing, running through life, eager to experience everything at once. His smile claimed more of my heart than any other human ever had. I now recognized how my devotion to my children had hurt my marriage. My children had always been the most important people and my number-one priority.

Children need love, but so do husbands … and wives. I could never give that last part of me to my husband, or to any other person. Was I ready to give all of myself to Gavin? Students rising to leave alerted me to the end of class and drew me back to the present. Ian peered up at me for a moment, a frown creasing the line between his eyes. Damn! I'd forgotten how much my daughter looked like me at this age. Ian must have noticed. I resettled the sunglasses on the bridge of my nose to hide my eyes and stood to leave. Gavin leaned indolently against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, one leg bent, his foot resting against the doorjamb. In spite of my anger at his and Raphael's deceit, my heart sped up. My fingers itched to touch him, and as though he had already touched me, my nipples tightened. Wet and throbbing, I ached for him. But I wasn't ready to give in yet. He blocked the door I'd entered by, leaving only the door on the floor unguarded. I'd have to pass close to Ian to get to it. Luckily, a throng of students crowded around him, vying for his attention. I looked back and forth between Gavin and Ian. Gavin crooked his finger. Smiling, I shook my head. He'd avoid taking me out of the middle of all these people by force. Besides, it wouldn't be that easy. I may not be his equal, but he still had to touch me to control me. Gavin crooked his finger again. I smiled again, shook my head again, and descended to the lecture floor. I didn't wait to see if Gavin followed. He would. He couldn't even call out to me without making Ian suspicious. Someone who looked like his sister and had his mother's name would definitely catch Ian's attention. I reached the crowd and made my way to the exit. When I reached the door, I took one last look at my son. Enough to last a lifetime. Ian caught my gaze and lifted his brows. I threw him a quick kiss, causing a startled expression to cross his face, then exited the room, Stepping Out as soon as I was sure I was alone in the short hallway. **** Gavin would expect me to go to my daughter, but he didn't know where. A graduate art student at Northern Arizona University, she was currently in the White Mountains, painting … not on campus. Gavin would spend some time before finding that out. Here the air still held a definite chill. Sunrise Ski Resort, operated by the White Mountains Apache Tribe in northeastern Arizona, reaches an elevation of more than 11,000 feet. I breathed in a lungful of clean, crisp mountain air and hiked the short distance to where Shannon would be. I'd Danced to a secluded area to avoid anyone seeing me. The hill holding the ski lift resembled a shaved head with a reverse Mohawk. It presented a slightly jarring picture in the spring and summer months. Shannon sat on the ground, contemplating the green and gold scenery, oblivious to anything but her partially completed painting and the view. She appeared fragile and dainty with her golden blond hair piled haphazardly off her neck, until one noticed her toned body. Growing up, she'd given me hell. Fiercely independent, her stubbornness made me look docile. I hoped she'd find a man worthy of her but doubted any man, except her brother, whom she'd always idolized, could ever handle her.

Ian and Shannon rubbed off on each other. Ian's calm acceptance and logical outlook countered Shannon's fiery stubbornness and impulsive behavior. I doubt anyone ever had two children more diverse. My heart warmed from having produced them, and amazement at how much I liked them as people filled me. I must have made some noise, because Shannon looked over her shoulder, pinning me with a keen stare. Like her brother, she frowned, her features expressing bewilderment. “Do I know you?” I left my sunglasses on. Something I would not normally do. It's kinda rude not to look people in the eye. “No, I don't think so.” Shannon tilted her head to the side, examining me. “Hmm, you look like my cousin, Anne. What's your name?” I hadn't thought I'd be talking to either of my kids. I hadn't rehearsed a cover story. “Leah Carpenter.” Gavin should feel honored. “And you?” “Shannon Peters.” “Well, Shannon, I really like your painting.” She glanced down at it, and her eyes softened. “Thanks. Painting's my life.” “Don't let the other parts of life get away from you. You're old before you know it, and regrets make poor substitutes for memories.” A laugh pealed from her lovely lips. “What are you, all of seventeen or eighteen?” Okay, so I'd forgotten myself. Her gaze grew sharper, and she frowned again. “Are you sure we haven't met?” “I'm sure.” Her shrug dismissed me, and she returned to her painting. I moved closer, hungry to look upon her face a few more minutes. She turned her gaze to me again, a question on her face. I pointed to her painting. “You do this for a living?” Her smile was as bright as the day. “I'm still studying, but this is for a show in a small gallery in Flagstaff my friend owns.” I hadn't heard about this. “Your parents must be proud.” She laughed somewhat cynically. “In a perfect world.” While she painted, she continued talking. “My father will probably come, but I'm sure he'll have to bring his latest girlfriend. God forbid he spend the night alone or try to talk to his family.” I was almost afraid to ask. “And your mother?” A wealth of sadness lay in her smile. “I try not to bother her too much. She's had a hard time and doesn't get out much. Besides, with my dad and his latest being there, adding my mom would make everyone uncomfortable.” Now that took me aback. “Your mother doesn't feel comfortable around your dad?” Her chest heaved with a sigh. “I don't think she cares. Not really, but it's disheartening seeing them both somewhere but not together.” I remembered my high-school graduation, my parents in the audience rows apart. A depressing reminder of things lost forever. I guess it doesn't matter how old you get, your parents are home and stability … until they're not anymore. In a way, until the day my father died, I'd felt homeless. “I know how you feel, but your mother might really want to see your work.” She chuckled. “Are you sure you don't know her? There's another reason, though— my boyfriend.”

Surprise grabbed me by the throat. “You have a boyfriend?” Her chuckled evolved into an outright laugh. “Is that so hard to believe?” “Well, no, I mean I'm not sure why I thought you didn't, especially as pretty as you are,” I said, backtracking. “Why thank you, Leah. You can hang out here anytime.” She paused, her long, penetrating look making me squirm. Loading her brush, she went back to her painting. “My boyfriend owns the gallery where I'll be showing, the 'Frame of Mind.' I've been living with him the last four months, but my mother doesn't know.” Just when you think you know all there is to know about someone. “You have? Why haven't you told her?” I didn't even know his name. Her painting forgotten for the moment, she tapped her bottom lip with the end of the brush. “I'm not sure. Probably because she really disapproved when my brother moved in with his girlfriend. She never says anything, but her whole body radiates her censure. I can do without that for a little while longer.” Okay, that did it. “Did it ever occur to you that your brother flits from girl to girl like some giant testosterone bumblebee, and the only reason he moves in with anyone is to save money on dates?” When she burst out laughing, I realized what I had said. “So, you do know my brother.” Uh, oh. “Well, yes. I took one of his classes, and I've heard things. You know.” “Hmm. It sounds like you might know him pretty well.” For a second, I thought she might figure out who I was. I didn't see how, but I didn't want her asking probing questions. Finally, though, her shoulder lifted in a shrug, and she dipped her brush in a spot of carmine on her palette, applying it to the canvas. “My brother's just a tad skittish now. He's not going to commit himself until he's sure a girl is 'the one.' I've tried to tell him it doesn't work that way, but he doesn't listen.” Her brush lifted from the painting, and she subjected me to another of those scrutinizing looks. “I like you, so I'm going to give you a little advice. If you're interested, don't give up on Ian. He'll take a while, maybe a long while, but he's worth it. He needs someone like you. Someone who sees him for who he is … and who he's not.” I bit back a smile. It's not every day your daughter gives you her blessing to date her brother, your son. Besides the “ick” factor, it gives new meaning to looking for a girl just like your mother. Her brush flew over the canvas, and I stepped even closer. “Do you have a flyer or something for your show?” I had an idea. She put her brush in her mouth and rummaged through her knapsack. She pulled out a business card, handing it to me, and returned the brush to her hand. “I don't have a flyer with me, but here's a card for the gallery. The show is next Saturday and Sunday. That's my boyfriend's name, Dillon MacDonald.” “Oh, an Irish name.” “Yes, Mom would like that. She's Irish. Hey, I'll give a good word to my brother about you. He's between women right now. Who knows. You may be 'the one.'“ I chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt that.” When she frowned and gave me that “I must know you” look again. I figured it was a good time to leave. “Well, I need to take off. Good luck on your show. Nice to meet you.”

I strolled off through the trees to the secluded spot where I'd arrived, her “Yeah, same here,” echoing in my ears. She was too perceptive. Perhaps her artist's eyes gave her a head for noticing details. Then again, perhaps I was just lucky that way. As soon as she was out of sight, I Stepped Out quickly. How long would it take Gavin to find Shannon? Not long. Would he ask her about me? Maybe. Would Shannon and her brother compare notes about the strange girl and the guy following her around? Likely. But if they told the “other me,” she, or I, would be oblivious and would brush aside their questions. It would all blow over as one of those weird happenings in life. I hoped. Still, I planned to take one more risk. **** I Stepped Out to the back of the hotel where I usually stayed while visiting Shannon in Flagstaff. I didn't figure anyone would be around there. Luckily, I was right. The stench of tobacco, coffee grounds, and rotting vegetables filled the air, but the faint scent of pine trees and burning fireplace logs still wove through the noxious odors. I circled around to the front and entered the lobby. Stopping at the front desk, I chose the young man sitting behind a computer screen rather than the middle-aged woman manning the reception desk. I assumed I could get more information from him than from her. I wished I'd had the sophistication to use my natural resources while I still had them, but I knew what to do with them now. The young man looked up and did a double take, fastening his gaze on me a little south of my chin. I mentally rolled my eyes but plastered a vacuous smile on my face. “Excuse me,” I checked his nameplate, “Brian. I have an address, but I'm not sure how to get there.” I laid the “Frame of Mind” business card on the counter. He picked it up and perused it. “It's about a mile north of here, straight down the highway.” He returned the card, giving me a smarmy smile he must have thought irresistible. “I get off in an hour. How about I drive you there?” His smile was nearly a leer. I giggled in my best imitation of an empty-headed eighteen-year-old taken with his charm. “That's so sweet of you, but my boyfriend is picking me up.” Since it wasn't far, I walked. The jumpsuit protected me against the chill. Quaint and artsy, the “Frame of Mind” displayed a wide variety of photographs and paintings. When I walked in, an attractive young man in his mid-twenties, with blond hair and blue eyes, looked up. As I approached, a frown settled on his mouth, and he asked, “Do I know you?” “I'm Leah Carpenter, a friend of Shannon's.” His lips curved in a warm smile, and he shook my hand. “I'm Dillon. Shannon's having a show here this weekend, you know.” I liked him. Friendly and personable, he never once checked out my chest. “Yes, I know. I'm here to get some flyers.” His smile widened. “That would be great.” He picked up a half-dozen flyers from a stack in front of him and handed them to me. “Tell everyone you know. Shannon's paintings will sell themselves.” “I certainly will.” I shook his hand again. “It was very nice meeting you, Dillon.” “Same here. I'll tell Shannon you stopped by.”

I left the gallery, walked the three blocks to the post office, and purchased an envelope and stamps. I found a pen and scribbled a note on the flyer. I hoped the “'other me” would take my advice and attend Shannon's showing. It seemed I could still do something to influence my life. Even if it belonged to someone else now.

Chapter Six The cabin had lain vacant for many months. It belonged to my family, or Ed would have taken it in the divorce. I rarely used it, so I'd decided to sell. No one would find me here. Well, except for Gavin. He'd be here eventually. I had a key with me and came in through the back door by the kitchen. When I stepped through the doorway, the musty, stale scent of long disuse greeted me. Turning on all the utilities helped make the cabin a little less empty. Opening all the screened windows and washing the bedding and linens made it homier. Plenty of dry food stocked the shelves. I had a bowl of soup and made Kool-Aid for later. Although early May, the nights were good and chilly at this elevation. After making the bed, I brought wood and kindling in off the porch and started a fire in the woodburning fireplace. I decided hot cocoa might taste better by the fire, so I carried my things to the couch sitting in front of the hearth. Spaghetti-Os were better than I remembered, or I was just too hungry to care, so I had two bowls. I washed up my dishes and took my cocoa into the living room. Leaving my sneakers by the couch, I sat cross-legged on the couch, cradling my warm cup and staring into the flames. They danced hypnotically, reminding me of rifts, Time Dancing, and of course, Gavin. I took a deep swallow from the mug, finishing my cocoa. I had it bad. Everything reminded me of Gavin. I shook my head, disgusted with my own weakness. Even after having known him such a short time, I already loved him more than I thought possible. I wouldn't have felt so betrayed if I hadn't. And one other thing: I hadn't let go of my old life. It had let go of me. The glow from my earlier good deed had begun to fade. I was a little bit envious of the “other me,” even though that life no longer fit. Looking back, I realized I had feared I'd never have anyone. At least Ed Peters had me believing he was the only one who would have me. I gave him control and adopted his opinions as my own in exchange for the dubious security of a husband and home. I pulled out my wallet, opening it to the pictures. I remembered the day we had the first picture of my children taken. It was all I could do to convince my daughter to keep her dress down and not show the photographer her new lace underwear. My son scowled, belligerence in his posture. He clutched his new baseball glove tightly. I refused to let him keep his bat, because he'd already clubbed his sister twice with it. It captured forever their essence completely at a time when we'd still been a happy family; therefore, it had always been my favorite picture of them. But nothing lasts forever. Not happiness. Not sadness. I flipped through the remaining pictures. As my children progressed into adulthood, I recalled each step of their childhood. I saw each of them only a few times a year now. It's the way of things. Children leave and make lives for themselves. Though I would now risk my life to protect it, I would never again participate in the business of everyday living. I missed it more than I ever thought I would. When Ian, my bright baby, was born, for the first time in my life, I fell completely and irrevocably in love. Shannon, my child of strength and determination, came a year later. Never before had two more perfect works of human art ever been born. They loved

me unconditionally, regardless of how I looked or acted, what I could or could not, what I would or would not, and what I did or did not do for them. I protected them, taught them, loved them with all my heart, and let them go when it was time. When I finished raising them, only the tattered remnants of a marriage beyond repair remained. The failure for that marriage could be laid equally at my feet. I saw that now. When Ed, in his midlife crisis, started running around on me, disappointment had filled me—it's so clichéd—but not surprising. He left me for a younger woman, someone who worshiped him as I never could. He attempted to recapture his youth and acquire the acclaim and affection he felt was his due. I could accept the flaws in Ed, but he and I knew I still saw them. I can ignore things, even fool myself, but I don't do well with deliberate pretense. For a long time, I thought there might be something wrong with me. That I might be as frigid and passionless as Ed had accused me of being. Then Gavin came into my life and turned it upside down, made me feel again, made me care again, when I thought I could no longer do either. He made me see what I could be with the right person. I pulled up my knees, laid my head on them, and wept. As I said, I rarely cry, but I cried then. I wept for my dead parents, for my dead marriage, for my old life, for myself, and finally, I cried one more time for the me I lost along the way. Then I was finished with crying. It drained the sorrow and pity from me. I put my empty cup on the floor next to the couch, suddenly more tired than I'd been in weeks. I lay down, staring again into the fire while visions of rifts danced in my head. The snapping of sap from the logs and mesmerizing flicker of the fire soon lulled me to sleep. **** I dreamed of Gavin and Dancing with Time, waking stiff and cold. The fire had died down, so I decided to go to bed. I returned my mug to the kitchen and felt my way down the long hallway to the bedroom. The distance seemed much longer in the dark. Dim moonlight peering through the windows served only to lengthen and deepen the shadows against the walls. Loose tree limbs waving in the night breeze scratched against the sides of the cabin and windowpanes. Shuffling to avoid stubbing my toes, I made painfully slow progress. Once in the bedroom, I stepped gingerly to the adjacent bathroom to reach for the light switch. A chill along my spine raised the hair on the back of my neck and along my arms. “Hello, Gavin.” I flipped the switch, flooding the room with light, and turned toward him. “You're here a little sooner than I expected.” He looked good, too good. Unlike most people, he always looked better than I remembered. The sight of him tugged at my heart. I longed to reach out to him, to touch him. Instead, I angled up my chin and clasped my hands tightly together. “So what now?” I fought hard to keep my tone flat. He smiled, taking a step forward, and stood in the doorway. I stepped back. Though he frowned, he didn't come any closer. “Now? Well, now you decide how we'll play this.” He said it matter-of-factly. “What do you mean?” He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “I assume you overheard Raphael and me?”

“Yes.” I didn't elaborate. A sigh sifted from him. “What exactly did you hear?” “Pretty much everything, I imagine. Let me see … we have to be joined to be effective against the rift that's coming sooner than everyone expected.” When he nodded, I continued. “This 'joining' means we have to fuck, right?” At my vulgarity, he expelled a short laugh. “Well, at least you can say the word now. Yes, it's physical, but it's more than that.” His eyes pleaded for understanding. “Oh yeah, right, there's another nifty little catch. It means whatever happens to you happens to me. If you die, I die, and vice versa. Do I have that right?” All levity gone from his expression, he regarded me solemnly. “I'd like to think the benefits outweigh the costs.” “And I'd like to think I have a choice, but it doesn't really matter what we want, does it?” “You do have a choice,” he answered quietly. I didn't believe him. “I do?” “Yes, you choose when, and you choose how it happens. I've already told Rafe I would never, could never force you, regardless of the consequences.” He smiled seductively, sending tingles once more down my spine. “I promise you won't regret it.” “What if I decide it's not going to happen at all?” Another big sigh. “It's too late for that now. It was too late before you were ever born, even before I was born.” While he watched me, regret crept into his eyes, and he shrugged. “The time is now. Choosing is all that remains.” “Choose? Choose what? Choose rape or surrender? What kind of choice is that?” It grew more difficult to keep my voice from becoming strident. He moved into the room, uncrossing his arms and closing his hands into fists at his sides. I should have been afraid, but somehow I knew he'd never hurt me, not physically anyway. “It won't be rape, Charity, but I can't let you go. Not now. Will you come willingly? Yes, or no?” His voice revealed his impatience, but it didn't show in his expression. “Give me your answer, Charity.” “And if I don't?” “Then that would be a choice, wouldn't it? Tell me, Charity. Say the word. Yes or no?” I searched his face for some sign he'd relent, but its lack of emotion chilled me more than his anger ever had. Still I denied him the answer he sought. I'm nothing if not obstinate. Defiance burning inside me, I lifted my chin. “Why is it my choice?” His eyes glittered then with that forever glow. “Because I've already made mine. I made it blindly the night I left Pompeii. I made it again the first time I ever saw you and reaffirmed it every day since then.” He walked toward me, into my personal space, my bubble, and loomed. He was using his physical size to intimidate me … it worked. However, cutting off my nose to spite my face is a particular talent of mine. I refused to give ground or show his closeness affected me. I tried for that anyway. As though understanding my front was all bravado, his tone softened. “Make no mistake about it, Charity. I am yours, and you are mine, no matter how long it takes for you to accept it.”

He cupped my cheek and stroked it gently, brushing his thumb back and forth. His expression was the most tender I'd seen it since this chase began. I didn't make the mistake, however, of thinking I'd won any concessions. “I'll tie you to me throughout eternity if that's what it takes,” he murmured. I moved out of his reach and sent him a sharp look, my anger burning hotter than I could remember it being in years. I had to be glowing red-hot by now, every bit of my passion showing in my aura. All my life, I was a good girl. I did everything I was told. I wouldn't be that good girl any more. I couldn't be. I have a brain, a damn good one, but no one ever let me use it. This time, I wanted to be the one in control. “Well, buster, that's what it's going to take.” I prepared to Step Out, but he was quicker. I'd never seen him move that fast. In fact, I didn't actually see him move at all. He'd never shown me this ability. Maybe for just this kind of situation. His arm encircled my waist, warm and firm against the bare skin under my shirt. His other arm bound me at my upper arms across my breasts. As he probed the depth of my power and captured my center, burning seethed in the pit of my stomach. “Let go,” I managed to say through clenched teeth. The pain was unpleasant but bearable. Apparently, he'd been considerate up until now. I was overmatched, and we both knew it. But, as I said, I'm a perverse woman. “You said you wouldn't force me.” “And I won't, but I can't let you go, either. Besides, I never said I wouldn't try and persuade you.” I stopped struggling and forced myself to remain calm. “I'll just wait until you fall asleep, you know.” He bent his head and whispered in my ear, “I don't plan on going to sleep for a very long time. You won't want to leave me by then.” I found the seductive lilt of his voice much harder to resist than his anger. I trembled at the implication of his words and the embrace of his arms. Against my will, my nipples beaded and rubbed against the fabric of my bra, reaching toward his arm like flowers following the sun. He pulled me closer, his arm caressing my bared midriff. His scent filled my pores, making my head swim. I longed to give in to what my body wanted. Why was I resisting? “Yes or no, Char?” Oh, yeah, that's right. I was making a point. “What makes you think you can convince me?” When he shrugged, his chest shifted against my back. “I see the way you look at me, and I feel it in your kiss. I know, because it's the same way I gaze at you and the same way I kiss you. You want what I want, but you're afraid of giving up control. Well, neither of us is in control, we never were. Still, you choose when and you choose how. Your choices will determine how we deal with each other from now on.” I squirmed out of his arms, turned around, and backed slowly toward the door. “Listen, Gavin, I like you … a lot, but I'm not ready for this. How about we take more time to get to know each other better?” I hoped my smile was reassuring, would distract him from my progress toward the door. To Step Out, I'd have to put some distance between us. “No.” He wasn't buying it. “Unfortunately, time's up.” Scooting around me, he beat me to the door and shut it firmly. Pulling a key from his jeans pocket, he turned the lock.

