Back at the garage, Noah ushered Bethalie from the van and the first thing her gaze landed on were the empty blue barrels and stacks of wooden crates and brown cardboard boxes sitting just outside the bay door. The second thing she noticed was the distinct lack of corpses, which should have been littering the alleyway, signaling that They had dealt with the problem on this end, as well.

"Bethalie, why don't you let us deal with this," Evyn suggested, eyeing her sharply. "I think you should go up and take a rest. I'll fix you some coffee and a snack when we're done."

Bethalie didn't put up an argument and pointed herself toward the elevator. All she wanted was a shower. She couldn't do anything until she was clean of all the blood that was still fouling her body. As soon as the elevator chugged to a halt, she was out and hurrying into the apartment, heading straight across the space and toward her sleeping loft, removing her clothes as she went and leaving them where they fell. She would burn them later. Naked to the skin, she hurried up to her bathroom and straight into the shower stall, turning on the water and getting it as hot as she could stand it. And then she proceeded to scrub herself free of all traces of that appetizing scent so that she could focus on other, more important, things.

Halfway through scrubbing herself for the third time, she felt the air in the bathroom shift in a way that caused her stomach to tighten and her spine to tingle, prompting her to pull open the shower door to make sure that no one had invaded her space. However, rather than the next wave of hired thugs, as a part of her had expected, she found Noah there. Again. He was leaning against the sink, his arms crossed over his still bare chest, his muscles bulging, and his hazel eyes watching her intently.

Bethalie let out a breath, considering stepping out of the shower and giving Noah Grey a hard lesson in manners. Clearly, the man had no sense of decency or boundaries.

She should teach him a lesson. He needed to understand that this was her home and he was a guest in it, which meant that he didn't have the right to barge into her bathroom and stand there staring at her like a letch!

However, a sudden sharp breath expelled from her lungs and she felt her shoulders slump in defeat. She was going to regret this later. Oh yeah. She was going to regret it hard. But, for now...

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to get in here with me?" she asked him.

Damn.

Damn damn!

She had officially lost her mind. That was all there was to it. She had lost her mind and was no longer in control of her good sense. That was the only explanation as to why she, a Ward, was about to do what she was about to do with Noah, who was a Vampire. A Ward inviting a Vampire into her shower stall and...well, into her, was just wrong. She wondered what her Granny would think about it. The old gal would probably have a heart episode.

But, then again, her Granny wasn't exactly an angel. And Noah Grey, who was coming out of his clothes, was beautiful enough to tempt even the most devout of seraphs over to the dark side. For a little while, leastways.

Noah, undressed and in the shower stall with her in the matter of a minute, swept her into his arms, crushing his mouth to hers and pressing her back against the tiled wall. To her astonishment, he didn't waste time on teasing or foreplay. He didn't waste time on gentle advances or coaxing caresses. He got down to business, obviously wanting to give her what she needed in the shortest amount of time necessary, which she rather respected him for.

He grabbed one of her legs, lifted it so that it was wrapped around his waist, and then he was pushing his hard length into her, not even waiting to see if she was ready. The unexpected invasion, the pressure of having someone so large forcibly entering her, sent pain spiraling through her and brought a sharp gasp up from her throat, but Noah ignored the sound, instead taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, tasting her deeply even as he began to drive his body into hers in a rhythm that was fast and hard and almost instantly swept Bethalie toward oblivion. And she didn't even try to fight it or pretend that she didn't want what was Noah was giving her. She did want it. As the waves of pleasure began to blot out the momentary pain, she realized she wanted it more than she wanted to keep living. She hadn't had this in...longer than she could remember, and she'd never had this.

Not this.

Having Noah kissing her and moving inside her was mind numbing. She was tasting fire and filled with heat and with every stroke of Noah's hard body, her own body was pushed further and further toward heaven. The pleasure that Noah was giving her was rolling over and through her in surge after blissful surge and it didn't take long for her to be pushed right to the brink.

Noah suddenly broke their kiss, dropping his mouth to the side of her neck and nipping the flesh there, just hard enough to send a small amount of pain shooting through her, but the feel of his body sliding in and out of hers overshadowed all else and she could barely respond to the sensation.

"Bethalie," Noah growled her name from deep in his chest, "let me feed you. Please."

A sharp shard broke off inside Bethalie and she felt herself beginning to fight against him. She knew what he wanted her to do and the very thought of it...was tempting enough to fill her with cold dread. Noah was sliding in and out of her, his heat was filling her, his body was working to bring her the release she needed, and his flesh was right there...he was offering it up to her. She could see the vein running along the side of his neck throbbing with every beat of his heart. Her entire body seized with want and Noah began moving faster, harder, hammering into her so that she couldn't hold onto reason and thought. There was only the searing pleasure in her belly and the sight of Noah's damp flesh just a hair's breadth away from her.

"Take what you need, Bethalie," Noah rasped into her ear, tightening his hands on her so that he could move faster and harder still. "Please. I want you to take it. Please."

