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He had awakened from an unusually erotic dream that he couldn't seem to fully remember to find her seeking refuge at his door. He squinted against the cruel glare of the sun as he sullenly bade her enter. His foggy mind fought to clear the thick cobwebs of sleep from the corners of his consciousness. As she slipped into his abode, the sweet aroma of her pheremones assailed his senses. Instantly he felt a compelling urge to take her. There had never been so much as an untoward thought towards her before this moment. In fact, their relationship had always been in the strictest sense a professional one due to his thinly veiled irritation at her arrogant, demanding nature.

He could not fathom the reason behind this sudden present urging but his conscious thought seemed to be powerless to control it. All he knew was that she was here now and all he could smell was the scent of her. It was so strong that he imagined he could taste it. He was suddenly drawn to her by a need he could not fully understand that he blamed on the latent arousal caused by his waking dream. She wordlessly shed what little clothing she wore and pressed his body down upon his own bed as she covered his hard mouth with her full, soft lips.

She needed no guidance or encouragement. It was almost as if she knew exactly what he wanted. With smooth fluid movements, she rendered him as naked as she was. She slowly ran her nimble fingers firmly over his supple muscles, kneading with just enough pressure to make him moan aloud. Once she had his entire body relaxed to the point where he felt like so much putty in her hands, her lips and teeth took over her duties. She thoroughly explored every single inch of his body using only her satin lips, her smooth fangs, and her hot velvet tongue.

What seemed like an eternity passed as he writhed at the hands of her exquisite torture. He'd long since lost track of the passage of the hours as his thoughts focused only upon the intensity of her attentions. She used her demonic skills to stimulate his very being in mind, body, and soul. She pleasured him in ways he'd never imagined possible. His experiences with the feminine gender had been limited of late to an occasional chance encounter in one of the seedier establishments in the Port Oakes harbor district. These usually involved a fairly mediocre performance followed by an exchange of cash. It was an exciting deviation to encounter this creature who seemed to center her existence upon finding creative ways to inflict her sensual ministrations upon him in a most protracted manner.

She guided him onto his back and straddled him as the shadows of eventide began to seep around them into the room. Her pale white skin fairly glowed in the gathering darkness as she hovered over him like some obscenely beautiful spectral wraith.

Droplets beaded upon his forehead as his breathing became labored. She raked her talons lightly over his sweat-slick flesh and reared back with a sinister smile flickering across her exotic features. "I need something from you," she whispered huskily as she bore down impaling herself upon him. To his lust-glazed eyes, she looked hellishly stunning as her creamy skin glowed in the fading orange light of the waning sunset that filtered softly between the shutters on his darkened windows.

He was so close at this point that he was ready to promise her anything. His body, his soul, anything she wanted - just so long as she'd bring this to completion and give him the sweet release he now craved with every fiber of his being.

"There is a deed, one that requires a certain...finesse..." Her words flowed from her lips like drops of honey.

"Of course," he panted hoarsely. "Have I ever denied you my assistance?" Of course, he did not need to add that his bonds of servitude to Doctor Maritus pretty much precluded him refusing her the use of his skills.

"Mmm..." She murmured seductively as she brought her face close to his. "No, you have not. This time, however, it will involve a rather unpleasant task. However, if I have your agreement in the matter, we shall discuss the details... after..." her words trailed as she licked her lips seductively. He nodded, sealing his pact with a deep kiss as his tongue delved into the searing heat within her velvet mouth.

The moment of his release came quite explosively. It went on so long that he thought for a moment that she intended to drain him of every last bit of his life essence by slowly milking it from his loins in continuous spasms of unearthly pleasure. His only thought at that time was not one of self-preservation nor one of fear, but rather simply "What a wonderful way to go."

As he struggled to remain on the verge of consciousness, she held his drained and gasping body to her soft, ripe breasts and gently soothed him as he slowly recovered from the intensity of their passion.

After a short time of holding him gently, she pulled him from the tendrils of sleep that were threatening to engulf him. The dark glow of false dawn was creeping upon the horizon as his eyes flickered open and tried to focus on the eerie glow of her own fathomless black orbs. "We must talk business now, for soon I must beg my leave until you summon me once more."

He nodded as he stretched sleepily and sat up in his bed. "Of course I will assist you. What is it you need? Some powerful talisman discreetly pilfered from the depths of Oranbega? A rival quietly dispatched?"

"This is not so easy as that. I need you to find one particular foe," Her normally smooth voice took on a decidedly vicious edge as she added, "and eliminate them."

"Simple enough," he replied, casually. "You've worked with me enough to know that I am more than capable of this. My talents as a discreet assassin are proven."

She found his male arrogance to be truly grating at times. However, at this point, she needed him. She closed her hollow black eyes and smiled, perfectly masking her irritation as her voice took on an ominous tone. "This may not be quite so simple. Your target is now young and weak, but is the object of a formidable prophecy."

The word made him shudder. He'd never put much stock in talk of this crazy mystical nonsense, until his chance encounter with the doctor and his lovely succubus changed his entire perspective on those type of mystical things that he would rather not even acknowledge as reality.

She caught the flash of chill that crossed his features for a nanosecond, before he managed to reassert the tight control over his emotions that was his stock in trade. In a silken voice, she continued.

"Several years ago a Nephilim, which is a human and demon hybrid, gave birth to twins. One of the Host of the Creator sired these children. The accursed beings are direct descendents of Azazel, who was the second in command in the hierarchy of the Legions of Hell. Azazel was defeated and imprisoned by our sworn enemy, the warrior angel Raphael. At one time, the Dark One himself sought to free him but through the meddling of the parents of these accursed twins and their cohorts, we were beaten before we could break the bonds and loose the powerful demon from his prison. The prophecy foretells of a day when the male twin will arise to kill his father. And with our help, the two Nephilim who are daughters of Azazel shall also be destroyed. One of these," she paused and grimaced as if she suddenly found something very bitter and distasteful upon her tongue, "is she who bore me. According to the prophecy, the only one who can stop us from realizing this victory is the female twin. The girl will wage battle against us at the side of her mother. She is especially dangerous as she draws upon the power of the forces of darkness and a command of psionic forces. I need to see to it that she does not reach the age of her awareness, when she should realize her full potential and thus have the means to defeat her brother."

He cast a suspicious glare in her direction. "You want me to whack a CHILD?" he asked her incredulously, as a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

She shot him a look that could have been either a sardonic smile or a thinly veiled demonic snarl. "She is far from being a mere child. And until she is out of the way, we cannot eliminate her parents, nor the one who bore me, in order to gain the power we need to release Azazel from his bonds."

"Why do you want to send me? Are there none of your demonic associates who could do the job just as easily?"

Shaking her head, she looked deep into his eyes. "You have given me your pledge to do this thing. You are not trying to worm your way out of our bargain, are you now?"

His lips curled in a derisive laugh. "Of course not. I will do as you ask. I am just curious as to why you have involved me in your little plot."

"There are a few issues..." she began, hesitantly. "One being that the girl is forbade leaving the relative safety of Paragon City. Her foolish mother knows full well of the prophecy and seeks to avoid facing the consequences. I am in need of someone who can steal into Talos Island while remaining undetected. That, little human, is where you come in. You have been granted the power to alter others' perception and awareness of you. This makes you the perfect candidate to succeed at retrieving the girl. Another issue is that the child will soon be able to beat us at our own game. She bears the powers of her father, who is a destroying angel who is loyal to the Creator. She must be dispatched in a fast and efficient manner. If anyone can accomplish this feat, I feel that it will be you."

There were many things about her words that made him more than a little uneasy. He was a highly skilled assassin. Granted, his trade wasn't one that he could place on a resume, but nonetheless he was good at what he did and he took his reputation seriously. One of his trademark skills was his ability to operate under the radar. His ability to move about unnoticed was a valuable asset to an assassin of his caliber. His natural abilities had been enhanced by the demonic powers of a certain tiny demoness in return for his servitude to Doctor Maritus and now he was quite able to go just about anywhere without anyone being any the wiser.

Being a highly skilled professional also meant that he had standards that he felt compelled to uphold. She knew his pride in his reputation and his word were important to him and counted on that to bind him to her wishes despite his obvious distaste with this unsavory task.

"I have every confidence in your ability to achieve success in this matter," she purred as she nipped at his lower lip.

He suddenly felt very cold as he turned his face away from her. This "matter" did not sit well with him. Of all the jobs he had undertaken and all the foes he had eliminated, none of them had ever been a child. But now he was trapped - he had given her his word. A quiet sigh escaped him as she lifted herself from his bed and gathered the wisps of fabric that passed for her clothing.

"Dawn is approaching. I must need go and attend to some pressing matters of my own. We shall speak again of this and then I shall reveal to you all that you will need to know." She let her lips graze the back of his neck as he gazed out the window at the indigo hues that seeped slowly across the still darkened sky.

Without another word, she slipped from his presence. With her departure, the sway she'd held over his mind cleared and shuddered as he thought of what he'd just done and how it bound him to complete this sordid deed. He laid back and let the softness of his bed envelope him in its comfort, but it was fully daylight outside his window before his tortured mind would succumb to the exhaustion that had drained his body.

"Lady Naimah. Approach me, my child." The massive demon Xandaros beckoned with a taloned finger as his burning gaze met the soulless eyes of his daughter. "From whence have you come?"

"I have come from carrying out my duties upon the Earth. I have found the one who I have convinced to eliminate the female child and help us to break the prophecy so that our foes may be defeated and our lord Azazel might be freed."

His voice echoed across the span of the smoldering cavern like the sound of a multitude. "What makes you think that this human can succeed at a task where demons themselves have failed?"

She pursed her full lips and stared down at the steamy stones beneath her feet. Drawing a deep breath of the familiar sulphurous air, she leveled her gaze and answered her sire. "He is an assassin and is quite skilled at moving among his kind undetected. I believe he can accomplish what we seek."

Xandaros nodded. "I hope you are right. Our master grows impatient." His lips curled in a sneering grin to reveal his massive fangs. "I assume you have persuaded this human to support our cause?"

"Yes, my father. He proved most difficult to seduce, however by entering his mind while he slept I was able to finally overcome his resistance."

"You do well, my daughter. You have been training at the hands of the Succubi."

Naimah nodded. "Yes, I have, my father."

"Carry on, my child. There is much yet to do before we can accomplish our goals. Once the meddlers are eliminated and Azazel is freed so that he can lead the legions of our master into battle, we can crush the humans once and for all, and take back what should rightfully have been ours."

Naimah hesitated and looked up into her father's glowing eyes. "Father," she began, in a faltering voice, "I have a favor to ask of you."

He knew what she was going to say before the words could form on her sensuous lips. "You are not yet a formidable enough opponent to take on Azazela. She has grown in power and in skill even since the last time you did battle with her."

"Perhaps," she intoned darkly. "But perhaps I shall too grow in power enough to defeat her once and for all."

"Tell me," he asked with a hint of sardonic amusement in his voice, "why is it you want to go up against your mother?"

"I wish to punish her for her weakness. She could be here now with us, like she was meant to be. She was destined to free her father and to do his bidding. She has turned her back upon us and upon her heritage. And for what? The ingratitude and disrespect of these pathetic humans." She spat the word as if it were the most despicable term she could have used.

Xandaros nodded as he produced a flaming ball of energy and tossed it at his nearest underling with a dark scowl. "I myself offered her much. She spurned me and our ways in favor of an impoverished existence among these vile creatures.” His voice lowered, taking on a truly venomous tone. "Do as you wish my daughter. I will grant you the right to face her when the time comes for us to once again meet in battle. I would suggest in the meantime you spend your time training in preparation."

A malicious grin lit up the pale visage of the wickedly beautiful demoness. "Thank you, my father," she whispered, as she bowed before the massive demon. His daughter had indeed grown in power, he thought as he cast a lustful gaze over her prostrate form. Given over to the evil overlord Deathwynd, her cruel master had released her from her mortal bonds and instilled her with a hatred for the weakness of the humans. She would prove to be a most powerful asset in the battle for supremacy, of that he had no doubt.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her as she closed her eyes and willed her presence to once again manifest itself upon the Earth.

