 
PROPHESY

By

BLISS ADDISON

Published by Bliss Addison

Copyright ©2009 Bliss Addison

First Electronic Publication 2009

Second Electronic Publication 2011

*Previously titled _Echo_ and

Published by Red Rose Publishing*

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author, excepting brief quotes to be used in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental. Real places mentioned in the book are depicted fictionally and are not intended to portray actual times or places. All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

# Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

13.26.12

* * * *

Other Books by Bliss Addison:

A Battle of Wills (Shannon Murphy – Book I)

With Malicious Intent (Shannon Murphy – Book II)

Restless Souls

Wolfe, She Cried

Murder at the Villa Maria-Sedona Retirement Home

A Waning Moon

Deadly Serum

One Millhaven Lane

An Equal Measure

Sleight of Hand

Watching Over Her

A Silver Lining (The Monahans – Book I)

A Little Rain Must Fall (The Monahans – Book II)

A Mistaken Belief (The Monahans – Book III)

* * * *

Summary:

On the brink of death, Keegan Black's soul reacts hastily and leaves his body. Minutes later he awakes, remembering the bee sting and the EpiPen that was out of his reach. Believing he's dead, he wanders the streets aimlessly and is soon confronted by demons intent upon confiscating his heart and escorting him to Hades. Knowing he's in an unwinnable situation, Keegan prepares to run, but before he can make his move, help arrives in the form of Echo Fitzgerald, a mal'ak dispatched to find Keegan's misplaced soul and bring the two of them together again.

Keegan cannot deny his attraction to Echo and, while she finds him appealing, she isn't interested in anything more than completing her assignment and getting back to what she was doing before the summons - enjoying a fine Pinot Noir with a Greek god in Belize. But a simple matter soon turns complex when her ex-lover arrives on the scene wanting payback for something that happened long ago. With the assistance of some of Keegan's friends, a biker gang, they are able to stall the demons long enough for Echo to locate Keegan's essence and reunite it with its host.

The two fall in love, but their love can never be.

Keegan will not let Echo go, not even for his life.

* * * *

_Contents:_

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

When he'd opened his eyes after death had taken him, he couldn't see. At first, he thought he'd gone blind, until he forced his eyes to focus. Then he realized darkness surrounded him and he was sprawled on the flat roof of an office tower. He had no idea how he'd gotten there or how much time had elapsed since his departure. His body seemed intact, and he felt no pain. In fact, he felt nothing of anything.

He had a dim recollection of his last few minutes. He'd stood in the entry of his lake-side bungalow, fumbling with the buttons of his coat; a bee buzzing his head; him swatting at the insect and missing; the sting; him gasping for breath; his knees buckling; him dropping to the floor; his hands flailing wildly for an EpiPen that lay far beyond his reach. Before that, there'd been whiskey. One too many shots, he'd thought. He'd been right. If his wits had been about him, he wouldn't be in this predicament. Of course, death was hardly a predicament.

There was much he didn't understand about the hereafter. He expected the answers would come. Sooner rather than later, he hoped.

He sensed a presence nearby and stood. "Is anyone there?" he asked into the darkness.

Somewhere distant, a dog barked, then quieted. A few seconds later, the husky rumble of a street rod and tires squealing on asphalt broke through the silence.

The dog barked again, then the night settled to stillness. He strained his ears, hoping to hear something other than an animal's plaintive cry, but there was nothing.

He wondered if anyone had noticed him missing. Someone would. Eventually. His family and friends would mourn his passing, eulogize him in a befitting manner, shed tears at his graveside, then retreat to their homes and reminisce. What stories would they tell about Keegan Kensington Black?

He peered at the starry sky and sighed. He belonged there, in the heavens, not here, wherever this was. A transitional place, perhaps. A stopover on the way to an everlasting peace, or a place to atone for his sins. He suspected the latter.

Again, he perceived that someone watched him. Watched him or watched over him? He didn't know. He looked around, but couldn't see anyone. Someone was there, lurking in the shadows. He could feel their presence.

The time had come for him to move on. He never stayed too long in one place.

Without further thought, he strode across the roof and sprang onto the ledge. With a glance at the street below, he stepped off the narrow shelf. He took his time descending, enjoying the crisp autumn air and the rush of wind through his hair.

Dead had its perks, he had to admit.

Keegan walked block after block, unafraid in the disreputable area of Bristol Harbor where law enforcement feared to uphold the law even in daylight hours. He strolled along, taking brief glances between the bars of store front windows, stopping when something caught his eye, then moving on. He was in no hurry. He had nowhere to go or nowhere he needed to be.

The sounds of shuffling feet and metal scraping pierced the silence. His interest piqued, he followed the noises into an alley. A crescent moon and a light bulb above a delivery door provided little illumination against towering buildings swathing the corridor in darkness. Somewhat accustomed to gloom, he entered the passageway. A breeze picked up, bringing with it the odors of damp concrete, urine, and rotting garbage. Bits of crumpled paper, wrinkled leaves, and dirty candy wrappers wafted around him.

His body trembled. _Cold_. So cold. The reaction took him by surprise. Until that moment, he'd experienced no discomfort of any sort. Something was happening to him, but he didn't know what. He raised his coat collar high on his neck as he ambled forward, looking into darkened corners and alcoves.

A deep and feral howl echoed around him.

He came to an abrupt stop. He cocked an ear and listened. The night grew silent once more. Like a ghost, he pushed farther into the alley. He moved around cardboard boxes, careful not to make a sound. Why he exercised caution, he didn't know. No one could hurt him. Dead was dead.

Someone – or something – growled.

Instinct told him to turn and run. If a heart beat within his chest, he would have.

Another step brought him to a dumpster. Three long strides took him to the other side of the refuse container. There was movement ahead of him. At a standstill, he peered into the semi-darkness and saw two shapes huddled together. Men, he thought. More curious than wise, he inched nearer and wished he hadn't. The men – creatures, he realized on closer inspection – sat on their haunches beside a body, blood dripping from their mouths.

Keegan might not be able to be seen by the living, but he knew that wouldn't be the case with those freaks. If he had a guess, he'd say they were hellhounds. Hellhounds who paid him no attention whatsoever, if they even knew he was there. Maybe they didn't. He'd approached quietly. They'd probably been too absorbed in their meal to notice him. He could leave as unobtrusively as he'd arrived.

It's now or never, he told himself.

He kept a watchful gaze on them as he backed up, but he wasn't as quiet or inconspicuous as he'd believed. Any sound, even the slightest, could ring out in the dead of night. He looked at his feet and the sand his feet had crushed. As he expected, the noise alerted the creatures to his presence. They turned their misshapen heads and looked at him, but it seemed luck was with him. They merely gave him a cursory glance before turning back to their feast, seemingly uncaring whether or not he stayed, making him think he'd escape without conflict. He wasted no time getting a move on. Several yards from the entrance of the alley, something grabbed the back of his coat, bringing him to an abrupt halt.

"Leaving so soon?" a booming voice said at his back.

Keegan turned. Expecting to see another freak, he saw instead a handsome man with eyes the color of ice, but there was no mistaking the stranger's menace. Keegan cleared the catch in his throat and said the first thing that came to him, "I have someplace to be."

"Some place better than here? I can't believe that." The man threw back his head and guffawed.

Keegan estimated the distance to the street and speculated whether he could outrun the stranger. Prior to his demise, he'd run three miles a day. The street would provide him ample places to hide. If he stayed, he would surely become dessert for those freaks. He didn't know what part this fellow played in the scenario and didn't intend to find out.

While the stranger was still occupied with his joke, Keegan made a mad dash for the street. He managed to move only a few feet before a hand, scaly and black, gripped him around the throat, stopping him in his tracks.

Keegan heard a swishing sound above his head and peered upward. Out of the darkness, a female figure dressed in a cerise evening gown descended. Speechless, he watched as she grabbed the blue-eyed stranger by the neck and threw him against the building.

In strappy sandals, the woman stomped to the two creatures. She grabbed them by their throats as well and hoisted them high in the air. "Your friend is lonely," she said, and flung them across the alley to join the stranger.

She took in a huge breath, then ran her fingers through her blonde, curly hair.

"Damn," she said, looking at the broken nail on her index finger. "I hate it when that happens." She ripped off the broken piece, cutting into the quick. Sucking the blood from the cut, she looked at Keegan.

"I'll be moseying along now," he said, hoping to free himself from her and this alley. He didn't want any trouble. He simply wanted to be left alone to suffer the afterlife in peace. It wasn't too much to ask.

"Moseying?" She chuckled. "I haven't heard that expression in awhile."

The lump of creatures stirred, yelling obscenities foreign to Keegan's ears.

"Excuse me," she said, and in three long strides hovered over them. In the next instant, one by one, they flew past him and landed in the open dumpster. Her legs and arms moved so fast, the action seemed one elongated streak.

She raised an arm high into the air and a leather attaché case materialized in her hand. She grasped the case by its handle and brought down her arm to rest at her side.

"Are you just going to stand there like a tree trunk, or are you going to take me somewhere and buy me a drink?"

Keegan didn't know what to make of this woman. She seemed to be on his side, but appearances could be deceiving.

"A little slow on the uptake, huh?" She linked her free arm in his and hauled him close, brushing her breasts against his forearm. "That's okay. What you lack in intelligence, you make up for in looks." She jerked her head toward the dumpster. "Do you know what they're doing here?"

He shook his head. "I don't even know what they are. Hellhounds, I thought."

"They're demons. They're here to confiscate your heart and escort you to Hades. I'm here to prevent that from happening."

Keegan gulped. He didn't want to go to Hell, but he wasn't sure he should put his trust in this woman, either. He remembered the noises he'd heard and how his curiosity brought him into the alley. "I came to them, not the other way around."

"This alley was a pit stop for them and that derelict back there, an appetizer. You're not the only game in town and believe me, they would have gotten around to you. They always do."

"Why didn't you kill them?"

"He'd only send more."

Keegan didn't need to ask who 'he' was.

She prompted him forward with a tug on his arm, but he remained rooted to the asphalt.

"Don't be afraid of me," she said. "I'm your only chance at salvation. Now, move. There's a steakhouse two blocks east. Perhaps you're familiar with it?"

Inside the restaurant, the aroma of sautéed onions and prime rib had him wishing for life. He stopped beside Strappy Sandals at reception.

"A table for two," she said to the woman behind the counter. "Secluded, if you have it."

The hostess smiled at Keegan.

He was too surprised to smile back. Since he'd awakened, no one paid him the least attention as he walked around town. Maybe he hadn't been invisible after all. No, he definitely had been. His looks hadn't changed, and just as the hostess had smiled at him, women passing him by on the street would have too, like had always been the case.

After they were seated, he said, "I'm not dead anymore." He didn't know what was more preposterous — coming back from the dead or walking dead among the living.

"You were never dead."

"But those demons...you said —" He stopped speaking when she held a hand in the air.

"I'll rephrase. You were never entirely dead and technically, you never left the earthly plane. Not all of you, anyway. There was...shall I say, a muck-up. The waters muddied and the view became distorted. Long story short, your soul left your body prematurely. The important thing for you to remember right now is that your equipoise has been reinstated. So no more jumping off roof tops. Okay? You wouldn't believe the forms we have to fill out when our charges die accidentally."

"Do premature departures happen often?"

She shook her head. "It's unheard of. That's why He summoned me."

"He who?"

"Who do you think? The Big Fella, the grand master of us all."

"I gather your job is to reunite my soul with me."

"In order to do that, I have to find it before the demons do, and before they take your heart from you. As it stands, your soul is up for grabs." She looked him over. "And the rest of you too."

Keegan shook at the thought that he could end up in Hell. What beat all, though, was that he wouldn't be sentenced to eternal damnation because he'd sinned, but because his soul had prematurely ejaculated. God. Where was the justice in that?

"You're the best He's got, right? That's why He sent you."

She shook her head. "I get all the crappy jobs – the ones no one else will touch."

Great. Just great. This just kept getting worse and worse. "Do you have a name?"

"Echo. Echo Fitzgerald." She peered through the window to the street beyond. After a moment, she asked, "What's the last thing you remember before you died?"

"Getting stung by a bee. I couldn't reach my EpiPen in time and went into anaphylactic shock."

He watched as she keyed something into what looked like a BlackBerry.

"According to His records, you injected yourself in time, but your soul reacted hastily and crossed the starting line before the light turned green. As a result, it fetched up between the folds of time."

By the sound of that, he might never be reunited with his soul. She didn't look like a miracle worker. He sighed heavily, leaned back in his chair and fingered the place mat, feeling overwhelmed and nauseous.

"I have a huge trial coming up," he said, like she cared about his law practice. "Nichols versus Instate Insurance. Perhaps you heard of it?"

She shook her head. "No."

No, of course not. How silly of him to assume otherwise.

"I'm having the special," she said and placed her menu on the table. "How about you?"

"Fine," he said without gusto or a glance at the menu.

"What's your problem, anyway?"

"I was about to ask you the same question."

As she picked up her water glass, she said, pointing her pinkie finger at him, "You first."

"Aside from the fact I have no soul, you mean?"

"Okay, I'll give you that one." She saluted him.

"So, what's yours?"

"I was in Belize enjoying a particularly fine Pinot Noir with a Greek god. When He summoned me, I was about to have the first sex I've had in months."

"I'm assuming 'Greek god' is a euphemism."

"No." She raised her blond eyebrows. "Why would you think so?"

"No reason."

Judging from the way she refused to make eye contact, she had something more to add. He prompted her. "There's something else. What is it?"

"I get cranky when my blood sugar is low."

Keegan flagged the waitress and placed their orders.

For the next ten minutes, Echo spoke non-stop on her cell in a language Keegan did not recognize. He listened to the chatter of patrons at nearby tables and the instrumental music playing softly in the background, and almost felt relaxed.

Echo flipped her phone closed and looked out at the street again.

He noticed that her smile quickly became a chuckle. "What's so funny?"

She turned and crossed her arms against her chest. "Which do you want first? The good news or the bad?"

He huffed a breath, weary of her theatrics. "You choose."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. That guy, the six-foot beanpole dressed in denim and leather, leaning against the mailbox attempting to look like he belongs, is a demon. He has a chip on his shoulder the size of Everest. Imagine your worst nightmare times two. He's as mean, nasty, and disgusting a son of a bastard as you'll ever meet."

Keegan took a moment to digest that. "And the good news?"

"Honey." She patted his hand. "That was the good news."

***

Unable to help herself, Echo smiled. Keegan was absolutely gorgeous. Usually, her charges were the senile with no sense of direction. This assignment might turn into something exciting after all.

"See that guy over there in the Coors Light T-shirt and Levis reading the newspaper next to the craft shop?"

He turned to look. "Yeah."

Their meals arrived. When the waitress left, Echo leaned in close to him and whispered conspiratorially, "The mailbox guy is Mary's little lamb in comparison." She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of him. He smelled of autumn air and musk. Heavenly.

"Wonderful. Just wonderful." He glanced at them across the street. "What are they waiting for? Why don't they just storm in here and fight you for me?"

"They won't, otherwise they risk the wrath of Mephistopheles."

"The devil has scruples?"

"Self-preservation is more like it. Collateral damage is difficult to explain."

He looked so adorable panicked. It made her want to take him in her arms and promise to scare away the boogeyman. She couldn't remember a time, or if ever there was one, when a charge physically attracted her. She needed to get her emotions in check before she did something she would later regret.

She doubted Keegan would normally frighten easily. She suspected, too, that he had never faced anything in his life as scary as demons, so she gave him an 'A' rating on the courageous scale. Time would tell whether he continued to measure up. The next few days would prove as terrifying as they would bizarre and would undeniably test his stock.

She could almost see his brain working and with that came a change in his expression. Keegan was not happy with his situation, or her, but she suspected he was too polite to say.

"Hang on to that anger," she said, coaching herself not to laugh at the surprised look on his face. "Don't look at me like I sprouted horns. I'm not clairvoyant. It's written all over your face you're feeling picked-on and that you'd like to duke it out with someone." She plucked her fork and knife from the table. "Just keep in mind I'm not the enemy. Now, eat up. You're going to need the energy."

He looked at the rib eye steak surrounded by baby potatoes and snow peas, but couldn't muster enough enthusiasm to even take the cutlery in his hand. "I have no experience with fist fighting. Aren't you here to do that for me?"

When she gave him a look meant for the dense, he continued his argument. "I'll get myself killed. For the second time."

She opened her brief case and took out a stun gun. "Do you know how to use this?"

"I know the mechanics. As a matter of fact, I'm representing a woman whose husband was killed by the police with a Taser." He examined the innocent-looking but potentially lethal weapon. "This will kill a demon?"

A lawyer who doesn't balk at killing. Go figure. "No." She nabbed the gun from his hand and shoved it back into her briefcase. "But it will momentarily deter him if he's struck right here." She pointed a blood-red lacquered nail between her eyes. "Which should give you enough time to run and hide."

He picked up where she left off. "Then you jump in and annihilate him. Uh-huh. Got it."

Echo saw that he wasn't reassured in the least. She wasn't insulted.

She ate with the appetite of the starved while Keegan used his fork to flick pea pods at his potatoes. He watched as she swabbed her plate clean with a crusty roll.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked, eyeing his meal.

"I don't know how you could think I'd eat when my heart is going to be ripped from my chest as soon as I step outside. Or, are you feeding the doomed man his last meal?"

She pretended not to hear him. "May I?"

"Help yourself." He hefted his plate across the table.

Two minutes later, she dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, then dropped it onto the plates. "Now let's go kick us some demon ass."

Chapter Two

Keegan paid the check with a platinum card he never expected to use again and hurried to the door where Echo tapped her foot against the floor.

"All set?" she asked.

"No." He shook his head when he envisioned himself strapping on six-shooters.

She opened the door and paused. "Follow my lead."

He hesitated a moment, then gathered the courage to look at the demons, hoping that Echo was mistaken about them.

She wasn't.

In synchrony, the demons pushed off their leaning posts and, keeping to their side of the street, walked with her.

As he had thought, the demons seemed more interested in Echo, probably because she stood between them and his heart. Or maybe – since she knew them – maybe they held a grudge against her and this was payback. This situation just kept getting worse and worse.