Facing me again, he smiled. “You left it on the counter.” He took a step forward, close enough now to touch me. “We'll settle this now. How about I just convince you to accept what we both want anyway?” I stiffened at his arrogant assurance in his ability to seduce me and my inability to resist his charms. I returned his smile with a sardonic one of my own. “How about you don't?” He raised an eyebrow, his smile growing more seductive. “You doubt my ability to convince you, or are you afraid I might be right?” “I'm not afraid of anything.” He snorted. “You may not be afraid of anyone else, but you're definitely afraid of yourself and your feelings.” He may have been right, but it would be the last thing I'd ever admit to right then. He moved toward me again, and I backed out of his way until I reached the bedroom wall next to the bathroom. He didn't touch me but lowered his head to my neck and inhaled slowly. “God I love your smell.” I quivered, despite my best intentions, and he chuckled, low and seductively. “I bet you taste just as good.” He nibbled along my collarbone and licked a path to my ear. Pulling my earlobe into his mouth and suckling, he cupped my shoulders and slid his palms lightly down my arms. I shuddered again and slipped away from him. When he followed me, I backed toward the door. As he advanced, he stripped off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. I stopped and folded my arms. He stopped also and pulled up a leg, one at a time, to untie his shoes and remove them. “What are you doing?” A slight squeak in my voice betrayed my apprehension. He glanced at me. “I thought that might be obvious.” With a smile, he pulled off his socks and tossed them with the rest of his clothes. I couldn't help studying his chest; my fingers ached to explore its contours. My mouth suddenly dry, I absorbed his knowing grin and swallowed convulsively. I whipped around to face the door and pulled desperately on the handle, forgetting for a moment Gavin had locked it. He chuckled, but though I stopped struggling with the door, I refused to turn around. “Is this what you're looking for?” he taunted. Slowly, I faced him. The key dangled loosely from his fingers. I swiped at it. He raised his hand above his head, out of my reach. “You wouldn't want to leave before the fun even starts, would you?” I hugged my arms to my waist and scowled. “Yes, I think I would.” Folding the key into his hand, he lowered his arm. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Let's remove it from temptation, shall we?” As he threw it onto the dresser, I followed the arc of the key's path. When I turned back to look at his face, his smile had changed. In an unhurried motion, his gaze locked with mine, he methodically unbuttoned his jeans. Finishing, he reached for me. I darted around him and headed for the open bathroom. I almost made it through the doorway before Gavin snagged my shirt and yanked. Shades of the day we met flashed through my mind, and I swiveled, twisting my hips to prevent his arm from capturing me. My maneuvering caused Gavin to lose his grip on my top. At the sudden release, I spun and lost my balance, stumbling, falling hard up against the wall. In the midst of

twisting around, my right shoulder and back took the brunt of the collision. Stunned, my arms at my sides, my palms flat against the wall to brace myself, I couldn't escape. Gavin trapped me between his arms and thrust against me, front to front, sandwiching me between him and the wall. I raised my hands between us and pushed against his chest but didn't move him an inch. While I struggled against him, his gaze pored keenly over my face and his body held me immobile, flattened against the wall. I considered kneeing him, but he slid his leg between mine, pinning me firmly and preventing it. He took great pains to keep from hurting me. No, he wasn't hurting me; he was frustrating the hell out of me. Fastening his hands around my wrists, he pulled them from between us and held them to the wall on either side of my head. Trapped, unable to move or do any damage, I struggled a few more minutes to escape. Then I stilled, frowned, and looked up angrily. “Well?” “Well what?” he replied with a smile My frown contracted into a scowl. “Well, what now?” His smile expanded into a smirk. “Haven't we already been over this?” I sighed. “Okay, I give. You're bigger, stronger, faster, and you have me good and trapped.” “Yes, I do.” “Let me go,” I bit out, my jaw rigid. “Now.” Instead, he lowered his head. I turned my face aside to avoid his kiss, inadvertently giving him greater access to my neck. He bit me forcefully, but before I could complain, laved the bite with his tongue and soothed the sting. Then he sucked vigorously, marking me. Traveling farther down, he repeated the pain-pleasure torture on my shoulder. He progressed inches at a time down my body, continuing the pattern but varying the pressure, until I concentrated solely on his mouth moving over me—his bite, his tongue, his lips. Languid warmth crept over me to weaken my knees and draw a moan from deep within. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. My breath caught in anticipation of the pain and the promise of the pleasure, unable to break the spell. Maintaining his erotic assault on my senses, Gavin released my wrists to lift my shirt up and over my head. He sent the garment to the floor, regaining hold of my wrists and pinning them over my head once again. “Say yes, Charity,” he whispered. His dulcet tones seeped into my bones and leached out the rigid material, turning me to putty he could mold to suit his purpose. “Say now, Charity. Don't make me wait.” He pressed himself flush against me, his erection pushing into my belly, urgently seeking a home inside. He hardened more with each labored breath he drew and sent flowing across the overly sensitized nerves behind my ears and along my neck. “Say yes, Charity. Give us what we both want.” My equilibrium failed, sending my desire careening out of control. I heard desperate mewling moans of impassioned urgency and realized they came from me. Gavin planted delicate butterfly kisses along my jaw, reaching my lips, painting them in swirling strokes and delicious nips, all the while keeping my wrists imprisoned painlessly but firmly above us. I strained, thrusting forward, writhing against him. Teasing, luring, whipping my senses until I stood at the precipice, yearning to fall over. He gave me the pressure and friction my body craved, only to withdraw it, stirring the pot of my steeping emotions to a slow, roiling boil.

I whimpered, and he whispered against my mouth, breathing the words, “Tell me, Charity. Say the word.” He moved across my jaw and bit my earlobe, pulling and sucking, his mouth cool against my fevered skin. “Say yes, Charity.” I rode his knee, seeking completion, seeking relief, seeking a bond. “Please, Gavin.” “I want to please you, Charity. Say the word.” I remained stubbornly silent but opened my eyes. I wanted and needed something I'd never had and didn't understand. I found it nearly impossible to ask for help, let alone ask for what I wanted. Gavin's look promised love and security, but I wanted more—trust and respect. Then in the depths of his forever eyes, gleamed the essence of what I was seeking. He needed me as much as I needed him. He left himself open and vulnerable, allowing me to accept or reject him. He risked that I would choose what I didn't want out of perverse obstinacy. I might have had I not known Gavin really would not force me. He would keep up the pressure but let me decide in my own time, regardless of the consequences. In that moment, I marveled at Gavin's trusting me more than I trusted myself. The realization made me smile. No one else had ever done that. “Yes.” God, yes! “Yes?” He seemed surprised, unsure if I were serious or plotting another trick to escape. “Yes! Show me,” I said, allowing the fire inside me to burn in my eyes and in my voice. Yes, now. Yes, here. Yes, show me what we both want. The decision made, I gave myself over to the passion I'd locked away years ago. I replaced the fear I'd felt at losing control with the need to connect with someone. He brought his hands under my hair, holding my neck reverently in his palms, and tilted my face up to his, slowly lowering his head. I held onto his arms, needing to preserve the link to him—my anchor to Earth. His lips caressed mine. Flirting, tasting, his tongue beckoned, and I opened my lips to receive him. The exotic taste of his mouth, a promise of dark desire, rolled over my tongue as smoothly as aged brandy. I made a foray, our tongues entwining. The intoxicating game shot darts of pleasure to my groin, releasing the dam. Moaning, defenseless against the erotic assault, I soaked the thong I'd managed to pull on at the outset of the drama and wished I hadn't bothered. It was one more obstacle in the way. Desperate for fulfillment, I pulled and tugged at his jeans. He seized my wrists and held them still again, pulling his lips from our kiss and resting his forehead against mine. “Easy, Charity love, there's only one first time, even for us.” I leaned back and looked into his forever eyes. I wanted to see those eyes lost in desire. More than that, I wanted to gift Gavin with the loss of control to passion. Tracing his sculpted torso, I ran my hands down to his jeans and at tugged them to pull them off. My fingers played over his chest, loving the feel of contrasting hairroughened skin and his gently sloping physique. When I shifted my explorations to his back, his powerful muscles contracted under my touch. Gavin held me lightly by my shoulders, not attempting to stop me, merely maintaining our bond. My tongue found its way to his nipple. I traced a trail around it before pulling the small bead between my teeth to nip and suckle. His head fell back, and he closed his eyes. I knelt before him and trailed kisses down

the golden hair on his torso to his rigid cock. A low rumble from deep in his chest tickled my lips. I traced the vein running down the middle of it; a salty tang greeted my questing tongue. The exotic taste mixed with his earthy aroma, creating a potent cocktail. He secured his hands in my hair, pulling me closer. Holding him with my arms around his thighs, I licked a path around the tip of his shaft, exploring every feature. My questing fingers followed the course of his spine to the Promised Land at the base. With my hands on his ass, I grasped a cheek in each hand, kneading and moving even closer, slanting my head to explore all parts of his sex thoroughly, until I finally sheathed him in my mouth. Cupping his balls in one hand, I circled the base of his cock with the other. As I moved him in and out of my mouth, I pulled the skin taut, beginning a slow rhythm, licking and suckling. This time his groan was audible. He let me stay with my amorous pursuits only for a few minutes before holding me still. The taut muscles of his stomach tensed, every line firm—velvet over marble. “Oh God, Char, don't even breathe.” I released him but couldn't resist a final lick down the middle of his shaft. His hands jerked painfully, pulling my hair. “Come here.” His voice was hoarse. I looked up at his command, and he gazed down at me, his jaw muscles working. The storm blue of his eyes darkened to indigo. At that moment, my only thought was … soon I'd be tied irrevocably to the object of my obsession … and he'd be tied to me. I straightened my legs, and he released my hair, cradling me instead with a hand at the nape of my neck. He caressed my cheek with the back of his index finger, watching me as though seeing me for the first time. When I smiled, he returned the smile with none of my tentativeness. His lips, warm and beckoning, his fathomless eyes compelling, he pulled me toward him. “I've wanted this forever,” he said. “I watched you grow up and weather adversity, always surviving and maintaining empathy for others, whether or not it was deserved. And through it all, your spirit shone brightly in spite of the pain staining your soul. I wanted that spirit, that strength, for myself.” “Yeah, frumpy, conflicted, middle-aged housewives are in short supply. And why not, we're so very alluring.” He laughed and wrapped me in his arms, my head tucked under his chin. “And still she jokes.” His arms loosened enough so his gaze could again meet mine, his expression growing sober. “I wanted you to be mine, to treat you the way you deserved to be treated. In all the times, in all the places, and of all the people I've ever met, nothing and no one compares to you and that part of you I long to touch. Let me show you the magic we can make together.” I'd always thought I'd laugh at corny words like those if anyone ever had the temerity to say them. Again, I was wrong. The visceral ache they evoked weakened my knees, rendering me incapable of resisting … even if I had wanted to. Resist? Hell, I wanted to push him down and take him now, not waste time getting to the bed. I wound my arms around his neck and attacked his mouth, enjoying his talented tongue in play instead of speech. His arms encircled my waist, and he lifted me off my feet, carrying me to the bed. Setting me down at the foot, he lowered me to the comforter, my knees hanging over the

edge. His eyes blazed, trapping me in their intensity. Balancing his weight on his hands, he leaned over me, brushing his lips over mine, tasting and teasing, never resting for long in any position. I cupped his face in my hands, holding him still, bringing him closer for a deeper kiss. He obliged and slid his hands to my back, easily working the bra clasp. He left my lips to plant light kisses along my jaw and neck, pushing my bra up and off and trapping my wrists above my head. When he rubbed his cheek down my side, the stubble along his jaw lightly abraded the skin under my arm and beside my breast. Pulling my pants and thong down in one motion, he slipped the entire tangled bunch off my legs and held my wrists again above my head, pulling my breasts taut. I shivered, tightening my nipples into puckered nubs pleading for his attention. Licks over the peaks teased me further into a froth. Still unable to use my hands because of his grip on my wrists, I whimpered and squirmed. He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, biting lightly, shooting bolts of pleasure throughout my body, my breasts at the epicenter. I arched my back, and he released my wrists to cradle me, his hands spanning either side of my ribs. Finally, I disentangled my arms and hands and touched him. Reaching him had become all important. He turned his attention to my other nipple, and the spikes of raw ecstasy hit me once more. I forgot to breathe and gasped when he nibbled, gathering a complete lungful of air at one time to make up for it. I closed my eyes, immersed completely in dizzying waves of sensation, each nerve sensitive to Gavin's every move, every touch. Like a virtuoso, his hands and mouth played me, attuned to every nuance of my body's reaction, my heart's desire, the hunger consuming me. I spiraled toward a fiery end, Gavin's touch both my anchor and the impetus to soar. I grasped handfuls of his hair, and his golden curls twined around my fingers. My sigh became a moan, and I arched my back, eager to meet his tongue on its journey down my abdomen to the other lips that wept for him. He framed my hips in his hands, spreading my legs with his body. Releasing my grip on his hair, I opened my eyes. The intensity of our locked gazes was nearly painful. Like Peter Pan having his shadow torn from him, it peeled and stripped at my walls and defenses, leaving the center of my soul exposed and vulnerable. But I knew I was safe with Gavin. Trust is so fucking intoxicating! It frees you to explore the hidden you, the dark, fearless you. But sex without love is like Tootsie Pops without the Tootsie-Roll center— good but not as good as it should have been. Hell, you put love and trust into sex, and the enthralling mixture is the closest we humans come to Heaven this side of Hell. I didn't know if what I felt for Gavin was “true” love, didn't know if I even believed in it anymore or if I could feel it for anyone, but it came damn close. For now, that was enough. Gavin explored me with his mouth, his tongue tracing a fiery trail around my navel, along the crease of my legs and the folds covering my sex. I ached and pulsed in time to the rhythm he orchestrated. His hands trailed up the inside of my thighs. As his tongue thoroughly explored every part of me, he spread my labia with his thumbs. Fastening his mouth on my clit, he sucked, stroked, bringing me to an explosive climax. He slid easily up my body and into

my sheath, the slick muscles still contracting from my orgasm. Propping himself on his elbows, he looked into my eyes once again, laced our fingers, and smiled. “Mine,” he whispered. When he began to move, I wrapped my legs around him. “Finally,” he murmured and fastened his lips on mine. The salty tang of Gavin and me mingled deliciously on my tongue. The pressure built again, my body moving in time to Gavin's. I strained and reached for the climax that seemed just out of reach. Arching, I increased the angle and the friction. Gavin released my hands and reached between us to stroke me in time to his driving thrusts. As the orgasm built and surged over me, I groaned. Gavin thrust one final time. When he released himself into me, our shouts mingled. The tingling began in my fingers and toes even as the throbbing of my inner muscles faded. Gavin laid his head in the crook of my neck, supporting most of his weight on his elbows. The heat spread up my legs and down my arms. He stiffened and put his arms around me, rolling us over. I propped myself up on my hands and looked into his face, at the painful ecstasy mirrored there. Unbidden power gathered in my center, and the burning started in my midsection again. I rested against his chest. My body clenched, caught in another more powerful wave, pain and pleasure rolling along each nerve, alternately cramping and releasing them to exquisite pleasure, building to increasingly more powerful climaxes. After what seemed like hours, the throbbing subsided, leaving me spent and tired. I relaxed my limbs, and Gavin stroked my hair. The burning dissipated, leaving a sense of well-being in its place. I raised my head, looking at Gavin. “So, that's it then? For better or worse?” He twined a lock of my hair around his finger. “As long as we both shall live.” “Oh, my God, what have I done?” Gavin chuckled, his chest hair tickling my face. “Gee, thanks. I feel so wanted.” I pulled one of those hairs. “This is serious.” “Ouch! Yeah, it hurts.” Still buried in me, he rolled back over, taking me with him to pin me under him, his arms around me, his weight supported on his elbows. I couldn't pull any chest hairs or anything else with my arms trapped between us. He watched me a moment, and I found myself unable to break eye contact with him. “Having second thoughts?” he asked, a note of vulnerability in his voice. I nodded. “Maybe. Maybe it's just sinking in.” “Regrets?” Though he struggled to control them, emotions flickered across his face—fear, resolve, and something akin to affection. Perhaps he was as unsure as I was, and for some reason that made me feel better. I guess I didn't want to be the only one out of their element, the only one fearing whatever came next. I smiled with what I hoped was a provocative turn to my mouth. “A few,” I replied. Gavin's smile reflected mine. “Yeah, like what?” He lowered his mouth to my neck and planted open-mouthed kisses down to my shoulder, where he nipped me gently. Goose bumps ran across my skin. “That there isn't enough.” His kisses traced across my chest, and his tongue trailed lower. “Enough what?”

“Hmm?” My back arched, pushing my breasts closer to his mouth. He looked up. “Enough what?” A hint of uncertainty lurked in his expression. With my returning arousal, my smile widened. “That there isn't enough time. Even forever may not be enough.” His grin was worth every bit of pain I'd suffered, every doubt I'd had, and every tear I'd shed in the last couple of months. I'd do a lot more, suffer a lot more, for that smile. “Oh.” It was my turn to laugh. “My silver-tongued devil.” His grin appeared again and more—desire. He had that look again, that man's look. It hadn't surfaced since the day of my change. He'd been unsure of me from that time until now. He'd joined with me not knowing if I'd ever really accept the situation, that I might actually leave. And I might have, except for one thing—loyalty. I don't give myself lightly in any way. Once I do, I don't go back. “You like my tongue, do you?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Mmm-hmm. One of your best features.” That grin again. As though I hadn't just had the greatest sex of my life, my body tightened and moisture gathered, preparing me. My gaze fastened on his mouth. “Oh, my.” He chuckled deep and low again. I looked up. “Did I say that out loud?” He laughed and nodded. A blush spread and covered me. He brushed my cheek tenderly, his look touching me deep inside. I couldn't help but groan. Covering my mouth with his, he explored and worshipped then moved back and swept his gaze down my body. Like a caress, it poured over me, and he grew harder within me. As he moved, I wrapped my legs around his torso. We danced again, fulfillment still having left enough desire for another refrain. I hung onto him until my breathing returned to normal then straightened my legs. Gavin released me, rolling to his side next to me. I turned on my side, and he spooned me, draping his arm and leg over me. “Just a few minutes,” he whispered faintly. I think I gave him my pat answer, “Uh-huh,” or maybe, “Whatever,” before falling into a deep sleep … for a little while at least.

Chapter Seven Gavin filled my night until right before sunrise, when we fell into an exhausted sleep. I came awake slowly, a draft chilling my backside. He lifted the covers, pulling them completely down and off. Trailing a finger down my spine, he followed it with his tongue. He swept my hair aside to nibble on my ear. I trembled, but not with the cold. The cabin was toasty warm. Gavin must have turned up the heat. He had certainly turned it up in the bedroom I started to turn over, but he put a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place. “Just stay there. Let me love you like this.” I shivered again, and he chuckled, his warm breath disturbing the fine hairs on my neck. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of his hands skimming down my sides, his mouth tasting my skin. He pulled the two pillows from under my head and lifted my hips, placing the pillows under them to raise my rear. I disliked the feeling of vulnerability at first and squirmed, mumbling a protest. “Shhh, Charity. It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you.” His mouth close to my ear, he whispered, “I promise you'll enjoy everything I do.” How could I argue with that? I'm all in favor of pleasure, especially my own. That he was concentrating on me, on my pleasure, and I couldn't see him, made the experience intense, nearly too intense. But you grow only by stepping outside your comfort zone, so I stepped. I stepped with both feet. Gavin caressed me with his hands and mouth and tongue. As he brushed over my back and shoulders, the rough edges of his callused palms caught on my skin. He followed with his mouth, biting and tasting, and the rasp of his tongue drew moisture from me, wetting the pillows supporting my hips. My moans became louder, my initial discomfort at being so open lost in the hedonistic touch of his worshipping hands and mouth. My arousal grew, the slight pressure of the pillows aiding its spread. Gavin moved to my feet and legs, stroking the inside of my thighs, suckling the pads of my toes. He traveled slowly up my legs until he reached the folds covering my sex, now swollen and dripping. I froze, my body begging him to join with me. I groaned at the erotic torture. “Not yet,” he murmured. When he straddled me, the bed shifted. His rigid erection nestled in my cleft and spread pre-cum and my own slickness over my buttocks. By the hitch in his breathing, he suffered as much from the teasing as I. He covered me, sliding his hands under my body to cup my breasts. He slipped easily into me, at last, and I welcomed him with a sigh. Like a warm blanket, he folded himself around me. He pulled in and out, and the pressure built slowly. Moving a hand between my legs, he parted the folds, finding my center. He matched the massaging rhythm to the tempo of his strokes. As he followed me over, my climax seized me, spun me, and blocked out everything but his moving deep inside and his

moan. He pulled out and dropped heavily onto his back, his arm over his eyes. I managed to roll off the pillows, our combined sweat drying on my back, cool now that Gavin no longer covered me. I seriously considered going back to sleep, but Gavin sat up. “Shower first, and then breakfast?” I grunted and kept my eyes closed. He laughed. “Breakfast first?” “You cooking?” I asked without moving. “Okay. What's there to cook?” “Canned ham, powdered eggs, pancakes, and coffee.” “Mmm, sounds yummy.” I laughed at the contradiction in his words and sat up. “And I take a shower.” He threw the pillows out from between us and rolled over. Climbing on top of me, he grabbed me, forcing me to lie back down. He supported his weight on his elbows and looked into my eyes. “We shower together. Wouldn't want to waste water.” “Somehow I don't think showering together will save much water,” I said dryly. “We shower together.” He was adamant. “Okay, okay. Whatever you say, Tarzan. We shower together.” “Good.” He gave me a quick peck and left the bed, grabbing his jeans and pulling them up, leaving them unbuttoned and walking into the kitchen. I got out of bed and rooted around in the dresser drawers. I found an old pair of my daughter's cutoffs and a tank top, slipping them on before padding out to the kitchen. My stomach growled, and even the army-surplus food smelled good. While Gavin stood over the stove, cooking, I slid my arms around him. He covered my arms with one of his, and I squeezed, laying my head against his back. There's something so sexy about a big he-man getting all domestic. “Mmm, smells good.” He laughed and stirred the scrambled eggs sizzling in the pan. “You must be hungrier than I thought.” “Mmm, I'm not talking about the food.” He turned off the stove, set the spatula down in the pan, and turned to lift me under my thighs. I put my arms around him and braced myself against his shoulders. “Shower first,” Gavin murmured before snaring my lips. We did manage to shower and eventually eat breakfast. Even the powdered eggs tasted good. **** For all Gavin's experience, he still had never learned how to “veg,” so I had to teach him how modern man perfected the art of wasting time. First, we hiked to the dock to fish. It sat near the cabin and jutted into the small, man-made lake. We used bits of Spam as bait, though Gavin offered to dig for worms. I showed him how to cast out into the lake then sit and wait. We didn't catch much, but I did learn that, when Raphael plucked him out of Pompeii, Gavin had been a Roman slave, which explained his Celtic looks. He asked about my life, though he'd seen much of it from the outside and in frozen tableaus.