The slamming door reverberated throughout the apartment. With a loud sigh, the frustrated mother called to her daughter through the hollow wooden barrier.

"Sheken, I meant what I said. I do not approve of this, and I forbid you to go."

"Mom, it is perfectly safe there! There is no fighting allowed," Sheken yelled as she flung open the door to face her mother.

"Sure. Tell your aunt that. She was attacked there once."

"That was a long time ago, mom. It hasn't happened since. And you go there."

Dawl shook her head. "That is different." The small demonic half-breed looked at her only daughter with a scowl. "I am not the object of a dire prophecy regarding my evil brother and his sinister associates."

Sheken growled in frustration. Why did her mother have to be so paranoid? "Mom, I can't spend the rest of my life holed up in this apartment. I have to have a life, you know."

"I want you to have a life. That is why I have to make sure you are protected from your brother, and from those who are his allies."

The girl threw herself across her bed and pulled a pillow over her head to muffle the sounds of her mother's voice.

Her mother threw up her hands and stormed from the room, back to the kitchen where her mate was preparing himself a sandwich. He met her troubled gaze with a sympathetic look.

Dawl answered with a growl. "Why does she have to be so stubborn and willful? She is SO much like her father."

Before the words finished rolling off her tongue she regretting bringing up the subject of Sheken's father to her partner. Her tryst with the angel had been a bit of a point of contention between them and this was like tossing virtual salt into an old but never quite healed wound.

"You were the one who chose to sleep with him."

She winced visibly as Keres' words hit her like a hard slap. He saw pain darken her eyes, and instantly wished he could take them back.

He reached out to her as she turned her back to him with tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, sweets. I shouldn't have said that." He pulled her into his arms and rocked her gently as her welling tears turned into a full-blown torrent.

"I don't know what I am going to do with her. She's just so...so..." she sobbed against his strong chest.

"I know," he told her soothingly. "But she is growing up. You can't keep her under lock and key, as much as I know you want to protect her."

Dawl lifted her eyes. "You are right. But what can I do? I can't let her walk blindly into a dangerous situation."

"Dangerous situations exist all around us," a soft voice spoke up from behind them.

"Hi, Az," Keres said, as he turned to face the statuesque blonde.

"Greetings, Keres," Azazela said with a nod, as she crossed the room to pour herself a tall glass of water. She paused after a moment and turned to focus her gaze on her tiny sister. "Dawl, I know it is not my place to raise your children, however, I believe you are going to have to let Sheken become an adult on her own. Eventually, we will all face the consequences of the prophecy. Imprisoning her here is not going to change that."

"You're right, Az," the diminutive redhead answered quietly, as she dabbed at her wet cheeks with the end of her cape. "But I still do not think allowing her to go to Pocket D by herself is a wise idea. And Keres and I are going away for the weekend. He's taking me to the Shadow Shard." She grinned sheepishly.

Az smiled and shook her head as she prayed silently that the explanation of their weekend plans would go into no further detail. "I agree that perhaps she should postpone her curiosity about the club until you can remain nearby. I, too, have some business to attend to this weekend with Cale. We are taking Adara shopping."

Keres hugged his little demoness tightly to him. "Az is right, baby. You can't avoid the inevitable by keeping her here."

"I know," Dawl answered glumly. "I just want to keep her safe. That is the desire of any mother towards her children."

"I understand, and you know I love the children just as much as you do, and would never let any harm come to them if it is within my power to prevent it." Keres had been there for her since they met what seemed like an eternity ago. Even though only one of the children, her firstborn, was biologically his, he'd stayed by her side helping her to raise all of them.

Azazela looked at both of them. "I must be going. I dropped some books in the den for Zakai. You might wish to look through them too, Dawl. Enjoy your trip to the shard." Saying that, she hugged her sister, nodded politely to Keres, and quietly made her way towards the door to return to her flat in Kings Row.

"We need to start packing. Is Zakai coming home to stay with Sheken for the weekend?" Keres asked her.

"Yes, he should be home later this afternoon. We can discuss this matter of the club with both of them when we get back from our little getaway," she giggled as she gave her mate a playful slap on his well-shaped rear.

He returned the swat and winked. "You'd better watch it. You keep that up and you will have little time left for packing after spending most of our afternoon on your back in our bed."

"That," she retorted, "sounds very doable."

He laughed loudly, "As do you..." as he picked her up and carried her up the stairs.

He awoke with the setting sun, as was his custom. As the shadows deepened with the falling of dusk he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched. He still felt strangely drained, as if the cunning demoness had ripped out a tiny piece of his soul. He still shuddered as he remembered the bizarre events of the previous day. He was convinced that she'd used some kind of demonic power over him. He made a mental note not to underestimate her guile again.

He showered and dressed quickly in the cool of the night air. He couldn't seem to shake the unsettled feeling that had haunted him since Naimah's departure. Perhaps a good, stiff drink would help to ease his mind. With that thought, he headed out the door and made his way to the discreet entrance that led to the interdimensional nightclub known as Pocket D.

The club was nearly empty at this time of the evening. The thumping sound of the mindless music was a familiar and comforting sound. He found himself spending more time there since he'd fallen into the company of the Doctor and his strange coven of females. Perhaps it was the need for an occasional drink to numb his conscience. Perhaps it was a growing fear of the strange powers they held over him that haunted him every moment he spent alone. Whatever it was, this place had become a frequent refuge.

The usual scantily clad dancers plied their trade inside various cages mounted atop pillars or hanging from the tall rafters. In one corner, a patron who obviously didn't know his limitations was paying the price as he groaned loudly with each painful retching. The silent stalker turned up his nose in disgust and sought a different seat that would be out of earshot of this fool's misery.

He ordered himself a drink and scanned the room for a quiet place where he could enjoy his libation undisturbed.

He'd never been much of a social creature, preferring solitude over the often inept and indiscreet company of others. In his line of work, it was often best to have no witnesses. He'd only worked with the demoness at the urging of the Doctor. In a sudden ephiphany, he wondered if that situation were not a set up for his becoming involved in her sordid little plot. He chastised himself for not suspecting her motives from the outset.

Finding a table in a quiet corner he blended into the shadows to sit back and watch the deeds of those around him who would remain oblivious to the fact they were being observed.

The minute the couple left the apartment the girl was out of her bed. She dressed quietly and in the dim light of the bathroom night light she applied a bit of makeup to make herself look older in case anyone questioned her. She had long ago learned from her mother's friend Danitra where to acquire an altered ID card that would show she was of legal age to consume alcohol in any jurisdiction and had quickly made use of this information.

She crept quietly down the hall and up the stairs. Sneaking through her mother's bedroom, she silently unlatched the French doors and snuck out onto the balcony. Her brother remained blissfully unaware of her egress as he sat in the den studiously poring over his favorite textbooks. Silently she launched herself into the night air, carefully flying straight to the door that would lead her into the interdimensional nightclub she'd heard so much about.

She tried to act casual as she waltzed down the hallway to the elevator. The hostess gave a cursory glance at the well made ID card, and bade her to enjoy herself. With a smile, she stepped into the elevator and pushed the button that would take her to the source of the muffled, throbbing sound that surrounded her.

She stepped out into the spacious club and caught her breath. The glass floor offered a phenomenal view of the surrounding eerie panorama, as did the enormous windows flanking both sides of the huge main room. Tentatively, she edged up to the nearest bar. "What can I get for you?" the bartender asked politely.

Unsure of what to order, she masked her ignorance by asking if there were any house specialties. The bartender smiled as she suggested a rather fruity concoction, which she quickly prepared. Just as Sheken was reaching for her purse as deep voice behind her said "I will get that." A tall young man stood behind her and held out a fistful of cash to the smiling bartender. His shoulder-length hair framed a wide, confident smile. She guessed from the grayish-blue tint to his skin that he was not a normal human.

"I am Androus, of Khandavihr," he said, with a wide smile. "Who might you be?"

"My name is Sheken," she answered softly.

"Is this your first time here?" he asked, keenly aware of her apparent discomfort.

"Yes," she nodded. "I normally stick to the local clubs. I wasn't aware such a place existed but found the door quite by accident," she lied, in an effort to cover up her naivete.

"Would you like to join me and my friends?" He motioned towards a group of five others seated around a small table across the room.

"That would be nice," she said with a smile.

The all welcomed her warmly, introducing themselves in turn. She felt vaguely uncomfortable, as their eyes seemed to be riveted upon her as they stared like hungry lions watching a crippled antelope stumbling in front of them.

She sipped very slowly at her drink, which was thankfully rather weak. Despite the proportions, the minute amount of alcohol entered her unprepared system and made her slightly lightheaded. She excused herself on the grounds of visiting the little heroines room to splash cold water on her face in an attempt maintain her composure. Her mother made drinking look so fun and easy. She was seriously considering making up some excuse to be called away back to her home as she left the safety of the bathroom to return to the table. Before she could think up some convincing fable, a fresh drink was proffered. She felt it would be rude to walk off after they'd been so kind as to buy her another drink, so she silently sat down back down and sipped the fresh libation.

Before the glass was half-empty, she realized something was terribly wrong. The room began to spin as her vision narrowed. She lurched sideways trying to stand up from her seat as the cold floor rose slowly up to meet her.

He'd watched with detached interest as the petite redhead strolled into nearly vacant the club. She looked young and nervous and out of place, he noted. A lifetime of watching from the solitude of the shadows gave him the skill to see through her attempted facade. He already guessed that she probably entered with a faked identification card. Kids, he thought as he shook his head with a wry smile.

Watching the young male hero approach her he found the little drama a pleasant diversion from his own troubled thoughts. His gaze followed them back to join the little party at a far table. Silently, he moved to a closer location so that he could soothe his voyeuristic curiousity by eavesdropping on their conversation. One never knew when a tidbit of conversation might turn into valuable information, after all. Their idle chatter was almost laughable as the males verbally jockeyed for her attention. When he heard her quietly ask to be excused to 'powder her nose' he'd almost laughed out loud. As soon as she'd rounded the corner towards ladies' room, however, the scene took a definitely less amusing turn.

He watched as one of the group pulled a small bit of cellophane from his pocket and rolled it between his fingertips, effectively crushing the contents into a fine powder. The one who'd first approached her had acquired a fresh drink, and they huddled around in an attempt to conceal their actions as the powder was poured into the glass and stirred vigorously.

A numb shock came over him as he watched the girl return from the bathroom a few minutes later, to sip the now drug-laced libation. Silently he stole unseen behind her and with the skill only a consummate stalker could possess, he quickly relieved her of possession of the tiny purse she'd laid on the seat beside her. Settling unseen into a darkened corner, he quickly rifled through her belongings until he found what he was seeking.

When he saw her tumble to the floor, he tucked her purse under his coat, and walked slowly back towards the group. The males had wasted no time in hoisting her to her feet. To a casual observer it might appear that they were merely helping a drunken comrade. They began to lead her towards the elevator that would take them to the exit to Kings Row, where one of them had an apartment not far from the club's entrance.

Six jaws dropped simultaneously in startled amazement as he stepped out of the shadows to appear directly in front of them just as they reached the elevator.

"Sheken! I have been looking all over for you! Have you been drinking again?"

"Uh, hello, mister," the apparent ring leader stammered.

"Hello. I see you found my sister. I was sent to look for her. Thank you for keeping her safe. I will take care of her from here."

The boys glanced at each other, each of them mentally assessing the situation. He called her by name, so he must be telling the truth, they assumed. Shrugging in resignation, they handed off the barely conscious girl to the dark stranger, and made their way into the elevator.

"Damn," his acute hearing heard one of them mutter as the doors began to close, "that sucked. We wasted that and now she's gone."

"Shut up," the tall one hissed. "I just hope her brother doesn't figure out what she's on, or suspect that we did it. We could all be in a lot of trouble. Let's get the hell out of here."

He laughed softly to himself. There was no love lost between him and the Paragon City Police Department but he considered phoning them with an anonymous tip that would lead them to question the group of lads as they left the nightclub. Shaking his head, he looked at the catatonic girl and sighed, as he decided they'd already had enough of a scare.