Gritting his teeth, Keegan speed-walked to catch up and took his place alongside her nearest the street, as any gentleman would. "They're following," he said, keeping them in his peripheral vision.

"I see that."

He wondered how Echo could stay calm. "Can you be killed?"

She looked at him like she couldn't believe he asked. "Of course, I can. I feel pain, too."

He needed to hear that. Uh-huh. All that stood between him and death was this skinny female. Lord have mercy on his soul, wherever it was.

"They're crossing the street." She grasped his elbow and directed him into a narrow pathway between two buildings.

Keegan didn't like the feel of this. For one, confined places suffocated him. For another, there was little room for movement. How did Echo intend to kick demon ass if she couldn't swing her leg?

Resolutely, he looked to the end of the tunnel-like passageway and thought the path emptied into a parking lot. A parking lot meant cars, and cars meant people, which meant an exit. Finally, a light. He shot his fingers through his hair. God. Light at the end of the tunnel? He must have lost all sense along with his soul.

"If the demons overpower me, I want you to run. Don't look back. Put as much space between yourself and them. Don't worry, I'll find you."

He didn't like that, either. "How?"

"I'll follow the scent of your fear." She winked.

He ignored the insult and concentrated on her optimism, refusing to let the thought linger in his mind that the demons might kill her. There would be a contingency plan in that event, he was sure. God wouldn't leave him hanging, would He? No, He wouldn't.

"I'm not leaving you," he said, clutching his umbrella tightly, prepared to use the steel tip, if needed. "No matter what happens."

"Very courageous, but also very foolhardy."

"Not –"

"Shh. Here they come. Stay at my back." She shoved the stun gun at him. "Don't hesitate to use it."

He took the gun in his free hand and peered at the entrance.

The demons moved forward, appearing larger and more menacing than Keegan remembered – his imagination hard at work, perhaps. Maybe not. He looked at the Taser and wished for something with more fire power.

With a bad-ass swagger, Beanpole approached them, leaving Coors Light standing guard, or maybe he hung back to see Echo's mettle and determine what he was up against.

Echo flexed her neck, then her wrists. She appeared composed, her hands hanging loosely at her sides.

Keegan took from her strength and angled his weapon directly at the demon hanging back in the entrance.

When the beanpole demon came within a foot and a half of Echo, he smiled. "Remember me, darling?"

"How could I forget a foul-smelling, slow-witted mongrel like you?"

Keegan cocked a brow. "Are you sure you want to antagonize a demon?"

"A demon?" She guffawed. "This doofus? My colleague greatly exaggerates your prowess, Samael." She laughed again.

"You forget Dubai and Seven-Pack."

"You got lucky. It won't happen again."

"Seven-Pack?" Keegan asked.

"Later."

The demon bent at the legs and struck his hands at ten and four. "Bring it on, baby."

Echo stayed as she was. "Are you sure you want to do this, Samael? You're going to get hurt."

With a crook of his finger, the demon invited her to make the first move.

"You asked for it." Echo threw kicks and landed blows in rapid-fire succession that connected with his jaw, chest, and thighs. Samael fell to his knees, hugging his mid-section. She leaned to one side and introduced the demon's gaping jaw to her foot. Samael toppled over with a cry of agony.

Keegan had seen enough and wanted to distance himself from these heart thieves. "Let's go before the other one attacks."

"No," she said. "I have to find out where their toran is so I can close it."

He looked at the unconscious demon, then at the one still standing. "And you think the meaner demon will tell you?" He grabbed her by the arm and hoped she wasn't a woman who needed to prove herself. There was no dishonor in retreat. Know your enemies and know when to fight, a motto that had served him well. "Take the victory and run."

She heaved a sigh, and, keeping an eye on the fallen demon, said, "You're right."

Without delay, Keegan led the way through the pathway, into the parking lot, and onto the street. Within minutes, they sprinted down King Avenue, intermittently taking turns watching their backs. Each time he looked, the view was clear, which puzzled him. "Why isn't he following us?"

"Look up."

He peered upward and located the demon walking along the ledge of buildings, stepping across great distances between the structures like they were ordinary steps. The demon could have attacked at any time, but hadn't. Keegan determined this particular demon, unlike Samael, was a strategist.

"He's biding his time."

Echo nodded. "He'll strike when he's ready."

"We should prepare ourselves, then." Keegan's instinct told him to run, but logic countered. Wherever he ran, the demon would surely either follow or find him. He would rather have it out with him there than later. There would be consequences, he was certain, if he continued too long without a soul. Just then, he had a vision of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, six-foot man running like a lunatic through the streets. The man stopped abruptly and looked back. Keegan stared into his own face.

He broke out in gooseflesh and rubbed at the chill covering his hands.

"In here." Echo led the way up the concrete steps of the Cathedral.

At the red-painted double doors, she grabbed the handle and pulled, but the door didn't budge.

"Churches are locked at night," he said, his breath frosting before his face. "Drug addicts looking for quick and easy cash. Not too long ago, a gold-plated chalice used in worship for over a hundred years was stolen from here. Father Xavier appealed to the person who took it and behold, the chalice mysteriously reappeared within a few days, but Father is taking no unnecessary chances now." He chewed on his bottom lip as he realized he babbled. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that, if ever he had.

She knocked on the door.

His smile died on his lips when he heard the click of the dead bolt disengaging.

"Knock and it shall be opened unto you. Matthew 7:7." She looked at him and grinned as she pulled open the door.

Years had passed since Keegan had been in a church, yet it seemed like yesterday. He couldn't remember what had prompted the lapse. Time, perhaps. There never seemed enough of it. If he had things to do over...

Echo stopped at a hand-carved marble font and dipped her fingers in the holy water.

He stood transfixed as he watched her sign the cross. Many times he'd seen this done, but no one had ever made the gesture look beautiful.

"This way," she said, striding forward, without looking back.

He followed her down the aisle, the sound of their heels clicking on the marble floor bouncing off the stone walls.

No lights burned, but moonlight shining through the stained glass illuminated their way.

A supplicant, Keegan genuflected in front of the altar, bowing his head in reverence to Jesus on the cross, and then followed Echo into a front pew and took his first full breath in more than thirty minutes.

He knelt and saw himself as a lost soul penitent before Him, beseeching his Savior to have mercy on them, and asked for forgiveness for his sins and for turning away from Him. He crossed himself and sat.

They needed a plan – a good one – but it seemed sacrilegious to plot death and destruction in the house of God.

He gazed at the First Station of the Cross, which depicted Jesus condemned to death. From there, he studied the Second Station showing Jesus carrying His Cross.

Keegan hesitated at the Third Station, saddened at the sight of Jesus on the ground beneath the weight of the cross. He skipped to the Fifth Station, considering whether Echo bore his cross like Simon had for Jesus.

After several minutes where Echo appeared trance-like, she turned and looked at him, intelligence and compassion in her hazel eyes. She rested an arm on the back of the pew and brought up a hand to rub her forehead.

Again, he drew from her strength without an iota of embarrassment. Fighting off demons qualified as extraordinary, and if he needed a little help coping...

She stared at a stone pillar, hissing beneath her breath. "Beelzebub."

He jerked his head in her direction. Wonderful. A pissed-off...what was Echo? A spirit? An angel? Maybe neither. He'd ask, but, truthfully, he preferred not knowing; at least, for the time being.

His voice barely audible, as though he could prevent God from overhearing, he questioned her choice of swear words.

"I can't really use the Lord's name, now can I?" She stood, flipped back the kneeler, and paced the length of the pew. When she reached the end, she pivoted and retraced her steps, pinching her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger.

She stared at the floor and said, "We are so screwed."

As deft as a mouse, hope left Keegan's body, probably to take up residence with his soul, wherever that might be. He sighed, thinking he'd not only put his trust in this woman but let her take control. A colossal mistake, he now realized.

"How?" he asked, not wanting an answer, but needing to know.

"I just figured out why the other demon didn't attack."

"Why?"

"He's waiting for reinforcements and keeping track of us in the meantime." She chewed on a thumbnail. "I didn't anticipate that. Usually, they arrive, strike, lose, and retreat."

Even with that testimonial, she didn't inspire confidence. "If this mean demon needs help, that would imply he's afraid of you. Right?"

"Not necessarily. We've tangled before."

"Who won?"

She looked at him and grimaced.

Keegan, believing he was assigned a misfit, considered the time had come to ask the question. "What exactly are you?"

"I need some alone time to figure this out, map out our next move. Do you live near here?"

"I have a cottage on the lake. It's about a ten-minute drive, but my car's at home. We can take a taxi, unless you have an alternative method of transportation."

"There's only room for one on my broom."

"Ah."

She jabbed him in the ribs. "Relax. You lawyers have no sense of humor."

He took offense. "I do. We do." Then he remembered Wilbur Graham, who gave new meaning to solemn. "Most of us do." He followed her up the aisle.

"Well, I'm glad you got that straightened out." She stopped at the holy water font and looked around. "There must be something around here for the parishioners to use..." She walked into the quiet room and came out with a cardboard box of bottles. "Help me fill these with holy water."

Within a few minutes, they had twenty-four spice-size jars filled.

"Let's go." She led the way outside.

Keegan looked back when he heard the door close and lock behind them.

On the sidewalk, she took his hand in hers. "And onward we go to your home."

In an instant, they stood in his living room.

Chapter Three

Keegan dropped to his knees. The room spun before his eyes and his stomach heaved.

Echo set the box holding the bottles of holy water on the end table and caught him before his face hit the floor. "It's the speed travel. Zaps the energy and makes you squeamish. It used to affect me the same way, too. With enough travel, your body will adjust." She helped him to the sofa and propped him against the cushions. "Let's hope I won't be around long enough for you to get used to it."

He placed his hands on his head and groaned.

"Bad headache, huh?" She patted his knee. "It'll go away in a little while."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who has a band drumming in her head."

"I see we're a little cranky."

"If you tell me that'll go away in a little while too, I'll hogtie you and string you from a ceiling beam." He jerked his thumb at the roughly-hewn logs above them.

She stood and placed her hands on her hips. "That I'd like to see."

"I could, if sufficiently motivated." He sat up and put his feet flat on the floor.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Some." He studied her as she walked business-like around the cottage, pouring holy water across the windowsills and doorways. Her face was flushed, probably from the demon workout. One unruly curl, dampened from perspiration, dangled against her cheek.

With the last of the bottles emptied, she stopped to finger a knickknack, then continued on to run a hand over the cherry-wood mantle on the fireplace.

She looked exciting and adventurous and as alive as anyone. "What are you, exactly?" he asked.

"I feel a chill." She rubbed her arms.

"It's the cold air off the lake. I'll make a fire." He stood gingerly, shrugged out of his coat, and slam-dunked his umbrella into the brass holder at the door. "I asked you a question, Echo," he said, walking to the stone fireplace. He laid a few sticks of cedar over wadded pages of yesterday's news. "Are you going to answer?"

From her flinty expression, Keegan inferred that she wondered whether he could take the truth. He would help her decide. "In the last several hours, I've been dead, resurrected, stripped of my soul, jumped off multi-story buildings, witnessed demons feed on a man's heart, and watched a fight between inhuman beings, one of whom might or might not be a demon herself. The jury's still out on that one." He ran shaking fingers through his hair. "Now, I can honestly say I saw and heard everything, so don't think anything you say will frighten me or make me jump from rooftops. Again. I'm over that. No more self-pity."

"I'm a mal'ak," she said.

"And translated, that means what?" He noticed her scowling and didn't appreciate that she did. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?"

"The look that says, 'the trials I must put up with.' I may not have lived as long as you or seen what you have, but that doesn't make you any wiser or smarter. Now, let's try this again. What is a mal'ak?"

He watched her ponder, standing as still as a statue, arms crossed against her chest, eyes staring into space. Her trance-like state had unnerved him in the church. It had the same effect on him now.

Perhaps she was telepathically communicating with someone, or maybe – he hated to consider the notion – she was formulating a lie. He shook his head, thinking that he spent his days with people who embellished the truth and out-and-out fabricated lies to serve their needs. Echo should be above that, but if she lied, he would know. He'd become quite adept at separating fact from fiction. He'd give her time to think, hopefully to reconsider a fabrication. In the meantime, he needed something to help him relax. "I'm having a drink," he said, striding to the bar. "Would you care for one?"

"I'll have a double of what you're having."

He poured generous amounts of Glenlivit in tumblers and handed her one. "As you were saying?"

She saluted him. " _A cruce salus._ From the cross comes salvation."

He raised his glass to hers. "Amen. Now then, shall we get back to what you are?"

"In simplest terms, a herald."

He took that to mean an angel, an angel who did God's bidding. "How many are there like you?"

"Many. In fact, you already know one."

He quickly overcame his surprise, his thoughts flashing on the people in his life, none of whom seemed a plausible heavenly being. "Who?" he asked, thinking the answer would straighten his hair.

"Benny."

"Benny, the janitor in my office building?"

"Uh-huh."

Keegan would never have guessed. "What service does he perform?" He watched as Echo's eyes darted around the room and determined she was formulating a discreet response.

"He cleans up."

"Of course. He's a janitor, after all. Why wouldn't he?"

"Sometimes deplaning gets messy."

That conjured up all sorts of happenings – bodies combusting, bodies...He closed his mind to the hellish thoughts and with a jerk of his chin, prompted her to continue.

"Not unlike earth, there is still some bias against the female gender in the higher hierarchy, but because of progressive thinking, I'm happy to say, our division is finally being recognized as entities with all working functions and senses while on this plane." Not that she considered him a low-budget intellect, but she hoped he understood what that meant – that she had the use of all her body parts.

"Are you human?"

Aha. He did. She virtually saw his brain engaging. "Not as defined by man's law."

"Do you have wings?"

She giggled. "We don't need wings to fly. We are not your stereotypical supernatural beings." She walked to the sofa and sat. "This is a nice place. Did you build it yourself?"

He envisioned himself in jeans, steel-toe boots, and red-and-black-checkered flannel shirt and chopping down a tree with an axe and smiled, but liked the idea that she thought him that accomplished with his hands. "No. The previous owner did, though. Cut and stripped every log." This dredged up a memory Keegan had buried long ago.

"Is something wrong?" Echo asked. "You look like a lawyer who just learned he was disbarred."

"This cottage was very special to Henry." He looked at her. "Henry Wilkins, the man who built the place. It killed him to sell it."

"Why did he?"

"He needed the money to pay a bill."

She studied him. "Does that make you feel guilty?"

He gulped his whiskey. "It was my account he didn't have the money to pay."

"For services rendered?"

"I represented him in a criminal matter."

"Did you win?" she asked, staring at him with an upturned chin.

"Uh-huh, and Henry died shortly after. They visit from time to time."

"Who?"

"Henry and his wife, Dena." He noticed Echo didn't blink at the mention of ghosts inhabiting his house. Why would she? With good reason, he had never told that truth to anyone, but now that he had divulged the secret, purging himself, Keegan felt good.

"I thought I was losing my mind the first time they appeared." He chuckled. "She hates it when I rearrange the furniture or make any changes in the cottage. That plant, for instance." He pointed to the Chinese evergreen standing sentry at the garden doors. "I like it next to the fireplace. Dena likes it there."

"She won."

"She always does. Guilt is a powerful motivator."

"Did you misrepresent him?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then you have nothing to feel guilty about."

True. He had not only done his duty to his client, but also gave him market value plus twenty percent for the property, which gave Henry a chunk of money in exchange. Perfectly comfortable in his condo in town, Keegan had offered him free lodging at the cottage, but Henry was too proud to accept the offer.

"We should discuss plans and strategy," he said, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself. When it came to his personal affairs, center stage made him uneasy.

"The best defense. Always the lawyer, huh?"

He took insult. "Not always." Echo was a kick-ass beautiful woman. He loved the color of her hair, like harvest gold, and how her curls bounced rhythmically around her face when she moved, and how her eyes expressed her emotions. Nothing about this woman was put on. He liked that, too. So many of the women in his past relationships had been superficial, caring only about him as a good catch, that he'd left the dating scene. Echo was a welcome change – _What am I doing? How could I possibly think about taking Echo, an emissary of God to bed. For sex. I'll surely be punished for those thoughts._

He cleared his throat and said, "How do you plan on finding my soul?"

"Perhaps Henry and Dena can help with that in the nether regions, but before that, we need to find out where the demons are gaining entry to this world and close the gateway before..."

His thoughts centering on the satin sheets on his bed, he sensed rather than heard her falter. "Before?"

"I was trying to spare you, but I see you're a man who likes to know all of the truth. As I was saying, before the earth is flooded with heart-snatchers from Hell."

"When you were so determined to find the portal, even at the chance it might put me in jeopardy, I figured the reason was something like that." Without all of his essence, with each passing hour he was feeling more discombobulated. He was holding himself together, but barely, and for how much longer, he didn't know.

"How did you know where to go when we left the church?"

"The speed travel?" At his nod, she said, "I didn't. You did. I tapped into your thoughts. When you mentioned cottage, I took the chance you envisioned it."

"I could have been thinking about the rainbow trout in my lake, which I do from time to time, by the way, when I think about home."

"I'll remember that."

"We could have taken a taxi."

She scoffed. "And risk the demons following us? I don't think so."

"I know some people who might be willing to help you in the fight, should it come to that again. They're a little rough and don't mind bending the rules."

"Have you used their," she made air quotes, "expertise before?"

He shook his head. "I helped them out a few years back. Seems they never let a favor go unreturned. They get in touch once in awhile to inquire."

"Who are they?"

"The Harley Riders. A biker gang living up in the Tretemps hills."

"I'll keep them in mind. For now, though, I'd rather this stayed between us. The fewer who know, the better."

True. His reputation would never survive if it became public knowledge that he cavorted with a centuries-old emissary of God.

He peered at Echo peripherally, who was looking pensive and vulnerable when he wanted vibrant and impenetrable. He needed to unburden himself.

Smith was a good listener. Best friends since grade school, Keegan could talk to him about anything...anything but this. Not only would the truth make him look like a loony, the story was too preposterous to believe. Even Smith, who believed anything, would balk at this tale.