Strange I'd never noticed him, but that would have been a bad thing, I suppose, with the possibility of changing the future and all. “Gavin, does it ever get old? Do you ever come to the point where there's nothing left to do or know?” He sent me a fond smile. “I keep learning, and so will you. What we don't yet know remains infinite. Likewise, there's no cap on improving our skills.” We had planned another hike for later, but afternoon showers kept us inside. We cuddled by the fire and created our own blaze. Gavin was insatiable, and I seemed equally as ravenous. After a couple bowls of Spaghetti-Os and finishing another shower, Gavin noticed a note on the kitchen table. He picked it up. “Well, at least he didn't stay to greet us personally. I'm not sure who would have been more embarrassed—he, or you and I.” “Who?” Gavin snorted. “Who else?” I looked at the note when he handed it to me. It was signed 'R.' Raphael. Okay Kids, Playtime is over. I'll see you by 9:00am or you'll see me at 9:01am. Love, R “Well?” he asked when I'd finished reading it out loud. “What has to be done here before we leave? I say we return tonight and wake him up. He hates that.” The thought of irritating Raphael almost made up for having to return to real life. “The linen and dishes. Oh, and the fireplace needs to be cleaned out. Heck, it just has to look like no one has been here.” He pulled me closer. “Heck, huh? What a good girl you are.” I melted into him. “Mmm, maybe I could show you how good I can be.” “I think I'd like that.” We woke Raphael four hours later, just to make sure he knew we had gotten back safely. I'd never before heard Raphael use a single one of the words he uttered then. I'm still not sure what he threw at the door Gavin had hastily closed. **** You'd think, with the nookie we'd shared and the soul-mate thing and all, Gavin would ease up on the Task-Master part. Well, if you did, then we'd both have been wrong. If anything, he was worse. In fact, I think he was going for “Asshole of the Year.” He had my vote. We began each day learning about auras and reading them. My aura tended to stay toward the reddish side of the spectrum, especially when Gavin was near. He tried teaching me to control my aura by controlling my emotions. Control my aura and control my power. Orange was about the best I could manage most of the time. “Charity, you've got to control it.” “I'm trying, Gavin. You think I like doing this over and over?” “I figured you must.” “Kiss my ass.” As I struggled to reach for my center, he came up behind me, loosely circling his arms around me. From the extra hours we had already put in that day, my brain and body

were drained. “Later,” he promised. His husky whisper sent shivers cascading along my arms and the back of my neck. Releasing me, he smacked me on the rear. “But that's later. Right now, concentrate.” Raphael's low chuckle came from the porch, and I turned with a glower on my face. He only laughed harder. The angry, dark red aura poured and streamed off me. I'd had it for the day and stomped off toward the house. “Charity, where are you going? We haven't finished,” Gavin called out. “We may not have finished, but I have!” Mounting the stairs to the room Gavin and I now shared, I yanked off clothing and scattered a trail on my way to the shower, knowing it would really piss off Mr. Neat Freak. I jammed on the water. While the water warmed up, I tugged off my boots, socks, and pants. Stepping beneath the steaming water, I braced my arms against the front wall of the shower stall and let the water pound over me, opening pores and soothing aches and pains. I closed my eyes, raised my face into the flow, and allowed my mind to go blank for the first time in hours. When the shower door opened, a draft hit me. I opened my eyes, steeling myself for the lecture I was sure would come. Instead, Gavin's arms came around me, and I jumped. He pulled me back into him, his cock pressing against my ass, his damp scent making my head spin. Waiting for him to chastise me for my behavior outside, I stiffened. He cupped my breasts and moved a hand down to cup my mound. “Forgive me,” he said in a near-whisper. Startled by his apology, I waited. “I forget myself and push too hard,” he said. As he kissed my shoulder and neck, I melted and rested against him, raising my arms to touch him and tunneling my fingers through his baby-fine curls. “And I don't push hard enough,” I said. He rolled a nipple between the fingers of one hand while gently massaging between my legs with the other. “Now comes the makeup sex?” he asked, his voice rough and husky. “Uh-huh, and you can push as hard as you want,” I managed to groan before giving in to the delicious feelings he invoked. “Mmm.” His embrace tightened, the delicious contrast between the heat pouring off him and the pulsing steam from the shower added and heightened the excitement rolling over me. I clutched his hair tighter, wanting to pull him around me, and fastened my lips to his over my shoulder. The kiss deepened, the water cooled, and Gavin moved both hands over and down my body, stroking and caressing, exploring and fondling. He teased, bringing me to the edge several times, and left me there until I wanted to scream and beg him to finish. My body ached for Gavin to enter me and fill the emptiness. He grew harder against my back until he finally spread my legs, slid fully into me, and abruptly stopped moving. He broke our kiss and, while he gathered control, he cinched his arms more securely around me, preventing me from moving. I whimpered, wings of frustration beat against me. An orgasm loomed so close, a

little nudge, a little pressure, would send me over. Gavin rested his shoulders against the shower wall, pulling me with him, lifting me nearly off my feet. While he withdrew slowly, almost completely out to plunge in again, the shock waves thrillingly new each time, he held me immobile. He thrust twice. The third time, my climax seized me, sending my mind elsewhere for the duration. Despite his best efforts to delay it further, a few minutes later, my inner walls pulsed and milked an orgasm from him. As Gavin found his own release, the warm shower spray hitting me outside played in concert with his throbbing inside me. He groaned loudly in my ear, biting out his words between clenched teeth. “You feel too fucking good, Char!” He laughingly added, “And fucking you feels too good.” He sat on the foot-wide ledge surrounding the shower, leaning back against the far wall, keeping me connected, and splayed my legs over his. I closed my eyes and rested against him, echoes of my climax still playing over me. The problem with perfect moments like these, besides being too few and far between, is eventually, the real world intrudes and writes over the interlude with the nasty business of living. But for now, we savored our piece of perfection. If we're lucky, at the end of our lives, these are the times we can take out and examine and chain together to make the “good old days” into our own version of history. **** What would you do with two thousand years of waiting time? Learn to ski? To paint? Memorize every line of Monty Python? Most of us would like to think we'd do something useful or noble, but knowing me, I would have wasted at least one thousand of those years frivolously. Gavin didn't seem to have that problem. I still explored my surroundings every chance I got, as I had when I'd overheard the discussion on joining. Since only three full-time residents occupied the house, plenty of rooms went unused in what amounted to a mansion. Sheets covered the furniture; heavy drapes kept out damaging sunlight and, of course, curious and prying eyes, if anyone managed to get close enough to pry. One large, airy room contained almost no furniture but did have a wall of picture windows as well as a sizeable skylight. Partially complete sculptures and busts competed for space with easels holding paintings in various stages of execution. A grand piano, uncovered and well polished, dominated one corner of the room. Music sheets lay scattered around on stands and every flat surface. Paints, clay, and stacks of finished canvases populated the remaining space. Moist towels covered the incomplete busts. I unwrapped a few, taken aback a bit, finding what looked to be my likeness at various ages. Several similar but completed sculptures, busts, and other statuary also lay about. Raphael and other subjects, as well as embarrassingly accurate whole-body statues of my naked form, stood out in the open for anyone to see. The paintings were even more vivid and compelling. Though these were as explicit as the statues, something makes two-dimensional representations less intimidating than three-dimensional. Once I recovered from the initial surprise at the subject of the paintings, I enjoyed studying the color and composition. The exquisite pieces evoked feelings of passion and

desire. Somehow, I suspected the artist who created the beauty along the balustrade was the same one who fashioned these lovely pieces—Gavin. I wandered over to the piano and examined the compositions lying there. I hadn't played in years, but I could still read music. I attempted a couple lines of melody and heard enough to know it was good. In another corner of the room, under a heavy cover, a pile of hand-carved wooden weapons, tools, and artwork lay organized on stands and easels. Each piece shiny with wax, the tools and weapons looked recently fashioned but evoked the feel of antiquity. I ran my hand over a long bow, the slick, cool wood a sensuous experience on its own. “It took me two months to carve that. Probably a long time to spend on something that has no practical use anymore.” I looked up into Gavin's cobalt blue eyes and returned his smile. “It's beautiful. They're all beautiful. That's reason enough.” As he walked toward me, his smile grew. He bent to kiss me, merely a brush, and I melted as I always do, my body already readying itself. Turning, I circled my arms around his neck, forgetting again, for a short time, that the world contained more than just the two of us. He lifted his head, and I opened my eyes. His smile never failed to warm me from the inside. “So, what are you doing in here?” he asked. I shrugged. “Exploring.” He released me, and I strolled around the room, stopping here and there to stroke a work of art. He chuckled. “What's the verdict?” I lifted a particularly explicit portrait out of a stack of paintings and examined it closely. “I think I hope to God this is your work and not Raphael's.” He laughed heartily and came over, bringing his arms around me from behind. “Yes, they're all mine. I'm hoping you'll consent to model in person.” I leaned back, pulling his arms tighter around me. “At least I don't have to die of embarrassment.” “And the modeling?” “Hmm. Maybe we can work out a reciprocal arrangement.” “Do you sculpt or paint?” “Nope. Not even a little. Does it matter?” His seductive smile and enthusiastic kiss was answer enough. **** I asked about the servants several times, but Raphael and Gavin disregarded my questions or avoided answering. Not one to let something go, I made up my mind to track down and snare the elusive three. Gavin and Raphael should have figured I would. I thought the cook would be the easiest to find. I told Gavin I was going in for a shower, neglecting to add I planned to meet the servants first. Mary was friendly and as curious about me as I was about her. She'd been working for Raphael for over ten years and would be retiring at the end of the year. She told me the maid's name was Marie. The handyman was Joseph, Mary's husband. All three servants were hired together and were retiring together. Mary's memory didn't reach any farther back than the last set of servants, their predecessors, whom she'd never met. They also retired together after about ten years.

Raphael must not want questions about what we did and why we didn't age. I got it. He could have said, “Charity, I don't want anyone knowing who we are or what we do.” But no, let's make it all cloak and daggery. He forced me to investigate, don't you think? We talked a few minutes, then I left to meet Joseph. Mary said he was working outside along the driveway. The “estate” was a full square mile, but I couldn't really picture it. I knew only that I couldn't see any neighbors. Rolling hills full of scrub pine and various cacti surround the house, which sits high up on a hill to avoid flash flooding. In the distance was a mesh-wire fence. I wondered if it was electrified. If so, to keep people out or in? Close behind the fence grew a bougainvillea hedge, blocking sight of the buildings for anyone on the other side. From a tall wrought-iron gate, a long, winding dirt drive led to the house. Juniper bushes lined the driveway, all uniformly trimmed and lushly green, making the landscape less stark. When I found him, Joseph was busily trimming these. His clippers stopped in mid-clip, and he eyed me warily. “Howdy, Joseph. Your wife told me you'd be here. I thought I'd come and meet you. My name's Charity. I'm staying with Gavin and Raphael.” I stuck out my hand, forcing him to shake it or be rude. He eyed my hand suspiciously, seeming for a second as though he might opt for rude. Slowly though, he put the clippers into his left hand and shook my right. I rewarded him with a bigger smile. “It looks like you do gardening along with handyman-type jobs,” I said. He glanced at the bush and nodded, saying, “Raphael know you're out here?” I looked at the house and back at him. “I sincerely doubt I'd be out here if he did.” He grinned and got back to his trimming. “Mind if I trim while we chat? I need to finish this one before sunset.” “Sure. I don't want to interfere.” I walked around the hedges, trying to find a difference. “What is it exactly you're trimming, and how can you tell when you're finished?” He kept clipping. “I can just tell.” “Hmm.” Sounds like Raphael. “Well, that's my cue to leave. Nice meeting you, Joseph.” “Same here,” he answered without pausing again in his task. Dusk had arrived, so I decided to seek out Marie. From the tingly feeling between my shoulders, Gavin must have been trying to find me. I'd have to hurry before he did. I walked in and tiptoed through the hall. I guess I failed at my stealthy progress, because Raphael called to me. He sat in his usual chair, apparently communing with whomever or whatever he communed with. “What's up, Rafe?” I'd try brazening it out. He raised a single eyebrow and pointed toward the stairs. “She's changing linens in your old bedroom.” I stared. “Uh, who?” “Marie.” “Okay, thanks.” I started up the stairs. “Oh, and Charity?” I paused. “Yes?” “Gavin is looking for you, and he's not pleased. You might want to take the back way up.”

“I will. Thanks.” More about Raphael was scary than just his eyes. I hurried to take the back stairs through the kitchen. Mary didn't even look up. Marie had finished the bed and was coming out of the room, her arms filled with linens. When she noticed me, she froze, looking terrified. “Marie?” She nodded. “I'm Charity.” She bit her bottom lip and glanced around, as though seeking a bolt-hole or something. “Listen, Marie, you don't have to worry about getting into trouble. Raphael knows I'm talking to you. He even told me where I could find you.” Her eyes opened wider. “He did?” she asked, her voice tremulous. “Yeah.” Her unease turned to a friendly smile. Gavin and Raphael's voices drifted upstairs. It wouldn't be long before Gavin came up here. “Well, I've got to get going, but I wanted to meet you. We'll have to chat later.” “Yes, ma'am.” “Please, call me Charity.” “Okay, Charity.” I smiled and hurried toward my bedroom door. “Charity!” Uh, oh, busted. I didn't need to turn around and see Gavin to know he was upset, but I turned anyway. “Yes, Gavin?” Innocent but bold was the way to play it. “Don't 'Yes, Gavin' me. You deliberately lied.” I put my hands on my hips, my jaw firming. “I didn't lie.” He set his hands on his hips, his jaw just as inflexible. “Oh, no? You said you were going to shower.” “And I am. Right now as a matter of fact.” “Okay, so you didn't lie, you deliberately misled me. You have no idea how worried I was when I couldn't find you.” I hadn't considered he'd be worried. Guilt hitched up my chin, and obstinacy kept me from apologizing. “If you and Raphael would stop acting like some kind of secret society and answer my questions, I wouldn't have to skulk around finding out what I want to know.” Gavin glanced down the hallway, but Marie had already disappeared. He stepped forward and lowered his voice, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “We're protecting the servants as well as ourselves and our privacy.” “You think I would hurt someone?” “Not deliberately. Why can't you just accept that, after all these centuries, we might know what's best?” Mirroring his tone and stance, I also lowered my voice and closed my hands into fists. “And after all these centuries, you two know everything, right?” “I didn't say that.” “Didn't you? You watched me and my life for forty-two years, yet you still thought I'd put up with being patronized for my own good.” We glowered at each other for a few minutes, and I stormed back toward the

staircase. “Where are you going?” he demanded. Had he heard a word I'd said? “Dinner. It's too late for a shower now.”

Chapter Eight I trotted down the stairs and started across the living room where Raphael stood by the fireplace. Passing him, I headed for the dining room. “Charity?” His quiet question was nonetheless compelling. I stopped but didn't turn around or speak. “I'd like to apologize.” That got me turning. “For what?” He crossed the space between us. “For not treating you as an equal.” Somewhere in the depths of Raphael's eyes lay the compassion of ages and the pain it had cost him. I've never understood Raphael, but every once in awhile, I caught glimpses of his soul and insight into his true nature. I smiled. “Not a problem.” He smiled as well, but sadness stole its spark. “Obviously that's not quite true, but for my part, it won't happen again.” I nodded and turned to go. “Oh, and Charity?” I stopped. “Yes?” “He really was worried about you.” My shoulders slumped. “I know.” He chucked me under the chin. “Cut him some slack. It's painful for an old dog to learn new tricks.” “And sometimes for a new one, as well,” I added. He laughed. “Yes, I guess so.” I started for the dining room again then remembered I hadn't washed up yet. A bathroom sat right next to the living room. Not wanting anyone to come looking for me, I quickly washed and dried my hands. I had opened the door to leave when Gavin's voice came from the room beyond. I paused to listen. “She seems so vulnerable at times. I want to protect her, use every bit of strength I have to keep her away from harm.” “Gavin, she's not a child, she's your partner. Luckily, you're not the only one to misjudge and underestimate her. That will be your ace in the hole. You'll see. She is your strength, as you are hers. Learn to accept this, really accept this, and you'll be a much happier man.” I waited until they'd gone before exiting the bathroom. When I entered the dining room, both men rose. “Sit down. I just had to wash up.” “Cleanliness is next to godliness … and the living room,” Raphael remarked, winking. Was there nothing this man missed? I laid my hands on Gavin's shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Sorry. I'll try and let you know where I'm going.” I settled into the adjacent chair. “Unless you piss me off.” He had a roll halfway to his plate and seemed to have forgotten what he was doing. His confused expression made me smile. “Are you finished with the rolls?” I nodded at the breadbasket. He put down his roll and passed the basket. “So, are we making up now?”