It wasn't that he was averse to the idea of taking forceful advantage of an attractive female. He'd been known to do so himself on occasion when the opportunity presented itself. He had no idea why he'd felt compelled to intervene on this unfortunate girl's behalf. Perhaps it was her apparent youth and naivety that made her seem so helpless and in need of his protection.

He led her slowly to a nearby booth and let her slump backwards onto the bench seat as he pondered what to do next. It would be rather pointless to abandon her here after going to the trouble of rescuing her. The only option he could possibly foresee was taking her back to his own abode. The possibility seemed unlikely at best, if not downright risky but it appeared he had few other options.

He lifted her to her feet, and slung her arm over his shoulder. With her weight draped over him he shuffled her towards the elevator that would lead them back to the Rogue Isles, and his dwelling. He paused for a moment as they approached the elevator guard. It was his job to prevent heroes from accessing the doorways to that led to the seedier neighborhoods of St. Martial, Port Oaks, and Sharkhead Isle.

It was not that this presented any insurmountable obstacle. He made his living circumventing some of the best security measures known to mankind. This was merely a challenge. Propping his incoherent companion gently in a dark corner, he stole unseen next to the guard. He pulled a tiny vial from his pocket. Silently he uncapped the vial, and closing his own eyes, he exhaled gently towards the face of the oblivious guard. Within seconds, a minute amount of the powder wafted through the air and drifted beneath the Arachnos issued helmet, settling in the unfortunate victims eyes and nasal passages. A full dose of the substance could effectively blind his target. A minute amount, however, proved just enough of an irritant to effectively obscure his vision.

Quickly, he retrieved the girl from her temporary resting place, and once again shouldering her staggering form, he guided her stumbling steps towards the elevator. "Evening." He greeted the guard in a flat tone.

The guard lifted his helmet and wiped at his bleary eyes with the back of a gloved hand. "Excuse me. I don't know what's come over me. It must be some kind of seasonal allergy. Heading back to the Rogue Isles?"

The stalker adjusted the girl's stance and reached into his pocket to produce both their ID cards, having removed hers from her purse prior to accosting her would be attackers. "Mmhmm. It appears she found the drinks here a bit too tasty." He nodded towards the barely conscious female at his side. "I am going to pay dearly for this when she comes around in a few hours with a throbbing skull and an attitude like a rabid wolverine," he stated, sounding rather exasperated.

The guard brought the cards near his face, and made a pretense of examining them though the stalker knew full well he could barely see, let alone read them properly. "Be careful then. You don't want to stumble upon any overzealous Longbow patrols with her in that condition," he warned as he handed the cards back and waved them towards the elevator.

Nodding his agreement, the stalker replied, "I hope you find something to clear up those allergies. Sounds quite uncomfortable." The elevator doors opened with a quiet swish. A triumphant grin broke across his features as he propped her against the wall for the quick ride to the exit corridors.

The barely clad succubus who served as a hostess to the club smiled wickedly at him. He returned her farewell with a grin and a knowing wink. The bored looking bouncer never even looked up from the copy of the Rogue Isle Protector he was reading to acknowledge their passage as he carefully led her stumbling through the doors.

The air was decidedly cool as a stiff breeze blew in from the harbor and cut across the building on the hillside where they emerged from the club. It smelled of salt and fish and heavy oils. He looked around to make sure the streets were fairly empty before quietly creeping towards his abode. The darkened streets would have proved strange and terrifying to her if she had been cognizant of her surroundings. He hoped she'd remain sedated for the duration of the journey to his dwelling. The last thing he needed was a bout of histrionics to draw the unwelcome attentions of either those who sought to dispense what they perceived to be justice, or those who were looking for an easy opportunity for some misdeed.

He knew her staggering gait would be less than quiet. He decided that it would probably be better to try to carry her and maintain his own silent footfall than to have her tripping and stumbling all along the way. He maneuvered in front of her and hoisted her upon his shoulders, as he concluded that this would probably be the most mechanically sound method. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, he whispered quietly, "Hold on. We are almost there. Just hold on." The command registered in the autonomous part of her brain as she murmured her agreement and clamped her arms around his shoulders in a death grip. He stifled a quiet laugh as he stooped under her and then stood to raise her feet off the pavement.

As he began the cautious trek towards his domicile, he was thankful that she was fine boned and lithe. He was careful to stay in the darkest of shadows being acutely aware that he was much more conspicuous with the creamy skinned female clinging to him. He slowly crept along darkened alleys and paths until he reached the darkened doorway to his abode.

Once he made it inside, he heaved a sigh of relief as he laid her gently on his bed. She moaned quietly as her head hit the pillow. She bore a peacefully oblivious expression as she drifted back and forth between a drug-induced stupor and sleep. The thought of what might have been transpiring at this moment had he not interceded crossed his mind and caused him to shudder involuntarily.

She was a pretty girl in spite of the thick horns that adorned her head. Another being of some demonic origin, he mused as he shook his head. Her fiery red hair hung to just below her shoulders. Wisps of it clung to her face, framing her delicate features. She was slight built, with a narrow waist, trim hips and pert breasts, hidden beneath skimpy vest she'd chosen for her night out. A very short skirt showed off most of her long, fit legs and as she shifted on the bed, her soft white panties. She shivered lightly in the darkness. He bent over her and gently pulled the bed clothes around her. A lump formed in his throat as he began to feel a familiar stirring in his loins.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as he tried to dismiss the urges this obviously young female was arousing in him. He knew that looks could prove deceiving. But he did have standards, and they normally included adulthood as one of the criteria for a female becoming the target of his physical attentions. He consoled himself with the thought that he'd inquire of her age when she came to. If he found that she was indeed of a reasonable age, then perhaps he'd take his fill of her before returning her to a somewhat more safe location. After all, he told himself, if it weren't for him, she'd have suffered a worse fate at the hands of half a dozen attackers. It was only reasonable to expect her to owe him at least a little bit of enjoyment for the inconveniences he'd endured in rescuing her from her would-be assailants.

Her mouth felt like it was full of dry flannel. The room was still quite dark as she began to overcome the fog of confusion that was suffocating her conscious thoughts. Her eyes struggled to focus as she shifted her weight beneath the heavy blankets. Her mind floated at the edge of cognizance as the softness of the warm bed urged her back to dreamland, however a sudden realization that she wasn't where she should be jolted her into an abrupt awareness. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to sit upright. Her head throbbed and spun, sending her reeling back to a reclining position.

"I see you're finally awake." A deep, quiet voice came from the darkness beside her.

She jumped at the sound. Her gaze darted around but she could see nothing. Then, with the rasping sound of a match being dragged over some rough surface, he lit a small oil lamp next to the bed. The flickering fire gave his rugged features a shadowy cast as he moved from the shadows into its warm glow. She pulled the covers tight around her body and tried to gather her wits about her.

It was plainly evident that she was no longer in Pocket D. She had no idea where she was but she knew instinctively that it wasn't anywhere she was supposed to be.

"W-w-where am I?" she stammered.

"You are a guest in my humble abode. Just relax." His voice was smooth as he tried to reassure her.

"I...need to get...home. My... m-m-mother will be worried."

He chuckled. Now he was almost certain that she was far too young for his tastes.

"Unfortunately, your mother will have to wait. Day will be breaking soon and I can't return you to Pocket D until nightfall. Port Oakes is far too dangerous a place for you to be wandering around in the daylight."

A small gasp caught in her throat. He must be one of villains who inhabited the realm of Lord Recluse. She'd heard her mother and Aunt Azazela speak of the dangers they posed. A wave of fear gripped her as she stifled the urge to burst into tears.

"Can you take me to my home?" she squeaked hoarsely. The pitch in her voice rose in proportion to the fear that gripped her.

The hint of a dark smile turned his lips up at the corners. "And where would your home be?"

"Talos Island."

He laughed softly. "I don't think the Paragon City police department would appreciate my presence."

A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

He moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. She visibly winced as if she were expecting him to strike her. He felt a wave of coldness as she instinctively began to wrap herself in the dark energies that she had the power to command.

"Calm down. If I wanted to see you hurt, I could have left you in the company of your friends at the club." The venom he applied when spitting the word "friends" brought images of the young men she'd met earlier whirling back into her consciousness. The last thing she remembered was drinking with them before she apparently blacked out.

"They...umm...were not really my friends..." she started, hesitantly.

He rolled his eyes. "I'd never have guessed," he retorted with his voice fairly dripping in sarcasm. She gave him a puzzled glance and he continued. "Friends don't usually try to drug each other. I can only guess what they must have had planned for you. And to think, they presented themselves as heroes." He snarled the last word in an angry tone.

She suddenly felt very naive and foolish. In the warm light he stared at her as if he was trying to second guess her intentions. She took a deep breath and dismissed the swirl of negative energy with which she'd been wrapping herself. He laughed softly. To most others the falling shadows would likely have made the girl blend quickly into her surroundings. Being a creature of the shadows himself, he had no problems seeing through the darkness in which she tried to take refuge.

"It was simply lucky for you that I happened to be observing your little group of acquaintances. I saw what they had done, and by borrowing your identification, I was able to convince them that I was your brother and was there to retrieve you. Of course, once you'd ingested their potion, I was left with a very catatonic burden on my hands. It would have been rather pointless to save you from one group only to leave you there for some other evil opportunists to happen upon."

Suddenly the implication of what he was telling her hit home. She realized what might have happened, had he not stepped in to rescue her, and she began to cry in earnest.

The tears welling on her thick lashes tugged at his heart. "There, now. Don't cry. You are here now. It will be dawn soon, far too soon for us to make our way back under the cover of the darkness. As soon as night falls again, I will return you to the club and you may find your way home from there. I suggest," he added in a sardonic tone, "that you don't stop to make any friends this time."

She looked up at him as tears flowed down her cheeks and nodded her agreement.

The first rosy fingers of dawn were winding their way through the gaps in his shutters, reminding him that he was incredibly tired. He looked at the frightened girl huddled in his blankets and his bed and suddenly realized he had a problem.

"I work nights, so it is time for me to go to sleep. Unfortunately," he began, "I am not sure what to do with you. I think since we are somewhat on opposite sides of the law, as it were, I am going to need to restrain you, in case you get a sudden attack of righteousness and decide it might be your duty to arrest me while I sleep. The bed is large enough for both of us. To sleep in," he added as her eyes opened wide, "I will attempt to make your restraints as comfortable as I can so that you can get some rest before our journey tonight."

He opened a drawer and pulled out several silken neckties.

She trembled in fear as he approached her. The trail of tears that trickled down her cheeks turned into a full blown torrent as she sobbed loudly.

"Hush," he said softly. "You have to understand that I cannot afford to take any risks with you. Please don't take this personally. I want to make sure both of us make it through the day without falling into any harm." Her body shook with the sobs. He took a gentle fingertip and brushed her now saline soaked locks away from her eyes. Tracing the outline of her delicate jaw he lifted her face up to meet his gaze.

"How old are you?" he heard himself asking. He felt torn between hoping for an answer that would relieve his conscience from the guilt his untoward thoughts had fostered, and an answer that would force him to remain morally restrained towards this frightened creature.

She shuddered and closed her eyes. "I will be eighteen in November," she whispered.

Not quite of age, he mused. But close enough, especially here where the authorities could care less, the darker side of his conscience prodded. He looked away from her for a moment. Here he was, about to tie her down in his own bed. He swallowed a huge lump of discomfort that he couldn't explain. Maybe it was the pity he felt. He wasn't hard-hearted. Just practical when it came to plying his vocation. And if he occasionally had to be a bit forceful in order to make a point with women he encountered, he had never regretted it. This girl was an entirely different situation, however.

Gently, he took first one hand then the other. Wrapping the soft material around her wrists, he tied them to the bedposts on either side. He realized that this effectively located her in the center of the bed, leaving him little room for his own sleeping comfort. Unless you'd lie atop her, his darker nature intoned.

She was silently sobbing now, tears soaking the hair at her temples. As he pulled back the blankets to fasten her ankles, she felt the cool air on her bare legs. Suddenly she wished she'd been much more modest in her choice of attire.

He gripped one shapely ankle tenderly in his hand. As he wrapped the soft cloth around it, he felt a surge of longing course through him. He groaned out loud as he struggled to control himself and to hide the physical manifestation of his urges.

