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ZAN DROVE UP I-95 like she was delivering a vaccine for an outbreak of a deadly virus.
Why do I let that man affect me like this?
Rainer had called her around 7:00 p.m. and said he wanted to see her, his voice so urgent that she got aroused just hearing it. Unfortunately, she had to do some research for Nguyen. Rainer tried to act as if he understood, but she heard his disappointment.
She rushed out of the office as soon as she finished, but now she was annoyed with herself, and with him. Her job was her job, and he had kept her waiting, too. Early in the morning two days previous he had texted her. He had to go on one of his mysterious business trips. That’s all he said. An unexpected business trip. In a text.
Whenever Zan thought about Rainer’s apparent reluctance to share that part of his life with her, she felt suspicious and hurt. Then she would tell herself she was being neurotic.
We haven’t been together that long. And there will be plenty of times when I won’t be able to tell him a thing about my job.
Still, Zan made herself slow down. She wanted to make him wait. When she arrived at his place, he was in the small outbuilding he’d done up like a Japanese dojo. He had thrown the double doors wide open and he came out as she parked, wearing only gym shorts, his body glistening with sweat.
Mmmmm, now that’s a sight. The man practically glows.
“Hey there,” she said. Rainer broke into his megawatt smile. He picked her up and she pushed her face into his neck, breathing him in.
You’re forgetting to be annoyed with him. To make him wait.
She asked him to put her down. She knew from the look on his face that he expected her to do something that would whip him into a frenzy, but she had succeeded in pissing herself off.
“So, what were you doing in there?” she asked, pointing to the dojo.
“Sword practice.” Rainer frowned as he answered. “I was working out various possibilities for handling five simultaneous attackers.”
“Five attackers at once? Huh. As much as I like blades, I think for that scenario I’d go with a fully automatic assault rifle. What guns lack in elegance, they make up for in efficiency.”
“That’s true, but I’ll keep to my sword.”
“Why don’t you give me a lesson?” Zan bounded into the dojo, untucked her shirt and started to roll up her sleeves. Rainer followed.
“You want a sword-fighting lesson now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“But Zan,” Rainer said. “I’m desperate for you.”
Zan laughed, ran across the dojo and grabbed a wooden practice sword.
“And I’m angry with you. You text me to say you’re going out of town, without really telling me what’s going on. I don’t hear another peep out of you. Then, when you get back you summon me over here. You expected me to run right over, I could tell.”
“I did. I’m sorry. I’m desperate for you.” Rainer stared at her so intensely she felt that if she moved a muscle, he would pounce on her.
This is new.
She raised the practice sword in front of her.
“Show me how you disarm someone.”
Rainer’s expression did not change, but he grabbed a wooden sword, quickly covered the distance between them and brought the sword against hers.
“When blades meet,” he said, “you must feel the resistance. Your opponent’s blade will tell you which side she favors. It may express what she hopes will happen.” He pressed his sword against hers, his eyes ablaze, his voice controlled.
“See? Do you feel that? You must learn to detect the slightest pressure.”
Zan loosened and tightened her grip on the practice sword, a bit mesmerized by his demeanor.
“Use what you detect. Make a small circle with your sword in the direction you choose. Make the circle around your opponent’s blade with your whole arm, not just your wrist, like so,” Rainer said, his muscles tensing beneath his sweaty skin. “As you complete the circle, increase the speed of your motion as much as possible, and just as the circle is about to close, travel away on a plane along the circumference, applying force to your motion with your breath, your arm, and your hips.”
At the word hips, Rainer made a slight movement and Zan’s practice sword flew onto the mats. She looked at the sword and back at Rainer.
“Take off my clothes,” she said. He smiled and tossed the wooden sword he had used to disarm her behind him. He took off his shorts and her shirt and her bra. He fell to his knees, slid off her pants and buried his face in her, his giant hands cupping her ass, holding her in place. Zan pressed against him, arching her back, her hands tangled in his hair. A stab of pleasure made her cry out. Rainer spread his knees apart, put his hands on her hips and slipped her beneath him. For a second he looked at her, almost like he didn’t know what she was, then he was in her, moving slowly and forcefully, down and up, while throaty moans of pleasure escaped him.
Give yourself to me, Rainer.
His thrusts grew stronger. He let his body cover her completely, pressing her into the mat, his hands flat on the ground. Zan grabbed his arms to brace herself, holding her body to him as he moved into her, her hips rocking in the delicious fullness, answering his rhythm.
“Ahhh, deeper, go, deeper.”
Her voice splintered with need. He wrapped her in his arms then, pushing into her with a rolling motion, her face held to his chest.