Mum was his best advice. He'd go with it. Besides, Echo didn't want this getting out.

As though on cue, the telephone rang. Keegan jumped at the sound.

Echo looked at her watch. "It's eleven-twenty. Who would be calling at this hour?"

"Probably my friend, Smith. He has no perception of time and blames every faux pas on spontaneity. The machine'll get it."

On the sixth ring, Keegan heard his voice say, "Leave a message at the beep."

Beep.

"Yo, stud-meista, pick up, will ya. Got a story to tell."

Keegan grinned when Echo mouthed 'stud-meister.' He hadn't earned the characterization. Smith had a contrary sense of humor.

Smith's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Okay, maybe you're not home. Where the hell are you, bro? Drop a dime. If you don't, I'll keep calling. You know I will." Then came the hum of a disconnected line.

"Sounds like a threat," Echo said as she sat in the leather wing chair next to the fireplace. "The heat feels good." She warmed her hands in front of the fire.

The phone jangled again.

"It's probably Smith calling back," Keegan said, making no move to answer the phone. Afraid he might blurt what happened to him, he couldn't take the chance of talking to Smith. He sighed with relief when Echo took the initiative and answered the persistent ring.

"Hello," Echo said in a breathy voice. She winked and pressed the receiver harder against her ear. "This is Echo. Who's this?"

He watched as she waited. Her legs never seemed to end. Tight ass, full breasts... _what's_ _the_ _matter_ _with_ me _?_ God.

"Ah, Smith. Keegan told me all about you." She listened. "Well, no he didn't tell me about that." She listened again. "Not about that, either." She looked at Keegan and raised her brows. "I stand corrected. He hasn't told me everything." She looked at him. "Keegan can't come to the phone right now. He's otherwise occupied, if you catch my drift." She nodded and raised a thumb in the air. "I'll tell him you called. Ciao." She set the cordless phone on the coffee table.

Keegan was afraid to ask, but his curiosity would torture him if he didn't. "What did he say?"

"He told me about the time he fell into poison ivy and you spread anti-itch cream on the areas of his body he couldn't reach."

He groaned. The heat of a blush burned him like a branding iron. "Did he tell you we were six at the time?"

"No, he failed to mention it. He also told me about the time you dove into the bay and the current took off with your trunks and you climbed onto the pier _nekkid_ ," she made air quotes, "like the day you were born with His Lordship Beatty shriveled ―"

He signed a time-out. "Okay, okay. Spare me, please." He hid his face between his hands and vowed Smith would pay for his honesty-is-the-best-policy take on life.

She laughed, reminding him again how incredibly sexy that laugh was. In fact, everything about her was tantalizing, and it took a great deal of restraint for him not to act on his impulse to satisfy his desires, which were growing more intense with each second.

This is not like you, Keegan.

No, it wasn't.

A part of you is missing. An integral part.

He knew that.

You'll have to be strong to survive.

What if he weren't?

Something in his peripheral vision was trying to get his attention. Straightening, he peered through the window. It took him a moment to realize he looked at a severed head bobbing in the air.

Chapter Four

Kegan called out to Echo and pointed to the window looking out over the lake.

She followed the direction of his finger and in the next second, jumped from her chair. In two long strides, she stood in front of the thermal glass and yelled, "What are you doing, Samael? Put your body back on. Did you think that would frighten me? Honestly." She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head.

"Let me in, Echo. Please. I can't enter because of the holy water."

"You're joking, right?"

"No."

"You really are as dim as a seven-watt bulb, aren't you?"

"I'm in trouble, Echo. I need your help."

She sighed. "What have you done this time, Samael?"

"Nothing." Samael pouted.

Keegan watched the melodrama being played out. If Echo were smart – and he determined she was – she would barter with Samael. Keegan would. In fact, he'd done so on occasion to help a client or transfuse a case. As he thought about those times, he saddened. Practicing law defined him. No, he thought, his soul defined him. Law was merely a condiment complementing who he was. If his life came down to it, how would he survive without either?

Echo arched an eyebrow and tapped her foot on the floor.

"It's not me, it's Lucifer," Samael said in a whiney voice. "He's very hard to please. He asks for too much. I want to come back into the Almighty's fold. Will you ask Him for me?"

"You should have thought about the consequences of your actions before you became a double agent." She stared down at the floor. After a moment, she looked at him and sighed. "Give me the location of your portal, and I'll see what I can do."

"Really?" Samael's head bobbed.

"Didn't I just say I would? Beelzebub." She growled.

Keegan arched his brows. _Down_ , _Echo_. Getting pissed at your informant was not the way to gain confidence. Then, as though she'd read his thoughts, she said, "I'm sorry, Samael. This has been a trying day."

She sounded sincere. Keegan hoped it was an act. Samael should remain Satan's problem.

"What's it going to be?" Echo asked, softly. "The location of your portal in exchange for a good word with the Boss?"

Samael's beady eyes looked upward to the right, then downward to the left.

Keegan held his breath while he decided. Watching him ponder was painful. He wondered what the problem was. Only one answer could apply, and why Samael needed to consider the decision in the first place baffled him. He blew out the breath he held and prayed Samael would make up his mind soon.

His impatience caught him unaware. No one could ever accuse him of impetuosity, even when stressed. Something was happening to him, Keegan realized. He was changing, subtly and infinitesimally. If those alterations to his personality continued, he would morph into a man his own mother might not recognize.

Normally, Keegan wasn't combative, either, unless, of course, he argued a case. He hated to think of the injustice that would ensue if he weren't. All his life, he'd never had to think about right and wrong. The decisions had come naturally, without deliberation. He just knew the correct thing to do.

There had been occasions where he questioned the ethics of an issue and soul-searched for the right answer. He couldn't do that now – not with his soul AWOL.

Samael crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "I don't trust you, Echo, but don't say I didn't warn you. If I found you, so will he." He laughed, an eerie sound that chilled Keegan to the marrow.

"Get lost before I go out there and put your body where it'll take you aeons to find."

"They're coming for him. They're not letting this one go. He's pulling out the big guns. For the right price, I'll tell you why he wants him so badly."

She wagged her finger in his face. "Honestly, Samael, you give me no credit. Do you really think I would believe The Morning Star confided his plans in you?" She turned from Samael and with a dramatic eye roll, walked to the fireplace.

Keegan watched the demon's head float into the mist. "He's gone."

"Good. I'm sick of the idiot showing up where I am. He's too stupid to realize pestering me is only going to make me ground my heels. Arghhh!" She threw her hands in the air. "Imbecile."

"You two have a history?"

"Oh yeah."

From her pressed lips, he could tell that whatever Samael had done still angered her.

She plopped onto a chair and blew a breath that bent the flame on a burning log. "What did you do that makes you so valuable to Satan?"

He shrugged. "I'm a lawyer," he said, like that explained everything.

"Translated, that would mean...?"

"I've done some things and used some information and people for the good of a client." He lifted his chin. "But nothing so sinful Satan would fight to have me on his side. Unless he needs a good lawyer. What's the story between you and Samael?"

"It happened a long time ago and is best forgotten."

"But you haven't. You can't." He needed to know whether whatever occurred between her and Samael would affect her judgment. He didn't want to end up a consequence. When he saw she had no intention of responding, he said, "I'll keep asking until I get an answer."

She shook her head. "It has no bearing on you and isn't detrimental to your life."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

She sighed and after a drawn out silence, said, "Samael played for both teams – good and evil. He succumbed to temptation and the promises of a traitor, Lucifer, the fallen angel, also known as The Morning Star. I learned of his duplicity and brought his deception before the board."

"You tattled?" Keegan asked as he thought about something she'd said that he found even more intriguing. "Board?"

She stood and paced, her heels clicking on the pine flooring. "A panel of judges. Our Lord learned an invaluable lesson ages ago about defection and is understandably merciless in his punishment with anyone who crosses the line." Obviously still angered by Samael, she glared at Keegan as if he were responsible for the fracas.

He cast aside the thought when something else occurred to him, probably because his life was governed by rules, laws, timetables and deadlines. "Are you on a countdown? Is there a time limit for you to reunite my soul and me?"

"Not specifically."

When she averted her eyes, he became uneasy. There was something she didn't want him to know, and her secrecy revolved around his soul. Determined to know, he asked, "What consequences will I suffer if I'm without my soul for too long?"

"We don't know exactly."

"But you've hypothesized?" He waited for her nod and asked, "What's the verdict?"

She spread her hands at her sides. "There's no delicate way to explain this, so I'll say it straight out. Souls are the essence, the conscience of every human – an immortal sixth sense, if you will."

Keegan considered the explanation and came to the only conclusion possible. "In which case, the longer I'm without my soul, the more I become something I'm not." Mr. Hyde. He should just shoot himself now. Day to day life, the life he prized, the life he loved and would fight to keep would, ironically, do him in. Hell's bells, what a mess he was in.

"Have faith, Keegan."

Good advice, but difficult for him to abide, under the circumstances.

"Do you have anything to eat?" Echo asked. "I'm famished."

"I eat out mostly," he said absently. "But there should be something in the refrigerator."

"Where might that be?"

He pointed to the hallway set off the living room. "To the right."

Several minutes later, she returned with a bottle of Chardonnay, two wine glasses, a square of cheese, a package of crackers, and a dish of olives.

"It was slim pickings, but there's no mold on the cheddar, and this is not a bad wine."

"Do you always make the best of bad situations?"

She shrugged and bit into a cube of cheese.

He determined that Echo was a 'my-glass-is-half-full' woman, which led him to wonder if Samael would tattle their whereabouts to Satan. Then he grimaced at the absurdity of the question. Of course, he would. The man was demonic from his spriggly hair down to his pigeon toes.

"How long before the really bad guys get here?"

"I think we're safe for the night. At least, it's what I would do."

"Create a false sense of security." He stated the obvious.

"You know the game."

"It's not unlike lawyering. Make the witness comfortable, establish a rapport, be his friend, then go for the jugular."

"Does that actually work?"

"Sometimes."

"With the less intellectual types."

"And the honest ones." His eyelids were heavy with sleep. Despite the threats and violence darkness might impose, his body required rest, and his mind needed a time-out.

"I'm calling it a day," he said. "You can take my bed. The cleaning lady was in today so the sheets are clean. I'll bunk on the sofa."

"I'll take the sofa," she said. "I won't be sleeping anyway."

He stood and, though he was tired and wanted nothing more than to crash, something else occurred to him that he needed answered. "Tell me about you and Samael."

"Huh?"

"Back in the alley. Samael reminded you about what happened in Dubai and Seven-Pack. When I asked you about it, you said, 'Later'. Now's as good a time as any."

"It isn't anything earth-shattering. Samael sucker-punched me and rode off with my camel, Seven-Pack, leaving me stranded in the desert without food and water and without any light to lead my way. I got lost. Really lost." She chuckled.

Without forethought, he brushed his fingers over her cheeks. He was right – silky-smooth, just as he'd thought.

"Please, don't," Echo said, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and looked into her eyes. "Do you really want me to stop?" When she didn't answer, he kissed her. Her lips tasted of peaches and were as supple as her cheeks.

"Tell me to stop," he said, hoping to everything holy she wouldn't. He needed her like he'd never needed anything in his entire life.

Mewing, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kicked off her sandals.

He picked her up in his arms and was walking toward his bedroom when pounding sounded on the door.

"Oh God," he said, when Smith smashed his face against the glass and peered inside.

Chapter Five

"As subtle as a tornado," Keegan said beneath his breath. Reluctantly, he set Echo on her feet.

"Did he see us?" Echo asked.

Smith rattled the knob and tried to force his way inside. "Keegan, it's too late to hide. I see you. Let me in."

Sheepishly, Keegan looked at Echo.

She laughed. "Like you said – subtle."

"Later." He smiled, appreciating her sense of humor and good nature. He opened the door with his best get-lost expression, hoping Smith would take the prompt but knowing he wouldn't.

Smith squinted and pushed past him. "What was the holdup, man?"

Keegan stepped aside before the five-seven welterweight, Bermuda-clad, hi-top sneaker-wearing Smith trampled him. "I was in the middle of something, as you can see." It was unlike him to be so candid. Embarrassment spread through him like a brush fire.

Smith looked at Echo. "I see that. Keegan, you old dog. You've been holding out on me." He took Echo's hand and kissed it. "Enchanté. I'm Smith, and you must be Echo. We spoke on the phone."

"Yes, I remember."

Echo was a good sport, playing along with Smith. Keegan liked that, too. In fact, he liked everything about her.

Whoa. He reminded himself not to become attached. What they were about to have – sex – was just that. It could never be anything else with her. She was a celestial being, perhaps even a goddess. When her mission was finished, she'd move on, probably picking up where she left off with the Greek god. Keegan would be left with a broken heart if he weren't careful.

"You look familiar. Have we met before?" Smith asked, eyeing Echo from head to toe.

She laughed. "I don't think so. I'm sure I would remember." She looked at Keegan and grinned.

Smith hitched his shorts on his narrow waist. "True. I'm pretty memorable." He ran his hand down the length of his ponytail, looking at Keegan sideways before he turned and faced him. "Look at you with your shirttail out of your pants."

"Not to rush you," Keegan said. "But why are you here?" Seeing Echo all breathy and flushed was pure torture. She looked at him, and he was lost. How long had it been since Bonita, the woman who wanted him to believe the only thing important in life was sex? At the time and for awhile, she'd made him a believer. Little by little, he'd outgrown her belief and eventually, gotten over her. There were more important things in life than sex. At the moment, though, he couldn't think of one.

As though reading his thoughts, she turned and looked at him and smiled, a delicious smile that dented her cheeks. Lord Almighty, give me strength, he prayed. He bit down hard on his tongue, hoping to alleviate some of his anguish. It didn't work.

Get a hold, Keegan.

He could do it.

_Mind over matter._ He repeated the mantra until his brain had all it could take and fought back. One hand weighed mind while the other weighed matter...no contest. Mind won. He prayed for guidance, or in the alternative, a cold shower.

Smith walked to the bar fridge, and helped himself to a beer. "I thought you might be in some trouble," he said and took a long pull on the brew, his eyes watering from the chill.

"As you can see, I'm fine," Keegan said. "Thank you for your concern, but..." He opened the door and shoved a hand in the pocket of his trousers and impatiently waited for Smith to leave.

Smith wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and burped. "Nope. You're not fine, and I'm not leaving." He wagged his finger in front of their faces and asked, "Now, who of the two of you is going to tell me what's going on?"

Keegan closed the door and opened his mouth to deny anything was, but shut it abruptly when Smith spoke.

"And don't tell me, 'nothing.' Something's definitely going on. I can see it in your eyes, Keegan. The little light is gone that makes your eyes all sparkly and drives grown women to giggle like schoolgirls. What happened to it?"

Knowing Smith like he did, Keegan admitted it would be senseless to try to feed him a plausible explanation, albeit an untruth, but judging from her expression, Echo seemed to think she could manipulate Smith. He gave her a nod and without delay, she took control of the situation.

"Smith...may I call you Smith?" She latched onto him and linked her arm with his.

"You may."

She laughed. "I have a feeling we're going to become great friends."

"Uh-huh."

Keegan watched Smith covertly take in every bit of furniture, every lighting fixture and each speck of dust in the cottage. He was not believing anything Echo said. Smith knew something was going on, but didn't know what and would stay until someone told him the truth. He would recognize the truth, too, when he heard it.

"What do you do for a living, Smith?" Echo asked as she led him to the sofa. She picked up her wine glass from the coffee table.

"I clean toilets."

Echo choked, sputtered and coughed.

Keegan pressed his lips together, accustomed to Smith's outrageous antics. "Smith is being modest. He is sole proprietor of an extremely profitable plumbing company, has a staff of eight and has never cleaned or unclogged a toilet in his life." He gave Smith a stern look. "Be good."

Smith pressed his hand against his heart. "You cut me to the core, bro."

"He's also a lawyer." Keegan smiled. It was always this way with Smith. He refused to acknowledge his academic credentials, achievements, or accomplishments, while Keegan felt duty-bound to pay him tribute. Smith had nothing to prove and was secure with who he was. Keegan wished he could say the same about himself at the moment.

"Now that we have my education straightened out, you can tell me what's going on." Smith plunked himself on the sofa chair and crossed his legs.

Keegan shrugged at Echo, wordlessly leaving the decision to her.

She cleared her throat. "I can see you're a very intuitive man."

"Why don't we cut through the crap and get to the crux of the matter – namely, my man Keegan. What kind of trouble is he in, and how can I help?"

This was textbook Smith – loyal to his dying breath. Everyone should have at least one friend like him.

Echo apologized.

"I accept your apology. Now, what's Keegan got himself into? Double-billing, double-dipping, double―"

"Smith." Keegan arched his brows in warning.

"Okay, okay. We all know Keegan's honest to a fault. He's so clean he squeaks like crepe soles on a marble floor. Did you know Keegan graduated second in his class?" he asked.

"Second to you," Keegan said.

"By one tenth of a point."

Keegan took his whiskey tumbler in his hand and raised it to Smith.

Smith looked at Echo. "You were about to tell me what the problem is."

"Earlier tonight, Keegan was stung by a bee ― "

Smith uncrossed his legs, slammed his feet flat on the floor and looked at Keegan. "But you're all right, right?"

"I injected myself in time."

"How many times have I told you it was hazardous to your health to live alone?" Smith blew out a breath that Keegan recognized as relief as he looked from Echo to Keegan. "I'm sensing a but."

"Unfortunately, there was a glitch," Echo said.

Keegan added a log to the fire and sat in the wing back chair, absently listening to Echo's explanation of the night's events. He had to give Smith credit for exhibiting self-control. If Smith stayed true to form, and it looked like he would, questions would come as rapid as machine gun fire once she finished her exposé.

He sighed, thinking if this kept up, all of Bristol Harbor would know of his plight. Not that Smith couldn't be trusted with a secret, but information had a way of seeing light no matter what precautions were taken.

"And so now we must reunite Keegan with his soul, but, more importantly, before we do that, we must find the demons' toran – portal from the underworld – and close it."