Bethalie couldn't even draw a breath. Those words had her harboring visions of sinking her teeth into that full, pulsating vein and drawing out what was flowing there. She could feel herself doing it. She could almost taste the ruby liquid that would fill her mouth. She could almost feel the velvety warmth that would coat her tongue. She wanted that warmth. She wanted that taste.

Noah slammed his length into her and without warning, Bethalie spasmed, her center convulsing, flooding her body with swell after swell of heated, almost liquid pleasure that loosened her muscles and numbed her mind and brought a deep and silky moan up from her throat. Even as she became lost in the bliss surging over her, Noah pulled himself from her, shut off the water, and scooped her up into his arms all in one brief instant.

"I hope you are not spent, Bethalie," he rasped as he stepped them from the shower stall. "I am not through with you yet."

That almost sounded like a threat, but not one meant to inspire fear. On the contrary, his words had Bethalie's body thrumming with anticipation; preparing to experience all the things those words seemed to promise her.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Noah pulled out her chair at the kitchen table and waited until she sat down to take his own seat beside her. Evyn and Mace were busily preparing food and carefully keeping their gazes averted.

They knew.

Of course, it was no surprise that they were aware of what had been going on upstairs for the past hour. Noah wasn't shy and in the throes, he was very...verbal. It wouldn't shock her if Evyn and Mace knew exactly how many times the man had gotten off.

"Are you alright, Bethalie?" he asked softly, keeping his hand on the back of her neck and gently kneading the flesh there. "You're very pale."

Well, that was probably because she had expended nearly all of her energy during their interlude. And half that energy had been focused on denying Noah's offer to bite and feed from him. She'd asked him to stop, but he couldn't help himself. Vampires instinctually shared blood when they had sex. The blood and pain were an aphrodisiac. And it strengthened the sire bond every time blood was passed between them. She would have let Noah bite her without hesitation, but that would mean certain death for him, so she hadn't offered.

"We have a problem, Bethalie," Evyn said, bringing a huge glass of coffee and a large bowl of salad to the table.

Perfect. "Hit me."

"There was another killing. A Daylighter found the body over on the West Side. It's on the internet on one of those streaming news webcasts. The human authorities have it in their possession now."

Oh shit.

"They're saying it looks like a Vampire cult that killed one of their own," stated Evyn.

But, what would the authorities say when they figured out the fangs weren't surgical implants and the blood work came back as something unidentifiable?

Oh shit.

"The Big Guys sent an e-mail saying it was a Vampire named Sean Marx. They had only just sent me his name...while you were showering. They got back to me just a few minutes later to let me know that he'd been found and confiscated by the police."

What in the name of hell... A target had been killed before his name had even been sent to her. Clearly, she needed to go back and have a talk with Mr. Lance Morgan. It was seeming more and more likely that Lance's buddies from Stoney's Pub weren't involved with the situation. However, it was beginning to seem that the Narc-line had a lot to do with what was going on and it was simply too much of a coincidence that Lance worked on the line and had been involved with at least two of the targets.

"They want you to find this guy, Bethalie," Evyn spoke, her tone dark. "They aren't taking any more calls on the Narc-line until you do."

So, even They thought the Narc-line was related.

"I need the names of the people who work the line," Bethalie pointed out

"They aren't going to give you that. You know how it is," Evyn answered on a sigh.

She knew. The Darksiders hated the Narc-line and anyone who worked on it. It was not safe to be an operator on that line, so the names of the workers and the location of the workplace were well kept secrets. She and her little crew might be the only ones, other than The Big Guys, who actually knew where the outfit was located.

"We know one person who has that information," Bethalie said firmly.

"But, you will eat first," Noah told her before she could get up out of her chair. "You won't be any good at all if you can barely carry your own weight."

Bethalie couldn't argue that. She wanted to be able to do her job, which meant she had to be stronger than she felt at the moment.

Heeding the call for food, Evyn raced to bring a plate of breadsticks and a pot of lentil soup to the table to go with the salad. Bethalie, however, honed in on the coffee, but the three people trying to mother her had other ideas and foisted the food on her before she was allowed to have it. It was worth the wait, though. The jolt of sugar and caffeine gave her the boost she needed.

Once she'd eaten enough to please everyone, she went to attend to a few things that needed doing before she could go and pay Lance Morgan a visit. Her bloody clothes had been removed already, probably by Noah, and the coffee table was piled with her weapons belt, her weapons, and all the things from her coat pockets. Her coat, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"I had to burn it with the rest of your clothes," Noah said into her ear, suddenly appearing beside her. "Are you upset with me?"

The mere sound of his coarse voice had a line of gooseflesh crawling up her spine and a flood of heated moisture collecting between her thighs, but she pretended it wasn't happening. "I'm not upset. I have a backup," she said to him, starting toward her sleeping loft. She had several backups, actually. Clothing took a lot of wear and tear in her line of work.