When he gave one of his long, beautiful growls the walls inside her contracted, juices gushed into her chamber, and pleasure went sailing up her body. She started to cry and moan, completely unable to comprehend how she could feel so good.
Rainer rolled onto his back, holding her pinned to him by her hips. He continued to gyrate inside her, she now looking down at him. His eyes glowed with emotion and a strange focus as he held her gaze, like he saw a vast distance within her eyes. Zan had a sensation of receding as if she was being pulled by a powerful undertow, but when it passed she felt him pulsing inside her again. She went crazy with hunger, grinding and grinding, not even understanding what she was seeking. She started to moan and he pushed harder. A feeling of tremendous strength flowed into Zan and every muscle in her body strained. She flung her arms back away from her body and yelled, half in triumph, half in confusion.
I feel like I could raise a mountain. I feel like I could dance with the sun.
As Rainer stroked her, the friction brought her body to release once more, delivering another flood of juices. Her body gripped him, making him come with a roar before he gathered her in his arms and brought her beneath him, covering her face with mad kisses.
“My mate,” he whispered.
Zan lay still, welcoming the pressure of his body on hers, feeling devotion in his strange words. He rested his head on her chest. Not a thought entered Zan’s mind, except wonder at being infused with an emotion more pure and clear than she knew was possible. When the magic had subsided, she gently urged Rainer to the side and slid down to look into his eyes. She caressed his face. He looked as though he had witnessed a miracle.
He feels it, too.
“That was the most incredible experience I have ever had in my life,” Zan said.
“Me too, my love.”
“But what the hell was it? What the hell is going on with us? I feel like I’m on drugs.”
“I, I don’t know. I don’t understand it.” Rainer continued to look at her like he was amazed she existed.
“Well, all the songwriters have failed, because I’ve never heard a lyric from anyone anywhere that comes close to describing that.”
After Zan went to work the next morning, Barakiel sat for a long time on the riverbank, trying to sort through his emotions. When he’d opened his eyes to see Zan lying beside him in bed, he’d reached for her in the soft gray light. She’d let him seek her again, let him reach deep inside and unlock her. Now, he was vibrating in the sun, making himself ready for the next time he could immerse himself in that belonging.
How am I feeling this? By all reckoning, it should not be possible.
He closed his eyes and breathed rhythmically, trying to separate what was real in him from his imagination.
I used to dream of love. Have I been seduced by my own dreams?
The sun cast long shadows from the trees onto the river by the time he went back inside. He walked up to the mezzanine and pushed aside a bookshelf to reveal another hidden behind it, from which he removed a rectangular device made of a coppery-golden alloy. He entered the weapons room to sit in a leather chair by the window. With a musical tone from his language, words cascaded down the face of the device. Barakiel hummed another tone, and the words became fixed on the surface. He read.
The Covalent stand in reverence before the sacrifice of the ancient ones who fused their minds to create the Turning. To become Guardians, they gave all that they were, their loves and memories and choices, so the Covalent Realm would not be destroyed by the hunger of the Creative and Destructive Forces to join and transform, one into the other. The hunger of the forces to make all that is, new again.
This legacy is revealed when healers join their minds, steeped since birth in the love of the shared womb. Their connection is profound, selfless and private.
A few other fortunate Covalent—the most powerful among us—may know the Guardians’ legacy. Through carnal love, they may discover what it means to share themselves so profoundly with another.
Warriors of the Rising may experience Union with their mates, the joining of minds for a short time when the barriers of the individual fall away and the pair perceive the realms through each other’s senses. All fear, weakness and evil deeds are laid bare, all secrets absorbed. The mind is suffused with love, trust, and strength. Need is met and bodies join in beauty.
To achieve Union is rare. Those of the Rising born of Union are much more likely to reach this harmony themselves. When these mates join, they hold the energy of the elemental forces in their hands. They are the Realm’s most powerful beings.
The traveler adepts have tried and failed to comprehend the mystery of Union. The fabric of existence shrouds the mates as they become one, and so it should be. Union belongs to the bonded. Some things, we are not meant to understand.
Countless turns may pass from the first stirrings of Union until the mates bond. They follow their own expression of the same path. The mates feel the power well up within, a power that will evolve into true understanding, perhaps for the first time, of what they have in each other. The mates will sense the limitless expanse of each other’s minds and grow terrified to leave behind the solitude of their perception, which may be all that they have known. They will need each other, a dangerous need. They will know they could be left bereft, destroyed.
For those brave and strong enough to embrace this power, Union awaits. Warriors of the Rising are driven to their purpose, but the performance of their duty is as nothing to the strength and fulfillment of Union. The Covalent bow before this mystery.