Once she was secure, he turned away from her and adjusted his clothing for comfort and discretion. It baffled him as to why he was so torn between a completely natural urge and the desire to protect this vulnerable little creature.

With a deep sigh, he resigned himself to sleeping on his sofa. It wasn't comfortable, but he felt the temptation of unavoidable contact with the girl now stretched across his bed would prove insurmountable.

As he silently stole out of the bedroom, he heard her breathing catch, as if she was trying to quiet herself in order to hear his movements. He smiled to himself.

After a few tempestuous hours on the sofa, he realized sleep was not within his grasp. He quietly made his way to the kitchen for a glass of slightly old but not yet soured milk. Without a sound he slipped into a shadowy corner of the bedroom and watched her sleep. Her pert breasts were rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He knew this meant she'd finally succumbed to exhaustion. Even in the dim light that filtered through the shuttered windows, he could see her eyes were swollen from crying. A wave of pity swept over him as he approached her side.

He slid out of most of his clothing, and gently laid down at her side, carefully avoiding allowing certain areas of his physique to touch her warm soft skin. She murmured and sobbed softly in her sleep yet did not awaken.

With a deep breath, he inhaled her very pleasant soft scent. He felt a twinge of guilt at having to truss her up to the bedposts, but in reality he couldn't be certain that she was not a threat to him.

As he settled in beneath the soft cotton sheets his eyes closed involuntarily. He realized how tired he really was. It took mere moments for the pall of sleep to descend upon his consciousness.

As her mind cleared she realized that there was a warm body draped comfortably over her. She fought her initial urge to cry out, instead forcing herself to lie still in hopes he'd remain asleep.

A tremor coursed through her, shattering her attempt at self control. She closed her eyes tight trying to stem the sudden flow of tears.

He came slowly out of his dream state to find her shaking like a leaf in his arms. In his blissful state of unconsciousness, he'd wrapped himself around her. Gently, he pulled back and tried to meet her gaze.

"I am sorry. I realize I am not being a very good host but the sofa proved impossible as a venue for sleep. I didn't mean to frighten you." His voice was deep, soft and reassuring.

"W-w-why are you being nice to me?" she stammered.

He was taken aback at the insinuation that he might have reason to be anything but nice to her. "Why would you think I would want to do you harm?" he asked in a rather accusatory tone.

She blinked hard, and swallowed the lump of fear that rose like hot magma into her throat. "Because...you are...umm..."

"Not a hero?" he finished, bitingly. "If you would care to recall, it was your so-called hero compatriots that designed a rather unpleasant fate for you. You might have woken up lacking a awful lot of your virtue this morning had you not fallen in to my villainous hands. So tell me, who is it you should fear?"

He sat up and pulled the sheet over his shoulders to cover his bare chest. "Honestly, I think you do me a disservice by being so mistrustful. Have I done anything that might give you the impression that I bear you any ill will?"

She dropped her gaze and began to cry in earnest. "I'm... sorry."

"I only tied you up to insure my own safety. I've had considerable experience with the self-righteous sort who label themselves as heroes." Once again he spat the word in a tone of utter contempt. "I am not the kind of monster that you might be expecting."

Her lower lip trembled as she gave him a pleading gaze. "I didn't mean to offend you. You are right," she answered softly. "You have shown me nothing but kindness. It is just that I...well...I woke up in this strange place, and I realized you were..." her voice faltered as she sought some term that would not prove offensive.

"A villain?" he offered.

She blushed hotly. "I have always heard that the Destined Ones were brutal and merciless."

He let loose with a derisive snort. "While it is true that I was freed from a temporary incarceration by the minions of Arachnos, I do not wholly agree with their plans for me as a 'Destined One'. I prefer to think of myself as a freelance contractor. Although I can be rather brutal when it is necessary in order to accomplish my goals, I am not as a rule a vile or merciless individual. I think I am really quite reasonable." He slid to the edge of the bed, and let go of the sheet as he retrieved his shirt from the bedpost. Donning his clothing, he stood and began to unfasten her restraints. "Please don't try to escape. If you were to be found wandering outside these walls you would realize that anything you could possibly imagine that I might do to you would pale in comparison to your fate at the hands of the forces of Arachnos."

She sat up in the bed and tried to tug her skirt down to a more modest degree. The marks left by the bonds were lightly chafed and she rubbed them vigorously to ease the irritation. As she stretched her stiff muscles, he turned and disappeared into another room.

The sounds coming from elsewhere in the house led her to believe he was preparing food. She sat quietly on the edge of the bed and looked around. The room was small and sparsely furnished. A small nondescript desk was tucked into a quiet corner. She stood on shaky legs and began to explore her present surroundings.

She wandered over to the desk. She hadn't meant to pry but her eyes were drawn to examine the scattered debris that covered its surface. Her heart leapt into her chest as she began to read the various newspaper clippings from the local paper that lay strewn across the smooth wood. Many were detailing high profile assassinations that had been cleanly pulled off both locally and in Paragon City. She was sure these must have been accomplished by her host, though according to the stories, the authorities were completely without a clue as to who the culprit might be.

He entered the room silently. He cringed when he saw her poring over the clippings. "It isn't what you think..." he began softly, as she whirled to face him.

Instinct and fear caused her to summon the powers of darkness as clouds of dark energy gathered around her feet. Her mind began to ache with pressure as the formidable psionic energy she possessed began to build up in anticipation of an impending attack as her hands flew to her forehead to steady her aim.

His keen sense of danger alerted him to her defensive posturing instantly. He knew after what she'd read she was overcome with a fear that he might be planning a similar attack towards her. At this point, he seriously doubted that she'd believe any calming words he might try to use to placate her fears, no matter how truthful or sincere they were. He realized that he was going to have to go on the offensive to subdue her before things got too far out of hand.

She backed away from him, her eyes wide. Hitting the wall, she braced herself as he reached out towards her. She had no idea what his intentions were but now that she knew of his true nature, she wasn't going to take any chances.

He felt a wave of sudden coldness envelope him as she spun threads of dark energy around him to siphon off his strength. With a soft whisper of rasping metal he pulled his katana from its scabbard as he moved into the shadows. She spun around and realized he had effectively vanished. She could feel his presence so close to her she knew he could touch her, yet could not see him. With a surge of panic she aimed a blast of mental energy towards where he'd disappeared, missing wildly. He rewarded her for her efforts with swift, blunt application of the handle of his weapon to the base of her skull.

She felt the blow a fraction of a second before she felt her legs buckle beneath her. She tried to draw a last deep breath as an thick curtain of darkness fell around her while she tumbled to meet the floor.

He paced the floor as he waited for her to regain consciousness. Tugging at the knots to make sure he'd tied them securely, he placed a hand on her soft chest and felt for the shallow, rhythmic rise that indicated she was still breathing. His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary before he shook off his baser urges and paced the room in frustration.

Why was he so hesitant to deal with her in the same manner as he'd dealt with other females who had challenged him? He pondered this apparent inconsistency for a good long while before he decided it must have something to do with his having found her in such a helpless state.

It wasn't that she was unattractive. He was completely at a loss to explain his reluctance to take total advantage of her. Standing over her as he watched her chest rise and fall with each deep unconscious breath, he knew that reluctance was fading fast.

She moaned softly in pain. He knew she must have a splitting headache from the impact of the blunt end of his weapon. He regretted that she'd left him no choice in the matter but to use such brutal force. Now that he realized she commanded the power of her mind to launch psionic attacks, he knew he had to keep the upper hand or he might find himself on the losing end of the equation.

Her eyes fluttered open to give her a blurry view of two dark figures looming over her. As she struggled to gather her wits, the two identical shapes melded into one as her vision regained its focus. His features were hooded but she could feel the heat of his body as he leaned down over her. His eyes glittered in the darkness as his cold gaze met her own.

"Do not attack me again." He snarled the command with a tone of dark authority.

She trembled and looked away. He was toying with her. She wondered if he had ever intended on taking her back to Paragon City, or if the initial promise had been an empty one made to buy her temporary cooperation. She suddenly realized just how serious of a situation she was in. She was alone, in the company of a known killer. She might well be out of the range of a mediport transponder. She wasn't even certain exactly where she was but she knew that no one else would know where to even begin to look for her. Her mother wouldn't be home until after the weekend, which left only Zakai to realize that she'd snuck out. She also knew that her brother was loyal to her, which meant it was highly unlikely that he'd contact their mother to inform her of the fact that she had taken off. Her heart sank as she realized that it would be at least another day before someone would even begin to try to find her. A sob caught in her throat.

"I cannot return you to Paragon City if you are going to attack me," he told her flatly. "The risk of taking you out in the open and then having you draw attention to both of us is more of a risk than I am willing to take."

She shuddered. Her eyes were wide with fear as a cold sweat broke out all over her body. "W-what are you going to do with me?"

An angry laugh that sounded almost more like a growl rumbled from his throat.

She cringed as he settled himself on the bed beside her and leaned in close. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked, her voice trembing.

"I'd say you have a more pressing concern at the moment," he snarled. "You are once again dangerously close to having your virtue assaulted."

It took the briefest of moments for the meaning of his statement to register. Her eyes flooded with hot tears that burned salty trails down her soft cheeks.

"You really should be punished for attacking me," he whispered in a husky voice, almost more to himself than to her.

She began to tremble as he stood up and began to undress. A sob escaped her as the drops of hot saline flowed copiously down her porcelain cheeks.

The shadowed shades of dusk had already begun to creep into the room. She closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable assault to begin. As he lowered himself silently to her side, he could feel the tremors of fear that coursed through her body. As his fingers entangled themselves in her hair, he slowly traced his thumb lightly along her jaw line. "Now, now," he purred. "If you'd just relax a little, you will make this much easier on yourself."

This brought on a fresh bout of sobbing. He brushed his face against the soft skin on her neck while he undid the buttons and pulled her vest back to expose her shoulders. "Don't struggle," he commanded menacingly.

A quick examination of her skirt revealed it was a wraparound. He undid the tiny bow at her waist with one hand and quickly pulled the garment off her trim hips.

He sat back and admired his prize as she lay before him with her vest hanging open, and her dignity covered in nothing more than a wisp of soft cotton panty and the shimmering lace of her bra. Her hair was damp with the tears that ran down her temples.

"This is what happens to naughty girls who decide attack me," he purred softly as his hands found her tender breasts. He let his thumbs lightly graze her nipples through the soft lace. Against the bidding of her mind they quickly hardened into tiny peaks.

She felt a hot flush of shame course over her body as she struggled to maintain control of her emotions. The fear of what was about to happen overwhelmed her. She felt as though she might swallow her own tongue.

He ran his hands gently over her soft skin while purposefully avoiding the thinly veiled warmth between her forcibly spread legs. Her sobbing intensified into powerful spasms that shook her entire being.

As she gasped for breath in between the wracking sobs she opened her tear soaked eyes and looked at him. "Please...no…" she croaked in a voice that was barely more that a hoarse whisper.

He met her eyes. A sudden uneasy feeling began to suffocate him from within. Without a word, he jumped up and stormed from the room.

She had no idea how long she'd laid there. The last thing she'd remembered was tugging futilely at the restraints and gasping for breath as she choked on her tears. She evidently dozed off, exhausted by fear and her struggle.

She awoke slowly in the dark room, to the feel of a gentle touch rubbing a very sore wrist. Her heart sank as she felt his fingers glide over her chest until she realized that he was fastening the buttons on her vest. Slowly he began to fasten each small button, pausing midway up to let one finger trail over the soft skin between her firm breasts. With an almost inaudible sigh he fastened the last few buttons.

Her eyes met his with a pleading gaze. He shook his head slightly and said softly, "It is almost time to go. Please cooperate so that we can both reach our destination safely. The sooner that happens, the sooner you get back to Paragon City, and the sooner I am relieved of the burden of your presence."

She couldn't explain why, but the last remark stung. She sat up slowly. Her throat was parched and raw. She tried to speak but only managed a weak croak. He offered her a large glass of water that he'd had the foresight to place on the nightstand. She sipped slowly, letting the cool liquid trickle with a soothing wetness. Once she'd drained most of the contents of the glass, she let out a soft sigh.