Up in her loft, she hurried to the old trunk sitting in the corner of her room, opening the iron latch and lifting the lid, the strong scent of cedar striking her in the face. She took a brief instant to inhale the familiar, earthy scent before pulling out a carbon copy of the coat that Noah had burned. The fabric of the coat would smell like cedar for weeks, which was why she stored the extras in the trunk. That scent reminded her of virtuous and honest things and she needed that sometimes.

Closing the lid, she turned around and let out a gasp as she found Noah right behind her, looming there like a brooding and beautiful shadow. "What are you doing!" she hissed at him, having to fight the very strong urge to punch him right in the jaw.

"Are you feeling stronger now?" he asked her, a very...odd...expression on his face.

"I-I guess. Why? What's wrong?" she questioned, something akin to fear wafting through her belly.

"Set your coat aside," he said, a muscle in his jaw twitching and his hazel eyes so intense they almost appeared black.

Bethalie, suddenly breathing hard and fast, did as Noah asked, reaching back and laying her coat over the trunk lid. "Noah? What's wrong?" she repeated unevenly, her body tensing, ready to fall into fight mode.

"You are my mate, Bethalie," Noah said tightly, his gravelly voice low and dangerous sounding. "It is my duty to service you when you are in need of it."

Bethalie's breath halted and her center grew so heavy that it was painful. She didn't bother pretending not to understand what he was talking about.

"Please, allow me to give you relief, Bethalie," he whispered to her, a measure of desperation in his voice.

Without hesitation, Bethalie swept her sweater over her head and tossed it aside. She couldn't deny Noah. There was such need etched onto his features that she hurt for him. Even if she'd wanted to tell him no, she doubted he would have listened. And as Noah was sliding his body in and out of hers, bringing her to the very edge of sanity, she didn't regret that she'd given in.

*  *  *  *  *  *

"Everyone in the van," Bethalie said, leading the way to the door. She was wearing her fresh coat, pockets filled with all the necessary items, including a couple of Witch Balls just in case Lance Morgan decided to get feisty, and she was weighed down with her standard weapons, all cleaned, reloaded, and ready to use at a moment's notice.

Noah led the way out of the elevator, making sure the garage was clear before allowing them all to spill out and troop toward the van. Once they were all strapped into their respective seats, Noah got them out of the garage and sped them back across town to Lance Morgan's condo.

This time, they found the silver Lexus and the Porsche Boxster both parked outside the condo, so Bethalie was the one to exit the van and knock on the front door. Of course, Noah was two steps behind.

The human girlfriend answered her knock, clad in next to nothing, which was apparently her natural state of dress. "Can I help you?" Kelli with an i asked, her gaze sweeping over Bethalie with more than a smidgeon of suspicion. But, then who wouldn't be suspicious of a woman wearing a floor length brocade duster, knee high leather boots, and a surplus of barely concealed weapons?

"I need to talk to Lance," Bethalie stated plainly, trying not to stare at the girl's cleavage, which her tank top could barely contain.

"He's sleeping right now," the girl answered, looking somewhat uneasy.

"I'm going to need you to wake him up," she returned in a brisk manner.

The young woman visibly flinched. "Oh, Lance doesn't like it when I-I wake him u-up early."

Hmmm. Kelli with an i was afraid of Lance. That realization kind of pissed her off. "I'll wake him up. I don't think he'll give me any trouble," she declared with a smile. Not unless he wanted his ass handed to him. She wasn't his beaten down, bespelled sex toy. "Why don't you go back to what you were doing. We won't be here very long."

"Alright. Lance is upstairs at the end of the hallway," Kelli responded, turning to walk back to the sofa, which gave both Bethalie and Noah a nice view of her barely covered backside, which was enviably shaped and heart breakingly perky.

The girl plopped down, curled her long, slender legs beneath her, and began flipping through a magazine lying there, leaving them to their business. Clearly, the girl was used to doing as she was told. Bethalie decided then and there that once this was over, she would return and set the poor girl free. Of course, that meant giving Lance a bath in her Mix, but he'd chosen to break the rules, so the punishment was well earned

And maybe, just maybe, if Kelli could be convinced that there was nothing at all amiss as far as Lance was concerned...that perhaps her time with him had been due to her own bad choices and her boyfriend's abusive ways...her name could be kept from Them. In fact...it would be kept from Them.

She didn't think she could abide seeing an innocent human put down over the likes of a slimy little man like Lance Morgan...

Noah followed her across the well-appointed living room and up the curved staircase, staying right on her heels as she made her way down the small, brightly lit hallway that was hung with vibrant watercolor paintings. She paused at the closed door at the end of the hall, drawing a Witch Ball from her coat instead of her batons. Surprising a Warlock called for something a little less physical, but no less forceful. And Lance might seem harmless and timid and weak, but she couldn't trust that he was what he appeared to be, especially now that there were no Daylighters around to see.