Barakiel was born of the Union of Yahoel and Lucifer, two of the most powerful Warriors of the Rising the Covalent Realm had ever known. He wondered if this power would allow him to bond with a human, now that he’d spent so much time in the Earthly Realm.
Union with Zan. Dare I want this?
He thought about what he had seen in Zan’s eyes the night before. What he had felt. Flashes of mind. He could not hold onto them. Flashes of courage, pain, integrity, and fear. Of humor, and the joy she felt at his touch. Of love. He would never be the same, even after so fleeting a taste. He understood what the scholars had written of this terrible power.
If I embrace Union, when I lose her I will be destroyed. When I lose her, all that will be left for me is to meet the Stream and dispose of my empty shell.
The ancient writings said nothing of the consequences of Union with a human. Why would they? Barakiel wished he could seek advice. Healers understood transcending the barriers of the mind because they bonded with each other to amplify their power, and in some small way, experienced the minds of their patients. But even the Sylvan Three had never known the mind of a human.
He thought of Pellus. Travelers entangled the energy of their passengers to guide them to the destination, but he did not understand much about this temporary connection. Because they were not Warriors of the Rising, Pellus and Jeduthan could not achieve Union despite their boundless love. Not only was Barakiel unsure that Pellus had any advice to give him, he was certain the adept would add it to the list of reasons his love was a mistake.
I can almost hear his voice telling me that to follow the path to Union would place Zan in jeopardy.
No, he would not speak with Pellus, but the imagined warning was not without truth. Some humans dreamed of overcoming the limits of their solitary minds. Some told stories of telepathy. Some believed, but in reality, humans were locked within a mental fortress. And the purpose of a fortress is defense. If Barakiel flooded Zan’s mind he would turn her into something other than human. He would leave her without defense. He had no way of knowing what the consequences would be. He could not place her in that danger.
I must contain my great love, but any doubt Pellus managed to seed within me is gone.
New York City
As she and Rainer walked hand in hand down the teeming streets of midtown Manhattan, Zan noticed that almost everyone stared at them.
No wonder, if we look anything like I feel.
Since their strange experience in the dojo, Zan was convinced she had gone a little nuts, but the more time she spent with Rainer the less she cared. She felt stupid that she’d been so angry about his unexpected business trip. Sure, he could have called her instead of sending that lame text, but work was work. His secretive tendencies annoyed her, maybe even worried her, but she told herself to get over it.
I’m too suspicious. He’s not like those losers in my past.
She was ready to accept that he was her lifeblood. When she thought about it in the abstract, it scared her.
But when I look into his eyes, I feel like nature.
Rainer had made good on his promise to name an auction house to help with the spleen case. Zan had cajoled some time off from Nguyen—for personal reasons, she told him—and she and Rainer were on their way to meet with the antiquarian. When Rainer emailed this woman a photograph of the dagger, she said she’d encountered similar pieces. Rainer knew the woman. He’d bought several old blades from her.
The interior of the auction house was as opulent as Zan expected. Dark wood trim bordered wallpaper patterned in gold and midnight blue. Large crystal chandeliers covered the entranceway in fractured light that reflected off antique tables. The employee who showed them in had just shut the door when Charlotte Emory swept into the hall in a pricey suit and a mist of fine perfume.
“Rainer. So wonderful to see you again.” She nodded briefly to Zan and then turned her attention back to Rainer, placing her hand on his arm and beaming up at him with big, brown eyes framed perfectly by ovals of smoky blue. Rainer smiled politely and introduced Zan, who showed her badge, considering the nature of their visit.
“Yes, the FBI. So exciting! I always look forward to your visits, Rainer, but this time you’ve outdone yourself.”
Charlotte tilted her head to expose her pretty neck. She slightly bunched her apple-red lips. Zan rolled her eyes.
Christ. Didn’t you hear the man say I’m his girlfriend?
Without providing details, Zan explained that as part of an ongoing criminal investigation, the FBI would like to know the origin of the dagger they had brought. She held up the case.
“Yes, of course,” Charlotte said. “Judging by the photo Rainer sent me, I’m optimistic. Follow me. We need to go to an examination room.” She glided down the hall with Zan and Rainer in tow. When she caught sight of the woman who had let them in, she called her over. “Ann Marie, perhaps our guests would like some coffee. Rainer?”
“Yes, thank you, Charlotte.” Rainer turned to Zan. “Any for you, my love?”
“I’d rather have some water if you don’t mind.”
Zan suppressed the petty urge to gloat at the look on Charlotte’s face when Rainer called her, “my love.”