Smith stood, walked to Echo, and said, like he heard this type of story every day, "Nothing should be more important than finding my bud's soul and hooking them up again."

"Keegan is in no immediate risk, and trust me, you don't want these demons freely walking the earth."

"She's right." Keegan told him what he'd witnessed in the alley. "They're here for my heart, Smith, and while they're looking for me, they'll kill anyone in their path. Closing their toran should take priority."

Smith rubbed his whiskered jaw and paced the length of the living room. "A conundrum." After three revolutions around the living room, he stopped in front of Echo and asked, "What are you? An angel? You look like one." He flipped her around and ran his hand over her back. "Where're your wings?"

Echo gawked at Smith, obviously at a loss for words.

A reflection of light outside caught Keegan's attention. He peered through the garden doors and watched a parade of single headlamps come up the drive. He turned to Smith. "You called the bikers," he said, throwing his hands in the air. "I can't believe you called the bikers." Just what they needed to round out an unbelievabe day.

"Only Duplex and Forty-Ouncer," Smith said as he sprinted to the door. He looked out the glass. "Oh, good. They brought...it looks like, the Mango Triplets, Grunge, and Scooter."

Keegan still couldn't believe Smith had called the bikers. "I'm surprised you didn't phone Mom and Pop," he said out the side of his mouth.

"Which reminds me." Smith shoved his hand in the back pocket of his shorts and came out with a cell phone. He punched in a number and put the cell to his ear. "Hello, Mother. It's Smith." He stared at the floor and listened. "Yes, he's fine. I'm with him now. ... Uh-huh. ... Uh-huh. ... I know, sweetness. I'll tell him."

Keegan groaned. Smith was not a diplomat. Keegan could only imagine what Smith had told his folks. Undoubtedly, Keegan would have a lot of explaining to do later.

"Your mother sends her love," Smith said. "She also told me to tell you to be careful and hoped you weren't with that vile girl, Bonita, and said not to forget to use protection even if the girl tells you she's on the pill." He smiled at Echo, then proceeded toward the entry.

Embarrassed, Keegan followed him out the door, stopping in the threshold a moment to reassure Echo he would give them the salesman's rush, then they'd pick up where they left off. She surprised him by suggesting, "Why don't you invite them in?"

He looked at her, stunned. Moments ago she was hot for him, now she wanted to entertain. He would never figure out women.

She puffed her cheeks, blew the air out slowly and shrugged. "First things first. We may need their help."

He couldn't see how they could help, and expressed his concern by pointing out the unorthodox politics of the bikers and their reputable disregard for the law. Ethics to these bikers was merely a word. Much to his dismay, his argument only enhanced them in her eyes.

"Excellent," she said.

He gave in. "But I'm only inviting in Duplex and Forty-Ouncer. The others can wait outside."

Three minutes later, Keegan re-entered the cottage with Smith and the bikers in tow. He introduced Duplex, a matchstick-slender, clean-shaven, short-haired man, wearing denim coveralls two sizes too large. "This is Dwayne Peters. A...ah...client."

Duplex shook Echo's hand. "My friends call me Duplex and any friend of the Kee's is a friend of mine." He hauled Forty-Ouncer, a golden-ager with an unruly mop of gray hair, to his side. "This here shy, bib-wearing young fellow is BJ Brown, known as Forty-Ouncer around these parts."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am," he said, holding his baseball cap against his heart. He gave Echo's hand a little shake.

"Likewise," Echo said with a smile that Keegan was sure had won many hearts. She took Duplex and Forty-Ouncer by the hands and led them to the sofa. "Can I get you boys anything to drink?" she asked after they sat.

"Mineral water, if you have it, ma'am," Duplex said. "We're driving."

Keegan watched Echo play hostess. The role suited her well. He imagined she adapted to any situation with ease and class. He brought the bikers their refreshments and sat on the arm of the sofa with his arms folded against his chest. Smith, he remarked, was being uncharacteristically quiet. Probably taking time to analyze the secret they'd shared with him.

Echo looked at Keegan and asked. "Shall I?"

"Please do." Keegan was relieved. He found himself at the disadvantage of not knowing what to tell and what not to and wished they'd had a chance to confer.

She addressed the bikers like royalty. "Gentlemen, I'm going to say this straight out. There's been a hit put out on Keegan."

"A hit," Forty-Ouncer said.

A second later, Duplex, bushy brows to his hairline, echoed Forty-Ouncer's astonishment and added, "Who paid for the contract? Give us the name and we'll settle the matter with the stupid son-of-a-bitch." He looked at Echo. "Sorry, ma'am. Got carried away."

"No need to apologize," Echo said. "I use the occasional swear word myself."

"How do you fit into this?" Duplex asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

She smiled. "I don't mind in the least. I've been assigned to protect Keegan."

"By whom?" Duplex asked.

"A governing authority."

Forty-Ouncer, who had been listening intently, turned to Keegan and asked, "Witness Protection?"

Echo addressed the question. "You might say that, and there's nothing more I can add without jeopardizing Keegan's cover." She looked at Keegan and winked, then turned back to the bikers. "I'm sure you understand."

Duplex rolled up his sleeves. "How can we help?"

"Well, for now, we'd just like to know we can count on you should we require assistance."

"You got it, ma'am," Duplex said with a nod at Forty-Ouncer.

Echo stood.

Duplex dipped his hand in the pocket of his coveralls and came out with a business card. He grabbed a pen from the coffee table, scribbled something across the back, and handed the card to Echo. "This here's my private number. You can get me day or night." When she nodded, he patted her upper arm and walked to Keegan. "Take care, man." He shook Keegan's hand like he'd never have another opportunity to do so.

"I will." To his surprise, Keegan choked up from the tough biker's concern. His emotions were running askew. He felt at odds even with himself. Echo needed to find his soul soon before he became a sniveling idiot.

Smith was the last to leave, but Keegan couldn't be sure Smith had left the property and shared his concern with Echo.

"He's probably camped on a fat branch in the nannyberry out front," Keegan said, closing and locking the door. He took Echo's hand. "Now where were we before Smith and the bikers?"

She rubbed up against him. "I think you were here." She kissed his neck. "And here." She kissed his chin.

He groaned. "Quick. Douse the lights."

Chapter Six

Keegan fell into bed with Echo in a tangle of muscled arms and legs. He hadn't been with a woman in a very long time, but that wasn't the reason for his burning desire. Echo affected him in ways no other woman had.

"I thought I'd go out of my mind, I wanted you so badly," he said, his hands exploring her body. No matter what tomorrow brought, he would always have tonight.

She ran her hand along his jaw, tenderly. Her eyes captivated him, beseeching, bewitching and bewildering.

Beneath him, Echo raised herself and kissed him hard on the lips, her tongue probing his mouth tentatively at first, then boldly. Her nimble fingers unfastened buttons and tore off his shirt. She ended the kiss and looked deeply into his eyes.

His hands sank into the downy softness of the comforter as he rested his upper body on his palms. He leaned forward and explored her mouth.

He didn't need his soul to feel whole. He needed nothing more than Echo. Nothing more...

"How long has it been for you?" She lifted her head and peered at him.

His breath fell against her hair as he struggled to answer. "Months," he managed to say before succumbing to the delicious sensations coursing through him. "For you?"

"Longer."

He tumbled between the sheets with her.

This would be a memorable night for both of them. He thought about how Echo put aside her desire to please him. In the several hours since she came into his life, he had done nothing but take from her. First, he took from her strength, then he took from her wisdom, then he left her to deal with Smith and the bikers, and here he was selfishly using her again.

He imagined her job had her doing for others with no one doing for her. That pattern would end with him. "Let me," he said, his voice husky with the need to please her.

***

Keegan hugged Echo against him, never wanting the day to end. He had a nice thought the two of them could enjoy a future together. Then he remembered. They lived in different worlds. Despite the realization, his mind flooded with thoughts of the two of them sharing their lives. Maybe he could find a way for them to be together.

"Oh my Lord in Heaven. Maybe it's because it's been so long, but I can't remember feeling this way before." She sank her teeth into the meaty flesh of his shoulder and bit him playfully. "That was...that was..."

"Sinful?"

"Exactly." She stretched languidly and sighed.

It seemed all his life he'd searched for a woman like her – one who put him before herself, who thought of him first beyond all else, and one who considered him an equal and not someone to be used to further personal objectives.

"I will never let you go, Echo."

He sensed her frowning at his declaration and intuitively knew what she would say.

"Keegan, it can never be anything more than the moments we share while I'm helping you. Once I complete this assignment, I'll be returned to await my next task. You know that, don't you?"

He knew he meant more to her than just another affair. No one could share what they just had and feel nothing. Maybe she didn't know it yet, or maybe she did but wouldn't admit it. Either way, Echo would declare her love for him before long.

To soothe her obvious misgivings, he said, "I know."

Keegan wanted to know everything about her. Who she was before she became a herald. Surely, she wasn't born one. Was there a vacancy in the herald division and she applied for the job? That question opened the door to other questions. How had the opening come about? Did heralds die? She said they suffered pain and bled. Maybe they had stronger defenses and immune systems and weren't as susceptible to sickness as humans.

"Who's Bonita?" she asked.

"A mistake." Which reminded him to call his mother first thing in the morning, otherwise his mom, like Smith, would arrive on his doorstep. Then he'd have some explaining to do. He was thankful he had people in his life who cared for him the way they did. Sometimes, though, their concern became too much for him.

"Did you love her?" Echo asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"I thought I did." He gave thanks to whoever was responsible for preventing him from making the mistake of marrying her. Truthfully, he hadn't much luck with the opposite sex. They'd used him, pretended to love him, and left him. After he ended his relationship with Bonita, he'd sworn off women, believing celibacy was in his best interest. Perhaps it had been. If he were in a relationship now, he would not have been open to Echo. Feeling like he now did, that would have been a crying shame.

"What's Smith's full name?" she asked.

"Smith Smith."

She rested her chin on his breast and looked at him. "You're joshing."

"'Fraid not." He chuckled. "If you knew his parents, you'd understand."

"Maybe I'll get to meet them before I go."

"Maybe." That spurred a horrible thought. "Not in the same way you met me, I hope." He relaxed when she shook her head. "Getting back to Smith, years ago his mother's family took on the custom to put "Smith" as a middle name of each of their first born. In Smith's mother's case, she married a Smith, no relation. When they were registering him, they realized his name would be Sherman Smith Smith. Well, that wouldn't do, so they decided on Smith Sherman Smith, which, of course, translates to – "

"Smith Smith."

"You got it." His mood turned sullen at the thought of her leaving him for God only knew where. "Have you ever been in love? The kind of love that leaves you blind; a love so deep you would gladly give your life for him?" He believed in such a love. In fact, he was certain he'd found it with Echo.

He felt her tense and suspected he'd brought up a painful subject. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dredge up sad memories."

"It's okay. It was a long, long time ago, and I hardly think of him anymore. When I do, it's with regret that I became involved with him at all."

"But isn't it better to regret than wonder? Besides, we all make mistakes. The trick is to benefit from them. Who is he?" He wanted to wring the bastard's neck for causing her pain.

"No one you know." She giggled.

"Someone in your world? Another herald?"

"Uh-huh. He used me to further his goals. There was an opening in the upper echelon – a supervisory position – and he manipulated me into helping him win the election. I campaigned for him, selling him to the electorates, singing his praises, pleading his assets. I would have done anything for him." She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "He promised me paradise. He wasn't in office two minutes before he threw me to the side like a busted trumpet."

"He'll get his one day." He hugged her close. "They always do."

"With good reason He frowns on inter-office romance. He's right to. Both the affair and the after-shock of the break-up affected my work. It crushed me to be left with a fantasy rather than a reality, but other than that, no one got hurt – only by the grace of God, I'm sure – but I learned a very important lesson."

He didn't need to ask to know what she came away from the relationship with. Keegan would have to work very hard to make her believe they were destined to be together and that he would never hurt her. "Have you ever become involved with a charge?"

"No."

Hearing that filled him with joy. That meant she liked him – perhaps really liked him. He knew she was attracted to him. Maybe that would lead to something more binding.

"My charges are the elderly. They're either senile or Alzheimeric."

That sucked the wind from Keegan's pipes. He meant no more to her than a sexual object. A play toy. No. He wouldn't believe that.

"What do you do for the deceased?" he asked around the catch in his throat.

"They have no sense of direction. I put them on the correct path."

"Toward the light?"

She smiled lopsidedly. "That's an old folks' tale. I arrange for a loved one to meet them and escort them to their final resting place. First, though, they must walk part of the way, which is where they lose their balance."

A chill came over him and his skin tingled; the same sensations he experienced when he became one of the undead. He felt someone watching him and lifted his head and looked around the dimly lit room, searching darkened corners and shadowy spaces through squinted eyes, but nothing jumped out at him.

He laid his head back on the pillow, still sensing eyes on him.

Chapter Seven

Keegan woke to sunlight warming his face – an odd occurrence for him since he was usually at the office before sun-up. Odder, still, was the warm body snuggling against him. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had slept over, but definitely never since he'd moved into the cottage.

Her lips were parted slightly, her breath tickling his chest. One arm was draped across his mid-section, her splayed hand cupping his hip.

They had fallen asleep in this position and neither of them had stirred.

He never wanted to leave the bed, and even gave serious thought to the idea.

That was what being in love felt like. He smiled, liking the feeling. He wouldn't give up on them. He'd fight to his dying breath if that was what it took to convince Echo to remain on his plane. He didn't know if that was even possible for her to do. What he knew for certain was that his life would mean nothing without her. He might as well be dead.

There was nothing about her he didn't like...well, he could do without her growl when she became excited. That would be something they could work on. If not, he would get used to it. It was kind of sexy, really.

His heart flowing with happiness, he kissed the top of her head.

Echo groaned awake. "Are you always such a morning person?" she asked, slipping her leg from between his and stretching her arms high above his head.

"Morning, Sunshine." He chuckled. Apparently, she didn't share his enthusiasm for the start of a new day.

She mumbled something he couldn't decipher, but the words had a cranky tone to them.

The sheet covering her slipped off her breasts. He was tempted, but seeing as how Echo awoke pernickety, he didn't think she'd take it kindly if he made a move on her.

"Stop staring. It's impolite."

How did she do that? She must possess an extremely high level of intuition, which, he supposed, was a good thing to have in her line of work.

"You're too much of a temptation for me."

"A temptress, huh? Show me, then, Sir, in what way I tempt thee."

He appreciated a challenge. This, however, was more gift than challenge.

With the barest of touches, she ran her nails over his chest, circling, twirling, and caressing, driving him wild, showing her playful side.

There was something else, too, in those coy eyes. Skepticism, perhaps.

He suspected she wanted to trust him, but doubted she could. "I will never hurt you, Echo. You have my word."

Sunlight streamed across her face, highlighting the sprinkle of freckles over the bridge of her nose and glittering her eyes. He fell in love with her all over again.

***

Echo recognized the look in Keegan's eyes. He was in love with her. Beelzebub. How did that happen? More importantly, what was she going to do about it?

She could ask for reassignment. Beelzebub. That would go over well. She imagined the conversation: My Lord, I need you to appoint someone else to Mr. Black. Why? He's in love with me. So?

Yes, exactly. So? If Keegan despised her, would she want off the case? No. She'd tell him to suck it up and get used to it.

So, suck it up, Echo.

Her skin shivered beneath his touch. Her body shuddered. She bit her lip against the delicious sensations coursing through her. He could do things to her that made her wish for a mortal life.

Luckily, the moment passed quickly. She couldn't imagine willingly putting herself victim to viruses and diseases, growing old, wrinkling like a prune, age spots, bones creaking and trembling with the slightest of movement. No, she didn't want that life and wondered how humans cherished it so, even if every day started like this.

She'd been on her own for centuries. She came and went as she desired, did what she pleased and answered to no one. Why would she want to give up any of that? There was a lot to be said for an independent and solitary life.

When she wanted companionship and coupling, there was always an abundance of lovers. They might not have Keegan's cute cleft in his chin, or eyes that shifted from blue to green with emotion, or his soft lips, or the darling curl that dangled over his right eye, stubbornly refusing to stay in place, but her suitors would suffice.

Suffice? What was she doing? She never settled. Yet, here she was championing herself to accept second-best.

He took her bottom lip between his teeth. Beelzebub. She'd never seen such beautiful lips. She closed her eyes. The weight and warmth of his body, his glistening, perfectly toned skin, his gentleness, sent her mind and body reeling.

As she lay contentedly in his protective arms, she wondered why things couldn't stay like this forever. She flirted with the idea for a moment, but then discarded the notion. Wishing and hoping for something that could never happen was a gross misuse of time. Time was precious and should never be squandered on musings.

She opened her eyes and hugged him tightly.

He buried his head in the crook of her arm. "I could get used to this."

"To what?"

"Waking next to you. Starting the day by making love with you."

"Sex," she said, wanting him to see the difference.

"That was love, honey. Pure and simple."

With a smile that could only be described as sly, he pecked her lips, swung his legs over the side, and stood. "I'm taking a shower. Care to join me?"

She practically drooled at the sight of his nakedness. The man was an Adonis. Her traitorous body reacted before she could close her gaping mouth.

Within an instant, she was wrapping her arm around his waist and happily walking toward the bath with him.

***

Later, spent and relishing every minute of the afterglow, Keegan, with Echo at his side, strolled into the kitchen.

He pulled to an abrupt stop when he saw Smith leaning against the counter. "How'd you get in?" He was sure he locked the door last night.

"I knocked, but you couldn't have heard, so I used the key you keep hidden for me in the potted mum at the door."

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long enough to hear you singing in the shower." Smith looked at Echo and smiled. "Morning," he said in tune with the gurgle of brewing coffee.

Keegan noticed a blush creeping up Echo's neck. He found that cute, but hoped Smith wouldn't notice.

"Good morning, Smith," she said.

Smith pointed a finger at her and looked over her head at Keegan. "I wouldn't have thought it possible, but she blushes."

She smacked Smith on the arm. "So are you."

"What?" He nabbed the toaster from the counter and examined his reflection at every angle. "Blushes are for horny thirteen-year-olds," he mumbled more to himself, Keegan suspected, than anyone.