She scooted to the edge of the bed and smoothed her skirt. He'd done the best he could in trying to put it back on, but it was slightly sideways. She stood and undid the small bow, and turned the skirt to its proper orientation. He stood in the darkness and just watched her.

"You will need to eat something. We have a pretty good hike ahead of us and I don't want you fainting on me."

She nodded. He brought her a plate with a cold hamburger sandwich and a small glass of milk.

"I am not used to entertaining guests," he explained. "The sandwich was warm before I had to subdue you."

She looked up at him with mixed feelings of fear, guilt, and uncertainty. Tentatively, she bit into the sandwich. Despite its temperature, it tasted good. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until the first bite hit the pit of her very empty stomach.

She fairly wolfed down the rest of the sandwich and drained the last dregs of the milk. He had to smile as she wiped her lips with the back of one hand. "Feel better now?" He stepped out of the darkness and offered her a long black hooded cloak. "This will make you a little less conspicuous."

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Don't thank me. If you are spotted, it will mean trouble for both of us. Just do exactly as I say. Heroes found in this neighborhood generally don't last too long."

She shivered involuntarily.

Wrapping the cloak tightly around her, she followed him the doorway. He inhaled her soft scent as she moved huddled close to him while he unlocked the many security locks on the door. He stepped out the door into the dark alley. "Stay very close to me," he hissed.

She closed her eyes and summoned the threads of darkness that shrouded her in a black mist. He nodded and smiled. "That will help."

They quietly worked their way back towards the door to the club. Creeping slowly along in the shadows, they were almost to their destination when they rounded a corner and in the faint glow of a lamp filtering through a window, they saw the small group of Longbow creeping down the middle of the alley. "Back!" he hissed almost silently. But it was too late. The Longbow Warden had already caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. They all turned and trained their weapons on the terrified girl.

"Halt! Raise your hands in the air."

Sheken immediately complied. A lump formed in her throat.

The Warden approached her slowly. "Up against the wall." The trembling girl turned and put her hands on the cold rough bricks. She glanced around but could not see her companion and realized that her captors could not see him either.

The Warden began to pat her down roughly. As she bent over the search the girl's lower legs, he struck. "Run!" he yelled. Before Sheken could react, he'd met the business end of a taser. He fell to the ground, stunned and she found herself immediately pressed hard against the bricks and immobilized.

The Warden got back up and rubbed a lump on the side of her head where he'd struck her. "What have we here?"

Sheken reached down into the front of her cleavage on produced a small pale purple pill. Popping it, it released a surge of clarity that enabled her to break free of the pressing force. The Warden spun, and focused her mental energy at the girl, blasting her with a Psionic force that was so strong it knocked her to the ground, near where the fallen stalker lay.

As she struggled to regain her footing her mind raced. "Wait a minute!" she cried out. "You are Longbow! Why are you attacking us?"

"Attacking villains is our job," the Warden replied curtly.

"I am NOT a villain."

The other officers gathered round while one produced a flashlight. "I had my ID somewhere here... " Sheken fumbled. "Perhaps I lost it in the struggle."

She felt something hard pressed into her hand. Her companion still had her purse tucked in his own coat. She looked down at her ID card and handed it triumphantly to the Warden. "Here."

"What are you doing here?" The Warden eyed her with increasing suspicion.

"We were on assignment in Bloody Bay, when we were ambushed, robbed, knocked unconscious, and brought here. We weren't even sure where 'here' was until some vagrant gave us directions to the door that can get us back to Pocket D, and allow us to safely return to Paragon City."

The Warden inspected the ID card closely. "Mandana. Daughter of DeLara, the one they call VuDu Dawl?"

Sheken nodded. "Yes."

"A fine empath, your mother is. She saved my entire platoon during a massive Arachnos attack in Siren's Call one day."

Sheken smiled. Her companion rubbed his head as he tried to stand. The Warden turned to him, "And your ID?"

"He doesn't have one," Sheken interrupted. "I told you, we were robbed. He managed to save my purse by giving them his wallet while hiding my things. They took everything he had."

The Warden met the girls gaze, then turned to stare intently at her companion as he stumbled to her side.

Her sudden attack came so fast he didn't have time to think. Sheken grabbed him forcefully, pulling his face close to hers. Her mouth was pressing hard against him as her small tongue darted between his lips as they parted in utter suprise. One arm snaked around his waist to hold him close as she ground her hips against his groin. He moaned involuntarily as an urgent swelling began to assert itself in response to the sensation.

What the hell is she doing? His mind raced as he tried to find a way to stem the surge of lust that was building in him as she panted softly into his mouth. Her tongue parried with his own as the satin softness of her lips firmly massaged his own lips.

"I am so glad you were there to protect me," she moaned, huskily, into his mouth.

As she ground hard against him, he fought wildly to control himself.

The Warden coughed loudly. "Well...you aren't far from the Pocket D entrance. We will escort you there. You really must learn to be more careful when working in the Border Isles. We do not always patrol these areas. You are just lucky that we came here trailing some stolen chemicals, or you might have been found instead by some nefarious villain."

Sheken broke the embrace long enough to gasp out "Thank you so much for helping us. I can hardly wait to get him home."

"I see that," the Warden answered dryly. "However, this is neither the time, nor the place. Even with our skilled protection, there is much danger for you here. Let's get a move on!"

Motioning with one arm, her troops fell in behind her as the group moved towards the nondescript entrance to the club. He held the door for Sheken, as she turned and smiled at the Warden. "Thank you for saving us!" she yelled, as she ducked into the club.

Once inside the hallway, he pulled her into a dark corner. "You are quite the consummate little liar," he whispered, darkly. "Now would you mind explaining what that was all about?"

"She was Psionic. A very advanced level. They can probe minds and read thoughts. I didn't want her getting too far into your mind, or she would have discovered that I was lying. Having Psionic strengths myself, she could not read my thoughts. Only what I wanted her to see. But I knew she'd be able to read yours. So I had to distract you, so your mind was flooded with thoughts that didn't matter."

A shocked look crossed his features as he blinked hard. "So, all that was to keep me from thinking about anything that would give us away?"

She smiled and nodded. "And it worked. I have had to develop certain... umm... skills at deception, in order to deal with my mother's oppressive tyranny." She gave him a wry smile.

"Tyranny?"

"Yes," she sighed, glumly. "She is so worried about the damned prophecy she won't let me out of the house most of the time."

The word once again sent a shudder down his spine. "I think I can understand her point of view," he said quietly. He looked her over. It was too bad she was so young. The urges caused by her sensual assault still hadn't completely abated. He briefly considered pursuing them, but chided himself. She hadn't meant to tease him. She'd done what she'd done for a reason. A good reason. Of course, that fact didn't make the ache in his loins feel any better, he thought with a deep sigh.

"Will I be able to get back in from here?" she asked, hesitantly.

"Sure. I will go with you." Then he quickly added, "Just to make sure you get in safely."

They walked silently to the elevator, the soft soles on his boots making no sound, while her heels tapped quietly on the cold concrete floor. They stood together in quiet contemplation as they waited for the soft ding that would indicate the arrival of the elevator car. He motioned her in ahead of himself, and again as they entered the spacious club.

As they made their way towards the main room, Sheken was nearly run over by a short, stocky redhead. "What are you doing here, young lady?" the nearly hysterical female shrieked.

"I... umm... "

"LOOK at you. You are dressed like a trollop. I've seen CARNIES with more modesty!" she motioned to the very short skirt her daughter was wearing.

Sheken dropped her gaze to the floor as her shoulders slumped dejectedly. "Mom... please."

"And just who is this?” Her mother screeched hysterically. "Have you been with him all weekend?"

"Yes mom, but I can explain. He was helping me."

"Sure. A villain, helping you." The angry demoness turned to the startled stalker. "Did you sleep with her?"

He blinked hard and swallowed as his eyes flew open in utter shock.

"LAY OFF, MOM," Sheken screeched over the pumping beat of the music. "WHAT IF HE DID?" The girl was screaming at the top her lungs. "HOW MANY VILLAINS HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH?"

The music ended abruptly immediately just as the word "did" rolled off her tongue, but the next seven words escaped her lips as a shrill, reverberating scream before she could stop them.

The entire population of the club dropped their jaws open simultaneously at the sheer volume and audacity of the question as it echoed across the now completely silent club. They all turned collectively in the direction of the high pitched screaming, to see the diminutive redhead backhand her daughter soundly.

Tears stung Sheken's eyes as she saw the hurt on her mother's face.

This was far worse than being caught by Longbow, he thought for a fleeting second.

"I am sorry, Mom." Sheken looked down at the floor. "And no, we didn't."

DawL grabbed her daughter and hugged her close. "You had me so scared. I was worried sick. I couldn't find you anywhere. I could sense that you'd come here but I couldn't connect with you beyond that. Perhaps it was the shifting between dimensions."

Dawl turned to the stalker standing in utter shock beside her daughter. "I am Sheken's mother. I am known as VuDu DawL."

He nodded almost mechanically as he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze.

Her tone softened as she stretched forth her hand. "I apologize for my outburst. She's my only daughter."

"I understand, ma'am," he answered softly. "I was only helping her. It seems she fell into some bad company."

Dawl turned to Sheken with a puzzled look. "I will explain everything later, mom."

The empath shook her head. "I had a funny feeling you were going to get yourself into trouble. So much that Keres brought me home early. I came looking for you. You are in a lot of trouble for disobeying me, you know."

Tears welled in her daughter's eyes. "I'm sorry, mom." Turning to the stalker, she suddenly threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "I am sorry for not trusting you. Thank you for helping me."

He blushed and nodded wordlessly. Her mother took her by the hand as she gave him a polite smile. "Yes, thank you for helping her."
She raised her hands towards him and showered him with warm magical energies.

He silently turned and headed back towards the elevator that would take him back to his abode as the two horned females made their way towards the door to Talos Island. He found himself feeling a strange concern for the girl and hoping that she wouldn't be in too much trouble over her little excursion.

No sooner had he stepped out of the elevator, than he nearly literally ran into Naimah. The giant demoness looked down at him with a rather ravenous smile. "How fortuitous to find you here! I wish to speak to you regarding our business arrangement."

He was in no mood for this but she had him cornered. He stifled a frustrated sigh and motioned her towards the passage leading to Port Oakes.

She fell in step with him and followed him through the doorway. They walked in silence until they approached a deserted area of shoreline below the rocky cliffs where the dilapidated arena stood. He looked around to make sure no one else was near enough to be a party to their conversation.

"It is time for you to undertake the job I have tasked you with," she purred as she pulled a small envelope from beneath her cape. "Here is all the information you will need. Locate this girl, hold her until I give you the word, then eliminate her. Fairly simple. You may do whatever you wish to her while she is in your possession, short of killing her. Consider that a fringe benefit. Once she has provided a sufficient distraction, and my associates and I have completed our initial attacks, then you may dispatch her in whatever fashion pleases you."

He nodded slowly. "As you wish.” He tucked the folder into his coat.

"I will make this worth your while. The other night was a mere down-payment,” she whispered in a husky voice. "I have already spoken to the doctor, and he has given his complete consent to my utilizing your services."

At the mention of her contacting the doctor, he shuddered. He barely understood the twisted relationship between the power-hungry Doctor Maritus, and the demoness. Rumor among his followers held that it was she who gave him his preternatural abilities to control the minds of others, in return for some dark price. Whatever the truth was, it somehow revolved around her having some incredible sway over him, and carte blanche to use the services of those minions he controlled.

"This will help cover your expenses, and perhaps soothe whatever shred of a conscience you might have,” she told him as she pressed a small velvet bag of coins into the sweaty palm of his hand.

She nodded curtly to him. "Contact me as soon as you have the little wench in your possession. Do not fail me in this, Marcus.”

His lips curled in a sneer but he managed to bite back the sarcastic retort his pride was weaving upon his tongue. Instead, he merely nodded and waved goodbye, as he disappeared into the shadows.