“Certainly,” Charlotte said. “We’ll be in the examination room, Ann Marie.” She turned coolly on her heels. Once they were in the examination room, she was all competence. Zan smiled at her.
Her flirting is a small price to pay.
As she examined the dagger with delicate gloved hands, Charlotte mostly concurred with what Rainer had said about it. She said it was French, made in the 19th century for the purpose of religious ceremonies. Then she put the dagger under an absurdly bright light and ran her finger over the place where the blade joined the hilt.
“This seam is so smooth,” she said, more to herself than to them. Ann Marie came in with the drinks and Charlotte mused for a bit, taking tiny sips of her coffee. “That seam should be more visible,” she said. “Let me scope it.”
Zan glanced at Rainer, hoping he understood. She was surprised to see a blank look on his face, the look he adopted when he didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking.
Is he upset about something?
Charlotte placed the dagger under a device that looked like an oversized microscope. She squinted through the viewer for a few minutes.
“How about that,” she said. “This blade is a copy.” Zan looked at Rainer. He failed to maintain his impassive expression. She felt bad for him.
Don’t be embarrassed, honey. You don’t have a microscope.
“I didn’t realize,” Rainer mumbled.
“Sweetie, this is a very good copy.” Charlotte smiled at him indulgently. “I almost missed it myself. Yes, an excellent copy, but the alloy used to make it is modern. The blade could never have been soldered so neatly with the metals available in the 19th century.”
Rainer was now staring at the floor. “So much for my consulting services, Zan.”
“Your consulting services brought us to Charlotte and her microscope, didn’t they?” Zan placed her hand on Rainer’s arm. He glanced at her with sad eyes, which confused her.
Embarrassment I can see, but sadness?
Shaking it off, Zan approached Charlotte with open admiration. “Thank you so much for your help. I find expertise like yours amazing, and this is one of the most promising developments I’ve had in this case.”
With a gracious dip of her head, Charlotte said she was happy to help.
“Any suggestions for my next step?” Zan asked.
“Certainly,” Charlotte replied. “I’m sure this copy was made in Western Europe. I have contacts at a few houses in Paris. With work this good, if you ship it to them, I predict they’ll be able to tell you instantly who made it, even if the artist is not French. May I email you the list?”
Zan nodded, thanked her again and handed her a card with the email address. Rainer put the dagger back in the case, his expression blank once again. They returned to the front door.
When Rainer opened it, Charlotte reached to squeeze his hand. “Please, Rainer,” she cooed. “Don’t let so much time pass before I see you again.”
Before Zan could stop herself, she scowled, causing the corners of Rainer’s mouth to twitch. By the time they were back on the street, Zan was annoyed.
“So that’s what I have to look forward to?” she asked. “Fending off gorgeous women all the time?”
“That woman has been that way with me since she met me.” Rainer made no effort to disguise his amusement. This annoyed Zan further, but she’d be damned if she was going to let him see any more of it.
“Then why didn’t you ask her out?”
“Because I do business with her auction house and I didn’t want any complications. In other circumstances, I’d have taken her to bed.”
This was too much for Zan. She stopped and glared at him as the people on the crowded street swirled around them.
“Okay, teasing is one thing, but was it really necessary to say that to me?”
They stood quietly for a few seconds.
“I was enjoying your jealousy,” he confessed. “I saw you fight it off and I was disappointed. I know it’s childish.”
Zan softened. She touched his face. “No more childish than me being threatened by Charlotte. But she’s so elegant, you know? Like she just stepped out of Vogue. And she knows her stuff.”
“My love, compared to you, she is a paper doll.” Rainer put his hands on her shoulders. “How could I ever have a thought for anyone else, once I had met you?”
The quality of his voice made Zan’s heart swell in a way that was totally inappropriate for the street. “I shouldn’t be jealous. I should trust you.”
Rainer’s face crumpled. His eyes darkened with pain. Not the fleeting melancholy Zan had seen in him before. Something worse.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” She reached for him, but he grabbed her first, pinning her to him, speaking low in her ear.
“The way I love you, Zan, I don’t understand it. I thought I knew what I was doing, but now it frightens me.”
She leaned back to look at him, her hands flat against his chest.
“It frightens me too sometimes, but I look at you and the fear goes away.” She looped her hands around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, deep and nourishing. She didn’t care about the people on the street.
Let them stare.
Philadelphia
Zan held her queasy stomach as she sat down at her desk. She was meeting with Nguyen in fifteen minutes. Time to confess she never handed the spleen case off to Philly PD. She had to tell him what she’d been doing and ask for permission to contact the auction houses in Paris, to ship a dagger to France if need be. She hoped she had some good will to burn after the straw purchasing investigation. Nguyen wouldn’t be happy when she told him about New York, considering she’d said she needed a few hours off for personal reasons.