Echo winked at Keegan.

"I'm not." Smith placed the toaster back in its place.

She shot him with her finger. "Gotcha."

"Cute outfit," he said, pointing to the hot pink leisure suit she wore.

"Keegan said it's yours."

Smith looked at Keegan. "It's not mine, man. It's...it's...I can't remember her name. That redhead with the bowed legs." He turned to Echo. "Of course, I didn't know they were bowed until she got out of — "

Echo mimed a time-out. "Too much info."

Smith smiling widely, obviously relieved to be able to shift the subject away from him, asked, "What's on the agenda for today?" He bit into a chocolate doughnut and scratched the top of his head.

"Back to the alley. I'm thinking that's where the demons' portal is."

Keegan's blood chilled picturing Echo fighting demons. True, that's what she did, what she was trained to do. That was before, though, when she didn't have an attachment to a charge, to him. Love might make her careless. Love might make her feel invincible. He needed to protect her.

"I'm going with you," he said firmly.

"Yeah, me, too," Smith said.

Echo looked from Keegan to Smith, debating, perhaps, whether to argue. He knew the moment she relented – a quick jut of her chin, a whisper of a smile, and a blink of her eyes, and the decision was made.

***

Keegan's watch beeped on twelve noon as they arrived at the scene where his ordeal had begun. His knees buckled on landing, but other than that, he suffered no ill effects.

Smith, on the other hand, seemed unaffected by speed travel.

"Whooiee," Smith said, grinning widely and giving Echo a thumbs-up. "What a rush. I could get used to that." He bumped her hip.

As if accustomed to hearing such whoopla, she paid him no attention and walked the perimeter of the passageway, stopping when something caught her attention, listening intently, and then moving on, the picture of vigilance.

After several minutes of judicious scrutiny, she stopped and pointed to a corner of a brick building. "There's the entry to their toran."

Keegan followed the direction of her outstretched finger, but didn't see anything. Beside him, Smith squinted and voiced Keegan's thoughts.

"Yes, you do," she said. "You just don't know what you're looking for. There." She pointed again. "The ripple in the air, like the shimmering you see when heat radiates off pavement."

Smith removed his sunglasses and walked to the area she'd indicated. He ran his hand over the shimmering air. "Doesn't feel any different." He jabbed his hand in the waves and grinned when it disappeared. "Hey, neat." Like a kid, he repeated the act, saying with excitement, "Now you see it, now you don't."

Keegan asked, "Should he be doing that?"

"I wouldn't advise it. He probably set off a silent alarm and alerted the demons to his presence. In fact, there's probably one standing guard now with a machete just waiting for him to do that one more time."

"Is that true?" Keegan asked.

She looked at him and whispered, "Why would they need guards? Who wants to go to Hell? I'm just having a little fun with our friend."

Keegan nodded, relieved he wouldn't have to deal with demons.

Like a chastised kid, Smith shoved his hands in his pockets and, moving closer, peered into the waves.

She grabbed his shirttail. "Not too near. Wouldn't want to have to haul you out of the colliery of Hell. That could get messy."

"Hell?" Smith cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, of course. Where do you think demons come from?"

He sucked in his cheeks and pursed his lips. "When we think of Heaven, we look to the sky. When we think of Hell, we look at the ground."

Echo shook her head. "You mortals have the weirdest ideas. Heaven, like Hell, is a big place. If it were subterranean, don't you think the earth would collapse?"

"That never occurred to me," Keegan said.

"Me, neither," Smith said, rubbing his jaw and looking pensive. "What's next?"

"I want you two to stand guard while I go in."

"Whoa." Keegan cleared his throat. "You didn't say anything about entering their world," he said, remembering her exact words: I have to find their portal and close it. He understood that to mean from the outside and that it was a simple matter.

"I know what I said, but there's something not kosher with what's going on, and I need to find out what that is. The demons have no idea I found their entry, so they won't be expecting me. I'll be able to slip in undetected and, hopefully, learn their plan. If I'm really lucky, I'll find out, too, why they want you so badly. Slip in and slip out."

Keegan didn't think it was as easy as Echo made it seem. He was about to protest when she said, as though she needed his permission, "I'll be in and out, and they won't know I was even there."

Unconvinced, Keegan nodded nevertheless. "Okay."

She turned and walked into the rift.

"Let's go," Keegan said.

Smith let out a loud breath. "You had me worried. I thought you were going to let her do this without back-up. Lead the way. I'm right behind you, bro. "

With Smith at his side, Keegan walked through the air where Echo had disappeared.

The inside of the toran was nothing like Keegan expected. It, in fact, resembled a mine — dark, dingy and damp. He touched the rock wall and immediately withdrew his hand, rubbing the tips of his fingers against each other. They felt as if the skin had been ripped off.

The rock formation shone like obsidian in the beam of his penlight. He pointed that out to Smith, who appeared as mesmerized by the tunnel as he.

His breath formed puffs of white cloud about his face. If this was Hell, it was damn cold. Another belief quashed.

He instructed Smith to follow behind him. For once, he didn't argue.

Keegan proceeded cautiously, using the light only when absolutely needed. Echo, with a head start, was already out of sight.

"Do you see Echo?" Smith asked, his voice a whisper.

Keegan shook his head, his mind overrun with thoughts of the demons doing barbaric things to her. A moment away from hyperventilation, he was able to talk himself into believing that was irrational thinking in the face of adversity. Echo could look after herself. He knew that. Still, he worried. He increased his pace, his steps becoming bolder and broader. At his back, he could feel Smith's anxiety and opened his mouth to reassure him when Keegan smelled the sickening odor of burning flesh. He stopped, bringing Smith to a halt behind him.

"Smell that?" he asked.

Smith exaggerated a gag. "Gross."

"Do you want to turn back?" Keegan wouldn't argue if he did.

"What about Echo? Maybe those bastards captured her."

Keegan didn't see her so careless to let that happen. On the off chance that Smith's theory was right, though, he doubted they could help her.

Without warning, Echo materialized between them. "You boys listen well, I see."

"Did you honestly think any machismo would just stand by and let a woman fight off demons by herself?" Smith asked.

Keegan came to her defense. "If you'd seen Echo in action, you wouldn't think she needed help from us. Or from anyone for that matter." Just then, he heard a multitude of noises in the distance and cocked his head. "That sounds like..."

"I'm hearing rap music," Smith said and groaned. "Pure torture, man."

Keegan listened more closely and deciphered the din. "People crying, and ... and that sharp sound is a whip whizzing through the air, isn't it?" He came to the only conclusion possible. "Someone's being lashed."

Before either Keegan or Echo could stop him, Smith sprinted ahead several yards, stopping to peek around a bend. Within seconds, he was back in their faces, breathing heavily and yelling, "Let's get the hell out of here." Smith blew past them like demons were on his tail.

Chapter Eight

Keegan didn't know what Smith had seen, but whatever he'd witnessed obviously scared the bejeezus out of him. Smith didn't frighten easily.

Eager to help Smith, Keegan grabbed Echo's hand and led the way to the mouth of the toran, grateful she allowed him the small chauvinistic act.

The darkness impeded his retreat, forcing him to slow down and proceed cautiously. He couldn't risk using the penlight. Maybe Smith had alerted the demons. They could already be bearing down on them. The thought motivated him to pick up the pace despite the possible obstacles.

The mid-day sun blinded Keegan when he re-entered the alley. He squinted to give his eyes a moment to adjust.

Echo, apparently unaffected by the brilliant rays, speed-walked to Smith. "What happened?"

Smith, breathing in sporadic bursts, leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. "Get us out of here," he said between gulps of air. "Asap."

Seeing the normally unflappable Smith shaken, unsettled Keegan. He became as restless as Smith to leave the alley.

In the next instant, Keegan stood in his living room on one side of Echo with Smith on the other. Smith, still visibly upset, stumbled to the sofa and plopped down onto the cushions.

Keegan poured brandy into a snifter and handed the glass to Smith. "Here."

Without a word, Smith downed the shot and handed the tumbler to Keegan. "'Nother."

After he finished the second drink and seemed calmer, Keegan asked, "Want to talk about it?"

He shook his head and rested his forearms on his thighs, and, staring at the floor, rocked on the edge of the sofa.

With each crack of Smith's knuckles, Keegan became increasingly alarmed. He had never seen Smith in such a state and looked at Echo for assistance.

"He needs time to digest what he saw," she said low enough that Smith wouldn't hear.

Keegan sat beside him and talked about the weather, about the Thanksgiving Day festivities the town was putting on, about his new client, the unnamed one who should be seeing Dr. Phil.

Echo watched Keegan with Smith, marveling at their friendship and at the same time feeling cheated for missing out on a supportive relationship like the one they shared. She couldn't explain it, but lately, she found herself open to the possibility of experiencing something new like Keegan. The man was unique and remarkable. She wondered why some woman hadn't snatched him up. He was a find. That was a fact.

She'd thought the same of Bartholomew. He'd shown her kindness, as well. They'd made love, too, as if their bodies wouldn't survive without the other. Every look, every touch of his hand had made her think she was his world, just like Keegan made her think. But she was mistaken, then.

That wouldn't happen a second time. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. There would be no more shame on her. Not this time. Not ever again.

Smith threw himself back on the sofa and draped an arm across his eyes. "I never smelled anything like it. Like rotting garbage, only ten times worse, and their cries, their pleas for mercy..." He turned tear-filled eyes toward them. "I'll never forget the sound of the whips." He shivered. "Their backs were cut into strips from the whip and the ones who weren't being whipped were suspended by chains and dangled naked over pits of fire. And that's only what I saw on a glimpse. The place went on for miles." Smith shuddered.

Echo sat beside him, sympathizing and wishing she could wipe Smith's memory. Her powers only extended so far. "You have to keep in mind those people are murderers, rapists, pedophiles, and the like; horrible people who committed atrocities on men, women, and children and wouldn't be where they are if they didn't deserve to be."

Smith nodded. "I know."

"Did anyone see you?" Echo asked, keeping her voice soft and soothing.

"What? I don't think so. Maybe. One creepy-looking guy, he must have stood seven-feet tall. He had red eyes and scaly skin and a tail that kept flicking back and forth, back and forth with each slap of the whip as if he relished their torture. He probably saw me. He looked right at where I hid and hissed. That's when I got the hell out of there."

Keegan looked at Echo. "Do you know this demon?"

She nodded. "Maybe."

Keegan understood her grimace to mean she wouldn't want to tango with the fellow. He wanted to know everything there was to know about demons – their strengths and weaknesses, if they had any – and particularly about Red Eyes. If he saw Smith and chased after him, and they had managed to outrun him, it was only a matter of time before he came knocking on his door with a few friends. It scared him to think he might end up defending himself against those demons, but he knew he should prepare himself for every event, just in case.

Keegan turned to Echo. "Can these demons be stopped? Can you stop them?"

"They can be killed, if that's what you're asking."

He felt better, until he envisioned himself in combat with the demon of all demons, which reminded him of something else he wanted to know. "Were you able to close the portal?"

"No. There was some sort of barrier I'm not familiar with."

"That complicates things." Keegan rocked on his heels and bit the inside of his cheek, remarking on his composure. Two days before, he would have argued whether any of this were possible, and now he was talking about demons, Hell, and portals like everyday conversation.

"It does."

"But only momentarily?" Keegan held his breath while he waited to hear the only answer that would stop the fluttering in his stomach.

He let out his breath when she nodded. Smith's groan pulled their attention to him.

"What is it?" Keegan asked, unable to keep the question from sounding desperate.

"What happened to the body in the alley? The one you saw the demons eating, Keegan. Did someone find it? Are the police involved now?" The questions spewed from Smith like a prepared list. "Maybe we should call the cops." He looked at Echo. "No insult intended at your prowess."

"None taken, but there's no need to worry. The demons dispose of their victims, leaving nothing behind for anyone to find."

Smith said out the side of his mouth, "That explains the multitude of missing persons."

"Better that than walking dead," Echo said matter-of-factly.

Keegan sputtered the words. "Walking dead?"

Echo looked at him as if he'd just arrived from Mars. "Of course. I'm sorry. I assumed you knew."

He wished she would have come with a handbook. The Dummies Guide to What's Fiction and What's Fact in the Supernatural. Everything would be much easier. Well, not easier, but definitely more easily understood.

"You'll have to bear with me. This is my first experience with the hereafter." And, he hoped, the last for a very, very long while.

"How noble of the demons to clean up their messes," Keegan said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

"Oh, not noble at all. More self-preservation. They learned a hard lesson several hundred years back. Vampires came in after the demons' kill, sucking the victims dry. Then those victims rose to walk the earth, and the few turned into hundreds, then thousands. Soon, there were more vampires than demons. The demons found themselves in jeopardy, but not only that, these 'pires were actually attacking demons. Rumor has it there are still some of those heathens at loose."

"You're joking, right?" Keegan asked, willing her to answer affirmatively.

"No. Why would you think so?"

That was the stuff movies were made of, not de facto occurrences happening in small towns that were a dot on a map. Keegan took a moment to ponder. Strange how, in the face of violence, the mind could be coached to believe and accept the unbelievable and the incomprehensible; the things that, in ordinary circumstances, would be discarded as ridiculous.

Keegan and Smith exchanged glances, mutely conveying they would discuss this at more length privately.

Echo stood. "Now that we settled that, I'm famished. Let's order pizza. I'll have the vegetarian delight. Where do you keep your Ouija board?"

Chapter Nine

Speechless, Keegan stared at Echo. She could only want a Ouija board for one reason – a séance. Undoubtedly, there would be real ghosts involved. He'd already had enough of the supernatural. Anything more might send him leaping off buildings again. On a brighter note, Echo's imagination and compassion amazed him, and he loved that she thought to lessen Smith's anxiety by lightening the mood. He found it cute, too, that she asked for a Ouija board as if every home had one.

"I don't have a Ouija board," he said behind a smile.

She frowned. "No? We need to get one. Are the stores open on Sunday?"

"Yes." Maybe if he didn't appear too enthusiastic she'd forget the idea.

Smith perked up. "The toy store in Bristol Mall would sell them." He rubbed his hands together and grinned. "A séance. I can't wait."

Obviously, Smith hadn't thought long or hard on the good and bad of summoning spirits. For one, this wasn't a children's game; not this time. For another, these ghosts would not be a child's interpretation or imagination hard at work. He hadn't forgotten about whom he shared the cottage with from time to time, but Henry and Lena were friends, not ghosts.

Keegan voiced his concern, but Echo would hear none of what he said. Instead, she appealed to him by reminding him of her identity with a gentle rib. "Oh, ye, of little faith."

Oh, he had faith all right.

"I'll get your soul back for you," she said.

Keegan, like Smith a moment ago, perked up. "Why didn't you say so?" he said, grabbing his car keys off the Shanxi walnut wine table and heading to the door. "We'll pick up the pizzas on our way back." Suddenly, he felt ravenous.

Echo, with Smith close at her heels, raced to the door. "I'll zap us there."

"I'd rather drive." Keegan worried about what damage speed travel caused to his body and to Smith's, too.

She shrugged. "Driving to get from one point to another is an unusual concept for me, but I'm open to trying new things." She grimaced. "There're those words again – new things. Arggh."

Keegan's brow furrowed. At times, she could be as confusing as lawyers. Not that he was complaining; he found it endearing. He waited for her to explain.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Until I met you, I never gave a moment's thought to change. I love my life just like it is. You're a bad influence."

Keegan grinned. He couldn't help himself, though he understood her dilemma and knew what curves life could throw. He liked that he was Echo's curve.

"Don't look so smug." She swatted his arm.

Not until Smith cleared his throat did Keegan remember they weren't alone. For a moment, it had been only the two of them. A glorious moment, one he wanted never to end.

Smith grabbed the keys from Keegan's fingers. "I'll drive."

Keegan mentally crossed himself when they arrived at the mall intact. Smith gave new meaning to record time, and had obviously taken Echo at her word that she couldn't wait to get out of that pink leisure suit.

He experienced a moment of jealousy, then chastised himself for the detestable emotion. Smith was his friend; his best friend. The words caught in his throat and threatened his windpipe. _Best_ _friend_ ... _friend_ ... _friend_ .... He coughed and sputtered.

Smith tapped his back. "Something the matter, bro?"

Keegan cleared his throat but couldn't trust himself not to say what he thought of him. My God, man, what are you thinking? _This_ _isn't_ _you_. _It's_ _the_ _devil_ _inside_. _Pull_ _yourself_ _together_.

He shook his head and took a deep breath, clearing his mind. "Why don't we shop for the Ouija board first?" he asked, shifting the attention away from him. He doubted he would have the stamina for more shopping after outfitting Echo. He had no first-hand experience shopping with women, but he'd heard stories and equated the ordeal with a root canal.

With a child's excitement, Smith led them through hordes of Sunday shoppers and those looking to idle away a few hours. Keegan marveled at Smith's about-face. He shouldn't have. Smith possessed an uncanny aptitude for making the best of any situation and the ability to overcome what would overwhelm and conquer a lesser man. Smith had been taken by surprise when he came face to face with the tortures of the damned. Then he'd thought on it, suffered under its weight, dealt with it, and moved on, but not before tucking the experience in a place easily accessible. If ever he questioned his humanity, the horrible memory would serve to keep him stabilized.

Minutes later, with the Ouija board in hand, Echo directed Keegan and Smith toward a boutique catering to a woman's every need and to some she didn't know she had.

Inside Bust 'n Bodice, a sign boasted 'For the Young and the Young at Heart'. Echo figured she qualified on both counts. When she suggested the men go for a coffee while she shopped, they declined and posed good arguments, as lawyers were wont to do, for staying together: We'll be close at hand if you need help. What happens if the demons find Keegan and you're nowhere around? Would it be wise to let the local police become involved?

With equally good responses to their concerns, she decided not to argue, realizing they needed to feel needed. She was more than capable of looking after herself. She'd been doing it for centuries. And she wouldn't let anything happen to Keegan, nor would she separate herself from her charge if any chance existed that endangered his life.

Besides, any pride she suffered giving in to them was more than made up for by the satisfaction that settled on their faces when she let them think they'd won. Even new-age men adhered to old-age ideas.