The house was cold and dark. He tossed the envelope on the table and turned on a small light over the sink. The contents slid from their jacket and fanned themselves across the smooth wood. A small dossier, several pages of carefully compiled information, and several photographs lay sprawled before him in the pale light of the dingy incandescent bulb.

For the briefest moment he felt his heart stop beating as his eyes focused on the top-most photograph. No, he told himself, this could not be. But there, staring back at him was the smiling face of the petite redhead who had recently been his rather unwilling houseguest.

A sour feeling in the pit of his stomach threatened to send forth the bile that was rising in his throat. How could this be? The closer he examined the documents spread before him, the more concrete the realization became. He was going to have to kill the girl he'd just saved.

He never put much stock in intangibles like magic or fate or karma. Now it seemed that perhaps he'd been wrong. He had to wonder if this was some kind of sick repayment for his nefarious career choice. He stood on shaky legs as he felt the same sensation as if he'd been physically punched in the stomach. Stumbling to the bathroom, he fell to his knees as he gripped the cold porcelain. He convulsed as the first wrenching wave of nausea gripped him and violently twisted his insides.

The passage of time seemed to slow to a crawl. What seemed like hours could not have been more than a few minutes, he realized, as he hugged the clammy curves of the smooth ceramic bowl. His eyes were watering and the bitter taste of bile was on his lips as he struggled to stand. With faltering steps, he made his way to his room and fell upon the bed. As he struggled to lay perfectly still, with each shallow breath he inhaled the delicate scent she'd left behind upon his bedding. With a small sob, tears began to stream down his pale visage.

Hours passed as he struggled with his deepest emotions. When he began his career as a cold-hearted assassin, he thought he'd put such intangibles behind him. Emotions were for the weak, he believed. Now that belief was lording over him and kicking him in the chin as he lay in the gutter he had carved out with his own sordid deeds.

A knock at the door caused him to jump. He had no friends and certainly no one was expected at this hour. He made his way through the pale shadows of dawn that were creeping into his living room. Peering through the peephole, he felt the lump in his throat sink all the way to the lowest pit of his stomach. It was Maritus. The doctor had come to see him and there was no doubt in his mind what purpose his visit was going to serve.

He opened the door, and with a terse nod the doctor pushed past him and strode into the living room with the self-assured air of someone who knew they were in control. He tried turning away but Maritus quickly spoke up.

"Marcus,” he said in a patronizing tone, "it has come to my attention that you are serving Lady Naimah. In many capacities,” he added with a stern glare.

The assassin hooded his eyes and nodded slowly. "I am.”

"Oh, do not get me wrong,” the doctor continued. "I fully approve. In fact, Naimah seems to feel that you might have some reluctance to fulfill your obligation to her. I assured her that nothing could be farther from the truth. Isn't that right, Marcus?” As the words dripped off his tongue, the doctor looked him directly in the eyes, pinning him in place with his powerful gaze.

Suddenly the spittle in his mouth seemed to turn to sawdust, and his throat constricted. He heard himself speak. "I will fulfill my obligations, Doctor Maritus.” The voice was flat and devoid of emotion but the echo of the words burned a path into the swirling torrent of his thoughts.

"I am sure you will, Marcus. I am sure you will.” Maritus smiled as his gaze seemed to bore into Marcus's very being. The Doctor continued. "You will avail yourself to the Lady Naimah, and complete whatever duties she requires of you.”

"Yes, Doctor Maritus,” he heard the strange voice coming from his parched lips reply.

"Very good, Marcus.” Maritus smiled baring his gleaming teeth in the pale light of the impending dawn. "I shall be going now.” With that he turned and made his way back to the door and into the newly dew-christened morning.

The assassin's head was swimming. He had to wonder if it was stress brought on by his present situation, the after-effects from the Doctor's forceful invasion into his mind, or a combination of the two. Either way, he knew he needed to lie down. Stumbling back to his bedroom, he dropped into the bed and this time instantly fell into a deep sleep.

If silence is golden, then the ability to move not only silently but without being seen is truly priceless.

The aftershocks having died down, Sheken was happy to find she'd only been grounded for a month for having snuck out and gone to the club against her mother's orders. A month wasn't such a very long time, she reasoned, as she contented herself with spending her time wrapped in reading the romance novels she was so fond of.

Her mother and Keres were once again planning a weekend away, having installed security bars on the windows to Sheken's room and a proximity alarm on her door, so that Zakai might be alerted if she were to try a similar escapade this time.

It was a cool, quiet night. Zakai had the windows to the den open and a soft breeze wafted across the room. Looking up from the book he'd been reading, he noticed his glass of milk was empty again. Shaking his head, he picked it up and headed towards the kitchen.

He didn't see the screen slip from its track and slide out onto the balcony. Before he had poured his milk, wiped up the spillage that had sloshed over the rim of the overfilled glass, and wrung out the rag and hung it to dry, the screen had been carefully replaced.

As the quiet Peacebringer returned to his studies, a silent figure crept unseen down the hallway to his sister's room and slowly grasped the handle to her door. He jumped back and raced down the darkened hallway to hide in the shadows as the alarm sounded it's shrill warning.

Zakai jumped up from the sofa and rushed from the den to the source of the piercing wail. He quickly tapped in his access code to silence the ear-splitting scream as his sister opened the door with a look of shock on her face.

"What's going on?”

He gave her a suspicious glare. "You tell me, Sheken.”

She gave him a perturbed glare. "I SWEAR! I was laying on the bed reading. I hadn't moved since I went to the bathroom after chapter three and I am on chapter twenty. I went NO WHERE NEAR that damn door.”

He rolled his eyes at her dramatic histrionics and shook his head. "Well you tell me what set off that alarm, then?”

"I don't have a clue. But I know I wasn't anywhere near the door.”

Sighing, he nodded, "Okay, perhaps it was just a glitch. Get away from the door and I will reset it.”

With a roll of her eyes, she returned to sprawl across the bed and immerse herself in the fantasy world of the book her nose was promptly buried in.

Softly, he closed the door and tugged at the handle to make sure it closed tightly. Turning to the newly installed keypad, he once again entered his pass code. The lights blinked in sequence to indicate the proximity field was clear and that the alarm was now armed and ready to do its job.

With a deep sigh he walked back to the den.

Hidden in the dark shadows at the end of the hallway, the assassin had a plan. He waited for several minutes to give them both a chance to become absorbed in their tasks. He crept up to the door and once again grasped the doorknob. Once again the shrill screech of the alarm split the peaceful silence.

After disabling the alarm a second time, Zakai opened the door and looked around the room. Sheken was still on her bed, albeit in a sitting position after having been startled from her reverie a second time.

"See? I haven't even gotten off the bed!”

He nodded. "The alarm is only supposed to be triggered by motion within a three foot radius inside the door. You didn't see or hear anything?”

"Besides that infernal device screaming? Just my radio.” She motioned to the boom box sitting on her nightstand, softly playing her favorite CD in an endless loop.

He looked carefully around the inside of the room and found nothing. Frustrated, he shook his head. "I don't know what is causing it. I am going to go see if I can find the manual. I think dad put it in the filing cabinet next to the desk in the den after he installed it. That is usually where he puts such things. I will return in a few moments.”

Once again, he closed the door, made sure that it had latched, and tapped in the code. He trotted back to the den, and opened the filing cabinet. Sure enough, the instruction manual was in the proper folder. Just as he opened it and began to read, the screeching trill once again flooded the apartment.

Running back to the doorway, he disabled the alarm and flung open the door. "If this keeps up, the neighbors will be calling the apartment manager.” He dropped onto the bed beside his sister. He was a fast reader, but could find nothing in the manual that applied to their situation. He checked all the connections, replaced the backup battery, and checked the area for anything that might move slightly in a breeze. Assured that he'd taken care of the problem, he once again closed the door and armed the system.

He hadn't even gotten to the end of the hallway when the shrill scream once again reverberated throughout the entire apartment. He rushed to the keypad and silenced it one final time.

"Okay, I do not know what is wrong, but the only recourse here is to shut this off and hope dad can figure out what the problem is when he gets home. I do not understand this. It worked so well earlier.” He scratched his head in between his horns with a puzzled scowl. "But this means I am going to have to trust you to stay in your room.”

Sheken looked up from her book. "Oh you can trust me, alright. I am already grounded for a month. And after what happened the last time…” She shuddered as she thought of how her last adventure might have turned out. "You know, if it hadn't been for the kindness of that …” She couldn't bring herself to call him a villain so she merely shrugged and looked up to meet her brother's eyes. "Believe me, I learned my lesson.”

As he gazed into the crystal blue of her eyes, he knew she was telling the truth. "Okay, just leave the door shut and stay in your room. Call me if you get hungry or need anything.”

She smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Zak. I appreciate that.” With a wave she tucked her nose back into her book.

He quietly shut the door and made his way back to the den, as an uneasy feeling settled over him. He dismissed it as being overly suspicious of his sister's antics. Shrugging it off, he returned to his studies. Outside the gentle breeze turned into a gusty gale.

The clever assassin had managed to slip into the room unseen during the commotion. He waited for the young man to leave, and silently slipped next to the little redhead who remained blissfully unaware of his presence.

Standing perfectly still, he remained completely hidden as he watched her poring over the small book clasped tightly in her dainty hands. He drew one deep, silent breath, and with a smooth motion, brought the handle of his katana to bear for a second time at the base of her skull. She never knew what hit her.

Now his only problem was going to be how to retrace his steps and exit the apartment without the boy catching him. He didn't want this assignment to get any messier than it was already.

Darting out of the room, he traced his steps down the hall in the opposite direction, and followed the flight of stairs up to the second floor. Turning down the hallway, opened a door to find a large room with a massive canopy bed. Just beyond the bed was a set of French doors leading out to the balcony. Slipping back down the steps he hoisted the unconscious girl over his shoulder and carried her out through the French doors. Following the balcony around, he found a door leading to a common stairwell. Shifting her dead weight, he stepped inside and descended to the ground level. Silently he slipped out the maintenance doors behind the stairs. In the darkness of the alleyway, he let out a muffled grunt as he shifted her onto his other shoulder, and slowly crept towards the bridge over the small inlet where a small submarine waited just below the surface of the water.

The tiny empath felt a chill course through her. Turning to her lover, she met his gaze with a wide-eyed look of panic. "Something is wrong. We have to get back.”

"Are you sure, sweets?” he asked gently.

She nodded emphatically.

"Okay, Dawl,” he answered. "I learned a long time ago that your instincts are rarely wrong. Sheken again?”

"I am not sure. I will know when we get closer. But if I had to guess…” her voice trailed.

He dropped her down the hatch into the arms of the grizzled old captain and followed them into the belly of the sub. They carried her to the small berth. He pulled a roll of duct tape from the pocket of his coat. First he bound her hands behind her back. He then bound her feet, and as an afterthought, wrapped the tape over her mouth so that any screams would be muffled if she were to somehow come to before he got her home. As a further measure to insure that this didn't happen, he procured a small syringe from his pocket. One small jab and he was certain she'd sleep until sometime the next day.

The sick feeling once again settled in his gut as he watched her sides heave and fall with each breath. In all the years he spent honing his skills as an assassin, he developed an innate ability to remain detached from his work. This particular job was somehow different. He swallowed hard and smeared a clammy hand across his sweat-drenched forehead.

"Good lookin' piece of filly, you have there, mate,” the old captain leered as the eerie light of the darkened quarters cast macabre shadows across his gnarled visage. "I'm bettin' someone's gonna be willin' to fork over a regular king's ransom for that one.”

Marcus closed his eyes and simply nodded. He paid the man well for his transportation services and did not feel he owed him anything beyond that. Not even an explanation.

By the time they'd arrived back at the dock in Cap Au Diable, his head was throbbing. He couldn't decide whether to blame the lack of oxygen in the stale air of the submarine or the stress over his present predicament. The captain and one of his hands were more than eager to manhandle the little redhead under the guise of helping him to place her in the back of the panel truck that awaited them. He pulled the small pouch of ancient coinage from a pocket in his coat and paid the captain the remainder of his fee for the stealthy passage in and out of Paragon City.

The salty air was thick and humid even in the middle of the pitch-black night. He bent over the still form of the unconscious girl. Assured that she was still securely bound, he slid behind the wheel and pointed the truck to the southeast, in the direction of Port Oakes.