Opening the door to total darkness, she did a quick search for the light switch, finding it and flipping it on. As brightness flooded the space, her gaze went straight to the large bed in the middle of the room and the shape moving beneath the covers.

"It can't be five o'clock! Get the fuck out of here, stupid bitch! And learn to tell time!" Lance's scratchy, whiney voice barked.

Oooh. Someone was testy.

Bethalie walked over to the bed, grabbed hold of the covers and yanked them downward, exposing a very naked and very stunned Warlock. "How about I don't get the fuck out of here. How about you get the fuck out of bed," she suggested, smiling down at the oily, rodent like man.

Lance gasped and sat bolt upright, his eyes wide and terrified as he grabbed at the sheets and tried to cover himself. "How did you get in here! Where's Kelli! Did she let you in!" he demanded.

"Do you think Kelli could really keep me out?" she asked him, relaxing now that he hadn't tried to eviscerate her, but she still kept the Witch Ball at the ready. "I have some questions for you, Lance."

"I've told you everything I know, Ward! You are bothering the wrong man!" he hissed testily, his beady eyes shooting from her to Noah.

"Actually, you haven't told me everything I need to know, Lance," she said, perching on the edge of the bed while Noah positioned himself by the door, folding his arms across his chest and glowering at the Warlock.

"If I had anything useful to tell you, I would tell you! The line has been shut down as of this evening and I need my job! I have bills to pay and Kelli isn't cheap!" Lance snapped, reaching over to the bedside table and snatching up his glasses, shoving them onto his face.

"That's why I came here, Lance. I'm going to need the names of everyone who works on the Narc-line," she said easily.

Lance's eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Forget it!" he spat at her, horror rolling over his pasty face. "I'd be crazy to give you their names! They'll kill me!"

"I'll kill you if you don't," she pointed out with a shrug.

"Go ahead," he said seriously. "You'll be easier about it than they will!"

Well. This was getting her nowhere. She'd just stumbled onto Lance. Without his help she'd never get to anyone else. She wondered just how she was supposed to figure out this mess when she couldn't get an ounce of co-operation from anyone!

"Seems like you have a problem, Lance. You're out of a job because someone on the Narc-line might be involved in some naughty business and until it's all cleared up, you won't be getting another paycheck. How long can you afford that?" she posed the question to him.

Lance considered her words for a few seconds. "Ward, I work with Witches who can flay a man from a quarter mile away. I won't live long enough to worry about paying my bills if I give their names out."

Bethalie huffed out a sigh. "Can you tell me how many people work on the line? That won't get you flayed, will it?" she asked, taking another approach.

Lance regarded her, his beady eyes narrowing. "Twenty people work the line. Twenty people who are out of a job because you obviously suck at doing yours!"

Ouch. That stung.

"Watch how you speak to her, whelp!" Noah growled from his station by the doorway. "This woman does not belong to you!"

Hearing Noah's warning caused Lance to shrink back against the headboard, clutching the sheet to his chest. Bethalie shot Noah a glare, which he ignored completely.

"Tell me, Lance, do you ever talk to anyone about your work?" she probed, slightly disgusted by the man quailing in front of her. He was a coward and a weakling and she found both those attributes repulsive.

"No! Do you think I advertise where I work? I'd be snuffed straight off!" he spat at her.

"So, you never speak of your work to another soul? Not to Kelli or your friends or family members?" she pressed, really hoping that he would answer with a resounding no. It would make things much easier for her. For certainly, if Lance was brave, or stupid, enough to blab...other Narc-line workers surely would be. And that would widen her field of inquiry by several unfortunate measures.

Lance flushed, his gaze faltering.

Aha. And oh shit. "Who do you talk to about your work?"

He clamped his mouth shut and she reached toward her baton, causing him to go stiff. "I talk to...a friend!" he barked at her, his beady eyes bugging out.

"What's this friend's name?" she questioned, leaving her hand on her baton handle.

"My friend is not the one you're looking for!" he snapped. "She has nothing to do with anything! I just talk to her about my job once in a while! One of the women there talks to her husband. Another one talks to her grandmother. Everyone talks to someone their close to. Everyone!"

"Do you give out the names of any of the offenders?" she posed, feeling deflated.

Lance's dark eyes widened. "I...I would never do that," he said unevenly.  "Do you know how much money I make?  I'd be stupid to risk getting sacked!"

Damn. Her job suddenly sucked so much more. If twenty people each leaked the names of offenders to just one person, that was forty people who had the names of her targets. If the last twenty each told one person...shit. Her pool of suspects had just exploded and her hopes of finding the person responsible had just shrank.

Damn. She was starting to think that Noah should have just let her die.

"Lance, does the name Sean Marx ring a bell? Or Leonard Keith?" she questioned, trying not to let the odds facing her become overwhelming.

Lance shrugged. "I don't know. I...I may have met Leonard at Stoney's. But, everyone goes to Stoney's."