I glanced between him and Raphael, who was trying to pretend he had no ears. “Not until you say 'That's alright, dear. I know I've been an ass, and I promise not to treat you like an ignorant prisoner in your own home again.' Then we can make up after dinner. I do still need a shower after all.” Raphael choked on the water he was drinking. Gavin remained impassive. “How about I accept your apology,” Gavin said, “give you mine, and I'll try to treat you like an adult and not piss you off too often?” I gave him my hand to shake. “Deal.” He took it and kissed the back, his gaze merging with mine. Raphael paid attention to our byplay, an indulgent smile on his lips. Gavin and I ate companionably for a couple minutes before I noticed Raphael, still sitting silently, his sober gaze on us. “Raphael? Is something wrong?” I asked. He didn't answer but raised his eyebrows and glanced at Gavin. His head tipped slightly to one side. Gavin nodded and put down his utensils. When Gavin rose and walked quietly to the dining-room doorway, a frown settled on my lips. He checked the other side, facing the hall to the kitchen, and leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed, his focus on the entrance. “What's going on?” I asked. “Charity,” Raphael said in a solemn voice, “there's another precaution we take with the servants.” “Yeah? Do you hypnotize them or something?” Gavin chuckled, and Raphael sent a glare his way. “You're not helping.” When Raphael turned to me, his expression was characteristically blank. “In a way.” “In what way?” “In the way that they've worked nearly twenty years for us but remember only the last decade.” I blinked. “How?” Raphael's inscrutable smile appeared again. “It's just one of those things I do.” “Because it's your job?” His smile went from inscrutable to amused. “Yes.” “But what about their lives, their memories, their families?” Raphael waived a hand in a nonchalant gesture. “Oh, I never choose people with any ties. And if by some chance they develop ties outside the household, they wouldn't be here anymore. But that's never happened. It's my job to know the right people to pick.” “Rafe,” Gavin warned and returned to the table moments before Marie brought in a sliced chocolate cake. Marie looked at the food-laden table and frowned, her expression puzzled. “Is everything alright, Mr. Raphael?” “Everything is fine, Marie. We're just slow tonight.” She nodded and set down the cake, returning to the kitchen. “Well,” Raphael said, “shall we eat?” **** We trained alone most of the time, I think, to get a rhythm going between us. Not that Gavin and I ever had much trouble getting a rhythm going. We did work with other

Dancers occasionally, though. My favorites were Brent, Tracey, and Penelope (Penny) probably because they were closest to my age—my real age—and had been Dancers only for a few years. Neither Brent nor Tracey had partners. Their soul mates hadn't been born or weren't Dancers, yet. However, I couldn't help but wonder. They Danced together, and I received vibes that hinted at their doing a lot of other things together. No one seemed as curious—okay, as nosy—as I was, so if I wanted more information, I'd have to ask the couple myself. Penny had Marcus, a very proper person, who got along well with Gavin. Now that was an odd friendship, considering Marcus had been a Roman Centurion and Gavin had been a Roman slave. However, being born in the same millennium seemed to bring people closer together, a common point of reference, you might say. The other two, Brendan and Sharon, were married in their previous lives. Having come from Ireland during Cromwell's time, a lilt surfaced every once in awhile in their voices. They'd always known each other. More than any other couple, they typified two halves of a whole. It seemed as though one breathed in and the other breathed out, neither able to complete the cycle without the other. “Brendan and Sharon are so obviously bonded, why can't they heal the rift everyone knows is coming?” I asked Gavin. We sat on the porch, taking a break. Gavin's hand covered mine. “Just as there is a single soul mate for each Dancer, for each couple there comes a single unique rift they alone were born to heal. Brendan and Sharon had theirs during World War I. Penny and Mark healed one after Nagasaki and Hiroshima.” Allen, the other Dancer in the group, was sullen and standoffish. I couldn't imagine anyone ever matching him in any fashion. “Charity, how much alike do you think you and Gavin are?” Rafe asked at dinner one night after about the umpteenth time I'd complained about Allen, which, I think, might have been every time I'd seen him. “Alike how?” “How many personality traits do you have in common? How often do you approach a problem, or people, or anything in the same manner? How much alike are your temperaments?” Gavin sent me a wink and continued eating. “Well, except for our being stubborn,” I said, “we're more or less opposites.” “Gavin has always been strong-willed, he couldn't have survived otherwise. You need him to be that way to firm up your own resolve. You two aren't really opposites, you're complements. Together you make a whole stronger than the sum of each of your strengths—synergy.” I could see his point. “Okay. You're probably right.” “Cut Allen some slack. His mate was just born, so he's about to complete his overfive-hundred-year wait. She'll be sunny, personable, and all too trusting. She'll help Allen learn to open up and trust others, and he'll protect her from her innate naiveté.” Raphael went back to his dinner. While I grew defensive and downright huffy and the two men ate, I stared at them. I even opened my mouth a couple of times to justify my irritation with Allen but stopped and chewed it over some more. Raphael had a point, whether I liked it or not, so after a couple minutes, I shrugged and said, “Sure, why not. It's no skin off my nose,” and returned to my dinner.

Both men stopped eating, giving me incredulous looks. It's not as if I can't admit when I'm wrong or when someone has a point. Geesh! “What?” I demanded. Without comment, they resumed eating. **** One-hundred-degree-plus days did have their charm. Gavin took off his shirt to train. Oh, yeah, drooling pretty much interfered with my training session after that, not to mention my attention being totally and completely occupied with the view. Because Gavin was adamant about my learning to concentrate under physical stress, we'd been doing the Tai Chi/Yoga-thing. We took a little break to get a drink, and Gavin ran the hose to let it cool down, then stripped off his shirt and soaked his head. As he shook off the water, I stood there, staring at the drops glistened across his shoulders and chest. I followed the path of a single drop, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing into the waistband of his pants. That's when I lost a few points off my I.Q., and the drooling commenced. “Charity, let's see if we can try that last sequence again. It seems to be helping.” He turned off the water and walked back to the mats lying under the awning in the lush rye grass. As he walked away, the muscles played under the skin of his back. Oh, baby, all that luscious, barely leashed power … and all mine. He sat down, facing in my direction, and stretched. “Come on, Charity. We're burning daylight, babe.” An hour or so until sundown, my gaze roaming his face, I licked my lips and walked toward him. I decided I'd like to try a different type of exercise. When I reached his mat, he looked up. My back to the low-riding sun shaded my expression, but he was a smart boy. He'd get the message eventually. “Charity?” Squinting in the sun, he shaded his eyes with a hand. “Is something…” He got it. Fire blazed in his eyes, and I moved out of the shadows hiding my features. I looked pointedly at his crotch. He reacted—immediate and obvious. He shifted to stand, but I put my bare foot in the middle of his chest, pushing him back so he rested on his elbows. Standing over him, I straddled his body. My hands on my hips, I smiled down, his wicked return grin a reflection of my own. I went to my knees to sit across his lap, riding his arousal. As my hands played over the muscles of his chest and sides, I let my every carnal thought show in my eyes. Neither of us smiled anymore. I licked my lips slowly, drawing his attention to my mouth. I licked his bottom lip and his top lip before moving on to his jaw and neck. He groaned and let his head drop back. I continued on to his chest, my tongue painting a swirling pattern to first one nipple and then the other. For variety, I sprinkled in biting and suckling along the way. Raising my head, I waited for him to look at me again. Keeping our gazes locked, I pulled off my top and slowly slipped off my athletic bra. Gavin lay down to reach for me, but I caught his wrists and pushed them on the mat next to his head. My breasts brushed against his chest, his hair rubbing against my sensitive nipples. This time my smile was wholly feral. Gavin's eyes glittered with barely contained excitement, our new game pushing all the right buttons for him and me, too. In fact, buttons were pushed I didn't know I had.

I lowered my head, sealing my lips to his. Rocking myself against his swollen shaft, I kissed him, exploring his mouth with my tongue. He struggled a little, trying to use his hands, but I kept mine firmly on his wrists and chuckled wickedly at his efforts. “Ah, ah, ah. I call this dancing.” “Fuck, Charity.” “I plan on it, but that's the entrée, and we're still on the appetizers.” He laughed at my witticism. “You're the cook.” With my lower body pressed firmly against him, my hips writhed over his. He grew harder, and I got wetter. Kissing my way down his stomach, I pulled his pants and briefs down and off. He reached toward me again. “Gavin, if you touch me without permission, I'll stop.” Okay, empty threat, but it worked. His hands dropped, and he propped himself on his elbows again to watch. I traveled down his body, licking around his straining cock. As I trailed my tongue along the crease between his legs and body, muscles in his abdomen jumped. Looking into his eyes, I licked the pre-cum from the head of his shaft. His eyes narrowed, and he wet his dry lips with the tip of his tongue. I trailed a finger over his taut stomach then grasped him gently to take his cock completely in my mouth. He groaned and slumped onto his back. Cupping his sac and squeezing gently, I swirled my tongue over the sensitive area under the head. As he moved in and out of my mouth, I tasted the clean, salty flavor of him. After a few minutes of my undivided attention, he stiffened, his breathing labored, telling me he was on the edge. “Charity, I'm going to…” he groaned. To stop his unnecessary warning, I put a finger to his lips and stroked more emphatically with my tongue. I lapped up the warm eruptions filling my mouth and gently licked off any that remained. Gavin lay spent, his eyes closed and covered by an arm, his body loose and relaxed. Kissing my way back up his body, I rolled to my side, lying next to him, an arm and leg possessively over him. There's something to be said for down time. It's every bit as necessary as practice. Several silent minutes passed, and it seemed as if Gavin might have fallen asleep. “I was married once, you know,” he said. Okay now, that was a surprise. I kept my tone neutral. “No, I didn't know.” “I had two sons, too.” I came up on an elbow. His eyes were still closed and covered. He'd never really talked much about himself. I didn't want to scare him off by asking too many questions. Men really hate sharing their inner workings. It's as though they're afraid that the more you know, the more ammunition you'll have to use against them. Hmm … they may have a point. I had to ask anyway. “What happened to them?” He moved his arm off his eyes and opened them, staring into the distant past. “I grew up knowing my place in life, that I'd be a warrior like my father and his father before him. When you're young, you feel invulnerable. Being undefeated in battle adds to the sense of invincibility.” With a look and a smile, he paused. “I fought with the Iceni

queen, Boudicea. Ever hear of her?” I nodded. I really do kick ass in Trivial Pursuit. I know all sorts of trivial things. Of course, that's nothing like actually living through them. “She was the one who led a revolt against the Romans for treating her and her daughters as badly as the Romans treated most of their own women.” Gavin snorted. “Yes, well and succinctly put.” His gaze skimmed over my features. “You remind me of her.” Indignation slapped me in the face. “Wasn't she red-haired and like six foot?” He chuckled and laid his hand along my cheek. “Not in looks, although the same fire burns in your eyes. Neither of you knew when to give up.” “Yes, stubbornness seems to be a trait—or character flaw, depending on how you look at it—in many of us Celts.” He sighed, dropping his hand, and stared into the distance again, his eyes becoming unfocused, face haunted by the shadows of his past. “Yes, it does. Sometimes to our detriment.” After a moment, I asked, “What happened to your family?” He smiled sadly. “Moira wasn't like you. She was more like a fragile flower.” “Gee, thanks. Your wife?” He nodded. “Actually, that's how I saw her. It turns out she really was more a dandelion than a rose. She survived everything life threw at her and even thrived at the end. You know what happened to the Iceni after the revolt?” “They were enslaved or killed—virtual genocide. The Romans made an example of your people, a reminder of the perils of rebellion.” “Yes, we were. I was home at the time. Wounded weeks before, I'd pretty much been lamed in one leg, my left. When the Romans attacked our village, my wife managed to grab our youngest son, Eavan, and hide in the stables. They were still captured and taken for slaves. My oldest boy, though only ten, grabbed my sword and ran out to defend his family and village. He had your fire and stubborn determination, and he died because of it.” The sad character of his smile tuned to pain. I could tell he'd been proud of his son, of his son's stubborn and futile act of self-sacrifice. “What was his name?” “Ian.” “Ian, like my son?” “Ironic, isn't it?” “What happened to everyone else?” “I heard that Eavan died on the trip to Rome and Moira became a concubine for some Roman senator.” “How awful for her.” He shook his head. “Not really. She was a pampered mistress and ended up with more children, her own family—a replacement.” “You don't sound resentful.” “No. I'd known Moira most of my life. We grew up together. She did what she'd always done and made the best of whatever life handed her. If anything, I envied her ability to put the past behind her in a way I never could.” “Parents shouldn't outlive their children.” I laughed at the irony of that statement. “Guess we don't have much of a choice, though, do we?”

“Charity, you can't ever take a chance again and visit your children.” A sigh sifted past my lips. “I understand, Gavin.” Well, there's understanding and then there's agreeing. He tilted my face toward him and pressed a quick kiss against my lips. Through a frown, I asked, “What happened to you? How'd you end up in Pompeii?” He shrugged. “Don't ask me why they didn't kill me outright like they'd done with most of the men of my village. I was too lame for the games or for fieldwork, but I proved useful with horses and making tools and weapons. For the last ten years of the fifteen I was enslaved, my master found my ingenuity beneficial. I ran his household.” “You didn't try to get free? You just gave up?” He pulled me on top of him and slid his fingers through my hair, cupping my head in his palms. “Not for a minute. I kept on living, didn't I?” I ran my thumb along his bottom lip, and he pulled the digit into his mouth. I smiled into the azure blue of his eyes. “For which I'm eternally grateful.” Fond amusement ignited in his eyes. Like a moth to a flame, I found myself, as always, unable to resist the fire. I rarely tried to resist anyway and never for very long. His hands firmly in my hair, he slanted his mouth across mine and explored hungrily. While kissing me breathless, he rolled us over and quickly pulled off my pants and thong. The lethargy of the late afternoon quickly dissipated, and I found myself eager to taste Gavin again. I figured he had decided to control the pace of our lovemaking now, but that wasn't any kind of a hardship. Because, although I didn't want to hear the details, his longevity had given him enough time to acquire an impressive amount of skill. **** We spent a lot of time in Death Valley. As summer grew closer, the days became hotter. By comparison, Phoenix at night seemed refreshingly cool. The Earth, like everything else in the universe, has its own places through which travel between frames is easiest. These happen to coincide with vortex sites, places of Harmonic Convergence, like Sedona, Arizona, Stonehenge, the Bermuda Triangle, and of course, Death Valley. A couple weeks after Gavin and I joined, I went off on my own to heal a small tear. Light bubbled slowly from a foot-long crack sitting about eye level. It had probably been forming less than a month. These global soft spots are rife with rifts. If I needed him, Gavin was around somewhere but had said I would learn faster on my own. I did enjoy Dancing alone every once in awhile, but that day felt weird. Needles of apprehension pricked my nerves, and I was not at all at ease being alone. Before I left, Gavin had kissed me goodbye. “Charity,” he whispered, “you're stronger than you know.” I considered his odd remark. “Okay, thanks, I guess.” His smile indulgent, he left to check conditions farther along the valley. He promised I'd someday know how to sense a growing rift, too. I wondered if someday I'd be as strange as he was. I healed the small rift quickly and neatly, all the while sensing the oppressive weight of many eyes watching me. I turned in a circle, searching for the source of the unease, but saw nothing. I mean literally nothing. It was probably those horrid little demons, but they didn't usually hide.

I kicked around in the dirt for a minute, wondering when Gavin might pop back. I guess I could have returned home or to wherever Gavin should have been, but changed my plans when a figure walked into view. At first, I thought it might be Gavin, but Gavin wouldn't have come from that direction. Two other figures flanked the first and followed him or her. I shaded my eyes, watching. I wasn't very concerned. I could Step Out quickly, and nothing was particularly menacing about the three … not from that distance. I folded my arms and waited, forcing myself to remain calm and motionless. I could make out enough of their faces to see they were exceptionally beautiful. The lead figure was a female, and the two flanking her, males. The female was at least five foot ten, and both men were over six foot. They all had curly blond hair like Gavin's. When they drew near enough, I saw the leader's eyes—light blue, similar to Raphael's. The men had dark brown eyes. All three dressed in white down to their deck shoes. “That's far enough, guys.” I didn't want them within touching distance, but I did want to satisfy my curiosity. They stopped. “Whatever makes you comfortable, Charity,” the female said. So they knew me. Apprehension warred with flattery in my gut—apprehension won. I looked them up and down carefully. “Let me guess … demons?” They appeared genuinely surprised, and I laughed. “Come on, guys, nobody that good looking could be anything but evil. And you're dressed in white, to boot. How anticlichéd can you get?” “You'll have to excuse us. We never expected you to be both beautiful and perceptive.” I snorted. “You'll have to do better than that. Even Gavin can sling better bullshit.” “Thank you, dear.” I jumped and spun around, not having heard Gavin's approach. “Could you sneak up on me a little louder, please?” “Sorry. I thought these three, or someone like them, might visit if I left you alone a bit.” Gavin stood next to me and crossed his arms. “Charity, meet Lilith, Asmodai, and Belial.” “Ah, the Higher Echelon of the Underworld.” Surprise crossed their faces again, but not Gavin's. “You do know so very many surprising things.” “Gavin, I told you…” “I know. You kick ass at Trivial Pursuit.” I grinned. “Hey, I even played Rafe to a draw. I got half the answers from that eclectic library of his. By the way, we need some nice romances or mysteries. Some Raymond Chandler or even Louis L'Amour.” “Cowboys?” Gavin faced me, his arms now held loosely at his sides. “Any kind of different fiction would be an improvement.” “We have The Iliad and The Odyssey,” he said. “Rafe says they aren't fiction.” “They're not?” “Ahem,” Lilith said, interrupting our debate, “not that listening to you two discuss literature isn't utterly fascinating, but we have some things to discuss that you might find of interest.”

Gavin turned to the three again and crossed his arms. “Such as?” Lilith smiled an insurance-salesman's smile. “A friendly warning.” “We're not friends.” Gavin's tone held no warmth. Lilith no longer smiled. “A figure of speech.” I put in my two cent's worth. “So is 'suck my dick.' Ever hear that one?” Gavin tsked. “You really can be surprisingly crude.” “I think they got the picture.” “Have you considered that your children will go on without you, Charity, that you'll never be a mother to them again or even know your own grandchildren?” Belial asked. “Yes.” By their raised eyebrows, I kept on surprising them, I guessed. “Doesn't it bother you?” Lilith asked. “Yes, but they have the best mother they could have—me. I'm still with them. Or did you forget that? Unlike other people, I get to fulfill my destiny as a mother and contribute to society as a Dancer.” Gavin relaxed beside me, and I realized how worried he'd been. I wish everyone would give me more credit for thinking things through. I spend enough time alone to come up with some pretty good ideas and insights. Asmodai and Belial moved up to stand in line with Lilith. “What makes you so sure you're up to the responsibility of a Dancer?” Asmodai asked. Belial piped up before I could answer. “Wouldn't it be better to leave it to a more experienced and skilled Dancer?” Oh yeah, they were good. They knew my weakness—self-doubt. I guess they either didn't know about or discounted my stubborn streak, though. “It might be better to leave it up to someone better and more experienced,” Gavin stiffened at my words, “but I was the one who was asked, the one chosen. So, until I'm told differently, or until I'm dead, all my effort and all my faith will go into finishing this.” I turned to Gavin. His smile showed his pride in me. “Are we about done for today?” I asked. “I'm famished, and Mary promised me pork chops tonight.” Gavin's smile expanded into a grin. “Sounds like a plan.” His attention once again on the three demons, his grin vanished. “It seems like we found something better to do.” Lilith laughed, tossing the curls of her hair. “Do you really believe it will be that easy? We will leave you with one other thought.” My shoulders trembled. Not visibly, I hoped. Gavin showed no reaction. Lilith smiled that horrid “gotcha” smile and addressed Gavin. “How do you know you won't fail Charity the way you failed your family? Will Charity die in your place this time like Ian did before?” And then they were gone. I tried to lessen the sting of her words. “Well, that was just plain mean. They're off the guest list for our victory celebration.” Gavin didn't stir. His face lost all color, and his eyes held a bleak, hopeless look. They were not going to do this to my Gavin! I grabbed his upper arms, peered up into his face. I could tell he didn't see me, so I shook him. “Look at me, Gavin. Ian didn't die because of you. He died because someone decided a ten-year-old boy with his father's sword posed a threat, was in the way, or out of plain cussedness, killed him. You weren't even able to leave your bed. None of it was

your fault or even under your control. You can't let them do this to you!” He turned those pain-filled eyes to me, and I cursed the beings that hurt him. “What if I do fail you?” His words were as bleak as his eyes. “Listen, the only way you can fail me is to believe their bullshit.” “But what if I do fail, or we fail?” “Then we fail. We can do only what we can do. But if you think I'm giving up before then, you're crazy, and you don't know me as well as you pretend to know me. Besides, Raphael said whatever happens was always meant to happen anyway.” Gavin smiled finally and stroked my check. “So much passion. I'd forgotten how to feel that much until you came into my life.” I turned my face into his palm. “That's what I'm for, to teach you what you've forgotten.” “And what am I for?” “You teach me what I never knew. And we teach each other how to trust again.”

Chapter Nine In the afternoons, I modeled for Gavin. He made me strip, so I made him strip. Fair is fair, after all. Ever the perfectionist, he took several minutes to arrange my pose and position me just so. He had a thing for shadows and angles, but even he couldn't arrange the sun's position, so he settled for repositioning me every so often instead. At first, sitting fully exposed in front of a wall of picture windows caused me some discomfort. After all, besides the two other males in the household, Dancers were prone to stop by unannounced. But after a few sessions, I lost myself in listening to Gavin's stories about times and events I had experienced only in books and movies. Besides, Gavin didn't even seem to care that he worked naked. His state of dress or undress affected neither his painting nor his sculpting. He placed his easel or stand in such a way that I could watch his progress. He warned me, though, if I tried “helping” with little suggestions, I'd soon be watching the back of the stand or easel, and he'd be hidden behind it. I kept my mouth shut. I suppose I could have refused to pose, but that seemed more like cutting off my nose to spite my face than teaching Gavin a lesson. The more I learned about him, the more curious I became about the women he'd known. After all, it takes a lot of practice and attention to detail to become as proficient and adept as Gavin in certain intimate activities. I found it difficult to ask, but not asking drove me nuts. As much as I wanted to know all about him and his past, I experienced an irrational jealousy of women dead many centuries before I'd even been born. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss. “Gavin, what were the women like?” He kept working, not looking up. “What women?” “You know, the women that lived in your time.” Real smooth, Charity. Now he looked up. “The women of my time, or the women I made time with?” He chuckled at his cleverness. Well, I know I looked embarrassed, because that was how I felt. I couldn't meet his eyes. Then I chickened out altogether. “Oh, the women of your time. When you were born.” His laugh held a cynical note. “I'm sure that's what you meant.” My gaze dropped to my feet, and I remained silent. “You would have fit in perfectly in my clan.” Curiosity made me look up. “I would have?” He started painting, frowning at his memories or something in the painting itself, I didn't know. “Sure. Celtic women were strong, equal partners. Some, not many, but some were even warriors. That was before Christianity spread.” “What happened then?” “It happened after my time, but I witnessed it. Priests took away our gods and our culture and substituted subservience to the church. Centuries passed before Celtic women or any other women gained back a modicum of the rights and privileges they enjoyed during my lifetime.” Gavin sounded bitter.