Her tolerance and diplomacy extended only so far, though. Keegan's well-being was her first priority, and if his ego would suffer because she chose to protect him rather than the other way around, she would, without question.

Though the men had insisted on accompanying her, they looked as if they were being taken to slaughter. "I'll make this as painless as possible for you, boys," she said.

Keegan smiled. "Take your time."

She believed he sincerely meant that and turned to watch Smith.

With the newly-purchased Ouija board dangling in a plastic bag from his fingers, he walked the store, fingering lingerie, thumbing his nose at hoodies, smiling at leggings, and panting at bikini-clad mannequins, all in good fun.

From there, she checked out Keegan, who stood to one side, looking dapper in black trousers and navy shirt and uncomfortable in his surroundings. He was feng to Smith's shui and, hot damn, the guy was yummy.

A clerk with purple spiked hair and wearing a plaid mini-skirt, tank top, and knee socks bounced toward them. With eyes for only Keegan, she asked, "May I help you?"

Echo became jealous. It was an altogether unpleasant moment, especially when she envisioned ripping the piercing from Mini-Skirt's nose.

Keegan, obviously blind to the clerk's come-on, said with an award-winning smile, "A complete wardrobe for the lady."

Echo quickly overcame her surprise. Jeans and a T-shirt was all she needed. She wouldn't be here much longer. Keegan knew that. He was considering the impossible would happenShe looked at him. He merely smiled, like he was privy to information she wasn't.

She noticed Mini-Skirt sizing up Keegan. Echo took great satisfaction in the clerk's disappointment when she hooked her arm around his.

This world intrigued and interested her.

Mini-Skirt looked over Echo, then gestured to the other clerk, a lanky, jean-clad, bustier-wearing black-haired woman of indeterminable age. She clomped toward them on platform shoes.

"Size zero and warm colors for the lady. Hip, chic, classy, and fun," Mini-Skirt said.

The clerks buzzed around the store yanking clothes from hangars and shelves with Keegan keeping a close watch on their choices, agreeing with most of the prospective purchases and declining politely when he didn't.

Watching him, Echo concluded that he showed more interest in clothing her than regaining possession of his soul. Didn't Keegan realize that he breathed today by the grace of Destiny?

Echo's hand brushed Keegan's. The touch tingled her fingertips, surprising her. She sought his eyes, wondering if he'd experienced the same reaction.

He smiled - a knowing smile. She believed he did.

Emotion overwhelmed her when she considered the amount of money Keegan was about to spend on her, knowing her time with him was temporary, making his expenditure a waste. The mission could come to an end after the séance, maybe sooner. In that event, she wouldn't need anything more than what she presently wore, but she so wanted to rid herself of the horrendous leisure suit.

Keegan was a smart man. With or without a soul, he would recognize their time together was brief – nearing an end, in fact. She doubted he knew something she didn't. Why, then, was he buying her an entire wardrobe?

Looking at the matter from a different angle, maybe she should implement his take of the situation and consider the possibility of her staying longer. But, then she'd be opening herself to disappointment.

Keegan pointed to a leather cropped aviator jacket hanging from the rafters and said, "The lady will have one of those."

"It's our only one," Platform Shoes said. "We could order her one."

"Is it her size?" he asked.

"Uh-huh."

Smith stepped to Keegan. When the clerk didn't move, he said, "You heard the gentleman. Get the lady the jacket."

Echo watched the exchange with interest, studying Smith's expression. _Oh_ _my_. Beneath the fun-loving exterior lay an authoritative man. Only an idiot would argue. She was also taken with how coolly the order came from him and how naturally he had come to his friend's aid. Not that Keegan couldn't look after himself. He surely could, but Smith saw a potential situation happening, determined what was required, and in a matter of seconds, delivered without hesitation. It's what friends – true friends – did for each other.

Platform Shoes nodded and grabbed the stepladder.

The jacket was an extravagance and Echo knew she should call a halt to the purchase, but couldn't. Truth was, she'd admired the jacket when she stepped inside the shop, but wouldn't presume or suggest the purchase.

She thanked Keegan. By his wide smile, he seemed pleased with himself. She suspected he had an ulterior motive. Later, she would tell him nothing could tie her to him, but only when the time was right.

At the counter, Echo looked over her purchases and agreed with the selections of the clerks. Platform Shoes, who Echo wouldn't have considered smart or efficient, turned out to be just that.

"Had enough of those jokes, huh?"

"Huh?" she asked, hooking her lip.

Echo pointed to Platform Shoes blond roots. "Those dumb blond jokes."

"There are dumb blond jokes? I did not know that."

Echo smiled. She turned and watched Keegan and Smith looking relaxed when they shouldn't be. Maybe they didn't get out much. If the reason for her being in Bristol Harbor wouldn't keep intruding, she could think this was a normal day in a normal life.

Was He testing her? Was that why He'd chosen her for this assignment?

_If_ _He_ _is_ , _I've_ _failed_ _the_ _test_ _miserably_. _Twelve_ _hours_ _into_ _the_ _mission_ _and_ _already_ _I've_ _violated_ _protocol_ _several_ _times_. Beelzebub.

"Would you like to try anything on?" Platform Shoes asked.

"No." Echo wouldn't hold up Keegan and Smith any longer than necessary. "Anything that doesn't fit, I'll return."

"Keep your receipt. Thirty-day refund policy."

That was a month longer than Echo would stay. Of course, she still needed to close the toran. Maybe that would keep her here longer.

Platform Shoes rang in the purchases. "Are you all involved?" she asked, her eyes darting from Smith to Keegan and back to Smith. "I only ask because they both look love-struck. What I wouldn't do to have two men drool over me."

Echo looked over her shoulder at the boys and winked. They rewarded her with wide smiles. She asked, "What do you think?"

For some unexplainable reason, she didn't want this girl anywhere near either of the men and was overcome by a feeling of possessiveness.

What's the matter with me? I'm crushing on two guys and behaving like a jealous schoolgirl.

Oh my. Oh my.

Keegan and Smith weren't new pairs of shoes she didn't want anyone to try on. Nevertheless, she gave the girl a look that clearly told her to set her sights on some other unsuspecting men.

Echo didn't want to be with Smith the way she was with Keegan, so she shouldn't mind a woman's interest in him, but she did. Jealousy. What a testy emotion. She understood how it could drive a person to commit despicable acts.

"Throw in some of those jasmine-scented candles and lavender bath salts, would you?" Echo asked. "The boys do love their bubble baths."

"Damn. You're one lucky woman."

"Luck doesn't have anything to do with it."

Echo would certainly pay for those lies. That didn't stop her from making more, though. "I cast a spell on them." She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Still, her eyes filled with joyous tears.

Platform Shoes eyed Keegan's groin. Again.

Oh, that was too much. He's mine, Echo wanted to scream. She was in love with Keegan.

Maybe Smith, too.

Chapter Ten

Echo licked sauce off her fingers and laughed at the surprise on Keegan and Smith's faces. "What?" she said, checking to make sure she hadn't dropped any pizza on herself. As soon as they'd returned to the cottage, she'd changed into the red silk kimono, a last-minute and frivolous purchase by Keegan, she had thought, but now appreciated. The silk caressed her skin like cream and was probably the most comfortable garment she'd ever worn.

They both shook their heads and lowered their eyes like little boys caught in a lie.

Apparently, finger licking was unladylike, and the boys too gentlemanly to say.

"When are we starting the séance?" Smith asked, raising his gaze from the floor.

She could tell from Keegan's expression he was anxious to get the spiritual meeting underway, as well, but applied restraint – something Smith had never learned. All part of his charm.

"When the time is right," she said, answering Smith's question directly to Keegan.

He nodded as though he understood.

"The air needs to lighten, the sun darken, and the birds still," she said.

This time, both men nodded.

Neither of them understood. She read it in their eyes.

"How do you know those things will happen?" Smith asked after several moments of silence. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, but we could be here for days."

"These changes occur every day at a particular time in the elliptical orbit of the earth around the sun; a breath holding, if you will, of every living and breathing thing, like the natural reaction brought about by fear of a collision with an object or person."

More head nodding.

At the sound of motorbikes, she looked to the window. Her guests had arrived.

"What the hell?" Keegan stared at Smith.

"Don't look at me, man. I didn't call them."

"I did," Echo said as she strolled across the kitchen floor." Not in the typical way, but telepathically, but that wasn't something she would tell the men.

When she approached the garden doors, she looked over her shoulder to more knowing nods from Keegan and Smith. For the first time, their taking-things-in-stride attitude worried her. Something was going on with these two. What, she didn't know. But she would find out, even if that meant getting physical. She was certain Keegan was ticklish.

She opened the door to Duplex and Forty-Ouncer. "How nice of you to drop by," she said, smiling.

Forty-Ouncer whipped off his battered baseball cap and crushed it against his heart. "Ma'am, are you sure we're not intruding?"

"Positive."

Duplex shuffled his feet. "It's the damnedest thing, but we got the strongest urge to come to the Kee's cottage. That he needed our help."

Echo stopped herself in the middle of a dip that was on its way to a knowing nod that natural reaction prompted. These nods turned out as contagious as a yawn. "Well, it happens Keegan does need your help."

"Is he all right?" Duplex asked. "Is he hurt?"

When his eyes enlarged to the size of golf balls, she realized her error. These bikers genuinely cared for Keegan. She had caused them unnecessary worry and should have anticipated that they would. Love was warping her brain.

She cast her eyes heavenward. Hopefully, the miscalculation slipped past Him, too.

Her manners were sorely lacking, she realized. "Won't you come in? We were about to have a séance. Perhaps you'd like to participate?" She hoped they'd agree. Smith represented love; Keegan, faith; Duplex, charity; and Forty-Ouncer, hope; and without all of these qualities banding together, the séance wouldn't work as efficiently or effectively.

She waited while both bikers wiped their dusty boots on the mat, then led them to the living room and offered them a seat on the sofa. She called toward the kitchen, "Keegan, Smith, we have company."

"A séance?" Duplex said. "I haven't played that game since I was a kid, and that was several decades ago." He laughed, his voice hoarse from too many years of booze and tobacco.

Forty-Ouncer volunteered his confession. "I never did. But then, I never had the privileged upbringing of the 'Plex." He bopped Duplex on the arm. "I always thought these games for pussys, wusses and pansies."

"Who you calling a pansy, Beverly?"

Echo arched a brow. These bikers were proving highly entertaining and interesting. She watched Keegan and Smith as they sauntered into the room and shook hands with the bikers.

While they chatted, she lit candles, closed the shutters on the windows, and touched a match to the wood fire she'd built after arriving back home. Home. The word rang a soothing note in her mind.

She laid out the Ouija board and asked, "Can I get you boys anything to drink?" She smiled at their chorus of 'no's.'

Forty-Ouncer looked at the board, then at her. "Shouldn't there be a crystal ball for a séance?"

"You're quite right. We'll use the pointer as one and the board as a conduit to the spirits." Truthfully, none of that hocus-pocus was needed for her to raise spirits. She'd suggested the board merely to capture the men's interest so they'd participate. If the séance seemed like a game, there would be no reason for them to feel threatened or frightened.

"Is the time right?" Smith asked.

"The time is perfect. Can I ask you all to take a seat on the floor pillows around the table?"

After the men stood, she said, "Keegan, I'd like you here." She pointed to the pillow positioned north. "Smith, would you sit across from Keegan? Duplex, please sit on Keegan's right, and Forty-Ouncer, on Smith's left." She scootched in between Duplex and Keegan.

After settling on the oversized pillow, she closed her eyes and opened her mind to nothingness. Drawing a deep breath and exhaling, she purged herself of impurities.

With a firm grasp on tranquility, she extended her hands to the sides. "Would everyone take the hand of the one next to you, please?"

Keegan and Forty-Ouncer took her hands. "Close your eyes and your minds." She kept her voice soft and breathy. "Nothing exists but us."

The fire crackled, flickering light and darkness through the room. The ashy odor of burning wood mingled with the honeysuckle scent of the candles.

"Will you really conjure up spirits?" Duplex asked.

"Does a rooster crow only at the break of dawn?" She waited patiently while he pondered the question.

"He could if he turns directly to the sun."

"Well, there you go. There's always a chance." She sighed with happiness. "Embrace the warmth and open your hearts to the love and peace that surrounds us."

She listened to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata playing softly in the background and waited through several heartbeats before she spoke. "We are fire, passion, serenity and truth, and all that is good."

"We are all that is good," Keegan said.

Her heart smiled at his faith.

"We are everything good," Duplex said, and Smith repeated the words of the biker who represented charity.

"Charity, love, and faith have pledged their allegiance. What say ye, Hope?"

Forty-Ouncer chorused, "We are all that is good."

"All that is good." Echo could hear the pointer travel the Ouija board. She sensed a presence; a female spirit, uncertain whether to step forward. She hoped the ghost was the one she wanted. To sneak past the quick ears of the bikers, she communicated telepathically with her. _Lena_ , _is_ _that_ you?

Yes.

Echo let out a sigh of relief. _Please_ _come_ _closer_. _You_ _have_ _nothing_ _to_ _fear_.

You're not here to escort me to Heaven and Henry to Hell?

_No_ , _honey_ , _I'm_ _not_. _Keegan_ _needs_ _your_ _help_. _Is_ _Henry_ _with_ _you_?

No, but he ain't far off.

Echo suspected he wasn't. Even death could not separate this couple. Unfortunately, because Henry had committed suicide, he would not be granted entrance to Heaven. Neither in life nor death could Henry and Lena be without the other.

_Get_ _him_ _for_ _me_ , _please_. _We_ _need_ _his_ _help, as_ _well_.

While she waited for Lena's return, a wind lamented at the windowpanes. The howl of a coyote sounded as close as the front stoop. Pairs of eyes opened. Through her hands, Echo sent strength to the men. They relaxed instantly.

I'm back with Henry, Lena said.

_Thank_ _you_. Echo had to smile at Henry's unease. She imagined Lena told him the reason for his bidding, yet still he was afraid Echo was here to turn him over to The Morning Star.

Lucifer could do his own work.

_How_ _are you, Henry?_

I've been better.

_Yes, I imagine you have. You remember Keegan, don't you, Henry_?

Of course. He's...he was my lawyer.

_That's_ _right_ , _but_ _he_ _was_ _also_ _your_ _friend_ , _wasn't_ _he_? _And_ _still_ _is_.

Uh-huh.

Perhaps you already know this, but our friend's essence has slipped between the folds.

It's being kept safe, Lena said. We didn't know who it belonged to.

_Who_ _is_ _watching_ _over_ _it_?

Us and some friends. Demons were after it, but we're smarter. We don't keep it in one place long.

Echo sensed Lena's sadness. _What_ _is_ _it_?

It's falling apart fast. It'll be gone soon.

_We_ _must_ _hurry_ _then_ and _guide_ _its_ _return_. Echo wanted to keep calm, but despite her effort, her anxiety seeped into her thoughts, tightening her throat. Knowing what Keegan would become without his soul caused her to tremble.

Henry and I and our friends can help.

_Good_. _You_ _will_ _have_ _to_ _set_ _it_ _onto_ _the_ _right_ _path_.

I know.

_Quickly_. _Time_ _is_ _of_ _the_ _essence_.

A rustle, like the swirl of taffeta, filled the room, and then silence fell.

"It's no use," Forty-Ouncer said. "The ghosts won't come."

Echo strengthened her hold on his hand when he attempted to let go. "Patience. They will come. Wait and see."

Seconds stretched to minutes. Echo grew troubled when those passing moments marked a half hour.

She was about to break the circle when Henry and Lena appeared in a flourish of activity. A sphere of light hovered inches above their open palms. They came to a hesitant stop between Smith and Duplex and looked at Echo.

She blew a soft breath and guided the sphere toward Keegan.

It moved slowly at first, then gathered speed as it neared its host. In a flash of exquisite pinpoints of light, Keegan's soul re-entered his body. Beneath his lowered eyelids, his eyes moved from side to side before settling back into position. A tiny smile curled his lip.

Echo exhaled. _I will advise Him of your courage,_ she telepathically conveyed to Henry and Lena. _And_ _your_ _willingness_ _to_ _help_.

Just then, the cottage jigged on its timbers, rattling dishes and glassware. The flames on the candles burned off and on in concert with the shutters banging open and closed. A fierce wind slammed against the logs, clattering windowpanes.

Echo lost control of the meeting.

The bikers stood amid their exclamations of surprise and fear, joined seconds later by Keegan and Smith.

"What the hell?" Duplex yelled, his hands fisting at his sides, obviously preparing to hammer heads.

Echo took a precious moment to determine the solidity of the structure. Satisfied the cottage would withstand the demon attack, she stood and attempted to regain the attention of the men.

"I guess we upset someone." She forced a laugh. The last thing she wanted was these bikers outside where they would be prey to the demons. "Stay calm and everything will be fine." To her words, "No one can get in," the garden doors blew into the room, spewing splinters and glass shards everywhere.

Chapter Eleven

Echo looked past the broken doorway and cursed Beelzebub when Samael came into her sight. She sprinted to the landing at the entry. "You Judas!"

"Sticks and stones," he said, clicking his heels and doing a merry dance around a sweetpepper bush.

"Where are the others, Samael?"

"There isn't anyone else. Only me." He sucked in his cheeks and jerked his shoulders.

She heaved a sigh. The idiot must consider her a dolt if he thought she would believe he possessed the power to rock a house. Samael had once attempted to throw a fireball and caught himself on fire.

She peered into the shadows and said, "Show yourselves."

Two felons stepped from behind the branches of spruce trees edging the lake.

She recognized them as the demons from the alley – Ledius and Kelial. Not good news.

The holy water forbade them entrance. For how long, she didn't know.

"Who are these buggers, Echo?"

She identified Duplex's distinctive voice and sensed the height of his anger. He was prepared to fight to his death. That was unacceptable.

"Everyone stay where you are," she said. "I'll look after this."

Forty-Ouncer protested. "Where we come from, men protect their women."

How delightful. She had become a little biker chick; a little woman, even. "I'm sure you're quite capable, but this is a different matter than I expect you're used to."