"Was Leonard part of your little group?" she asked, this time finding that she wanted a definitive yes. She'd rather stick with Lance's little club than have to go chasing after dozens of nameless, faceless people.

"Was? Do you mean he's dead?" Lance questioned, sounding surprised.

"Answer me," she said.

"No. He's not part of it. What's this really about?" he demanded, his beady eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Are the rumors going around true? Is someone out there draining leeches and leaving them lying out in the open?"

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you, little man," Noah warned in a deadly tone.

"What do you know about Sean Marx?" Bethalie went on, declining to answer his question.

Lance lifted a bony shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know anything. I had never heard of him before his name came in three days ago."

Lance had gotten Sean Marx's name three days ago and his body was found today. Was that just a tad too coincidental?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face because Lance's beady eyes widened and he gave his head a vigorous shake. "You don't think I had anything to do with those leeches being killed! That's absurd! Why would I do that? How would I do that!"

"Maybe you aren't in this alone," she suggested. "Maybe you have an accomplice. Or two? If you give them up, maybe I'll let you live."

For a second, she couldn't tell if Lance was on the verge of fainting or exploding in a fit of rage. "Have you lost your mind, Ward! I have nothing to do with whatever the hell is going on out there! I didn't even know about any of it until I heard about it at work last night!"

Hmmm. He almost seemed believable. "I'll ask you this, then. Is there anyone on the Narc-line who might have a particular spite against Vampires? Or have you noticed anyone acting differently lately? Does anything at work seem off to you?"

Lance stared up at Bethalie with a slightly sardonic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Are you saying that...that someone on the Narc-line is killing Darksiders? Is that why we were shut down? Because someone out there is better at doing the job than you are, Ward?"

She gritted her teeth and reminded herself that if she killed Lance Morgan, he would be of no use to her. She needed him now. But, when this was over...

"Do you spend a lot of time at The Warehouse, Lance?" she questioned, trying really hard not punch that sarcastic smirk right off his oily face. She might as well cover all the bases while she was there.

"Do you have any other people you can question, Ward, or am I you're only source?" he asked, almost amused.

Ooh. Snarky. "As pathetic as it may seem, you're all I've got right now. Luckily, you're starting to grow on me. And the longer you can make yourself useful, the longer you get to hold onto your little windup doll downstairs."

Lance's eyes narrowed and a look of defiance crossed his rodent like features. "Leave Kelli to me, Ward. You have no clue what her life would be like without me!"

Somehow she didn't care. "The Warehouse," she repeated, getting annoyed. "What do you know about the place?"

"It's a club. People go there. I-I've never been," he said, dropping his gaze for just a split second.

Ah, but he perhaps knew someone who had been there. Perhaps the same someone that he vented to about his work?

She doubted he would give up the name of the person, though. Not without a beating. And in her current state, she wasn't so sure trying to beat it out of Lance Morgan would accomplish anything other than simply killing him.

"I don't suppose you can hand over the name of your friend that you occasionally speak to about your work?" she wondered, needing to ask the question anyway.

"Not even under threat of death, Ward," came the stony response. "As I said, dying by your hand would be more merciful than dying at the hands of some others."

And with that, she knew she would get nothing further from Lance Morgan. Whoever he was tangled up with struck such a fear...or loyalty...in him that he was obviously willing to die rather than give them up. And that knowledge left her with a distinctly uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Go back to sleep, Lance. But, stay on the radar. If I can't find you when I need you, I might think you have something to do with this after all. And I'm sure you know how it will end for you," she stated, getting to her feet and heading for the door, kindly turning off the light before stepping past Noah and out into the hallway.

She suddenly felt like a big old softie.

With Noah hovering behind her, she worked her way back down to the living room, where she approached Kelli, still curled up on the sofa and leafing through her magazine. "Kelli, can I ask you a question?"

Kelli glanced up, her blue eyes delightfully vacant. "Sure."

Bethalie smiled down at the girl, keeping her expression light. "Have you ever been to a club call The Warehouse?"

"Yeah, sure. My friends and I go there all the time," Kelli answered, smiling back.

"Do you meet a lot of people there?" she wondered, trying to shoo Noah away from her side, but he refused to be shooed.

"Well, yeah. I've met a ton of people there. It's usually packed," came the response.

"Do you remember meeting a man named Adam Turner? Or Jack Dunning?" she asked. "Or a Leonard Keith? Perhaps Sean Marx?"

Kelli thought hard for a minute. Very hard. "Maybe. One of those names sounds kind of familiar."

Bethalie pulled out her phone and hit the Walkie App. "Evyn?"

"Go," her assistant responded immediately.

"I need you to send what pictures you have of all the men we've been looking for," she said.

"On it. But, can you work the phone? That's a lot of information to pull up," Evyn asked.

"I can handle that," Noah offered, holding out a large hand.