He finally pulled into the darkened alley as dawn began to creep over the horizon. Shouldering her limp form, he quietly let himself in to his abode and unceremoniously dumped her onto the sofa.

As her body landed on the soft cushions, she let out a muffled moan. He studied her intently. He'd loaded her up with enough tranquilizer to knock out a small horse, but for a moment she appeared to be coming to. He wondered if he should chance a second dose, but given her small size he could not be certain she'd survive it. Shaking his head, he decided to adopt a wait and see attitude. After all, she remained tightly trussed. Even if she did try to resist, he had an ace up his sleeve.

They were not halfway home when Dawl's cell shattered the silence. A harried Zakai was almost yelling into the phone. "Something is wrong. Sheken is gone. But I don't think she left on her own. Her purse is on her dresser, and she was wearing those Capri pants that she sleeps in. You know, the ones that Dani got her for Christmas last year. She hates those pants, mother. She'd never wear them out in public.”

"What about the alarm?” His mother was almost screaming by now.

"We had to disable it. Somehow it kept malfunctioning. It kept going off. Each time there was no reason for it to be going off but…” his voice trailed as he realized that there must have been something, or someone. "We were afraid the neighbors would get mad and call the manager, or even worse, the police.”

"It's okay, baby,” Dawl said soothingly. "You did the what you thought was right. We will be home shortly. We are almost there.”

"Almost home?”

"Yes, I had a feeling, and, well, your dad decided to bring me back home.”

"Hurry, mom.” She could hear the frantic edge in his voice.

"I will, Zakai, don't worry.” She swallowed a lump in her throat that tasted like a mixture of bile and raw fear. Turning to Keres, she croaked out two words in a hoarse whisper. "She's gone.”

Her head was throbbing so badly she thought it might explode. The drug coursing through her system left her groggy and disoriented as she tried to break the surface of the drowning pool of unconsciousness in which she found herself mired. Her body felt stiff and sore as she struggled to shift position. Immediately she realized that something was preventing her movements. A blinding flash of terror brought her to instant lucidity as adrenaline surged through her body. She began to struggle against her bonds but the tape held fast.

He stood over her, watching silently and fighting the urge to try to calm her. Turning his back he silently stole from the room. She thrashed around for several minutes before she realized that she wasn't getting anywhere. The tape over her mouth pulled painfully at her soft skin as she strove to break free.

Tears of frustration stung her eyes as her mind whirled trying to get some kind of bearing on the situation. Taking a deep breath through her nose, it suddenly came to her. She was back in the Rogue Isles. She could smell the latent aromas of salty air, fish, and crude oil mingled with other scents that indicated she'd somehow returned to the dwelling of the villain who had formerly been her benefactor.

She became still for a moment as she paused, trying to make some sense of the situation. How had she gotten back there? Could this be some kind of bizarre nightmare? Had she ever really left?

Hearing her movement cease, he crept unseen back into the room and watched her. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration. He suspected she might be trying to muster enough psionic energy to mount a counterattack. Circling the sofa, he slipped behind her and pulled a second syringe from his pocket.

She felt a sudden burning sensation as the needle found its mark in the soft flesh of her gently rounded bottom. Within moments, she found her ability to concentrate was gone. Her thoughts became disjointed and broken.

He smiled. Unlike the tranquilizer, this drug wouldn't render her completely unconscious. It merely interfered with her synaptic functions so that she could not maintain enough control to focus her mental energies.

She couldn't see him, but she new he was nearby. Panic overtook her as she renewed her struggle with mindless thrashing. Twisting violently, she managed to throw herself from the sofa and landed with a dull thud on the hard floor.

Stepping around the soft, he grabbed her by one thick horn. "I suggest you settle down before you hurt yourself,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

He picked her up and tossed her back onto the sofa. Ducking into the kitchen, he returned with a cellphone. Moments after tapping out a sequence on the keypad, he lifted the phone to his ear. "Let Naimah know that I have her,” was all he said.

Naimah! She screamed something unintelligible against the tape that covered her mouth. Sheken knew now that something was terribly wrong, if her wicked cousin was involved. Tears stung her eyes as she turned her head towards the back of the sofa.

Now all he had to do was wait for word from Naimah that the girl had served her purpose. He looked over at her small form as she attempted to curl up into a fetal position on his couch. Then he could… no, he couldn't even bring himself to think it. For the first time in his entire career, he felt icy fingers of self-doubt wrapping themselves around his psyche. He shuddered visibly and stormed from the room, trying to shake himself of the feeling of dread that choked him every time his mind focused on the assignment at hand.

Somehow he found himself in the kitchen as he opened a dusty door inside his pantry. Seldom did he feel the need to heavily overindulge in spirituous liquors, but right now he felt a compelling need to numb the incredible surge of long-forgotten emotions. He poured himself a good four fingers of the amber fluid and brought the glass to his lips. Taking a deep draught, he coughed as the drink seared his throat on its way to land with a burning splash in the churning pit of his stomach. The mere fumes seemed to scorch the membranes of his nose causing his eyes to water profusely. Closing them tight, the protective flood of saline somehow morphed into a full blown torrent of tears.

Marcus, what are you doing? This is just another job. You have to deal with this. Stop allowing these foolish emotions to cloud your reasoning. He fought inwardly with himself, but the feelings were overpowering as he leaned against the counter and pressed his face against the cold metal of refrigerator. Tears were flowing like the fire hydrants in Brooklyn in the summer days of his youth. He felt weak and powerless to regain control over his own grief.

He drained the last of the glass and refilled it once more. The second swill went down far more smoothly, probably due to the liquid fire scarring his poor throat, he thought bitterly. He lifted the glass twice more, and found it empty. The third fill almost drained his supply. He lifted the bottle to his lips and tilted it skyward to drain the last drops. In a flash of frustration, he turned and violently cast the empty bottle in the direction of the small wooden box that served as his makeshift waste bin. His aim was off and instead it struck the corner and promptly shattered, spewing sparkling slivers of shattered glass across the floor. He growled under his breath as he tipped the drink to his lips, draining the entire thing in one long gulp.

The sound of the shattering glass startled Sheken into a fresh round of hysterics. Once more she thrashed hard enough to cast herself from the couch onto the cold floor.

He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and spun to head in the direction of the thump. Entering the room, he watched her writhe violently. So much so, that she'd actually torn the flesh on her tender wrists.

She knew her hands were wet but couldn't tell if it were sweat or blood that coated her fingers as she struggled to try to free them from their bonds. The pain of tape tearing at her raw flesh was lost to the sea of panic she was drowning in.

Bending down, he hoisted her up. If he laid her on the couch, her blood end up all over it. Right now it was confined to a small smear on the tiny rug that laid in front of the sofa.

"Stop it,” he barked, to no effect. "I said STOP IT,” he growled loudly as his hand came up to collide with the soft skin of her cheek. Instantly she went limp in his arms, sobbing hysterically.

He dragged her into the bathroom and shoved her roughly down on the commode, while he turned to adjust the flow of water in the shower.

"I should throw your silly ass in there clothes and all,” he muttered darkly.

The voice in the back of his mind reminded him that a sharp blade could easily cut through clothing. Through the alcoholic haze that was fogging the clarity of his mind like a mirror in a sauna, this suddenly seemed like a very good idea. Turning on his heels, he stumbled from the room only to return wielding the flashing steel of his katana.

"Hold still,” he growled darkly, as he ran the point of his weapon along her shoulders. Even inebriated, he wielded his katana with a grace that came from years of discipline and practice. The thin material of her t-shirt was no match for the finely honed blade. She held her breath as she felt the cold point of steel lightly graze her warm skin. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she was sure he could hear it. She trembled as she waited for the razor sharp steel break the surface of her creamy skin. Instead, he blithely slit the seams of her shirt along the shoulder line with the skill of an expert swordsman. The ruined shirt slid off her shoulders and down over her breasts, to pool around her waist. One cut up her right side freed it so that he could toss it to the floor. He turned his attention to the thin fabric of the pair of Capri pants she was wearing. Starting at one hip, he traced the seam with his weapon. She shuddered in fear but knew better than to make any sudden movements. Relieving her of the undergarments was far simpler. One quick slash between her soft breasts and another atop each shoulder and the remants of what had once been her bra joined the rest of her ruined wardrobe on the floor. The tiny strings at the hips of her bikini panties were even less of a task to overcome. Tugging the ruined scrap of material from beneath her, he chuckled softly as he tossed the last vestige of her modesty onto the pile.

Her breath caught in her throat as he devoured her with his eyes. She could read his thoughts through the lust in his eyes, and prayed that he would just kill her quickly. Instead, he gently lifted her in his arms and clumsily made his way across the room. He carefully deposited her under the warm trickle of water flowing from the showerhead. She gasped as the droplets pelted her and winced as he soaped up his hands and washed the blood from her wrists. The cuts weren't deep but she'd managed to rub both wrists raw enough that application of soap caused an immediate caustic burning.

Looking across the bathroom, he tried to judge the likelihood of her staying upright while he went to the medicine chest for some salve. With her feet bound tightly at the ankles, it might be hard for her to maintain her balance, he reasoned. Grabbing his blade, he slit the tape and in one fluid motion, pulled it from around her ankles. Reaching out with his other hand, he steadied her to keep her from falling. She widened her stance and opened her eyes.

"Don't try anything,” he commanded her in a deep voice that indicated that he meant what he said.

Returning with some salve, he cut the tape binding her wrists and gently applied the salve to the raw flesh beneath. Her chest heaved with each sobbing breath but she made no other move to avoid his ministrations.

Once he'd finished, his attention was no longer focused on the torn skin at her wrists. The water glistened on her pale skin, and her red locks clung damply to her horns and to the sides of her face. With a shaking finger he traced the line of her jaw. Grabbing the edge of the tape that cover her mouth, he gave one swift tug. She felt the tape separate from her tender skin in a flash of pain. Instinctively she reached up and put a hand over her mouth, softly rubbing the reddened skin.

He leaned so close she could smell the sour stench of alcohol on his breath. She trembled violently with fear as she hung her head and tried to focus on the water as it swirled around the drain.

A burning urge flared up within him as the booze surged through him and numbed any vestige of inhibitions he might have harbored. All he could think of was the fact that he wanted her now and she was there for the taking. You may do whatever you wish to her while she is in your possession, short of killing her. Consider that a fringe benefit. Naimah's words echoed in his drink-clouded consciouness.

She winced as she heard the sound of a zipper. Hot tears mingled freely with the warm water tricking down her face. She tried to force her mind to rally an attack in her defense but the injection he'd given her had her thoughts so muddled that even a weak dart of psionic energy was impossible to muster. She was completely at his mercy. All she could do was close her eyes and cry as his damp clothing joined what had been her own on the cool tile.

He stumbled into the shower, tripping on the sill and nearly knocking both of them to the floor. Catching himself on the towel bar, he pulled her water-slicked body close to him. He spun her around to face him as he covered her mouth with his own. She choked as his vile breath mingled with her own as his tongue parted her lips and pressed hard against her clenched teeth. Wordlessly, he slammed her back against the back wall of the shower and reached under her legs to lift her up onto his hips. She was crying furiously now as she struggled to no avail. Still disoriented and weak from the chemicals he'd injected into her bloodstream, she was no match for his superior strength. Shaking her head violently she broke away from his invasive kiss, gulping for air between deep sobs as her world began to fade to black. The last thing she remembered was him pressing his weight against her as he pinned her warm flesh up against the cold tile wall.

She slept fitfully. Between the potent drug and being in shock, she'd remained unconscious for several hours. She woke up as the threads of daylight crept in around the dark blinds. Her entire body ached as though it was one giant bruise. As her mind fought its way out from under the drug-induced fog, she found him wrapped around her. She realized she was once again tied spread-eagle across his bed. He had climbed in next to her and promptly passed out. A shrill ringing split the air as he turned his head groggily, searching for the source of the sound. He pulled himself from the bed and stumbled to the living room, following the obnoxious tone. Punching a button on the cell phone, he heard Maritus bark gruffly, "It is finished. Dispose of her.”