“Are you a pagan then?” He stopped, surprise on his features, and burst into laughter. “I don't confuse religion with those who misuse their positions in the church, whatever their real reasons for doing so. Besides, after doing this work and living with Rafe all these centuries, it would be difficult to be a pagan. No, I'm a monotheist.” “Fancy word,” I said. “Mmm. Just means I believe in a higher intelligence and a plan that controls it all. The only question I have is why.” “Why?” “You know … why us? Why good and evil? Why bother? We don't seem to be worth it.” “Cynical much?” He released a heavy sigh. “I suppose I am.” He lifted his brush and paused to send me a grin, wide and charming, claiming all his face. “Perhaps you can reform me.” Tickled by his light play, I chuckled. “I know a lost cause when I see one.” “You wound me.” With a hand pressed against his chest, he feigned pain in the vicinity of his heart then laughed and turned his attention back to painting. “How exactly did you become a Dancer?” “Unlike for you, my choice was fairly easy to make. After all, there's not much inducement to staying on an island where you've been a slave for more than a third of your life, where you are currently waiting for an active volcano to explode.” His smile was self-deprecating. “I actually did hesitate, though. “I'd already lived longer than the average man. My leg never healed right and gave me constant pain. My family was dead or gone. I saw no reason to extend my life a couple of more decades, let alone centuries.” “What changed your mind?” I couldn't imagine Gavin being anything but poised and unflappable. He lifted his brush, fixing me with an intense stare that traveled to my toes. I couldn't look away, even though it was uncomfortable to maintain his searing gaze. “You did,” he said. “How did I affect your decision? I wasn't even born yet.” His smile turned tender. “Do you remember in the cabin when I told you that the first time I made the decision to wait for you was the night Vesuvius erupted?” “Vaguely. I remember other things happening that night at the cabin even better.” I'd connected with other people—my husband and children, Tammy—but I'd never connected with someone on this level, nor felt it physically. My stomach clenched, tugging at my core. Even through the discomfort, I couldn't look away. Then just like that, he smiled, his smile saying he knew how he affected me. I suspected he felt it too. He physically shook off his mood and frowned, his face bathed in concentration, no longer seeing me or anything else this side of the present. When he spoke, his tone, low and modulated, set the melancholy mood for his story. “The week before the explosion was … unsettling. Animals were frantic, probably sensing something was wrong. Later in the week, the earth beneath the city moved and groaned like a woman in labor. Streams dried up. Steam escaped holes in the side of the mountain. Yet everyone still thought the volcano posed no danger. “Throughout the day and into the night, ash and gases rolled over the city, coating

everything, making it difficult to breathe. By late afternoon, the ash and smoke blocked out the sun. Many started to succumb to poisonous gases and airborne debris, dying even before the lava flowed. I had decided to remain behind, more weary than I'd ever been before or since.” Pausing a moment, he sent me a thin smile. “Hope doesn't always spring eternal.” I nodded. “No, I suppose it doesn't. Is this the part where you met Raphael?” “Yes. I'd already sent everyone else away. I sat in my master's chair, drinking my master's best wine, staring into my master's courtyard and wondering if I'd be conscious to feel the pain when the lava arrived or if I'd die from the noxious fumes. Raphael appeared out of thin air. You know how it looks. He stepped through an invisible doorway, opening in the middle of nowhere.” My smile reflected my memory of the first time I'd seen Gavin's tricks. “Did you freak out as much as I did?” He laughed. “No, and I didn't stomp on his foot either.” I mumbled something about not liking strangers touching me, even if the stranger was the finest eye candy I'd ever seen. When he laughed at my grumbling, I scowled harder. “Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants, why didn't you freak out?” “I don't know. Considering the mood I was in, I guess he seemed to belong there. I think I did ask him if I was dying. He said he hoped it wouldn't come to that.” “So he's always been a smart ass?” He chuckled. “Raphael said he'd been sent to guide me, to take me away to become a Time Dancer, to do important work. You know the spiel.” My chuckle matched his. “Was it as effective on you as it was on me?” “Well, I may have made some disparaging remarks about his sanity, but I agreed to let him show me some things. He promised I wouldn't regret it, and I never did.” “What did he show you?” “You. He showed me you. That was all it took.” “What exactly did he show you?” I couldn't imagine anything in my life convincing anyone of anything, except maybe as a cautionary tale—”The Dangers of Wasting Years Trying to Meet Other Peoples' Expectations Because You Didn't have Any of Your Own.” His gaze focused on the past. “I saw a little girl, eight-or nine-years-old, eager to please. She watched everyone and everything. When no one was watching her, curiosity drove her to find the why of everything. It was the reason she watched in the first place.” I laughed. “I do remember my parents complaining I was always underfoot. They constantly told me to stop asking so many questions and go out to play with the other kids.” As he continued, he grew more agitated. “Then came age twelve and the disillusionment of your parents' divorce. You were so lonely I wanted to reach out and comfort you, but I couldn't, of course. I watched you grow and mature into an attractive young woman. You didn't have to settle for mediocrity, you know.” I looked away. Though he wasn't criticizing, I grew ill at ease with all the attention focused on my life. Besides, I'd done the best I could with what I'd had and what I had known at the time. I angled up my chin, spoiling for a fight. “My son and daughter were more than worth it,” I said. He nodded. “Undoubtedly. It's just too bad you thought you had to trade your life for theirs.”

I laughed at his erroneous conclusion. “I didn't trade. I was afraid, and I used them to hide behind.” He raised his eyebrows. “You afraid? You're not afraid of anything.” He was sweet, but boy was he mistaken. “I feared being alone, afraid I wouldn't make it, or even worse, afraid I might. Then I'd have to admit I'd wasted so much of my life.” “Nothing is wasted. What we experience makes us who we are,” he said softly. “I know that … now. I knew it then, here,” I pointed to my head, “but I didn't know that deep inside where convictions are buried.” I shifted, edgy and hoping to redirect the conversation. “Besides, this was supposed to be about you. What was it like where and when you grew up?” “Hmm. It was damned hard work. People were pretty much the same, though. They didn't live as long. There were more ways to die than ways to stay alive. You knew what was expected and what your life would be like by how your parents, family, and clan lived. There was little tolerance for anyone different … fear and suspicion for anyone behaving out of the norm.” He became still and even more thoughtful. “I grew up among hunters and warriors, where everyday life could be even more brutal than normal. Battles, though, never killed as prolifically as the infected battle wounds did later.” Shrugging, he said, “I wasn't much suited to the life of a warrior, but I was good at it. From my first battle at thirteen until I was so severely injured, I never lost a fight. I didn't really lose that battle either, since the three I fought ended up dead, and I didn't.” He rubbed the phantom of his old wound. “Adrenaline masks pain and keeps you going long past the point of self-preservation. In my case, I remained conscious and alert until blood loss finally brought me down. I woke days later in my own bed, delirious and with a high fever.” As though to chase away the ghosts of pain, he sighed and closed his eyes. “My best friend, Rory, pulled me from the battlefield and carried me home. Until I met Raphael, I often wished Rory hadn't bothered. In any case, he died in the Roman attack on our village. He was there only because he wanted to stay and see to me. So in a way, I was responsible for his death, too.” He paused and stared over my shoulder at something only he could see. What do you say to something like that? I'm sorry? I searched for something, anything to take his mind off the sadness of his memories. “What about the women? You said you weren't a father again. From age twenty-five to forty is a long time.” “I was taken into slavery at an age where I never forgot being free.” As though he recited someone else's story, his voice held no warmth, sounded detached. “No child of mine would ever be born into slavery. Even then, ways were available to prevent pregnancy. After I became a Dancer, the problem no longer existed.” Perversely, I grew indignant on behalf of the women. “Did none of them mean anything to you?” He frowned, obviously as confused by my question as I was. “I never forced anyone or promised anything. Hell, I rarely even slept with anyone more than once.” “Ever pay for it?” Meow. Where had that come from? I cringed inside, but you can't pull back spoken words. He flinched but answered me calmly. “No, I never had to pay for it. And until you, I

never told anyone I loved them.” “What about your wife?” “What about her?” “Surely you told her you loved her.” “No, and she wouldn't have believed me if I had. She was Rory's sister. Our families had known each other since before we were even born. Our marriage was arranged long before we actually took our vows. We respected each other and produced two fine boys. I'm sure we would have had more children had things been different. Perhaps, given time, we would even have fallen in love.” I pushed it. “Gavin, two thousand years is a very long time.” He sent me a mocking smile. “I believe I know that far better than you, Charity.” As I blushed, heat rose off my face. Though my physical reaction came from embarrassment, I was still dubious. “Gavin, no one?” He crossed his arms and pinned me with that intense stare. Perhaps he couldn't decide if it would be such a bad idea to throttle me right then and be done with the torment. “No one,” he said. “However, I got to watch you, my soul mate, live with another man for twenty years, sleep in his bed, and bear his children. And then, when you were finally free of him, I had to wait another span of years for you to be ready.” “Oh.” My voice lost its indignant tone. I felt small, and I suppose I had been petty, but this was way too much for me to comprehend. I didn't deserve that kind of love. I didn't know what to do with it. “Gavin, I'm sorry. For everything.” I rose and picked up my robe. Slipping into it, I tied the belt and walked to him. I forgot most of the time how really old Gavin was. Then at times like these, it came back to me in glaring Technicolor. I'll never understand that kind of patient abiding. How does it not drive someone crazy? He stared over my head, out the windows. He was angry, but I'd also hurt him. Every rigid muscle in his posture told me so. I laid my hand on his still-crossed arms. He twitched but didn't pull away. “Listen, Gavin, I open my mouth without thinking, but I didn't mean to hurt you or say those things. It's kind of a defense mechanism.” He swiveled his head toward me, his eyes full of sadness. I didn't like seeing it there any more than I liked seeing the hurt. “Your defense-mechanism excuse won't last forever,” he said. “Yes, you were treated unfairly, but so are most of us in one way or another. You wrap the hurt around you like a security blanket against the world. You can't let it keep ruling your life. If you don't let go of it and let someone get close to you, you'll never be able to trust again.” My first reaction true to my nature, I withdrew my hand and took a step back. I wanted to argue that I had a right to my anger, that I was terribly wronged and deserved retribution, or at least had a right to protect myself from getting hurt again. Why should I trust anyone? Gavin turned back to his easel and sighed. He gathered his brushes and placed them in the turpentine he had ready. Wiping his hands on a rag, he got up and walked over to where he'd draped his jeans over a chair back. I admired the long line of him, the cool elegance of his movement, his pure masculine beauty. I watched the unself-conscious way he stepped into his pants and

pulled them up, leaving them unbuttoned. Without a word, he pulled all the drapes closed. The silence screamed at me. The longer we remained at odds, the more worried I became. I desperately sought something to say. I feared how much I needed him, how obsessed I had become with him. Ties bound us closer every minute of every day, like solder cooling and hardening in what remained of the gap still keeping us separate people. Mostly, I feared what losing him would do to me. I shouldn't feel so much for someone I'd known such a short time. When he turned and walked toward me, through the circle of light coming from the skylight, golden sunbeams played over him. He stopped next to the sofa on my right and leaned against it, half-sitting. “What now, Charity?” “Now?” The single-word question caught in my throat and rasped past my lips. He rested his hands on either side of his hips along the back of the sofa. As they flexed against the ornate fabric, whitening his knuckles and betraying the agitation not apparent in his even tone, my gaze fixated on them. “Did you really expect me to be some celibate monk for thousands of years, my life in stasis until you were ready? Would you even want someone like that? “I've known women, none of them like I know you. Every person we get to know, everyone with whom we share parts of ourselves, no matter how small, takes and gives pieces, molding us into the people we become. Yet we can afford only to give ourselves completely to a limited few. “So what is it you really want to know? What can I possibly tell you that would make you trust me? I'm not Ed.” I came close enough to lay my palms against his chest. His muscles flexed, but his expression remained impassive. “You're right,” I whispered. His forever eyes darkened, the only indication he wasn't immune to my touch. “What am I right about?” I smiled, smoothed my hands over his chest. I knew this dance, my favorite and the only one I wanted to do with Gavin right now. A flash of heat crossed his face moments before he suppressed it. As I shifted closer, I splayed my hands across his torso, slid one up to play with the curls along the back of his neck, and one down to rest possessively at the top of his open jeans. “What I don't want to know is what you did to whom and when you did it, as long as you do me and only me from now on.” And I meant it. I only wondered how long it would take me to stop pulling on my hair shirt and parading around, possibly fucking up the best thing I'd ever had. His hopeful but doubtful expression didn't put my mind at ease at all … neither did his rigid posture. “What exactly do you want me to do to you?” he asked. I smiled, playing it out. “Everything.” His eyebrows inched up, and I laughed at his expression. Sex play with words wasn't like the reserved, modest woman I usually was. Punctuating each word with kisses along his jaw, I said, “Everything … and … anything.” Thanks to Gavin, I was outgrowing the staid, uptight person I'd been most of my life. His smoldering expression darkened the blue of his eyes to indigo. “Anything, huh?

Anything covers quite a lot of territory.” The fire in his eyes, the seductive tilt of his lips, the melody captured in the low tone of his voice, the smell and taste and thought of him, and I was on my way over the falls in a barrel again, naked as the day I was born. He searched my face, finding something in my eyes that satisfied him, because he smiled and finally touched me. Untying my robe, he allowed it to drape open. He held onto it, parting the edges slightly to inspect my body thoroughly, like a prospective buyer. His scrutiny skimmed across my skin like a caress. While still maintaining a small portion of my thinking ability, I reminded Gavin we weren't alone in the house. “You know we're not guaranteed privacy, right?” We'd been interrupted more than once. I suspected Raphael intruded because he enjoyed watching me scurry around, trying to get into to my robe as quickly as I could. Gavin disregarded whoever came in, male or female. Whatever else he was previously, he wasn't a prude. “Gavin, did you hear me?” Because he half-reclined on the couch back, his head was a lot closer to my level now. His grin spread into a wicked leer. “Charity, have I ever told you that you talk too much?” I scowled and opened my mouth for a clever retort. Well, I'm sure it would have been a clever retort, but Gavin distracted me with his talented hands, removing my robe and tossing it aside. Then I found something much better to do with my mouth I moved closer to taste him, and my arms draped around his neck of their own accord. Like honey on a lazy summer's afternoon, his skin was warm and sweet. I suckled and marked him, and his pulse jumped under my mouth. His unintelligible growl was the only answer I was likely to get. I relaxed and forgot about anyone or anything in existence outside of us. Only Gavin could make me forget myself so completely. I couldn't help but wonder if he felt it, too. But he retained the control. I couldn't, I didn't ask him. Something was different, in his touch and in the kisses he branded against my skin. I became feverishly desperate to touch more of him, afraid this happiness would slip away, disappear before I could savor the joy. He framed my face in his hands and forced me to look at him. “Charity, slow down. I'm not going anywhere. What's the hurry?” He gifted me with his special smile. “I plan on taking my time, and even your impetuosity won't deter me.” When you look into someone's eyes, really look deep, past the shields and shallow surface, you see pieces of their true selves, their soul. But this isn't what makes deep reflection difficult. No, gazing deeply naturally opens you up, and they can also see into you, all the way to your soul. Being so exposed and vulnerable takes more trust than people generally afford each other. Though I'd been married to Ed for more than two decades, I don't recall ever having opened myself to him like that. What did that say about our marriage? With Gavin, I had no choice. While he stripped away my own protective shell, I couldn't look away, and I couldn't help looking past the outside. He still held my face between his hands. I caressed his cheek in my palm, stepping into his warmth. His gaze fused with mine, he stroked my arms and cupped my breasts in his hands. When he gently rolled my nipples between his fingers, frissons of pleasure

skittered down my spine, erecting the hairs at the back of my neck. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to mine, exploring my mouth with his tongue. A release of answering warmth and moisture between my legs caused me to moan. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pushed my body even closer. One hand moved to cradle the back of my head, his other arm sliding firmly around my waist. The stiff denim of his jeans pressed into my stomach, reminding me he still remained partially dressed. He pulled away again. One fist wrapped tightly in my hair, he grinned and stood fully to switch our positions. Releasing my hair, he lifted me onto the back of the plush sofa. Putting a hand on each of my knees, he spread my legs and knelt between them, draping them over his shoulders. His hands shifted to my hips, to pull me closer to the edge of the couch. As he gently parted the folds of my labia, opening me to the stroke of his fingers, his gaze remained fixed on mine. Gavin's tongue caressed the length of my crevice, and I dropped my head back and closed my eyes. The velvet touch drew a moan of tortured pleasure from me. It was not enough and yet too much. He entered me, first with one and then two fingers, starting a rhythm that mimicked the possession to come. His tongue echoed the cadence and swirled around, nearly touching but never fully rubbing over my nub, erect in anticipation. My muscles clenched, and sweat broke over me until I thought I might expire if Gavin didn't stop teasing me. “For God sake, Gavin, you're killing me.” The humming vibrations of his chuckle nearly finished the job. I groaned loudly, and he took my pleading flesh into his mouth, suckled, bringing me over fast and hard. He stood, and a cool breeze wafted between my thighs. When he backed up a step to remove his jeans, I opened my eyes again, possessively eyeing his body—all mine. Pulling me up, he folded me in his arms and lowered his head to kiss me, my scent and taste still on his lips. His mouth moved over my face to my throat, where he nipped my skin, gently stimulating my nerve endings. The yearning swelled from deep within, that feeling Gavin always drew from me, whether or not I willed it. But I willed it in spades right then. Lifting my hair off my neck, he kissed a path to my nape, turning me and bringing his arms around me from behind, his erection hot and heavy against my back. His hands moved over me, pulling me even more firmly against him. Controlled but not controlling, conveying need, yearning, love. A gift, a piece of Heaven I'd never known before and never wanted to lose. I fit him. He fit me. Synergy, as Raphael had once said—more than the sum of our wholes. Raphael was also fond of saying, “the definitive summit in the minuscule window of time in which perfection exists, never to be born in the same incarnation again”—ultimate perfection. It was almost too much, too good, too perfect. Moments do not, cannot, last for more than a small slice of time, making them even more precious by their rarity. Most of us live our lives never experiencing these rare moments in time, never finding the person who completes us, the one person we complete. Without Gavin, I never would have, either. Too flowery? Probably. Too sentimental? More than likely. Too good to last? As I

would discover, most definitely. He shifted between my legs, spreading them even farther apart. Pulling me up taut against him with one hand, he used the other to trail fingers over my abdomen, riding over my mons, dipping into the prodigious cream now flowing at his touch. “I wish I had more hands to touch all of you at once,” he said, his voice harsh, barely under control. His breath, warm and moist against my neck, his evocative words, his scent, his skin slick with sweat all combined to seduce my senses. I longed to climb into his skin and merge with him until we were one. He held and supported me, bending me over the couch, against the plump cushions. His upper body around me, he slid into me, finally joining us. He held still a moment, gaining control, then moved in slow, firm strokes. Sweat gathered, drying in sticky patches across my face, down my legs and arms. Gavin clutched me around the middle, his rhythm growing faster and stronger. He tensed, close to the edge. I tightened my inner muscles and he faltered, groaning. The wave surged up in me, too, so I relaxed and let it come. Gavin held me fiercely and reached his own climax; the warm pulses drove me over the edge to join him. He sank against me. For several minutes, we rested over the back of the sofa, breathing heavily. He withdrew from me, chuckling when he stumbled trying to straighten and take a step. After another minute, he reached for his jeans and pulled them on. I turned around and leaned against the cushions. I watched him approach, his expression softening in love, his whole demeanor welcoming. He held me tenderly, and I felt loved. I remembered, though, that nothing lasts forever, especially happiness. As Gavin held me, I trembled, an awful foreboding seizing every bit of my joy in the moment. “Are you cold?” “Just a little.” I had no desire to subject him to my paranoia. He sighed, smiling down at me. “I suppose you'll want to dress now?” I couldn't help but laugh. “Let's not frighten the staff by parading through the house naked. Raphael would be perturbed if we caused them any distress.” He picked up my robe and draped it around me, holding onto the edges and pulling me up closer to him. Kissing me softly, he tucked me under his chin. Holding me securely, he said, “I guess I'll just have to keep your delectable body to myself.” I wished he could, but I had a feeling I was only waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Chapter Ten We weren't the only Dancers Raphael handled, but because of how close “our time” was, we were the only two to live with him. He left often to handle other Dancers, though I never knew how he spent his free time. Gavin had gone to his lair to work on a landscape, and I'd finished reading Moby Dick cover-to-cover. It taught me never again to read a book for the sake of saying I'd read it or because it was a “classic.” It had to have more to offer. I walked into the front room and found Raphael perched in his usual chair, his fingers steepled in their normal position. It occurred to me how little I knew about this man who held so much power in my life. I decided to ask him a few questions while I had the chance. “Come on, Charity. Sit. Grilling me will be so much more comfortable that way.” Maybe I should have been more surprised he knew what I was after, but I'd come to expect things like that from him. Whatever else he was, Raphael was no mere mortal, not even a mere Dancer. “Do you know everything?” He snorted. “If I knew everything, the last thing I would have done this morning is let you catch me alone. But I suppose you'd then stalk me like the little curiosity hound you are.” I sat and studied him. How to begin? I wiggled, trying to get comfortable in a decidedly uncomfortable situation. I looked down at my interlaced hands for inspiration. Who he is? What he is? “Well?” Raphael's question made me jump, but I still didn't know where to start. He relaxed back in his chair and laid his arms along the armrests. His eyes filled with suppressed mirth. “Let me guess. You want to know who I am and where I come from.” I nodded. At last! Insight into the enigma! “Well, I wish I could tell you.” He turned away. “No, actually I'm rather glad I can't. It would lead to a theological, philosophical debate and then, knowing you, endless questions, leading to more debates and more questions.” He looked at me and smiled. “Yes, I'm really rather glad I can't tell you.” I wanted to slam my fists on the chair arms, but it wouldn't have done any good. “Why can't you tell me? It's not like I have anyone to tell or, for that matter, anyone who'd believe me.” “No, but it would interfere with free will, yours and others. You'd have more information than you need to make choices based on faith and conviction.” “Why is that important?” He sighed. “I should have known there'd be no stopping the endless questions.” I sent him a cagey smile. “Answers would stop them.” A laugh exploded from him. “I'm happy to see your sense of humor has improved. You wasted far too many years in depression over imagined sins that never existed anywhere but in your own mind.” “How do you know that?”