"Go ahead and send what you have. Out," she signed off, handing the phone to Noah. She wasn't worried about Kelli asking questions or telling tales to any of her friends. The girl probably wasn't capable.

A scant couple of moments later Noah gave the screen a few jabs and handed the phone to Kelli, who scrolled through the pictures.

"Hey, I've seen some of these guys!" the young woman happily stated.

A small modicum of hope dawned inside her.

"Can you tell me anything about them? Anything at all?" Bethalie beseeched. "Is there anything about them that stands out? Do you remember who they were with or what they were doing?"

She was firing off questions though she had to wonder...could Kelli actually go that deep into her memory? Did her memory even run that deep?

Again, Kelli thought very hard. The strain was actually visible on her perfectly lovely face. "I can't tell you very much. I didn't really talk to them. They were always hanging around those other girls."

"Those other girls? You've seen all of these men hanging out with the same girls?" Bethalie asked, a second spark of hope igniting inside her.

Kelli shrugged. "Yeah. But, I mean those girls hang out with everybody.  And I mean...everybody."

"Do you remember how long ago you saw these men at the club?" she questioned.

Kelli shrugged, her brows lowering as she considered the inquiry. "I'm not sure, but it hasn't been too long. I remember seeing them...I just can't remember... Anyway, it probably wasn't very long ago?"

Wasn't it Evyn's rule that once was a coincidence, but twice was a pattern? What were the odds that all of her now deceased targets had been hanging out in the same club with the same girls not very long ago? The same club that an associate of Lance's obviously frequented...

"Do you have the names of those girls?" she asked, figuring her luck wouldn't go that far.

"No. I've never talked to them. But, you can't miss them. They have every guy in the place drooling all over them. It's weird. They aren't even pretty. And they all have their hair dyed the same stupid red color!" Kelli said, crinkling her nose in distaste.

Bethalie took her phone from Kelli and gave her a reassuring smile. "Do you remember how many girls there are?"

"Three," came the reply.

"Thank you, Kelli. You've been very helpful," she said firmly.

"Really?" the girl asked, surprised.

"Really." Bethalie replied with a smile, turning and heading for the door, with Noah right on her heels.

"What's our next move?" he asked, closing the door behind them and keeping as close as he dared as they headed toward the van.

"Well, the clubs don't open until late, so we need to get to the loft and grab a few more Witch Balls," she stated.

"Why?" Noah asked.

"Because those other girls are Witches," she answered as Noah opened her door and she climbed into the van.

"How do you know? You haven't seen them," Noah pointed out.

"I don't need to see them," she shrugged.

The women could be Vampires or Demons or just plain old humans, but she was willing to bet good money they were Witches. Witches in a Sisterhood most always dyed their hair to match. And it was usually some strange, off-color shade of red, which she couldn't understand, but to each her own.

Once Noah was behind the wheel, he pointed them back to the garage and made them all wait in the van until he cleared the building. Once the okay was given, everyone piled out and headed up to the loft, where Evyn immediately went to make coffee while Mace followed Bethalie over to the weapons cupboard, despite Noah growling out a warning.

"What can I do to help?" Mace questioned seriously.

"You can do what you've been doing, Tuck!" Noah gritted out.

"I haven't been doing anything at all," Mace stated.

"Exactly!" was Noah's riposte.

Bethalie shot Noah a glare. "You've been watching out for Evyn and that's the most important thing right now." Although, somewhere along the way a seed of an idea had begun to sprout in the back of her mind. "I think I'll have something for you to do later, though."

Noah cast her a devastated look, but she ignored him. Hurrying to her weapons cupboard, she pulled out the box of Witch Balls and the small messenger bag made from the same material as her coat. She loaded up with several silvered globes that were standard issue for Witches and contained Absinthe, Helibore, Astragalus, and a few other herbs that would negate a Witch's magick. Hopefully. She handed Mace a couple of globes to put his own pockets.

"I don't know what we're walking into or if we're walking into anything at all, but if things get hinky just toss one of these directly at whoever is causing the trouble," she instructed. "Hit them on the upper body and their magick will be canceled out long enough for you to get away." Again...hopefully.

"He isn't coming inside with us," Noah objected.

"He is. And so is Evyn. It could take hours of waiting for those women to show up. They can't sit in the van that long."

Hearing that Evyn would also be joining them seemed to appease Noah and he lapsed into a pouty silence as they walked back across the space to the kitchen, where Evyn was whirring the blender while simultaneously opening a bottle of Stat and filling a plate with cookies and muffins. Mace moved to help her and Bethalie went to the table to obediently await the snack she didn't want, taking off her coat, putting it over the back of her chair, and laying her messenger bag on the table top.

Noah sat beside her, pulling his chair up next to hers and placing his hand on her thigh, leaving it to rest there. "Shouldn't you rest for a little while, Bethalie? You must be tired," he said worriedly.

Taking a rest sounded nice, but not when there was work to do. "Evyn, did you run the phone number we found at Leonard Keith's apartment?" she asked as the girl brought her coffee over.