"Nothing different that I can see," Duplex said, sneering at the demons. "You seen one douchebag, you seen them all. Ain't that true, Forty?"

The bikers took a stand on her left side, Keegan and Smith on her right.

"Who you calling a douchebag, Skinflint?" Kelial asked. "Are you going to hide behind the woman, or are you going to come out here and settle this like men?"

"An offer I can't refuse," Duplex said. He lifted into the air, hovered, then flew to within a yard of Kelial. A second later, Forty-Ouncer stood beside Duplex, fangs bared and talons readied.

Surprised, Echo took a moment to digest the fact that the bikers who she thought were old men playing at being boys, who looked back on each day wishing for the old days, were actually vampires. She would never have guessed.

"What the hell is going on?" Keegan asked, staring wide-eyed at the bikers.

"They can fly," Smith said, clearly astounded. "And they have claws!" Without taking his eyes from the vampires, he hit Keegan's elbow. "Are you seeing this!"

Despite their attempts to hide their fear, Echo recognized their fright and shock and wished she could take the time to console them. "Stay here." She leapt through the air and landed on the deck within a second.

"Wait for us," Keegan said, grabbing hold of a baseball bat from the umbrella stand and shoving the makeshift weapon at Smith.

With shaking hands, Keegan took the Taser from Echo's briefcase and charged outside. "Stay the hell away from her, you cretins," he said, coming to a stop beside Echo.

With a bad-ass attitude, Ledius strode to an inch of Keegan's face and glowered at him. "Who you calling a cretin, lawyer?"

Echo zapped herself between them, facing Ledius. She put a hand on his chest and gently nudged him backward. "There's no reason for you to be here. The essence has returned to its host."

"I'm supposed to take your word on that, am I?"

She cocked her head and asked, "Would I lie?"

He rubbed his whiskered jaw and stared into her eyes. "I hate wasted trips."

"Of course, you're not worried about what punishment The Morning Star will inflict on you when you return empty-fisted." Not wanting to turn her back on these unpredictable creatures, she walked backward to the men. Without losing sight of the fact that the vampires who could at any time turn on her stood an arm's length away, she portrayed a united front, hopefully one the demons would not attempt to breach.

Samael snickered while the other demons looked at her like they knew something she didn't. She couldn't imagine what it could be.

"Nice shiner," she said to Samael.

"You should know. You gave it to me."

She scrunched her brows. "I seem to remember something about that. In an alley, right?"

"Duh. Dumb blonde."

"Shame is I. So, what can I do for you boys today?"

"Lies are not beneath you, are they, Echo?" a deep, crisp voice said from the darkness. "In fact, nothing is beneath you, is it? I seem to recall your penchant for being on top."

Her insides turned to ice at the sound of the baritone voice that had at another time sent shivers of pleasure through her. "Bartholomew." She'd barely said his name before he towered over her. The centuries of darkness had left no mark on him. The man was still gorgeous and, she guessed, as treacherous as he once was. Some people, some things never changed.

"You remember," he said.

His dark-lashed ebony eyes no longer had the hold on her they once had, she happily noted. "How could I forget a scoundrel like you?" she asked.

"Is this the jerk who took you for a ride?" Keegan asked.

"An unfortunate mistake," she said without removing her gaze from her former lover. Beneath her breath, she asked Keegan to let her handle Bartholomew.

"Is that how you think of me?" Bartholomew brushed his fingers against her cheek and closed his eyes, as though to imprint the feel of her skin to memory.

"I don't think of you at all."

"Really? Not at all?"

She shook her head, refusing to fear him.

"I find that difficult to believe, considering your promises that you would love me forever. Tell me, does your skin quiver at the touch of another man like it did for me? Isn't it my name you call in the wilds of ecstasy?" He tilted her chin with his finger. "Tell me the truth, now. I know you're a stickler for honesty."

If anyone knew that, he did. But then, he deserved his punishment. She was protecting her Almighty. Unfortunately, Bartholomew had reserved that role for himself. It wasn't as though she had lashed out in the rage of a jealous hussy when she learned of his plans to overthrow the hierarchy. Any mal'ak worth her title would have done the same and probably without the diplomacy she'd employed. No, Bartholomew deserved what had befallen him.

She turned first to Keegan then to Smith and asked them to remain where they were.

Behind her, Smith planted his feet on the floorboards of the deck. "Just say the word, Echo, and we'll send this devil back to Hell," he said, hitting the bat against his palm.

"Hear that, Bartholomew? It's the sound of courage. No, on second thought, you wouldn't know bravery if it slapped you in the face."

"You witch!" Bartholomew charged and raised his fisted hand high in the air above her head.

Prepared for the attack, she raised her arm to block the blow.

With a fierce growl, Forty-Ouncer jumped into Bartholomew's path, looming over him, talons sluicing the air around the demon's head. The threat that he would do more hung in the air.

"Tell ghoul boy to back off, Echo. This is between you and me."

She placed her hand on Forty-Ouncer's arm. "It's okay. He won't hurt me." She said the words but didn't believe them. Bartholomew was here for one reason and one reason only – payback. And it would be Hell again. For him.

Echo determined from the set of Bartholomew's jaw that he didn't like his position and would accept this temporary defeat. He only needed a righteous way out. Perhaps she was out of her mind, but she decided to give him one.

"You're outnumbered and overpowered," she said. To prove her position, the bikers hissed, showing sharpened incisors and glowing yellow eyes. She looked at Bartholomew and softened her voice. "End this here, now. Forget the past. Forget your vendetta against me and live to fight another day."

"But don't you see, Echo? Revenge and hate are the fires that motivate us, what makes us who we are, what we are. The bigger the motivation, the better we are at our jobs."

"How can you take pleasure in exacting pain, in destroying lives, in taking lives?"

"They are sinners, Echo, who have to be punished."

"Sinners like you." She saw his nostrils flare, but continued anyway. "What of those innocents, Bartholomew? The ones who received punishment far beyond what they should?"

He smiled. "Ah, those ones." He licked his lips. "What a rush it is to see their eyes when they realize their ill-gotten gains came with a price, and the time has come to pay that price. Not from their," he sneered, "Lord, but from Lucifer." He looked into her eyes. "It's almost as good as sex." He tilted his chin. "Almost."

His gaze traveled every inch of her body. "Tell me, does it not comfort you to trash me, to turn your back on me? Is your heart not filled with hate right now? Do you not take pleasure in that feeling? Tell me the truth now, Little One."

"All I feel for you, Bartholomew, is pity. I scold myself every day for ever loving you." She mentally crossed herself and prayed her face showed more composure than she felt. Bartholomew had been one of the more talented and powerful of mal'aks. She anticipated his powers had only heightened when he joined forces with Satan.

"Would you not shed a tear at my death, Cara Mia?"

"No."

He cocked a brow. "Not one?"

"Not one." A burst of strength shot through her. She grew bolder. "Why are you doing this? It's because of your name, isn't it? You never liked it. You never did tell me why. Is it because it made you feel feminine? Why else would you wish you had been christened Butch or Brock or Brogan? Weren't those your choices, Bartholomew?" she asked, stretching out every syllable of his name. She taunted him, hoping he would see the extent of her valor and leave.

"Come with me. Together we will rule the world. There are many riches to be had as a dark force. Much more than the path of good affords you."

She understood now what this was about. Keegan's soul wasn't special and not the reason for the demons fervor. Bartholomew had set this up; set her up.

Convincing her to forsake her Savior and cross over to the dark side would be his ultimate revenge on her and on the Almighty. She glared at him, wondering how she could have loved such a vile, disgusting individual.

"Leave, and take your band of misfits with you." Knowing the men had her back, she turned and walked toward the cottage.

"I will return for you, my love."

She knew he would. If Bartholomew was anything, he was a sore loser.

"Keep those fires burning," he said.

Without a break in her step, Echo continued walking. The men, divided in pairs, flanked her. She didn't turn to make sure Bartholomew and his band had left; she knew instinctively they had. They would return, though. Of that, she could be certain.

In the middle of the living room, she looked from Keegan to the other men. "I'm sure we all have questions to ask each other, but first things first," she said, recognizing the urgency of barricading themselves within a safe fortress. "Keegan, do you have anything to board up the doorway?"

"There are a few sheets of plywood in the woodshed." He gestured to the men. "Give me a hand."

Echo suspected Keegan didn't want her alone with the bikers. His protectiveness was adorable, but also unnecessary. Duplex and Forty-Ouncer were obviously on the side of good and would not harm her.

When the men returned, she had the living room swept clean of wood splinters and glass shards, a fire burning steadily in the hearth, and jasmine-scented candles lit to relax their weary hearts. A spread of biscuits, cheese, chunked vegetables, and fruit and two bottles of merlot took the place of the Ouija board on the coffee table.

Keegan looked darling with a carpenter's pouch hanging low on his hips, spiral nails clenched between his lips, and a hammer held tightly in his hand. Later, she would compliment him.

With the bikers hammering nails into the three-quarter-inch plywood with the palms of their hands and Keegan and Smith proving their worth with twenty-six-ounce hammers, they had the six-foot-wide hole in the wall blocked in short order.

Heat from the wood fire warmed her chilled blood, and Yanni's A Night to Remember soothed her disenchanted soul.

The men entered the cottage through the mudroom off the garage entrance. Seconds later, they lumbered into the living room. She turned and smiled.

"It's as cold as a Minnesota's winter night out there," Keegan said, rubbing his hands together. He kissed her cheek.

"Cold enough to freeze the pecker on a pork belly," Smith said.

Echo smiled at their attempt to make this evening seem no different than any other night at home.

Noticing the bikers hanging back, obviously unsure of their acceptance after revealing themselves, she walked over to them and embraced Duplex, then Forty-Ouncer. "Thank you, guys. I would never have pulled off the détente without your presence."

Apparently expecting a different response, it took them a moment to absorb her gratitude.

"You're welcome," Duplex said, followed by Forty-Ouncer's, "Happy to help."

She dipped her head. "I imagine we all have questions." The words barely left her lips before the men agreed with nods and exclamations of either, "You got that right", or "Whooiee, do we" or "You assume correctly". By the look on the bikers' faces, they eagerly awaited questioning her. To them, she supposed she was the phenomenon.

"Wine, anyone?" she asked, and smiled.

From the bottles of merlot, she poured generous measures of wine in every glass and sat back on the wingback chair. It took all of her composure not to blurt the questions that tormented her.

Instead, she asked, "Who wants to go first?"

Keegan said, "Ladies first." He raised his glass to her.

Oh, God love the man. She accepted his offer. "Duplex, Forty-Ouncer, how did you come about your...ah...inheritance?"

While Forty-Ouncer relaxed against the cushions on the sofa, Duplex answered, "Centuries ago, demons infiltrated this world and pillaged our towns and raped our women, upsetting the natural order of things. You called us vampires. We are not that. We are doyen, the products of the sins of Satan. Unfortunately, there are many of us who took the path of evil."

"How many more like you are there?"

"In Bristol Harbor, fifty-seven."

"Who are all the members of your biker gang, The Harley Riders."

Forty-Ouncer's smile turned to laughter. "That's a cover. Everyone fears us because we're bikers, including our esteemed lawyer." He raised his glass to Keegan. "And because of that, most folks stay away from us. We took up residence in the Tretemps hills to make it that much harder for those more curious than fearful."

Duplex cleared his throat. "At puberty, we changed, became something not born of this world, and for a time, we had no idea how to control our – " he made air quotes, "special skills. It was then that some of us succumbed to the devil's temptation."

"You intimated there are more of you. How many more?"

"Thousands spread over the country."

"How long do you live?"

"We don't know."

"Doesn't that raise questions?"

Forty-Ouncer sighed like someone tired of living. "Every hundred years or so, we pack up and move on and another of our clan takes our place."

"Do you have a leader?"

"Yes. Now, it's our turn. What are you?"

Echo considered the turnaround abrupt. Maybe the question she asked would lead to other questions the bikers were unwilling to answer, but she also understood their curiosity and decided to answer their questions truthfully. She explained her position and duties and everything that had taken place since her arrival except what had happened between her and Keegan. That would stay between them.

"Good enough," Duplex said. "We're on the same side."

"Was there ever any doubt?" Forty-Ouncer jabbed Duplex in the ribs.

She looked at Keegan, who shook his head at her unspoken request for his questions.

Smith sat at the edge of the sofa, virtually bubbling with excitement. "What is it?" she asked, suspecting they should prepare themselves for a doozie of a question.

He looked at the bikers. "Where can I get me a set of fangs like yours?"

With a fierce growl, teeth bared and eyes glowing yellow, Duplex and Forty-Ouncer lifted into the air and in a flash, hovered over Smith. "We can help with that," Duplex said in a voice husky with need.

Chapter Twelve

Keegan turned in the bed and faced Echo. "I thought Smith would keel over when the doyen made a move on him."

She shared his laughter. "For a moment, I believed they were serious myself."

"They certainly were convincing, that's a fact," he said, remembering the look of hunger in their eyes. He shook his head. "Vampires. Did you have any idea?"

"None. I was just as surprised as anyone."

"Good thing they were on our side."

She poked him with her foot. "I would have sensed if they weren't."

"That's good to know." He nuzzled her neck.

She pled for him to stop.

He denied her requests.

"Have you forgotten your house guests?" she asked in time with the creak of the bed.

"How could I?" He found her shyness delightful.

Smith's voice sounded without depth-loss from the living room. "Are Dixie Logan's boobs real?"

"What is he doing?" Smith could always make him frown.

"He's playing with the Ouija board."

"The man is an overgrown child."

A round of applause and whistles rang in his ears. He had a sudden and disturbing thought. "You don't suppose they accidentally conjured up a ghost."

"No way. Those things don't work."

He wasn't sure he heard right. "Ouija boards?"

"Uh-huh."

Echo could make him frown, too. "I'm sure I heard the pointer move around the board during the séance."

"I'm sorry. I should have said they don't work for anyone not ESP-inclined. How are you feeling now that you're all together?"

"All together describes it perfectly. Only now I know how restless I was. My skin would itch on the underside." Things he had never allowed himself to dwell on. "It's good to be back to myself. It was a humbling experience, and I'll never take anything for granted again. There were times I became so antsy it took all of my control not to throw a tantrum. I felt at odds with myself and everyone around me and became annoyed at the least little thing."

"Sounds like PMS."

"Is that what women go through every month?" He had no idea.

"Women are affected differently, but the effects are similar."

And the men suffered in kind, but he wouldn't mention that. His thoughts turned to when Echo would leave, and he saddened. His life would be empty without her. No other woman would ever measure up. Demons were about the premises and he'd sell his soul for a lifetime with Echo.

But she was here with him now. He shouldn't waste these precious moments. "Will you miss me?" He needed to know.

"Of course I will."

He wanted to believe her, but she could be telling him what he wanted to hear. She'd never avowed her love for him. Neither had he, though. But couldn't she tell he loved her? She wasn't blind. Women were attuned to that type of thing.

Smith had picked up on Keegan's feelings for Echo.

No, she knew. She pretended otherwise, but she knew, all right.

He brought his crooked arm behind his head and settled back against the headboard.

Maybe she needed to hear the words. He should tell her.

What if she didn't share his feelings?

He'd really be putting himself on the edge. It wouldn't be the first time she'd seen him naked, though. He wasn't afraid of risks.

_Tell_ _her_.

With Smith and the bikers in the next room?

_Right_. _Good_ _thinking_.

What happened to the romance in him?

He fought the desire to touch her. If he did, he wouldn't stop, then that would lead to something else, and that something he couldn't fall asleep without. He resolved himself to a sleepless night.

This was torture; plain, unmitigated torture.

Smith was as likely as not to burst into the room when they were sharing a special moment, which Smith would add to Keegan's most embarrassing moments file.

She moved beside him, their legs touching. Her skin was soft like a rose petal.

He inhaled her fragrance. She smelled divine. He brought himself around and looked into her eyes and swore he saw eternity. He'd make a pact with the devil for an eternity of moments like these.

How cruel life was that he should find love only to forsake it.

Strange that when he was soulless he considered himself invincible, that anything was possible, even that he could share his life with a heavenly being.

Hell's bells, but that was arrogant.

Nothing like a good measure of soul to set a man straight. He wasn't ready to give up yet. "Is it possible for you to do your job and have a life with me?"

She lifted her head and looked at him.

When she continued to stare at him without saying anything, he said, "Women have careers today. They work outside the home. Why can't that be the case with you?"

"You have to admit I'm not your ordinary woman, and my job can hardly be called a career."

True. He inhaled deeply, thinking to the future, to the time when he might ask the Almighty for her hand in marriage. That would give new meaning to an old tradition. He let the breath out slowly. Theirs would be a different relationship, probably unique, but different was good. He couldn't see a downside.

"If you could, would you?"

Her hesitation answered his question. She loved him, but not enough to make changes in her life. Wasn't the same-old dangerously close to monotonous? She might wither away from boredom.

Maybe she needed more time to see that.

There was still time for him to convince her that her heart belonged to him. The toran needed closing and her old pal Bartholomew was something she needed to deal with. She couldn't return without buttoning up all loose ends. He still had time to work on her, to make her see things his way.

She rested her chin on his shoulder and looked at him. "You're awfully quiet."

"Just thinking."

"Care to share?"

"It's nothing important." He kissed the top of her head. The lie hung innocently in the air a moment.

"I'm a good listener."

"I know. I should go into the office in the morning, rearrange my schedule for the week."

"That's not necessary, you know. What's left to do, doesn't pertain to you. I can handle it on my own."

Echo's thoughts centered on Keegan as she nestled against him. He thought he was in love with her. If she stayed...if she could stay, he would learn that what he felt for her was gratitude. She'd come into his life when he was the most vulnerable and needed someone's help the most.

Abductees fell in love with their abductors. The same could be said for heralds and their pledges.

Not to mention that Keegan could be another Bartholomew. Who was to say?

She couldn't risk her heart to another man. Love was dangerous. It robbed the mind of good sense and rendered its victims insipid.

"Echo?"

"Yes."

"Not all men are like Bartholomew."