“As I keep telling you, it's my job to know these things.” His all-knowing smile left me feeling stripped. I peered down at my hands, unable to meet his piercing gaze. “That can't be all, Charity.” “Has Gavin always been so patient?” He looked puzzled. “I would have thought you considered him extremely impatient.” I was blushing but shrugged off my condition and continued. “No, I mean when it comes to waiting for me?” “He was never patient about waiting for you. He was resigned.” This was getting difficult. “Well, didn't he have, you know, impulses?” He smiled, obviously amused by my discomfort. “Impulses?” I blew out a sigh. “Sex, Raphael, sex. Didn't he get a little impatient for sex?” “Have you asked him?” His laugh made me seethe. “Yes. But he treats it so casually. He didn't form any relationships or anything?” He cocked his head to one side, his lips still twitching. “No, he never formed any ties with his, ah, partners. Unlike people less long-lived, he wasn't bothered by those pesky emotions anymore. Well, that is except when it came to you. In another situation, he would have been considered a stalker. Luckily, he stayed out of trouble and off the radar, so you were never the wiser.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “Does his lack of previous commitments bother you? That's a little backward, you know.” I smiled rather grimly, I'm afraid. “No, it's difficult to fathom anyone remaining that disconnected for so long. What about you, Rafe?” “What about me?” “You ever bothered by those pesky emotions?” He chuckled. “Oh, I'm bothered by emotions alright, even pesky ones. They just don't happen to be the aberrant, hormonal kind.” Aberrant, hormonal emotions? Well, that was succinct and, I had to admit, not a bad description of the battle of the sexes. A horrible way to think of love, though. “You've never been in love? Never had a family or children?” “No.” “So, have you ever even had, um, you know?” He watched me squirm, delight setting the corners of his mouth twitching again and his eyes twinkling. If Gavin had forever eyes, Raphael's were infinitely fathomless. It took a lot to move him to show anything but calm tranquility. I seemed to have been lucky that way. Everyone got off on laughing at my embarrassment. “You know, Charity, Gavin's right. You really ought to be able to say the words if you're so willing to perform the acts or question someone else's behavior.” “The acts?” Squirming fled in the wake of my rising blood pressure. “You and Gavin discuss my, I mean my and Gavin's sex life?” I grew shrill, but I couldn't help it. Some things should remain private, right? “See? 'Sex life.' Now that wasn't so hard, was it?” Raphael's enjoyment of our conversation seemed to grow in direct proportion to the annoyance racing through my veins. I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached, trying to control my runaway temper. I wasn't sure if I was angrier with Raphael for laughing at me or with Gavin for being

indiscreet. “No, I suppose my Puritanical roots are showing.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Trust me, you're no Puritan.” “Should I be insulted?” “No,” he said with a smile. “Most Puritans wasted their precious lives in servitude to maintaining appearances. Afraid to enjoy life, they satisfied their sense of decorum by never sharing themselves with anyone, ever—not laughter, not pain, not joy. They gave themselves up as living sacrifices to the God of Moderation they fashioned to rule over their lives.” I had calmed down now, a little taken aback by Raphael's words, both the tone and amount. He wasn't usually so loquacious or obvious about his feelings, especially pity. Lost in his thoughts, he seemed to forget I was there. I would have left it alone … that wouldn't have been me. I wanted him to lose the serious mood. I wanted to make him laugh, even at my own expense. He needed it. Besides, I was still curious about his sex life. Curiosity may have killed the cat, and I figured one day it would lead to my downfall, as well. “Soooo, Rafe, ever done it?” He transferred his attention to me and arched his eyebrows, silently asking if I still wanted to go there. Then again, maybe he was asking if I was stupid or just plain crazy. My lips formed a perfect smirk, letting him know I was indeed crazy and dared to go just about anywhere. “You ever done the wild thing, or played hide the salami, or screwed, or fucked? You ever had sex … with another person, I mean?” He gaped at me a full three seconds then burst into laughter. The sound was musical, entirely captivating. I smiled and chuckled with him, realizing I'd actually managed to shock and surprise him. I doubt that happened often. Still smiling, he slumped back into his chair. “Oh, Charity, I guess I ought to be careful what I ask for, especially around you.” “I know other equally clever euphemisms, if you'd like to hear them.” He waggled a hand in a “don't bother” gesture. “No, I think we'll save them for another time.” I waited a few moments. “Well, have you?” Still smiling, he replied, “You're like a terrier puppy with a new chew toy.” He steepled his fingers and eyed me closely. “Let's just say I promise not to tease you about your love life, and you won't question me about mine.” I grunted. “Will it make any difference if I agree or not?” “Sure it will. If you agree, I won't tease you about your love life. Either way, you know all you're going to know about mine.” “Hmm, sounds like a deal … for now.” It also sounded as though he might actually have something to hide. He took my proffered hand to shake on the deal and held onto it for a little longer. “Did I tell you how glad I am you're here?” Surprise must have shown on my face. “No, I don't think you ever have.” He laughed and released my hand. “Well then, I'll have to remember to do that.” I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to leave when another question occurred to me. “Yes, Charity?” Raphael asked with a sigh. I looked back, not even asking how he knew I had another question. “How old are you?” I really didn't expect an answer, but I got one anyway … sort of.

“I'm a great deal older than Gavin. I will tell you something, though. Before the end of all this, you'll know everything you need to know.” “Raphael, do you know how this will end?” “Of course I do. It will end the way it was always meant to end. Now run along and bother someone else for awhile.” “That is soooo patronizing.” I got up to leave, however. “Isn't it,” he remarked. Raphael had closed his eyes, his mind already switching to something or someone else. Dismissed, I left the room and returned to my current reading project, War and Peace. I should have asked if I'd have time to finish it. **** The first time I opened my eyes the next morning, I didn't want to get up. It didn't get any better later. By noon, the temperature had reached ninety degrees, was still rising, and wouldn't cool down until long after sundown. Ah … springtime in Phoenix. Sweat gathered in all my bodily creases and dripped into my eyes, stinging like a sonofabitch, which made things only worse. Long before afternoon, the bitch factor had settled firmly on my shoulders, so I promised myself, discretion being the better part of valor, I'd keep my mouth firmly shut. Too bad Gavin, the Training Nazi, obviously saw no value in being valiant. After about the tenth time he said, “Dammit, Charity, concentrate,” I decided taking myself to a cooler, more favorable climate was definitely the thing to do. So I Stepped Out and into Sunrise Ski resort, landing in about the same place I had when visiting Shannon. I hiked again to her favorite spot, knowing she wouldn't be there but hoping just a little. The cool breeze lifted the scent of wild flowers and pine, laying it gently all around me and drying the sweat into itchy areas on my forehead and neck. I sat alone, content to watch the clouds drift overhead for a bit. Gavin arrived about a half hour later, emanating enough fury to heat my back. “Are you trying to drive me crazy, Charity?” I stared straight ahead, not bothering to look at him. “No, I seem to be able to do it without trying.” I leaned back, resting my weight on my elbows, and closed my eyes. Though I sensed Gavin move up next to me, I paid no attention. “Charity…” I had no idea what his next words would have been, something pithy and offensive I'm sure, but a clap of thunder and a bolt of lightening, striking only a few feet in front of us, interrupted. My eyes snapped open, and I jumped up. The stink of sulfur and ozone wafted over us, springing from the haze surrounding the area of the lightening. From the midst of the smoke, a stranger appeared like some stage magician. His hair, dark as a raven's wing, lay slicked back and close to his head, matching his goatee. He had bird-like eyes the color of obsidian. They honed in on me, making me glad Gavin had shown up, though I tried hard not to hide behind him. Dressed all in black, the stranger really did look like he was on his way to “astound and confound us with amazing feats of prestidigitation.” When the stranger approached, I edged closer to Gavin. Gavin had crossed his arms, his face devoid of expression, which showed he was anything but happy. Although the sky remained cloudless, shadows grew deeper all around us. “Gavin,” the dark figure said, his voice even and clipped.

“Luc,” Gavin answered, matching his tone. “What's it been? Two or three decades?” “Give or take.” “And this must be Charity.” Luc stepped toward me. Gavin moved between us, cutting off Luc's access. “Must it?” They eyed each other silently a few more minutes. “What do you want, Luc?” “Can't I just want to meet the latest Dancer?” “No.” Luc laughed. “You can't be with her all the time, you know.” “Yes, I can.” Gavin's flat tone carried a message I wasn't getting. Luc's eyebrows lifted, and he laughed again; this time the sound grated across my every nerve. “Perhaps you can.” He looked me over indolently. “I can see why you'd want to.” I inched even closer to Gavin; his muscles grew taut where my shoulder touched him. I grabbed his arm, afraid he might do something foolish. I had no idea what exactly, but my gut told me I couldn't let him attack this Luc guy. The menace surrounding the stranger was enough to make my stomach roil. “Charity, Gavin, I thought I might find you here.” Raphael appeared behind Luc and walked past him as though he didn't exist. Raphael came about and faced Luc, placing himself between him and us. “You aren't trying to intimidate my Dancers are you, Luc?” His false casualness did little to relieve the tension. “Gavin doesn't look the least little bit intimidated,” Luc said. Raphael linked his arms over his chest, his feet planted wide. “It's not time yet. You know the rules, Luc. Don't think they won't be enforced.” Rafe's tone had become as cold as the ice of his eyes. Luc snorted. “Speaking of rules, the balance still has to be kept, Rafe.” “And your point?” “There's one too many.” Luc's words fell like stones. I wanted to ask one too many what but I figured I wouldn't like the answer. There are times when even I manage to keep my mouth shut. When Raphael remained silent, Luc started to leave then hesitated, an oily smile firmly in place. “It won't make any difference, you know. Time is about up. Still, there is one too many. I can't let that go, but I suppose one's as good as another. Right?” He inclined his head toward me. “Charity.” Walking into the smoke, he disappeared in another clap of thunder and jagged spear of lightening. The afternoon cleared as though the Earth could breathe easier now. Raphael gave us a nod and disappeared without a word. Gavin remained motionless, staring at the spot where Raphael had stood. The whole thing weirded me out. “So, Gavin, friend of yours?” He looked my way and frowned as though just remembering I was there. “Huh?” “That Luc guy. Friend of yours?” “Hardly.” He clasped my wrist gently and pulled me into his arms. I rested my cheek against his chest and snuggled closer. “That, my dear, was the Prince of Darkness himself, Lucifer, Evil Incarnate, and the reason you're not going to leave my sight for the duration.”

Chapter Eleven Meeting Lucifer hadn't scared me; it had terrified me. Suddenly everything hit home, and the stakes became clearer. This was a head game but not chess or something equally innocuous. We played for real heads, real lives, real futures. I got that now. My silence for the remainder of the afternoon and during dinner concerned Gavin. It showed on his face. I chewed on the happenings of that day, masticated them into paste, and swallowed the whole glop down to be done with it. “Gavin?” I said, interrupting his story to Raphael. “Yes?” “Can we get money and IDs?” Gavin looked at Raphael, who shrugged. I'd have to decipher their shorthand code someday. I suspected it might take me years. Gavin's look was wary. “If we need them. Why?” I got to my feet. “Because I want to go dancing.” “Dancing? As in musical kind of dancing?” Gavin got up also. I had already picked up my plate and moved toward the kitchen. “Sure, the musical kind of dancing. It's not like you can use the normal male excuse that you can't dance, can you?” Gavin was clearing his dishes. “I can dance.” I stopped and threw a smile over my shoulder. “I knew you must. You have such good rhythm.” When he returned my smile, I carried my dishes to the sink, rinsed and placed them in the dishwasher. Gavin brought his to the sink, and I automatically took them, repeating the process. No good reason why Mary and Marie always had to do all the dishes. Gavin put his arms around me and kissed my neck. “Where do you want to go dancing?” “I don't know. No disco … maybe some salsa and swing? I can't do either, but I'm game to learn.” I wriggled away and headed back into the dining room, stopping next to Raphael. “Oh, and I'll need an ID that has my age at about twenty-two, twenty-one at the youngest.” Raphael froze, the fork halfway to his mouth, and looked curiously at me. “Why?” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Because, my dear Raphael, every twenty years or so I get blitzed, and I'm way overdue.” He looked pointedly at my hand, which I left right where it was, then back up into my face. “You're going to get drunk?” “Precisely.” “That would be most imprudent of you.” “Most imprudent, indeed. I plan to be most seriously imprudent.” “I'll take care of her.” Gavin had joined us. They gave each other another of those inscrutable “Secret Society of Males” glances, and Raphael nodded at the credenza. “Top drawer. A few hundred dollars are in the wallet, and your IDs are somewhere in there.” He returned to his meal.

Gavin grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. “Come along, Charity. Let the nice man finish his dinner. We'll take the Viper. We wouldn't want to appear like spirits somewhere in the middle of people.” I stopped, tugging at his hand. “Not that I don't think these suits are nifty, but I thought I'd change into a black dress and something besides boots.” Gavin laughed. “Right. Let's go all out. Hurry, though. I'm sure I'll beat you down here, but if you manage to change first, wait right here.” I let go of his hand and raced him upstairs. Less than thirty minutes later, I headed down in a nice, sedate, black silk wrap-around with a full skirt and cap sleeves. I would have worn stilettos if I'd ever in my life learned to walk in them for more than half an hour. I wore wedges instead, not very sexy, but fashionable, and a lot safer for everyone. As I descended the stairs, both men looked up and immediately stopped talking. Raphael rose from his customary place in the heavy, cherry-wood chair, but it was Gavin who caught my eye. He wore tight black pants, a loose black linen shirt, and black leather shoes. The outfit emphasized his ethereal golden curls and blue eyes. “Oh, my. You look good enough to be a gigolo.” Raphael laughed; Gavin just shook his head. “So, you think I look like a gigolo, do you?” “Yeah. I'm only glad I don't have to pay for it. The way you look, I couldn't afford you.” Raphael glanced between me and Gavin and laughed again. “Get out of here and have fun. Gavin?” “Uh-huh?” He had yet to look away from me. “Have Cinderella home early and relatively intact.” “Uh-huh.” Gavin offered me his arm and finally looked at Raphael. “What did you say?” Raphael snorted. “Drive carefully, like with your eyes on the road. And try not to be stupid.” “Gotcha,” Gavin said. The drive into Scottsdale was necessarily long, since the house was in the remote outskirts of Phoenix. Still, it was a pleasant drive. We managed to avoid anything personal or work-related and still had plenty to discuss. The club had a distinctly Latin flavor. Neon pictures and signs bathed everything in surreal colors that somehow matched the heavy, bass-flavored music from the live band. At first, my spirits sank to see Mark and Penny waiting at a table for us, but after a few minutes and a few drinks, I began to relax and have fun. A party was just what I needed, and I soon enjoyed having the others with us. Brendan and Sharon arrived a few minutes later, and our party was complete. Brent and Tracey were off Dancing together for a few days and couldn't join us. I wondered again about their relationship. I'd never been in a group where only the women imbibed, but that happened in our group that night. I asked Gavin about it. He gave me that shrug that meant anything from “I don't know” to “Enigmatic are the ways of the Sphinx and male Time Dancers or maybe just males in general.” He stood, and I handed Sharon my purse. “Would you mind watching this for a few

minutes?” “Sure thing, I'm not going anywhere. I'm planning to concentrate on my drinking for awhile.” Gavin came up behind me and grabbed my hips. “Here we go. Your hips are mine.” I put my hands over his. “Lead on.” He moved with me until I got the basics then came around me and grasped my hips from the front. “Put your arms on my shoulders and keep your head up.” Within an hour, we danced easily together, my arms draped loosely around his neck and his hands firmly on my hips. We executed spins and dips until my head spun, too. This was without a doubt my second favorite exercise. A young, attractive man, about twenty-two or twenty-three, tapped Gavin's shoulder and asked to cut in. I was flattered but uninterested in collecting scalps, so I said, “Thank you, but no,” before Gavin could answer. I turned to Gavin. “Let's get a drink.” Something in his eyes gave me pause. “Gavin? Is something wrong?” Before answering me, he watched the young man walk away and join his friends. “No, everything's fine. Come on, I'm thirsty.” We got back to the table and Mark looked up. “Everything okay?” “So far,” Gavin said. I ignored them and sucked down a margarita. “Okay. Another one. I can still feel my nose.” “Your nose?” Gavin asked. “Yep. If I can feel my nose, I haven't had enough yet.” I smiled, and Gavin put his arm around me. “Well, then I guess we'd better get more.” A couple more and I'd caught up with Sharon, if not in number then in effect. While we women slung down pitchers of margaritas, each of the guys nursed a single beer. Without my even noticing it, I forgot about demons and rifts and simply enjoyed myself. Gavin and I danced some more, and so did the other couples. We danced until I lost track of time and just about everything else. The swing dancing was more difficult and a lot more tiring. I loved it, but slow dancing really heated me up. Moving together in sync to the pulsing music, the beat capturing and enclosing us, excluding everyone else, our bodies entwined, sliding against each other, until Gavin's hands sizzled where they touched me. I thought we were all having fun, but I really wasn't paying attention to anyone else. Then came the unfortunate incident. Gavin said it was a good lesson. I told Gavin to go do something anatomically impossible with himself. I still think someone should have warned me. The guys had gone to get more drinks, and the music called, so Penny and I hit the floor to salsa together. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I think our guys had returned to the table about the same time these two other guys walked up to us. Sharon pointed toward us, then the two guys blocked my view of our party. “Hey, you two look like you could use some company,” one of the guys said. I stopped trying to see around them. “No thanks, we have all the company we want or need.”

Penny grabbed my arm and tugged me toward our table. “Come on, Charity, our drinks are back.” “Charity, huh?” The tallest one grasped my arm and smiled. “I like that.” The smell of tobacco and beer oozing from his pores turned my stomach. “You have no idea how much that pleases me,” I said, sounding anything but pleased. His smile widened. Doesn't anyone recognize sarcasm any more? “How about you show me some sweet charity?” “Is that what passes for clever repartee these days? Because if it is, I have serious concerns for this generation.” “Huh?” I turned to Penny, who worked on removing her arm from “Short and Stout's” clutches, when “Tall, Dark, and Dumb” decided to pull on my arm. I jammed my finger into his chest. “Listen, Buddy, when a lady says no, she means no. Why don't you and your little friend go find someone your own age and mental capacity?” I tugged harder but no joy. This guy pissed me off. Kids these days—no respect. It didn't occur to me until much, much later, after the hangover, that these guys were physically older and a lot bigger than I was. By that time, Junior had finally caught on that I was less than enamored with him and possibly even insulting him. “Maybe someone should teach you some manners.” He squeezed my arm harder. Penny had moved out of my sight, but a clunk and a thud came from her general direction. This guy had pushed me way past pissed. I didn't appreciate some big jerk manhandling me while trying to teach me manners he had never possessed. “First, you'd have to be able to recognize a manner when it bites you on the ass, you fucking moron. Now let me go before you're sorrier than you already are.” He drew back his hand. I took the opportunity to stomp on his instep, regretting now I didn't wear those stilettos. He released me to grab his injured foot and howled as he hopped around. “Remember that the next time you decide to slop your unwanted attention off on some poor female. And if you can't control yourself, don't drink.” I spun around and ran into Gavin's chest. “Oomph.” “Making friends again, darling?” I backed up a step. The entire club was clapping. Two burly bouncers had collected our friends and escorted them to the door. “He made me angry,” I said. “I can see that. I'm glad I'm not the only one who warrants your giving them a broken foot.” He was having a difficult time not smiling. “However, I think our fun evening has ended.” “Yeah, okay,” I grumbled but agreed. With Gavin following, I walked to our table. Penny had a towel filled with ice pressed against her jaw. “Penny, did that Neanderthal hit you?” Mark grinned. “She forgot to duck.” “I did not.” She glared at him. “You blocked my view.” “Mark pulled the guy off Penny,” Gavin said, “and the little guy took a swing at him. Mark ducked. Penny didn't.”