"It slipped my mind, Bethalie. I'm sorry," Evyn said, flushing.

"Eh, let's eat first. It's probably nothing anyway." Who hadn't left a club with a bunch of phone numbers scribbled on some napkins?

Everyone sat to quietly have their snack, which Bethalie ate to keep everyone happy, but she would have been satisfied with just the coffee. The hit of caffeine was all she needed to keep going. But, after she drained the huge glass she had to pee like a race horse, so she excused herself to her sleeping loft, giving Noah explicit instructions to stay seated at the table. Some things she did not need help with.

She took her time doing her business and washing up, rather enjoying her moments alone, which she hadn't had in what felt like a lifetime. She strapped her weapons back on, and headed back down the stairs, ready to hit the pavement and hunt down a killer...or killers.

She made it halfway down the stairs before she realized that something wasn't quite right. Her gaze instantly flicked toward the living room, where she saw Noah lying on the floor beneath a hulking, black clad shape. It took her mind a few seconds to understand that the two were locked in a vicious battle that Noah...was losing.

Bethalie's heart stopped, but her adrenaline surged, sending a murderous rage coursing through her. Someone was hurting Noah...and that someone was going to fucking die. She moved to shoot down the stairway at the same second that Noah's gaze found her.

"Bethalie, get out!" he roared at her, grabbing the hulking shape by the shoulders in an effort to keep it there.

The shape whipped around to face Bethalie and a sharp jolt shot through her limbs. The repulsive face staring up at her was one she had never seen in person, but she instantly recognized the sickly, mottled grey skin, the large coal black eyes, the snub nose, and the jaw that jutted too far forward. It was a Nagas Demon. A headhunter.

Clearly, Bartholomew Grey really wanted her dead.

"Run!" Noah growled at her, his voice echoing through the loft. "Bethalie, get out! Now!" Even as he shouted the words, a large fist cracked into the side of his face.

The Nagas Demon was on his feet then, dragging Noah up with him and landing a blow to his ribcage that doubled him over. There wasn't even one instant, not one heartbeat in time, when the thought of running from the loft entered Bethalie's mind.

She was down the staircase and across the space, her batons drawn and extended almost before she realized it. The Demon just had time to drop Noah to the floor before she was on top of him, reigning down an assault that he clearly hadn't expected her to be capable of. With a few quick blows she had him stumbling across the loft and toward the front door, the scent of his burnt flesh filling the room as she focused the brunt of her attack on his skull and face. She went after him with such a fury that it shocked her on some level. She was slamming her batons into the Demon in a barrage of strikes that were meant to batter his head into jelly. And she didn't let up. She pummeled him mercilessly, driving him across the loft with such speed and force the Demon's only reaction was to let out a startled roar.

She was filled with such a rage that she was blinded to everything but that pale, mottled face, blinded to everything but making sure that face never again saw the light of day...blinded to everything but the cold, overwhelming urge to kill.

A sudden hard strike knocked the Demon sideways, sending him sprawling onto his belly and then...things seem to fall into a slow motion of movement and flashes of images.

She felt her baton slamming into him hard enough to jar her own bones and then she was on top of him, dropping down a rain of blows that she could barely keep up with. And the next moment...her Bowie knife was there in her hand. She blinked and the knife was lifted into the air. Another blink and the ten inch blade had been driven straight down into the Demon's forehead. She blinked again and there was a deep gash running across the Demon's neck, stretching from ear to ear, and a curtain of dark, nearly black blood was flowing down, spilling out onto the floor.

The scent instantly struck her, but it wasn't one that tempted her. It revolted her! It was tinny and bitter and it burned her nostrils as she breathed it in, causing her to jump to her feet and reel backward to get away from it, only stopping when she could take a breath that was free of that acrid, searing stench.

And once she was away from the creature, she felt a wave of satisfaction roll through her. The bastard was gone now. He wouldn't try to hurt Noah again...

As soon as her thoughts ran to Noah and she whipped around, relieved to find him standing there behind her, alive and in one peace. If he hadn't been... Well, she couldn't allow that notion to linger in her mind for more than a few seconds.

"Damn. Remind me never to get on your bad side," he said to her, eyeing the expired Nagas Demon.

Something in his tone caused Bethalie's heart to quicken and she looked at him, noting the tension in his jaw and the ashen pallor of his skin. "You're hurt," she said, slightly annoyed at the edge of panic in her voice. Her weapons were suddenly clattering to the floor and she was pulling open Noah's leather coat, searching for injuries, fear gripping her insides even though she was fighting against it.

"I'll be fine. I'm immortal, remember," he said, taking both her hands in his in an effort to keep her from poking and prodding at him. "I told you to run, Bethalie. You could have been killed. Why didn't you go?"

The words slid from between her lips before she could stop them. "I couldn't go. I couldn't let him hurt you."

Damn.

It was out.

There was no telling what Noah would read into it.