Personally, I want to arrest the sick bastards who murdered Emanuel Morales.
When Mel arrived, Zan told her about New York and hit her with a barrage of questions about her approach to the boss. Mel let her partner spew while she put her bag in a drawer and woke up her computer.
“See now,” Mel said when Zan finally stopped talking. “I warned you that you shouldn’t be doing this shit. I can’t save you.”
“Save me. I’m begging you.”
With a sigh, Mel sat down. “Oh, all right. You know how I like to be needed.” She thought for a moment. “Don’t worry about the time off. After all that surveillance, Nguyen owes us. As for dragging this office into dealing with the French? Your best chance is to tell him about the victim. Nguyen may seem like a bureaucrat, but he’s the real thing. Persuade him that we have to handle this, or the scumbags get away with it. There’s no way Philly PD could pursue this kind of a lead.”
“You think I have a chance?”
“You have a better chance than most. Nguyen respects you. If he tells you he’ll think about it, you’re almost there. A little push from me might do it.”
“We’ll tag team him.” Zan grinned. “Thanks, Mel. You know I appreciate it. I’m seriously dreading this. I wish I could just ship the daggers off to France myself. Have Rainer deal with the people. He speaks French.”
Mel gave Zan a don’t-you-dare look. “You were pushing it by covering that trip to New York with Rainer’s flimsy consulting agreement.”
“I know. I know. I just wish I spoke French.”
“Don’t worry about it. If Nguyen gives you permission, you’ll get help from the FBI’s legal attaché in Paris. He’s fluent.”
“Excellent. I had no idea.”
“Is Rainer fluent?”
“Yep.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed that he can’t help you. He must have been embarrassed by his mistake with the daggers.”
“He was.” Zan looked away to hide any sign of her tender thoughts. “You know Rainer. He overreacts. I told him not to feel bad. If I can convince Nguyen, the daggers may lead us to these bastards after all.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, time to fess up.” She rose and grabbed the file. “Who’s the patron saint of errant subordinates? Pray to her for me.”
“That would be me,” Mel said. “I’ll pray to myself.”
Zan’s guilt followed her to Nguyen’s office.
He indulged me and this is the thanks he gets.
As soon as he asked her in, she blurted an apology.
“Slow down, Agent O’Gara. Have a seat and start again. I don’t even know why you’re apologizing.”
After a deep breath, she told him everything she had discovered in the spleen case, including the information from Charlotte Emory. She said the next step would be to reach out to French law enforcement. She apologized again and asked for his help. Hardness crept into Nguyen’s dark eyes. Zan prepared herself.
“Was there some part of ‘Turn it over to Philly PD,’ that you didn’t understand?” Nguyen asked. “First, you waste money with that damn isotope analysis and then you ignore my directive. What has gotten into you?”
“I know, sir. I’m sorry.” Zan maintained eye contact, hoping she didn’t look as rattled as she felt. “I should have informed you every step of the way. I should have asked you to allow me to pursue this. I got carried away because I never investigated a murder before. I think I over-identified with the victim.” She stacked up details about Emanuel Morales, building his story just like Mel advised.
Nguyen listened with narrowed eyes. “And now you’re trying to make me over-identify with the victim.” He stared at Zan until her face felt hot. “Drop it,” he said. Shocked by his indifference, she decided to double down.
He’s just mad.
“But this is a murder, sir.” Zan sat on the edge of her chair. “Someone snatched a vulnerable human being off the streets. They thought he was disposable. They killed him and cut out his organs for their sick ritual. They preserved his organs for another sick ritual a few months later. This was not a one-time attack of crazy. They are extremely likely to hurt someone else and we need to get them off the street. Philly PD can’t do it. They can’t pursue a lead like the daggers. Only we can do that.”
Zan thought he had stared at her for a long time before, but that was just nervousness. This time it was real. He stared at her for almost a full minute. She watched the second hand of his wall clock tick through the seconds. She had never felt more like crawling under a desk.
“Dammit, O’Gara,” Nguyen finally said. “You can’t put me in a position like this.”
“I know I handled this all wrong, sir, but we need to get these people off the street.”
“Don’t push it.” Nguyen looked out his window. “Let me think about this. Now get out of here.”
She sprinted from the room and broke into a smile as soon as she was out of sight. Nguyen would let her pursue this because the FBI was not in the business of ignoring dangerous criminals.
Pretty sure I’m on his list of troublemakers, but if we catch these sick fucks it will be worth it.