She recognized what Keegan was attempting to do and debating her point would give him reason to further the argument that he was the man for her. "I know." Keegan was a good man, one who would give his life for those he loved. She couldn't let him sacrifice himself for her.

"I could have been cast to Hell for betraying Him. But for the grace of God, I wasn't. Bartholomew was so sneaky, clever, and manipulative and I was so in love it's a wonder I realized his hidden agenda at all."

"Someone was looking out for you." He smiled. "If that had happened, we would not have met."

True. She couldn't put a voice to her thoughts, though. She must not encourage him. Did he really believe in karma? She should really leave now. Her mind should be clear when she dealt with Bartholomew, if it came to that. No attachments; no entanglements; nothing for Bartholomew to use against her.

Keegan brushed her hair off her forehead and hugged her. "He got what he deserved, Echo."

"Uh-huh." She wished Bartholomew would see the matter that way.

***

Echo came awake with a jolt. Sleep had crept up on her and knocked her out before she could protest. Sometime before she closed her eyes for the night, she'd come to a decision. After she closed the toran, she'd return to the abbey to await her next assignment. She needed to ensure Keegan's safety and the only way to do that was for her to leave. Bartholomew would move on as well.

She watched Keegan sleep. He was deeply in love with her. How would she tell him she was leaving and would never see him again, probably not for decades?

Perhaps she should wait for the opportune time.

Delaying, though, would put lives at unnecessary risk. The bikers could look after themselves, but the same couldn't be said for Keegan and Smith.

"I can virtually feel your brain working," Keegan said, coming alive at her side.

She lifted her head and looked at him. "Good morning." She pecked his lips. "How long have you been awake?"

He stretched his legs. "Long enough to know you're mentally deliberating a problem. What is it?"

She decided on honesty. "My presence here is putting you and Smith in danger. If it weren't for me, Bartholomew wouldn't be on this hell-bent terror." She could feel Keegan brace himself and blurted her next words. "Bartholomew is unpredictable. There's no way to logically foresee his next move. We'd probably have more luck flipping a coin to determine how he'll react."

"We know for sure he'll attack."

"That's a given. It's the when and where that we don't know."

"Then we should prepare ourselves."

"We should."

"Should we barricade ourselves and wait for the assault?"

"I have another idea." She told him her plan.

Chapter Thirteen

"You're what?" Keegan screeched.

"Shh," Echo said. "We don't want to wake the boys."

Keegan managed to control the level of his voice but not his emotions. "You can't leave. No way. I won't allow it." The moment the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. He couldn't take them back, and he didn't see any way to explain them away. He'd sounded like a Neanderthal, and she'd be right to think so. Any second now she would rebound. And he deserved her anger. But instead of her big hazel eyes glaring at him, they shone, and laughter came from her lips rather than an angry retort. He didn't know what to make of her reaction.

"That was priceless," she said.

"Happy to oblige." He frowned. "I think."

"God, I love you." She kissed his cheek.

He gaped at her. She loved him.

"You are so adorable." She tousled his hair.

Great. She likened him to a poodle. Swallowing his disappointment, he said, "There has to be another way, some other solution."

"I'm sorry. There isn't. It's the only way to keep you and Smith safe. Bartholomew wants revenge and as long as I'm here, he'll strike until he gets it."

"Leaving might not ensure our safety or the safety of other innocents. There's no guarantee he'll stop." He watched her bite at her top lip. His logic was making sense to her. Keeping up the momentum, he said, "If it weren't for him and his plan, he wouldn't have put you in the position he did. How could he think you'd go along with him? I would never put you in a position..." He clamped his mouth, knowing how desperate he sounded. He shifted gears, took a deep breath and steered the topic from himself.

"What is Bartholomew exactly?"

"I suppose you could say he's a soldier in the war against good. The Morning Star is always looking for new recruits."

"Bartholomew makes a better bad guy than herald, I'm sure."

"Unfortunately."

"You're better off without him." He considered that fortunate.

"Because of me, Bristol Harbor could be destroyed. The demons will move on to annihilate the next town or city and the doyens will morph into something hideous that the world has never seen. In no time, we might be over-powered and out manned. We're limited in what we can do."

Keegan grabbed hold of the thought slipping in and out of his mind. If she couldn't stay on this plane, he could come with her, go with her where the job took her, fight at her side. That could work, couldn't it? Sure, it could. She'd probably need to get His permission, but when the good Lord saw the depth of his love for her, He would surely give them His blessing. He had assumed a chauvinistic take on a relationship with Echo. He'd willingly, gladly in fact, sacrifice his life for a life with her.

Together they could do God's will. It was an interesting alternative, one he hoped she would consider. He couldn't imagine, though, asking God for Echo's hand in marriage.

***

After showering with Keegan, Echo wrapped herself in his bathrobe and left him to shave. She climbed onto his side of the bed. The pillow smelled of him, a fresh scent that she inhaled deeply.

_He_ _loves_ _me_. _He_ _really_ , _really_ _loves_ _me_.

She took these moments to reflect on Keegan and the closeness they shared, and Smith and the bikers. They were an unlikely quintet, but one that worked well together.

She sighed and stretched her arms.

A man roughly cleared his throat. She turned toward the sound, surprised to see Smith in the doorway. She determined from the set of his jaw something gnawed at him.

"He's in love with you," he said, leaning against the doorjamb.

Overcome by shyness, she hauled the sheet to her chin. "I know."

"Are you in love with him?"

"I would never do anything to hurt Keegan."

"You haven't answered my question."

His stern voice matched his penetrating look, she noticed. "No." She had to lie for him to believe she must leave.

He heaved a sigh and unfolded his arms from his chest, letting them dangle at his sides. "He's in for the upset of his life."

She could only manage a nod. Keegan would be devastated when she left, and leave she inevitably would. There was nothing she could do about it. She was immortal, and he wasn't. "He's going to need you. I know you'll be there for him."

"I will."

Echo could not leave on an unhappy note with Smith. "Given the chance, I'd do things differently."

"Would you?"

"Yes, of course. I don't want to hurt Keegan." How could he think she would?

"So, he was just a roll in the hay for you."

She let the crass remark pass. Smith was looking out for his friend. She couldn't fault him for that. "I think a lot of him."

"But you don't love him." He sat at the foot of the bed and crossed his legs.

"No matter how many times you make me say it will not make me answer differently."

He smiled.

"You have my word I won't hurt Keegan."

"But you will by leaving."

"I have to leave, Smith. I don't have any choice."

"Would you stay if you could?"

She didn't have an answer to that question.

***

"I had the father talk with Smith," Echo said when Keegan came into the bedroom.

He stared at her, clearly not understanding what she meant. "Huh?"

"The talk fathers give to their daughters' suitors."

His laughter took her by surprise.

"You expected he would?"

"Didn't you?"

She rubbed her forehead. "Yes, I guess so."

He threw the hand towel he held across a chair. "I'll have a talk with him."

"Please don't." Keegan and Smith shared a wonderful friendship, and she would not come between them. "He meant well."

"He wasn't abrasive? He didn't hurt you?"

"No, of course not. It was rather cute, actually." She threw back the sheet and walked on her hands and knees to the end of the bed. "Come here." She crooked her finger, beckoning him closer.

In two long strides, he stood in front of her. "Are you going to have your way with me again?" he asked, grinning crookedly.

She ripped the towel from his waist and flung it across the room. "You can bet your luscious buns I am."

"What about our guests?"

"What guests?" She bit his bottom lip and ran a hand over his buttocks. His skin felt like velvet beneath her fingertips. She splayed her hand against the pit of his back and pushed him against her. Her breasts smashed against his chest.

She looked into his eyes, noticing the specks of gold sprinkled through the green. Gorgeous; absolutely gorgeous eyes to pass down to offspring. She kissed the delicious cleft in his chin, and then moved to his chest, spreading feathery kisses over his ridged abdomen.

He ran his fingers through her hair. "You're wonderful," he said on a sigh. "I — "

Someone banged on the door.

Keegan cursed. "Go away."

Echo stilled and held her breath, hoping Keegan's gruff voice would send whoever interrupted them on their way.

"You need to get out here quick, bro. You got trouble. Big, big trouble."

"Is it the demons?"

"No, something worse."

"What could be worse than demons?" Keegan asked.

She reached for her clothes and dressed without care. "I'm going with you. I have to see what that is."

He hauled on the gray dress pants from yesterday. "It can't be that bad. Smith's voice is calm. If it were as he says, he would have burst in with no mind to our privacy." He yanked open the bedroom door and followed Echo into the living room. He peered from Smith to the bikers who looked like they just learned about the demise of their favorite brewery.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Take a look out on the deck," Smith said, hitching his head toward the window overlooking the lake.

The hair at the nape of Keegan's neck prickled. Whatever awaited him outside was something he would definitely not like, and judging from the sorrowful expressions on his friends' faces, his world was about to crash down on him.

Whatever it was, he'd meet it head on. He was in love and could do anything, accomplish anything.

With a purposeful stride, he walked to the window and looked out. "Oh, Jesus," he said, unable to remove his gaze from his ex-girlfriend. He thought about her terrible timing and something else he wouldn't pretend not to notice.

In the silence that followed, he whispered her name, "Bonita." The earth trembled beneath his feet. He turned.

Echo ran to him. "Keegan, what is it? What's the matter?"

Unable to speak, he pointed over his shoulder.

She peeked out the window, saw the very pretty, very pregnant brunette and said, "Oh my." Oh my.

Chapter Fourteen

Keegan paced the living room. He did his best thinking on his feet and his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. He couldn't remember the month they'd broken up, but he believed a year had passed.

He sensed watchful eyes on him and stopped. "What?" he asked the room of inquisitive eyes.

"Aren't you going to invite her in?" Smith asked.

"Do I have to?" He didn't have to. Nowhere was it written that exes needed to be cordial to each other. Smith of all people should know the many reasons why he should do the opposite.

"Don't you think you should?" Echo asked.

After what Bonita had done to him, he didn't owe her a thing. In fact, she owed him. It didn't look, though, as if she came to repay what she'd stolen from him. She'd come to take. Again. "Do you think she knows anyone's here?" He resumed pacing.

Smith pruned his mouth and lifted a brow. "She waved at me when I looked out. Sorry, bro. I thought the demons had returned for another go at us."

Hell's bells. What was he to do? Run? Hide? Both excellent options.

"Keegan?" Echo caught up to him.

He stopped and looked at her. "Yes?"

"Talk to her," she said.

Echo meant well, but she had no idea what she asked him to do. He ran a hand through his hair. "You don't understand. If I speak to her, Bonita will take that to mean I still love her." He would also be undoing what he'd worked hard to accomplish these past several months. Bonita would think he'd missed her, was sorry he'd broken off their relationship, and wished to take up with her again. He'd been on the merry-go-round one too many times not to know her method of operation. The woman was a leech. She saw things the way she wanted to see them, all to serve her purpose.

The child she carried was not his, but she would have him believing it was. Hell's bells. Just her appearance on his doorstep had him questioning paternity. She affected his judgment that easily. The woman was a sorceress.

He peered at Echo, who raised her eyebrows to him, silently suggesting he handle this matter. Maybe he should talk to Bonita. Maybe she wasn't here for the obvious reason.

What was he thinking? Of course, she was.

Keegan stepped onto the deck and took a deep breath. "Bonita."

She turned from the lake. "Keegan," she said and ran to him. She slammed herself against his chest. "I knew you'd see me."

He put his hands on her elbows and nudged her backward. "What do you want?"

She lifted her head and looked at him, pulling on her bottom lip. "You're not happy to see me." She cast her eyes downward, tears dripping down her freckled cheek.

He raised his hand to wipe away her hurt, but caught himself before completing the gesture.

"Can we talk inside?" she asked and ran her hands up and down her arms. "I'm chilly."

No. Forget your manners, Keegan. You can't be nice to Bonita, remember? She mistakes kindness for ownership.

He stood his ground, but not without difficulty. "Say what you came to say and leave." His mind told him to be stern when his heart wanted nothing more than to reach out to her. She had that effect on him. Would it never end...that irrational hold she had on him?

"I hurt you." She looked into his eyes.

He held her stare and said nothing. Words would give her ammunition to use against him.

"I'm sorry."

She almost had him believing her sincerity. "I know."

"Aren't you the least curious why I'm here?" she asked.

Undoubtedly, the reason had everything to do with her bulging mid-section. "Not really," he said, jingling coins in his trouser pockets.

"Oh, come on now. Do you really expect me to believe that? Admit it. You're dying to know."

"Surely, you're not here to tell me the baby you're carrying is mine."

She didn't say anything. His bluntness must have captured her tongue. He prompted her. "You're here to extort money from me."

"Why must you always think the worst of me?"

No, Keegan. Don't fall for that. "Get on with it, Bonita." He looked at his watch. "Make it quick. I have an appointment in a few minutes."

"Fine. It is your child." She jutted her chin.

He realized she was a heartbeat away from petulance. "How can you expect me to believe I'm the father? We've been over for more than a year. Are you going to tell me you froze my sperm and artificially inseminated yourself? There're laws against that, you know."

"No."

"Had yourself artificially inseminated, then?"

"No."

He tired of this game. "What then?"

"Remember the night I came for a visit eight months ago?"

Ah. He recalled the evening clearly, how she knocked on the garden doors like a stranger, how her eyes were rimmed with red and tears streaked her face, how she threw herself into his arms when he opened the door, how they ended up in bed.

The baby was not his. He'd taken precautions.

It couldn't be true. It couldn't. She lied. She had to be lying. He had to prove it and thought quickly. "Bonita, a childhood disease rendered me sterile." He put on his lawyer face, the one that said he wasn't an idiot.

"No!" She sliced her hand through the air around his face.

He didn't flinch. "Ask my mother if you like."

"She'd only lie to protect her precious baby boy."

The child wasn't his. Hallelujah.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

He took a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. "He can reach me at this number."

***

Hand in hand, Keegan and Echo strolled down Queen Elizabeth Drive toward his office.

"I'm guessing we're putting on quite a show," she said, looking over her shoulder at Smith and the bikers.

"We couldn't leave them behind."

"Hmm." She experienced a moment of guilt. Keegan needed to know the demons no longer posed a threat. She wanted today with him, then she would tell him that while he'd made telephone calls to clients, she snuck out and closed the toran. The demons would re-enter his world again, but not for him. With her gone, Bartholomew would have no reason to come after Keegan.

She hadn't left yet, but already she missed him. Her heart filled with sadness at the thought that at midnight she would leave him. The Almighty had granted this time to her. She'd never anticipated how difficult saying goodbye to Keegan would be. She loved him, but he must never know.

"Do you want to talk about Bonita?" she asked.

He shook his head. "She's not important." He pulled her against him so their hips rubbed when they moved.

"Have you lived here all your life?" She realized how little she knew about him.

"Yes, and my parents and their parents before them."

"Are they all still living?" She could get this information herself, but from this moment on she would treat Keegan as someone she wished to get to know better.

"Yes."

"Your grandparents must be in their eighties."

"Mid-eighties, and they're just as spry and active as my parents. In fact, Grampa Gene golfs three times a week."

"Are you all close? Do you see them often?"

"Not as much as I'd like, but we're all close and keep in touch."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Five sisters." He grinned.

She stopped and repeated what he said. "What are their names?"

"Patti, Rose, Laurie, Mae and Heidi."

"Do they look like you? Are you the youngest? Do you have nieces or nephews?"

"This is sounding like an interrogation."

He'd caught on to her. She covered up with a chuckle. "It suddenly dawned on me how little I know about you." She hooked her arm around his. "Tell me everything. What you were like as a child. What mischief did you get into? Who your favorite teachers were. How you came about a career in law. Don't leave out anything. I want to know everything there is to know." His memories would be her memories, sufficient enough to last her an eternity. It had to be that way. She couldn't stay, and he couldn't come with her.

A car horn blared, cutting off her next question. Echo didn't think anything of the sound until Keegan looked over his shoulder. Surprise and fright registered on his face. He reacted with startlingly rapid precision and speed by pushing her away from him. She stumbled a few steps before catching her balance. Everything seemed to happen at once then: Smith and the bikers running toward Keegan, yelling for him to watch out; car horns blazing; tires screeching; pedestrians gasping and shouting; a half-ton truck climbing the curb; the sickening thud of Keegan's body being struck; Keegan flying through the air; her shouting, "Oh dear God no."

With her heart pounding, Echo ran to Keegan laying battered and broken on the sidewalk. She knelt beside him and took his hand in hers.

"Keegan," she said softly.

His eyes fluttered, then opened a slit. "I love you, Echo."

She watched his eyes close and felt his energy slipping away.

"No," she exclaimed. She clasped his hand tighter and whispered, "Stay with me, Keegan. The EMTs are on their way. You're going to be fine."

"It's ... too late," he said, wheezing.

Smith and the bikers rallied around, telling her Keegan would be all right, even though they knew as she did their friend would not make it.

Echo raised her head upward and telepathically communicated with her superior.

_Stop this. Punish me. I broke the rules, not Keegan. Let him live._ She hung her head. _Please, let him live. He's a good man and deserves a good life. Help him._

Echoangela, it was always meant to end this way. In your heart, you know it. Keegan's fate has been foretold. The Lord's will be done. This is His prophesy.

You can make an exception. I know you can. You've done it before.

Echoangela –

Do not attempt to pacify me! Save him.

I cannot.

"Help is coming, Keegan," she said, sobbing. "Hang on."

A solitary tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

She could feel Keegan slipping away farther. _Please. He hasn't much time. Give him strength._

I cannot.

Echo thought back to the alley and the events that had led her to this moment. Keegan's misplaced soul; Henry and Lena; the bikers; her commission to Keegan's aid; Bartholomew; Bonita....The assignment made sense to her then. They'd both been given the chance to put right the wrongs of their past and to experience everlasting love.

Police sirens and emergency response vehicles sounded in the distance.

_Show him the way, Echoangela. He's waiting for you_.

She bent and touched her lips to his. "I love you, Keegan."

He smiled.

For the few seconds remaining for Keegan, Smith and the bikers said farewell to their friend.

Moments later, in the afterlife, Echo took Keegan's hand and together they walked his predestined path.

Together forever.

The End