His heart sank upon hearing the edict. This was the very first time he'd every had a job he simply did not want to complete. The feelings it was evoking were more painful than any physical wound he'd ever endured.

He slipped silently back into the room, cloaked in darkness. He watched her, unseen, for a long moment before he stole to the side of the bed. "I really don't want to do this,” he whispered aloud. Although she could not see him, she knew he was near. She trembled as she realized that he'd just been given the order to kill her.

Instead of feeling the cold steel of his blade, however, she suddenly felt surrounded by warmth as he returned to the bed and wrapped himself around her. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling her soft, warm scent.

This time his assault came slowly and deliberately. There was no brutal force this time, only gentle caresses. She lay perfectly motionless knowing that she was powerless to stop him. The drug he'd injected was still present in her system enough to muddle control of her psionic energies. She couldn't even focus enough to draw upon her command of the powers of darkness. A single tear formed in the corner of one eye. The last drop of saline she could muster, it trickled in a burning trail down her temple and mingled with the sweat that beaded on her forehead. She opened her dry throat and sobbed piteously.

Hearing the cracking in her voice as she cried out, he pulled away from her and once again disappeared. Moments later he returned to gently lift her head and tip a small glass of cool water to her lips. She opened her mouth and caught as much of the spilling liquid as she could, swallowing in great gulps.

Her brain ached trying to contemplate this enigma. Why was he now being kind and gentle, when she was certain that he was about to execute her? And why had he brought her here instead of killing her in her room in Talos?

He watched a range of emotion contort her visage as she pondered the situation. He realized her ability to focus her thoughts was returning. He returned to the kitchen to refill the now empty glass and grabbed another syringe from his coat as he passed the coat rack.

He was beside her before she could detect his presence. She felt the jab a microsecond before the powerful drug coursed through her system. She closed her eyes as her thoughts once again moved into a state of incoherence.

Once again the shrill ringing cut the air. He retrieved the phone and returned to the bedroom as he pushed the button to answer it. Once again he heard the voice of the cruel doctor. "Marcus, have you completed your obligation?”

He fumbled for words as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Actually, I am not finished with her yet. Naimah gave me permission to do as I pleased with the girl before I dispatched her. I am in the middle of enjoying her right now. I will finish her when I am done."

He heard the doctor guffaw. "That is fine, Marcus. Make her suffer. There is nothing like being able to enjoy your work, I always say. I assume the sedatives I gave you have kept her sufficiently subdued?"

"Yes, it worked perfectly. She is completely at my mercy."

"Very well. Naimah wishes to know when you have disposed of the girl. I will be in touch."

With that, the call ended and Marcus turned to see Sheken violently sobbing. He realized she'd heard the entire conversation and now knew exactly what was planned for her. A completely unfamiliar wave of guilt washed over him. He chided himself for succumbing to such unseemly emotions but was powerless to control it.

Placing the phone on the nightstand, he sat on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. She was so close that he could feel the heat of her body radiating against his naked flesh. One last time, he told himself, as he lifted the sheets. A pale red stain on the sheets caught his eye as he moved to lie beside her. The proximity and positioning told him that it must have come from his body brushing the fabric as he slept. Her wrists had stopped oozing blood when he washed them and applied the salve, and the position of the stain was nowhere near where her wrists were firmly bound. Suddenly he had a flash of realization.

"That was the first time for you, wasn't it?" he asked her in a terse whisper.

She nodded her head furiously without opening her eyes as her visage crumpled into a grimace of anguish. Tears formed at the edges of her thick lashes.

"I guess I can't really say I am sorry. It would be shame to have wasted…" his voice trailed as he realized what he was about to say. "I mean… I guess it wouldn't have mattered, even if I'd known."

She made no indication of whether or not she'd even heard him as she lay motionless except for the deep heaving of her chest with each sob.

A wave of pity suddenly washed over him. He reached out a hand to smooth the wild strands of hair that clung to her face. As his fingertip touched the soft skin she flinched. Gently he moved closer and wrapped an arm around her as he slid into a prone position at her side.

"Look," he whispered hoarsely, "I am going to do something I have never done in my entire life. I am going to be honest. You know that I was sent to kill you. But I don't know how I am going to do this. Something deep inside me… something that I didn't even know was there… is making this very hard. I have never…backed down…from a job before."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Tears were streaming down his face and dropping from his chin onto her bare chest.

The pain and anguish in her gaze mirrored his own. In a sudden burst of lucidity, he knew there was no way he was going to be able to complete this job. His head began to spin as a myriad of possible outcomes to this situation flashed before his eyes. If Maritus figured out that he'd double-crossed him, there would be hell to pay. He was certain that Naimah would want have him punished for failing her. Chances are he would not survive the repercussions. But he knew deep in his heart that these would be risks that he was fated to take.

"I…" he started, as he struggled to catch his breath in air that felt as thick and hot as if he were swimming in molten lava. "I can't do this. I…cannot…kill…you."

Saying that he collapsed over her, sobbing like a broken hearted child. Her thoughts were still muddled by the potent narcotic that was seething through her veins. She drew a deep breath and tried to focus on this bizarre turn of events.

He swung his legs up onto the bed and moved in close. He could feel the warmth of her soft flesh pressing against his own bare skin. It drew him in and melted him at the same time. His body nestled against her prone form as he clung to her and cried harder than he'd ever cried in his life. All the tears he'd swallowed throughout his life came flooding out in a torrent of sorrow that was so profound, he felt like it might destroy him with its intensity.

He cried until he was gasping for breath. His eyes felt like they were about to bleed and there was an ache in his chest that seemed to be anchored in the core of his very soul. He clung to her as if she were the only buoy keeping him above the tempestuous sea of anguish.

Holding her breath, she trembled beneath his embrace. His breathing finally became slow and rhythmic. She tugged carefully at her bonds, hoping beyond hope that she could extricate herself without waking him when he stirred and opened his eyes. Her heart sank.

Slowly, he sat up and began to untie her bonds. Once her hands were free, she reached down and tugged the blankets up to cover her nakedness. It dawned on him that he'd destroyed her only clothing. He slowly made his way to the closet and began to rifle through the clothes hanging there. He found a dark soft flannel shirt that he'd bought shortly after moving to this forsaken island, before he became acclimated to the cold damp breezes that were so common here. He was of slight build so that the shirt was not exceedingly large. He carefully undid the buttons and approached her to place it gently over her shoulders. She obediently slid her sore arms into the sleeves.

The shirt was soft against her skin. She reached down to fasten the buttons but before she could do so he had leaned forward and was working his way up from her waist to stop two buttons below the collar button. He looked down at the lower half of the shirt and turned back towards the closet to allow her to finished those buttons on her own.

Even something as simple as working a tiny disc of plastic into a small hole was proving to be a challenge for her drug-addled consciousness. It took several minutes before she mastered one of the buttons, and still had several below it. He returned from the closet with a dark blue pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist, only to find her eyes welling with tears of frustration. Tenderly he reached forward and deftly fastened the remainder of the buttons. Without a word, he laid the pants on the bed and walked from the room.

How are you going to get out of this? You can't take her back this time, after what you did to her last night. His mind churned as he pondered the ramifications.

Wandering to the kitchen, he poured two tall glasses of milk. He didn't really feel much like eating with his stomach in a knot but knew the milk would be soothing. She jumped as he walked back into the bedroom and held forth one glass for her. With a look of sheer gratitude she took the glass in both hands and knocked it back in one sole gulp. Placing the empty glass on a bedside table, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a quiet belch.

He sat down beside her and met her eyes with his own. "I..uh...am sorry… for…" his voice faded to an inaudible whisper.

She stared at him but couldn't find her voice. She simply dropped her gaze and took in a deep breath. Her head was still spinning but she wasn't sure if it was the bizarre turn of events, the chemicals in her bloodstream, or a combination of both. This was all so much like some disjointed nightmare. She kept hoping she'd wake up back at home, in her own bed. Closing her eyes, she thought of her mother.

"She's alive. But she's in the Rogue Isles."

"What?" Zakai jerked his head back as if he'd been punched. "You think she ran off with that stalker she was with the last time?"

"No. I think he took her. For what reason, I do not know, but I am going to find out. All I can sense right now is that she's upset and terrified."

"Mother?"

"Keres, I am going to Warburg."

Her partner looked at her in shock. "Are you sure that is a good idea?"

"It is a starting point. I have to find her. Once I get there I will figure out where she is and how to get there."

He nodded slowly. "Do you think we should call Az? She knows Warburg like the back of her hand, and she has lots of connections there. Maybe she can help."

Dawl nodded and dialed the number to Az's flat in Kings Row. No one answered. Next she dialed her sister's cell phone. The hollow ringing echoed for several moments. Dawl sighed. "I wonder where she went? I am too focused on Sheken to be able to track her down now. I can only link with one of them at a time. We will have to go without her."

"May I go, Mother," Zakai asked.

"No. You don't have the security level needed to be allowed to go. You stay here just in case I am wrong and she comes back. Call me immediately if that happens."

Zakai's brow furrowed with worry but he nodded his acquiescence as his parents rushed out the door, headed for Kings Row and the long chopper flight to the fringes of the infamous Rogue Isles.

"Sheken," he spoke gently, "you have to understand that this wasn't personal. I was hired to do this…job." He winced at the implications of that last, tiny word.

She nodded almost mechanically.

"I know after what happened last night, this is not going to mean much, but please believe me." He could hear the words tumbling from his mouth but to his ears, it was almost as if he were speaking some foreign tongue. Why did he care if she believed him? What kind of strange effect was she having on him that was breaking down emotional barriers he'd spent a lifetime reinforcing.

"I didn't want to take this job, even from the beginning."

Her eyes opened wide. She felt her mother pressing into her thoughts. I am coming, baby. Just hang on. I will find you.

Her first thought was one of being scolded for being with him again. Then she realized, this time it wasn't her fault. She'd done nothing wrong. She closed her eyes and focused on her mother. I'm okay, mom. At least for now. Be careful coming here.

He studied her intently. Her face betrayed a myriad of emotions as she pondered the situation. The drug was finally wearing off. That is probably why I was able to link with Mom, she thought. He realized it too. He was tempted to use the last injection to protect himself but decided instead to let her recover.

It really didn't matter if she attacked him. Maritus would soon figure out that he had betrayed him. Then perhaps nothing would matter.

"We have to get you out of here. If Naimah finds you here she will kill you herself."

Sheken nodded weakly. She fully understood the fact that Naimah would be a formidable opponent. She still remembered hearing her parents speak of the fateful trip to Hell to retrieve her aunt Azazela's soul from Xandaros and his wicked daughter.

A soft knock at the door brought his heart leaping into his throat. He grabbed her as gently as he could and guided her to the closet, pushing her backwards and pulling the clothing across the rod in front of her. "Don't move, don't make a sound, and try not to even breath," he hissed.

Flinging open the door, his eyes flew open in utter shock. Before him stood the tiny succubus that was known to be the right hand of Doctor Maritus. It was she who had beguiled him into the doctor's service to begin with and endowed him with powers he still didn't fully understand. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for the worst as she brushed passed him and into his shabby abode.

Stepping off the chopper, Dawl and Keres were met by an unusual sight. The normal complement of Longbow seemed to have been increased by tenfold. A large group of them were milling around the door to the small infirmary at the end of the ship. As they looked up to see her approaching, a collective murmur went up from the crowd. Agent Goddard, the zone's Longbow chief officer, walked up to her and put his arm around her shoulder as a medic Warden pulled a sheet over a lifeless form on a gurney that was being carried into the infirmary. She looked up at the approaching three and said, softly, "I'm sorry. There was nothing more we could do."

"We just want you to know that she died valiantly," Agent Goddard said gently, his voice tinged with sympathy.

"What?" DawL screamed hysterically. "I want to see her. Where is Sheken?"

"Sheken?" Agent Goddard looked confused. "Who is Sheken?"

Suddenly a very sick feeling landed in the pit of the little empath's gut. "Oh… God… No…" As the realization hit her full on, Keres stepped to her side to support her weight as her legs gave way beneath her. In one awful moment, her world turned into a tunnel of blackness that reached out and pulled her into its swirling depths.