Part 15 (1/2)

It was ice.

It was like nothing Redmond had ever experienced.

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

Endless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the night itself felt like it stretched to infinity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”It will?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovemaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”What?”

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