Sharon, who leaned up against Brendan, finished the story. “Penny got really mad then and decked the guy. He was still out cold when the bouncers came to break it up.” I looked at Penny's hand, at the bruises darkening her knuckles. “Remind me not to make you angry.” Penny snorted and lowered the towel. “Me? Honey, you didn't do too badly yourself.” Gavin laughed. “Did I ever tell you how we met? My foot still hurts.” I gave him a smug look. “People shouldn't piss me off. And they really shouldn't touch me without being invited.” Gavin slipped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my head. “I better be the only one you invite.” I smiled and leaned back, my arms resting over his. “As long as you take me dancing.” Brendan chuckled. “Well, I think we'll call it a night.” He looked down at Sharon, who had fallen asleep or passed out against his arm, her soft snores barely audible. He dropped a fond kiss on her hair. “My rose is wilting.” While we drove home, Gavin explained that Dancers attract the opposite sex, as well as other types of energy. However, our enhanced bodies would attract attention even without the additional energy emanations. Centuries before, a male Dancer died in a fight over a female Dancer. “Our bodies can take a great deal of abuse and still heal, but we are human and there's a limit, hence the 'virtual' part of virtually immortal.” “Why didn't you warn me?” Gavin said with a chuckle, “I didn't think you'd relax and enjoy yourself if you knew what might happen. And you deserved a night out to have worry-free fun.” What could I say? I mean, how many guys would let you get piss-eyed drunk, knowing they had to remain alert, that they might have to protect you? It sort of makes up for the times he acts all macho and superior. “You had fun, didn't you?” he asked. The amusement in his voice didn't even rile me. I looked up at his chiseled profile and hoped we had many more years together, but if we didn't, I still wouldn't have traded a single moment with him for a safe eternity without him. Taking his eyes from the road, he glanced my way. “Are you still there?” I slid my hand into his lap and stroked him. He drew in a quick breath. “I had a lot of fun and hopefully, it's not over yet,” I said. The fire in his eyes held no amusement. I laid my head against his shoulder, unfastened his belt, and unzipped his pants. “Charity, I don't think…” “Then don't think.” I pulled out his cock and stroked him, exploring and searching for what felt best. When I tried taking him into my mouth, he stopped me. “I'm not going to explain to Raphael on the other side how, right on the eve of possible world destruction, I came to die in a car crash with my pants undone and my cock out.” I laughed but sobered a little, tucking him back in. I don't have a clear picture of what happened after that, although I do remember taking a little nap and barfing out my guts on the lawn. Climbing the stairs, Gavin carried me over his shoulder. Not such a

good idea; I hurled again upstairs. He started the shower for me. It was cold, and he didn't remove my clothes before sticking me in it. When I called him a few choice names, he laughed, but he turned on the hot water and helped me strip. Funny how he managed to get himself naked right after that. I fell asleep enfolded in his robe and his arms, his magical hands massaging my neck and shoulders and then lower. The nausea was long gone, and the remainder of the night passed in a sensual haze. If this is being taken advantage of, let him take advantage of me every night. **** Sun peeking through the small slit between the curtains caught me squarely in the left eye, pinning a jagged schism of pain behind it. I groaned and tried rolling away, but Gavin's arm held me securely on my back, my hair trapped under him. I threw an arm over my eyes, lying still, careful not to disturb my heaving stomach. Yeah, then I remembered why I got drunk only once every twenty years or so—the morning after sucks so much. The last, first, and only other time I'd gotten this drunk, I ended up pregnant and had nine months of morning sickness to boot. I could recall neither Prom night nor last night clearly, but I was pretty sure I'd enjoyed last night a hell of a lot more than Prom night. Gavin shifted, pulling me up against him. The motion reminded my queasy stomach, yet again, about the perils of overindulging. Exploding out of bed, despite the pain of hair being yanked out, I almost didn't make it to the toilet in time. When I finished, I collapsed to the cold tile floor and laid my head on my arm, resting on the toilet lid. I probably didn't want to stray very far from my porcelain friend today. Rather than hearing or seeing Gavin, I felt his presence and moaned, “Go away and let me die in peace.” He laughed, an evil-sounding thing. I wasn't sure he knew I was speaking literally and not metaphorically. “Poor baby. Here, I brought you some Alka-Seltzer. If I recall, it works wonders.” I peered up through my poor, bloodshot eyes and groaned, “Thank you.” I finished the cup he'd brought, and he smoothed back my hair. I did feel a little better. When I looked up again, he smiled, and I should have known what would come. “I'll give you an extra half hour to dress this morning.” Then he left. I threw the empty glass at him but missed. It was plastic anyway. I could hear him laughing all the way downstairs. My shower, alone, took the extra half hour, but I couldn't manage any faster. I added sunglasses to my normal training ensemble. Even the indirect lighting inside seemed too bright. As I descended the stairs, tiny little gremlins played anvils in my head, each step a hammer blow. Raphael sat at the kitchen counter, reading the paper and drinking coffee. He slid a mug of the strong black brew toward me without looking up from his reading or making any comment. For the first time since I'd been transformed, I drank the liquid caffeine. It hit my bloodstream almost immediately. Warmth spread to every cell, and my headache eased. I

sighed long and audibly, closing my eyes to savor the effect. Raphael lowered his paper and cradled his mug in both hands, taking a long draw of his coffee. “Ah, Nirvana.” He put the mug down and picked up his paper again. “I thank God every morning for the person who first got the strange idea to make a beverage out of those lovely little beans.” I chuckled, and he looked at me over the top edge of the paper. “You know, Charity, seeing you this morning reminds me of when Gavin was first changed. He got roaring drunk every night for a month and puked out his guts every morning. I feared for awhile that he might actually be a little simple and really not understand what caused his nausea and headaches.” I laughed outright. “I'm a much faster learner.” He raised the paper again. “I thought you might be.” I rinsed out my mug, grabbed a piece of dry toast off the serving plate on the counter, and headed outside. Strangely enough, I felt much better. **** The last Thursday in June, after an intense day of training, Gavin and I came into the house to find a roomful of strangers. The men stood, and Raphael introduced them. “Gavin, Charity, I'd like you to meet Ariel, Azrael, Gabriel, and Uriel. They're my … brothers and sisters.” The women, Ariel and Gabriel, had long, curly dark hair and the men, Uriel and Azrael, had short dark hair. They all had those strange light blue eyes like Raphael, the ones that pierced to your soul. Gavin and I shook hands all around. I couldn't help staring. They were more than attractive; they were compelling. “Why don't you two go up and get ready for dinner? We'll discuss things then,” Rafe suggested, already leading his siblings into the dining room. Gavin, as always, was calm and collected, but I could barely contain myself. Something was definitely up, and I had a feeling I wouldn't like the toy surprise. “Gavin, have you met his family before?” “Some of them.” “Oh yeah? Are there more?” “Yes, about a dozen altogether.” “Do they all have those spooky wolf eyes?” Gavin laughed. “I didn't notice before, but they do sort of look like wolf eyes, don't they. Let's shower together to save time.” I eyed him suspiciously. “Save time, huh? Seems to me I've heard that line before.” We showered, and he nearly did make me forget my excitement … about our dinner guests. I'm not so sure we saved any time, though. Mary outdid herself, and we had lamb with mint sauce, fresh, homemade rolls, steamed vegetables, mashed potatoes and gravy, salad, and wine. Raphael's siblings were intelligent, which I expected, and funny, which I didn't expect. They had an air of royalty but insisted on being treated like “normal” people. “You all have such Biblical names. Where did you get them?” I asked. “Our father is a very religious man,” Ariel said. They all laughed, as though it were some great joke. Too much wine, I figured.

“Yeah, and you didn't even meet Michael yet,” Uriel said. This brought on a fresh round of laughter. “Hey, isn't Azrael the name of the Angel of Death?” I asked. “Yes, it is, and don't think that hasn't caused me considerable trouble over the years,” Azrael replied. “Let's see, Raphael was the Archangel of Healing…” Gavin covered my hands in my lap. “Let's not give away all your secrets, Charity. They might be foolish enough to challenge us at Trivial Pursuit sometime.” That got another hearty laugh. Something had made Gavin uncomfortable enough to keep me from asking more questions. I didn't push it. The remainder of the evening proved relaxed and jovial. We finished another of Mary's famous chocolate cakes, and everyone rose to leave. Gavin and I shook hands with them and had started up the stairs to our room, when Gabriel and Azrael asked to speak to Raphael for a moment. More than Gabriel and Azrael's voices, something in Raphael's tone when he asked them to follow him to the dining room, caught my interest. I left Gavin preparing for bed and silently crept down the stairs, keeping to the shadows. I reached the landing and knelt down to peer at the trio through the railings. Azrael laid a brotherly hand on Raphael's shoulder. “We're sorry, Rafe. We know how hard it is to lose a Dancer, even when it's expected.” “Is this it then, Rafe?” Gabriel asked. Raphael shrugged. “I only know it's time for this round to end.” Gabriel sighed. “You're right. I guess we prepare for the worst as we always do. What about Charity? Does she know about…?” “We have to be going,” Azrael said, interrupting. He nodded in my direction. When the other two looked up, I gasped. Raphael took a deep breath. “Charity, Gavin, come downstairs. We need to talk.” When Gavin's hand gripped my shoulder, I gasped again and jumped. Too intent on eavesdropping, I hadn't heard him follow me. “I wondered where you'd gone.” He managed to make it sound accusing. Or else my conscience did. “Gavin, Charity.” Gabriel peered up and smiled. “Good luck.” As they left, I nodded and got to my feet. Raphael turned and started back toward the dining room, signaling us to follow him. Without another word, we went out onto the patio, leaving Mary and Marie to clean up the dining room. “So, what's up, Rafe?” Gavin asked. Raphael stood, hands in pockets, seemingly fascinated with the visible stars. “Have you ever looked up into the night sky and wondered at the immensity of the heavens?” I frowned, dropped into a lawn chair, and looked up, trying to see whatever it was that had so captured Raphael's attention. “Are we going to have another science lecture, Rafe?” I asked. Gavin chuckled and pulled up a chair, sitting next to me. He lifted my hand and kissed the back before cradling it in his. Without looking at either of us, Raphael settled into a chair across from us and stared out into the night. Crickets serenaded, their song slowing as the temperature grew cooler. Fingers steepled, Raphael finally spoke. “Brent was taken, you know.”

“Taken?” I asked, making no connection with the word. “Yes.” Not lost or missing or killed, but taken. “What does taken mean?” Raphael remained silent, and I thought I might have to repeat my question. Then his face fell, and tears filled his eyes. He swallowed convulsively, visibly pulling himself together. “He and Tracey were Dancing in Sedona. Tracey heard Brent shout and watched as something or someone pulled him into a rift. She didn't see by what or whom, only that he was pulled in.” Raphael looked away. Tears gathered at the back of my throat, mostly in sympathy with Raphael, whom I had never seen in such distress. The significance of this event had yet to hit me. I ignored the tears coursing down my cheeks. “This is what Gabriel and Azrael came to tell you?” He nodded once and bowed his head. “This is more than losing a Dancer, isn't it?” Gavin asked evenly. “It's time, then?” Raphael looked up. Pain, sorrow, regret, and determination, all crossed his face in turn. “Yes, time's up. You and Charity will be needed very soon now.” “How soon?” Gavin's business-like tone seemed to pull Raphael out of his grieving. “Not tonight and not tomorrow … but soon.” “How will you know?” I asked. Raphael's sad smile answered my question. “I know. It's your job to know.” Raphael nodded slowly and came to his feet. “I'll talk to you more in the morning, but make plans to get away this weekend. It might be your last chance … for awhile.” He turned toward the door. “If you'll excuse me, I have arrangements to make, so I'll say goodnight now.” Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the house. Raphael's uncharacteristic show of emotion had really thrown me. It did what every strange thing happening to me these last weeks, including meeting Satan, failed to do. I felt my own mortality and feared I really might die. The danger felt real and eminent, like I could reach out and touch it … or it could touch me. I stood and pulled Gavin up with me. “Take me to bed now, and make me forget there's a tomorrow.” He embraced me and kissed my forehead. “It would be my pleasure.” I woke once during the long night, crying from a dream I couldn't recall. But Gavin was there. He pulled me to him, his arms and the warmth of his body lulling me back into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Twelve I woke early Friday, a strange compulsion to go downstairs driving me. Leaving Gavin still sleeping, I dressed, grabbed my sweatshirt for a workout, and hurried to the kitchen, where I found Raphael waiting, a cup of coffee for me in his hand. “Drink up, Charity. We need to talk.” “Okay, what's up?” “Finish your coffee first.” I did the best I could to down the scalding liquid in as short a time as possible. Something in Raphael's demeanor made my pulse race, but I couldn't imagine how things could be any worse than the future we faced. Raphael showed me. Lowering the cup, I set it on the counter. “What now, Boss?” He took my hand, and moments later, we stood at Sunrise in my daughter Shannon's favorite spot. This told me two things. First, Raphael had known all along about my visits to see my children. And second, he didn't want anyone, including Gavin, to overhear. “Let's walk.” He started forward, and I followed. I didn't ask what he wanted to tell me. I didn't really want to know. We reached the top of the hill overlooking the bare skilift path, and he stopped, turning to face me. “Charity, this final fight will require a great sacrifice on your part. Something you alone will have to do.” “Okay,” I said, a quiver in my voice. “Remember when I told you you'd know everything you needed to know by the time this ended?” I nodded. “Well, here's just about the last thing there is to learn. You wanted to know why no other Dancers had ever faced as dangerous and massive an attack as the one you and Gavin will face.” “It just seems strange that the first time Lucifer manages to put together such a substantial effort doesn't happen until so long after the beginning of Creation.” “That's because it isn't. It's happened many times, the last time about five hundred years ago.” Now that really scrambled my thoughts. “How come no one remembers?” “All memory of the Dancers and the rifts was removed.” “Removed from where?” “Everywhere. Everyone.” “But why? Wouldn't the experiences help other Dancers?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because these kinds of rifts can be healed only by the ultimate sacrifice—a life freely given. Not exactly a good recruiting point—or training point, for that matter. Everyone who knows either you or Gavin as Dancers will have their memories wiped, too.” I've heard it said there are two kinds of people—givers and takers. But I think most people are a combination of the two. For most of my forty-two years, I'd been a giver. I

gave until it hurt, and then gave until it crippled. For the last couple of years, I'd tried hard to learn to be a combination, to learn how to accept as well as give, only to discover that now I'd be called upon to be the quintessential giver. No, he couldn't be asking that. Placing my hands on my hips, I twisted my mouth into a scowl. “Raphael, exactly what are you saying?” “I'm sorry, Charity. It's the only way.” “Tell me exactly how this 'only way' works.” I folded my arms over my chest, waiting. “You have to understand. You were born for this purpose, for this particular time, for this particular place, for this particular rift. Your sacrifice will be the only thing that can heal the rift.” “My sacrifice?” I paused, catching his meaning at last. “How would my sacrifice heal anything?” “This rift has been hundreds of years in the making.” His voice became deeper, quieter. “All normal methods of healing, even the energy of mated Dancers, won't be enough. Gavin has trained longer than any other Dancer, becoming the best Dancer ever for the sole purpose of Dancing the rift long enough for the energy to reach the point where you'll be able to step in and destroy it.” Dread, cold and painful, settled deep in my gut and spread. It looked more and more as though what I had sensed earlier might be the truth. “Obviously I don't survive, but what about Gavin? You're not asking me to sacrifice him, too, are you?” “And if I were?” “Then I'd say no.” We watched each other for several minutes, neither of us speaking. Finally, he sighed. “No. To mean anything, he'd have to make that choice for himself. He won't be able to return to his old life. He knows too much, and he'd be miserable without you. He'd probably be more than a little angry, too.” “You think?” My sarcasm didn't get a reaction. “As I said, Gavin and everyone's memory of him and you as Dancers will have to be erased. He'll be returned to his own timeline none the wiser.” “Raphael, I thought what happens to one of us happens to the other.” He shrugged. “Usually, but this isn't usual. Gavin will be returned safely to his own timeline.” “And me?” I still hoped against hope. “Charity, no one gets to know what comes in the hereafter for them, otherwise, faith would be superfluous.” He smiled sadly. “A sacrifice is a sacrifice only if it comes at a price.” So now I knew. The future depended on me, but I had no future. I turned my head away and stared blindly into the distance. Thoughts and feelings came faster than I could assimilate. I still hadn't finished digesting everything when Raphael asked, “You okay?” Too many thoughts crowded my head, leaving no room to consider his question. Was I okay? Stunned and afraid, saddened and alarmed, I wanted to run and hide, pretend and deny, maybe sleep for a week to escape the pain and pressure of having to come to terms

with the inevitable. Was I okay? I'd never be okay again, because I now knew I had no choice. When you're told the world can survive only if you don't, what choice is there? There is only coming to terms with the inevitable. Was I okay? Raphael put his hand on my shoulder, obviously concerned by what he saw in my face. “Charity, did you hear me? Are you okay?” I sank to the ground suddenly, forgetting how to work my legs. Raphael bent over, still holding onto my upper arm. “Charity?” I pulled my arm from his grasp, raised my bent knees, and wrapped my arms around them, staring sightlessly in front me. As Raphael lowered himself to sit next to me, the grass rustled. I felt his gaze on my face and his unease. “Charity?” I turned my head. “Are you okay?” Looking away again, out over the silent landscape, I muttered, “Just peachy,” my words harsher than I'd meant. I brought my gaze back to him. “How long have you known it had to be this way? Always?” His gaze held mine. “Yes, always.” “Then why?” My whiny voice didn't help, but the swooping of my heart and stomach overwhelmed me. “Why didn't you tell me from the beginning?” His gaze slid away from me, and he looked down at the ground. I knew what a foolish question it had been. Who would agree to certain death? Did Gavin know? “Does Gavin know anything?” Raphael's head snapped up. “Of course not, and he can never be told. He'd never agree, not even before.” “Before what?” He frowned, visibly taking pains to control himself, his speech and tone, even his expression. “Charity, Gavin would rather you weren't involved at all. He doesn't like the risk to you, even without knowing about what will happen.” He took my hand and, for a moment, I wanted the comfort. But for only a moment. Once again I'd been led down the garden path. Now I might have to go there anyway, but I wanted it to be my choice, and I wanted to make that choice for the right reasons. I pulled my hand away. “Why Gavin, why me, and how do you know, Raphael?” Raphael seemed at a loss for words. He started to speak and hesitated. Obviously frustrated, he tried a few more times then stopped trying altogether. Finally, he smiled and shook his head. “Charity, do you know the difference between angels and men and why mankind is so favored? What do angels envy?” Huh? “I guess I never thought about it.” “Man has free choice. You have free choice. Even choosing not to choose is a choice. Faith is believing without seeing first. Some choices you have to make on faith.” “And?” “And, it's Gavin because he's the only Dancer, soul mate or not, capable of working the rift long enough. You, Charity, are preordained to do this, not Gavin, not me, not any other Dancer ever born. That's why Gavin, and that's why you.” I watched him for a moment, but he seemed to be finished. “And how do you know?”

He shrugged. “Like I keep telling you, it's my job to know.” I shook my head. “How am I supposed to believe all this? How do I take it all in? I can't even talk to Gavin. How am I supposed to know what to do?” His enigmatic smile did nothing to reassure me. “See, that's the thing. You have to take it on faith.” I snorted. “Right. The check's in the mail, and I promise I'll pull out in time. I think I'll require a little more information. My faith seems to be in short supply here.” He shook his head. “I'm constantly amazed at the vulgarity that spews from such a lovely mouth.” “Flattery will get you nowhere.” He laughed and stood, offering his hand. “Then I suppose I'll have to be content with letting my track record and your impeccable instincts and better judgment convince you.” I took his hand, letting him help me to my feet. “You may want to reconsider letting my better judgment and your track record convince me of anything.” He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the back it. Patting it affectionately, he said, “See this?” I examined our joined hands and then his face, lifting an eyebrow. “You don't think twice about giving me your hand. You instinctively know you can trust me.” I pulled my hand from his. “I'll leave you to think it over. I have faith in your judgment and know you'll choose the right path.” “Is that it, then?” I asked without a smile. “What more could there be?” “That's not an answer.” “No, it's not.” “It's not fair, you know.” I sounded like a petulant child. “No, it really isn't.” He smiled, bowed, and Stepped Out, leaving me to ponder my options, such as they were, alone. I wandered aimlessly down the hill. The air had taken on a definite bite. Glad I'd worn my sweatshirt, I lifted the hood and pulled the drawstrings tight. I may not have known exactly who or what Raphael was, but I did know I could trust what he told me about the rift. I guess I still had a little faith left. You ask yourself things like: Would you risk your life for a stranger? But you never really know until the situation presents itself. Most acts of heroism are impulse reactions and not well-thought-out plans. It's one thing to throw yourself in front of a bullet but completely different to walk into the lion's den. And risking your life is different than deliberately sacrificing it. I was reckless at times and would easily risk my life for most anyone, but selfpreservation is also one of my favorite practices. I guess the end would come as a surprise to all of us. Maybe even to Raphael. **** This was the most use my family's cabin had seen in years. On Raphael's suggestion, we decided to spend a few days here. The time was near. At the high elevation, even June evenings were cool, so we lit a fire in the fireplace.

The clean, fresh air and scent of burning logs relaxed me right away. I sat next to Gavin on the sofa in front of the fire. I brought him a beer but a hot cocoa for myself. I'd had my limit of alcoholic beverages for a couple of decades at least. I settled in and folded my legs up onto the sofa, snuggling close to Gavin, who rested an arm around me. His T-shirt smelled of him, a scent I'd come to associate with safety and peace … and love. “When I was young, days stretched out in front of me like endless rows of corn,” I said. “Nothing and no one changed. Then I turned twelve. My parents divorced, and I learned life consisted of consequences resulting from the choices we make. “My world wasn't safe. It wasn't even predictable. I surrounded myself with controllable things and made myself a controllable life. “Growing up too soon makes you a mite skittish, so I became the person everyone could depend on, never rocked the boat, just accepted what life dealt me. I married and figured if I did everything Ed wanted, took care of all the messy details of everyday living, he would love me and never leave me. I was wrong.” “Did you love him so very much then?” Gavin sounded a little insecure. I blew out a noisy breath. “I thought I did. I made him and the children my entire universe, cut myself off from almost everyone and everything else. I gave myself no out and made it impossible for me to be anything but devoted.” I peered into Gavin's eyes, wanting him to understand. “I put up with Ed's cheating, his shouting, and the horrible temper tantrums, because I thought I was being loyal, that marriage was forever.” “There's nothing wrong with being loyal.” I shook my head. “No, that's just it. There are many ways to leave. I just didn't choose a physical one. I fooled myself into thinking, if I did the right thing, none of the blame would be mine. I didn't think I could live alone. I thought almost anything would be better than being alone. I was so wrong. There are a lot worse things.” “And when he left?” “I did think, for a short time, that I wouldn't make it. My kids had already left home, and I'd never lived by myself. But each day passed, and life went on. Mechanically at first, then with purpose, my life continued to improve until I was whole again, even better than before. I finally grew up.” “And then I came along and fucked it all up again.” He sighed. I placed my hand on his cheek and turned his face toward me. “No, you came along and made me realize that the only control we really have is how we choose to react to what life brings. I know now that needing is not loving, and loving someone should be an act of generosity, not desperation. I also know that if you left, I'd be okay, because I still have what I came in with—myself. “Then what am I to you?” he asked, his question colored again with insecurity. I smiled. “You are the first person I feel I've truly loved without needing to.” Confusion covered his face. “You needed to love everyone else?” “Yeah. I loved my parents and my children because they're my parents and my children. I loved Ed because I got pregnant and married him. How could I not love him? I stayed married because that's what I was supposed to do, so how could I not? Finally, he left, and I realized what I felt for him had long before ceased to be love. I'm sure I did love him at one time. I just don't know when I stopped. Love rarely dies all at once. It

expires piece by agonizing piece. “Now you, you I loved in spite of my better judgment. We won't have kids together, and we won't grow old together, because we won't grow old. Still, I don't have to love you. I just do.” “And I love you, too, for no particular reason.” He kissed me then, and I felt the connection, the sense of belonging, of having someone on your side. It had been ages. “Now tell me about being a slave.” I learned then about the heartache and the feelings of hopelessness and longing. I learned how he mourned and started living again, determined to be a free man one day, until he grew too tired to wait any longer. He told me about the beauty of a world without polluted air and water. How this beauty faded against a microcosm of brutality and superstition. He told me how he learned so very many things then had to relearn them as man's knowledge changed. And during all those years, Raphael was there, training him but never giving him more information than Gavin needed at the moment. “Do you believe Raphael and his siblings are something more than human?” I asked. “Probably, but it doesn't make any difference as long as they're on our side. Rafe tells me what he wants to tell me but nothing more. I wouldn't do anything any differently, so I stopped asking questions a long time ago.” He watched me a moment and sighed. “ While you're on this side of eternity, you may have to reconcile yourself to never knowing for sure Raphael's true nature.” I shrugged. I'd let it go. Eternity would come sooner for me than Gavin realized. He gathered me close, and we stared into the fire, each of us with our own demons. I looked down at his hands, mine clasped in them. His hands displayed his strength and gentleness, in the way they covered and cradled mine, in the way the muscles and tendons flexed and played under the skin as he moved. His smile lit up the room and every last corner of my heart. He pulled me onto his lap and kissed my breath away. I wound my arms around his neck and returned his kiss wholeheartedly. He stood with me still in his arms and attached to his lips, and carried me to the bedroom. We came together the same way we Danced together—in harmony and natural rhythm. I wished we would have had more time together but was grateful for the little we'd been granted. I kept from crying, laughing, or any other behavior to relieve tension, knowing it would make Gavin suspicious. Still, he sensed my desperation and need and proceeded to show me the slow side of passion, and the funny side, and the lazy side, until night became day. We returned home to face our destinies. **** We arrived Sunday morning to find Raphael awaiting us. “It's time.” We changed into our suits for the last time, neither of us speaking. I prepared to do what I had to do. I had only a few more hours to keep the truth from Gavin, making it much easier than it could have been. Of course, Raphael had probably known this all along. I should be angry about being finessed yet again … all I felt was relief. “Ready?” I looked up into Gavin's smiling face and smiled back. A surge of emotion took me, and I threw myself into his arms. “Hey, what's this? Everything will be fine. We're both ready and just think, soon

we'll be living out our lives in quiet boredom.” I pulled back and laughed, unable to stop the tears tracing down my face. “From your lips to God's ear.” He lowered his head to mine and kissed me gently. Just a little while longer. Raphael waited downstairs for us, his usual calm firmly in place. “I'll be here waiting.” Gavin's lips twisted wryly. “You don't know how much better that makes me feel.” Raphael ignored the jab. “Charity?” “Oh, it makes me feel better, too.” I hoped my sarcasm covered my fear. When I looked up into his face, Raphael touched my arm and smiled sadly. “Are you ready?” I would not cry. “Does it matter?” He dropped his hand. “No, I guess it doesn't.” “Don't worry, Rafe. I always do what I should. That's why I'm here, right?” “I am sorry, Charity.” “The pathway to Hell is paved with good intentions.” Both men looked puzzled by my words. I pulled myself together and managed a smile. “Don't worry, Rafe. Everything will end as it was always meant to end.” I turned toward Gavin. “Come on. Let's not keep this sonofabitch rift waiting.” I grabbed his hand, and together we Stepped Out for our last Dance.

Chapter Thirteen We stood in Death Valley, surrounded by miles of burning dust and dirt. Ironically resembling water, waves of heat rose in the early morning light, distorting the distant desert. The early hour, and the fact that it was the first part of June, saved us from deadly heat. Before I saw it, the rift tugged at me. I started toward it, but Gavin grabbed my hand, pulling me to his side. “Wait, Charity, see what's under the surface first.” I stared in the direction of the tug and concentrated. Beautiful and beguiling crimson light tumbled through a scarlet slash, spilling over the landscape like water over a thirsty field. The light flickered and undulated, beckoning me to follow. I took a step and froze. A wriggling mass of indistinct and malodorous shapes covered the rift, slithering around and over the surface like hungry maggots. Their putrid stench, thick and palpable, made it impossible to get any closer. I waited and watched, concentrating harder on the shapes, trying to identify them. “Demons.” Gavin turned and spat into the dirt. I envy guys some of the mannerisms they're able to employ with impunity—adjusting their crotch during athletic games, watching TV with their hands down their unfastened pants, and hocking loogies. The little devils and not so little devils crawled out into the light now. Their iridescent scales glittered like beetle wings in the early dawn light. They swarmed over and around the fissure, tearing at it. The wounded frame singed them, adding burnt doghair smell to the miasma. Hard to believe I hadn't noticed anything but the call of the rift when we first arrived. Gavin grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it, then laced our fingers together and squeezed. “Ready?” I nodded. “Good. Now normally we'd try for calm. For these guys, we need power but controlled power. Don't let it get away from you.” “Okay.” “Oh, and Charity?” “Uh-huh?” He held my cheek in his free hand. “I love you.” I covered his hand with mine and leaned my face into his palm. “I love you, too. Now let's take care of this so we can go home,” I managed to choke out. Hand in hand, we walked through the field of demons toward the pull of the rift. If I said I wasn't afraid, I'd be lying, and you wouldn't believe me anyway. Wading through the morass of writhing malevolence proved painful in every sense of the word. Although we repelled even the most vile and persistent of them, they still managed to come close enough to score burns, gouges, and scraps. Our suits were useful protection for more than just rifts. The suit didn't lessen the non-physical pain, however. Barbs of pure evil, malicious and sharp, bombarded my subconscious like hyper-PMS. I glanced at Gavin, whose normally calm mien had disappeared, replaced by a frown that looked nearly distraught. I realized what had surfaced as bitchiness in me manifested as worry and self-doubt in

Gavin. I reacted with rage, turning my aura a deep blood red. It radiated outward into even the visible spectrum. The demons closest to us covered what I assumed were their ears and roared in obvious agony, scurrying in an effort to escape the perimeter defined by our auras. Gavin began laughing hysterically. I sent him a look of surprise. Gavin losing control was a frightening sight. Worry started to nibble away at the edges of my confidence. I held his arm, trying to make him look me in the eye. “Gavin? Are you okay? What's wrong?” He composed himself. “Don't you see?” I shook my head. “See what?” “All this time I tried to teach you control, so you could withstand the mental as well as the physical torture we faced.” “I know. I'm not a very good student.” “No, no, that's not it. In five minutes you've shown me the error of centuries—no— millennia of training.” His arm swept across the scene, gesturing at the fallen and scampering demons. “Look what happened because you got angry.” He moved closer and took my hand. “Now, let's show them what we're like together.” As we both turned toward the rift, which had increased in size and power, he kissed the palm of my hand. Our path was clear now; no demons attempted to get near us or to block our way. Heat radiated like volcanic lava from the crimson fissure. Although demons had scattered away from the rent at our approach, it might have been too late. The opening ran about six feet by eight feet, by far the largest I'd ever seen. I looked closer at the tattered edges circumscribing the fracture. The demons had done a real job on it. Gavin and I separated. He took the left, and I walked to the right. Tentatively, I raised my hands, trying to get a feel for the damage. The pain was so intense I could barely touch the edges, but I'd have to find a way to touch more, much more. Fear crawled and bloomed in my throat, making swallowing difficult. Cold sweat dampened my underarms and trickled down my back. I reached into the gaping cavity, letting the orange and red energies roll over me. I pushed at them, trying to mend the wound, and they seared my fingers. Pieces flew off as fast as I could push them together. Rivulets of sweat formed pathways down my face and sides. Gavin wasn't having much luck, either. “Together, Charity.” I looked up, and Gavin nodded, stepping closer to the middle. An intermediate goal now in mind, I fought the pain and worry and concentrated on reaching him. Together we pushed at the outer edges of the rift. Darts of pain pierced me through my protective suit. My stomach, back, and arms would be a mass of welts, burns, and bruises. I laughed inwardly. At least I'd be spared dealing with that later. Fury, fierce and burning, blasted through me. The edges of my aura, shimmering scarlet, became visible, expanding to meet the fresh leaks spilling through the break. Gavin's eyes widened, watching me, and the increased power rolled off him into the gash. We made headway and closed enough of the tear to see into the center of the aperture. My arms quivered, and I recognized the fatigue pulling at Gavin. Sweat sheathed his forehead and upper lip, pouring off him. I knew it wouldn't be enough. All that had ever

been would cease to be. Unless I finished it. Thunder and lightening announced Lucifer's arrival. How déclassé can you get? I suppose if the fate of the world weren't literally in my hands, I might have been more impressed, but I'd long ago reached the limit of the amount of fear I could feel. “Charity, Gavin, so nice to see you again,” Lucifer said. “You know you can't win. Why not give up now and cross over to the winning side before it's too late.” He'd like nothing better than to stick it to the “Big Guy” a little more by corrupting a pair of Dancers, along with destroying Creation. “Neither of you has to die. One or both of you can widen the tear and hasten the world's demise. The choice is up to you, free will and all. The choice you make will decide your fate. It won't help or hinder the sure and eminent destruction of everything. It's merely a formality. Not even Raphael dares to show himself now.” His smile after his little speech was truly the most horrific thing. His soulless eyes contained only death and evil, a fathomless pit of bleak despair. Lucifer only lied when he opened his mouth. When I first met Raphael, something he said about no good being found in Evil helped me remember that the only choice left that would make any difference would be mine. The depth of the miasma of depression was palpable. I inhaled despair and gloom with each breath. Terror settled heavily between my shoulders, adding to the ache of strained muscles. I had no idea how I would know the right moment to step into the rift, but my body couldn't last much longer, and I was on the brink of giving up. Then the center of the rift cleared, and Raphael's face appeared. He smiled and nodded. “It's time, Charity.” I glanced around, but apparently no one else, not even Lucifer, saw him. “Of course, if you wait too long,” Lucifer shrugged, “the whole thing becomes moot, and your chance to choose disappears.” I watched him dispassionately. “No, we wouldn't want to lose our chance to choose.” In the end, I knew what my choice would be. After all, what would it matter if I saved Gavin, or myself, or even both of us? Even if one of us lived and the other died, the resulting world would be odorless, tasteless, and colorless, with nothing to hear and nothing to see. All that makes life and being human worthwhile would be gone—better the worst day in Heaven than the best day in Hell. “Now, Charity.” I looked at Raphael again, wondering for an instant why, with all his power, I had to be “The One.” The answer flashed through my mind. I was preordained and had free choice, neither of which applied to Raphael. I nodded, and Raphael smiled again, seeming to understand. Loving warmth enveloped me, a euphoric sense of well-being and hope. “You've done well, Charity, and now it's time.” He disappeared, but the sensation of peace remained and spread. As I looked once more into Gavin's forever eyes, tears streamed down my face, and I prayed fervently that some small memory of me stayed with him. I saw the realization hit Gavin and knew he sensed something of the truth… **** As I've often said, my life, like any other, has been a cautionary tale of wasted chances, broken dreams, and stale promises, but I've also been blessed with knowing

where I fit into The Plan. We come into the world alone and leave the same way. But if we're very lucky, in between, we have the chance to share ourselves, all of ourselves, with those we love. Today, I am the luckiest person on the face of the Earth. Crimson light bleeds from a gaping hole, pouring like clotted blood over the surface of the Time Frame, holding it all. I expect soon to see and hear the grinding explosion/implosion roar when darkness overruns the light. I expect I'll feel, for an instant, the exquisite pain of annihilation, taste the metallic tang of my blood filling my mouth as my cells are unmade. It was all worth it. I mouth, “I love you,” to Gavin. His expression changes to panic. He has figured out my next move, and I have to act quickly before he can stop me. I step into oblivion, Gavin's “No” echoing in my head. **** Raphael hurried into the boardroom, fearing he might be late, but only Michael had arrived. Michael half-stood and shook hands, a rare smile lighting his face. Taking the seat next to him, Raphael relaxed and looked around. “Anyone joining us, Mike?” Michael shook his head. “No need, things are calm. For a little while, anyway.” He leaned back and studied Raphael a moment. “That was a near thing, Rafe.” Raphael grinned. “A miss is as good as a mile, so they say.” “Indeed they do. Still, sometimes it's okay to hit a home run, you know. Any residual problems or concerns?” “Only that the intelligence on the timing could have been disastrous. Had it been anyone besides Charity and Gavin…” Raphael shrugged. “Yes. It nearly bit us in the ass this time. Luc almost succeeded. Don't think the Higher-Ups didn't notice. Gabby thought for sure she'd get out of the batter's box this time. Warmed up the old horn and everything.” Michael leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Wish I could have seen Luc's face.” Raphael laughed. “Oh, it was priceless, especially to have been dealt defeat by Gavin and someone like Charity. She may not have sounded or looked like it, but her passion and faith were boundless, not to mention her tenacity. Still, sacrificing your life is a lot to ask of anyone.” “Yes, you'd think, after all this time, Luc would know not to underestimate the power of free will, choice, and self-sacrifice. By the way, any problems on that front?” “Not really, though I think Gavin guessed something years ago. He had to wait so long for Charity. He was around longer than most Dancers, with plenty of unoccupied time to get curious. I guess it's moot now. He was returned unharmed, intact, and clueless to his own timeline, and no one has any memory of him or Charity as Dancers.” Michael sighed. “Well, it won't be long now. The Era of Man has about played out, and I'm more than ready. The last century was a bit draining, and this one looks even worse.” He stacked his papers in his briefcase and latched it. “Until next time then, Rafe.” “Yeah, next time, or you could come visit with the others every once in awhile.” Michael smiled. “I think I'd like that.” They stood and shook hands. Raphael turned to leave but stopped halfway to the door. He snapped his fingers and turned back to Michael. “I nearly forgot. The new Dancers?”

“Yes, one needs to be picked up Monday and the other in a month or so. I'll fax you the details. Look over the profiles and get Tracey to help you recruit, if you need to.” “Good. I will. It's been much too long since I had the house to myself. Strangely, I don't think I'll like it much.” He turned back and opened the door quickly to leave, his step and heart light for a change. Already planning the training curriculum for the new Dancers, Raphael left the office building, oblivious to the admiring stares of men and women alike. Whistling jauntily, he briskly made his way through the crowd. God was in his Heaven, and all was right with the world.

Epilogue My name is Charity Donovan. I'm a relatively normal forty-two-year-old divorcée. My best friend, Tammy, convinced me to attend one of her parties, though every fiber of my being rebelled. She promised me a prospective buyer for my family's cabin. I wasn't really fooled. She'd been trying to set me up ever since my divorce from “the snake” two years ago. But I hoped I might get a legitimate offer for the cabin this time. I'd already had a couple fortifying drinks, so I managed to network a little and talk to absolute strangers. Yeah, I know what a bad idea using alcohol for a backbone is, but I'd been out of circulation so long I needed a shortcut. I actually managed to forget my discomfort long enough to enjoy myself. When Tammy broke into our geek circle to pull me away, I'd spent the last fifteen minutes debating time travel and folding space with a group of nerds like myself. “Oh, you are soooo going to thank me,” Tammy said, nearly gushing. “This guy is luscious and, surprisingly enough, has the same likes as you.” She led me toward the terrace. “Thanks a lot. I love you, too.” She laughed merrily and laid a hand on my arm. “Oh, you know what I mean. He talks kind of nerdy, but he's a dreamboat.” Does anyone really say “dreamboat” anymore? “Well, as long as we can talk nerdy to each other, what else matters?” Totally missing the mocking note I'd put in my words, she stopped and looked as if she was thinking about what I'd said. “It is rather strange. He's a renowned photographer, but he likes that boring talk. You know, the stuff you like.” She seemed determined to insult me, no matter how unintentional. Imagine what she could do if she tried. “Dare I ask what you mean by 'stuff I like'?” We'd started toward the terrace again. “All that time mumbo-jumbo.” We stepped outside. “Here we are,” she said. With the sun setting directly ahead on the horizon, I couldn't see anyone right away. “Gavin Carpenter, this is Charity Donovan. She owns the cabin you're interested in.” Shrouded in shadows from the incandescent lighting and setting sun, his face wasn't clear at first. I extended my hand, and he took it, the warmth of his grip traveling up my arm. Taken by surprise, I looked down at our joined hands but didn't notice anything unusual. “I've been looking forward to meeting you, Ms. Donovan.” I raised my hand to shade my eyes, able to see him now. “Charity, please.” “And I'm Gavin.” In his early forties, Gavin's curly blond hair held few gray streaks. His body spoke of years of physical work. But his eyes really drew my attention. Deep sapphire, they looked as though he'd seen the pain and the sorrow, the joy and the laughter of the ages—an old soul. I locked gazes and couldn't—no wouldn't—look away. He smiled, and I felt as though I'd come home. “I saw you with Tammy and James last week at that charity baseball game,” he said, “but I couldn't break away to meet you. I'm glad I finally got the chance.”

I remembered the game. I like baseball, which is the only reason I'd agreed to go. Well, that and the free tickets. So he'd actually seen me before, and he still came to meet me? “So, Charity, would you like to talk about the cabin now or later?” “Uh-huh.” I shook my head. “Anytime would be fine.” He chuckled. “Maybe we could go get some coffee? Or … I have a really good coffeemaker at home.” I figured he could see okay and knew that, while he looked like a Boticelli angel, I resembled someone's mother. I had no money, and the family cabin certainly wasn't anything special. Maybe he really was attracted to me, or at least not repulsed. I certainly found him appealing. Who wouldn't? I'd never done anything like this before, but somehow it seemed right. His eyes held the promise of tomorrow and tomorrow's tomorrow. So I looked into those forever eyes and said, “I think I'd really like to see your coffeemaker.” The End About the Author: Visit http://rainemcintyre.net/

Meet LSB Authors At The House Of Sin Lsbooks.NET We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books LSbooks.com for other exciting erotic romances. 2007: Terran Realm Urban fantasy world: TerranRealm.com Featured Series: The Zodiac Series: 12 books, 24 stories and authors Two hot stories for each sign, 12 signs The Coven of the Wolf by Rae Morgan Benevolent lusty witches keep evil forces at bay Fallen: by Tiffany Aaron Fallen angels in hot flight to redeem their wings The Max Series by JB Skully Meet Max, her not-absent dead husband, sexy detective Witt, his mother… And many, many more!