Noah's brows lifted upwards and he didn't do anything but stare at her for a long minute. Then he brought her hands up to his mouth, pressing his overly warm lips to both her palms in turn. "This isn't good you know. We're stuck now."

He didn't seem too broken up about it. And at the moment, neither was she. There would undoubtedly come a moment later, but for now...neither was she.

"Are you really okay?" she asked him, not liking the tension on his rugged features.

"I'll live," he assured her, kissing both her palms again. "I'll live for centuries beyond this moment, in fact. You don't have to waste energy worrying over me."

Ah, but it appeared simply not worrying over him was going to be harder said than done.

"You just very nearly beheaded a Nagas Demon, Bethalie, when even I couldn't get the upper hand," he pointed out, sounding dark. "How many Wards have ever done that?"

She didn't know. And somehow, having committed that act almost seemed like something she should be concerned about. A Ward was strong and could fight anything that crossed her path, but putting down a headhunting Demon without him ever laying a finger on her was...not normal. She had to wonder just what Noah Grey had turned her into.

"Is your father going to send someone after me every few minutes?" she wondered, abruptly changing the subject.

Noah lifted a shoulder, wincing at the movement. "He's a determined man. And you pissed him off in a bad way."

Clearly. "Is he in the habit of hiring Demon headhunters to take out people—" her words cut off as a sharp stab of fear lanced her. "Oh god! Evyn! Where's—"

"Mace got her out of here," Noah said to her and she was spinning on her heel and rushing for the front door.

The first thing she saw was the door to the fire escape standing open and she veered in that direction. She took the metal stairway leading down to the back alley and hit the ground running, hooking a sharp left and racing away from the garage. She knew exactly where Evyn should have headed. It was the escape plan they had put in place a long time ago, just in case something went wrong.

Bethalie was barreling down Shore Front Drive, her body moving so fast that everything around her was a blur. She hung a right, moving away from the harbor and the street, dodging down a small alleyway and shooting out the other side, where she swung back to the left and came to a jarring halt at a rusted metal door. She jerked the creaky thing open, rushed into the tiny entryway and hurried toward the steep, narrow stairway lying straight ahead.

"Bethalie!" Noah roared from behind her, forcing a gasp from her throat. She whipped back around toward the door, finding Noah standing outside, a distraught look fixed on his face. "What the hell! Bethalie! I can't get inside!"

Shit! She'd forgotten that Noah couldn't cross the threshold until the owner had given her word. Bethalie opened her mouth to tell him to hang on for a second, but Noah didn't give her a chance before he flung himself at the open doorway, his body slamming into a barrier that neither of them could see, but one that stopped his entrance as surely as a brick wall might have. He was sent stumbling backward and a deep, dull reverberation filled the building, shaking the floor beneath her feet. Noah instantly regained his footing and threw himself at the doorway again, slamming his shoulder against the thing keeping him out and again he was sent stumbling backwards from the force of the impact.

"Noah, stop!" she shouted at him, rushing back to the doorway. "You can't get in! You have to be summoned inside!"

She made to step back out onto the sidewalk, only to bump into something as solid as the metal door she'd just opened. She felt the reverberation go through her bones before her ears picked up the sound and she took a few surprised steps backwards, feeling slightly disoriented for a second.

Seeing that she couldn't get out sent Noah into a frenzy that startled Bethalie. In the blink of an eye, his face went ashen, his cheekbones hollow, his eyes went milky and his pale, parched lips drew back over his deadly teeth. And then he threw himself at the barrier, growling and snarling like a rabid animal as he tried to forcibly tear his way through something that would never yield. The building seemed to shake from the vibration every time he crashed into the barrier and Bethalie, knowing that she wouldn't be able to get him to calm down, spun around and bolted up the narrow stairway, making it up the flight of stairs in what felt like seconds flat.

Reaching the second floor, she flew down the long, dim hallway and reached the metal door at the end, pounding on it hard enough to shake the thing on its hinges. "Sue! It's me! Open the door!" she shouted, the desperation in her voice slightly more prevalent than the situation seemed to call for.

It wasn't like she would never again be able to get Noah. But, knowing that she couldn't, even for a few minutes, knowing that he was outside and she was inside and they were separated by something that neither of them could fight their way through sent a suffocating panic through her.

"Sue! Open the door!" she shouted again, her insides fairly vibrating with alarm. She felt that sense of desperation flow through her every time the deep reverberation echoed through the building and she wanted it to stop!

She heard the deadbolt being unlocked and an instant later, the door was jerked open and Evyn was there, grabbing hold of her and pulling her inside. "Thank god! I thought you weren't going to show up!" the woman half sobbed, crushing Bethalie against her as hard as she could.

"We have a visitor at the door," a feminine voice sounded out before Bethalie had a chance to speak. "Should I dispatch him for you?"

A pang shot through Bethalie and her gaze whipped toward the source of the voice, landing on the familiar figure who owned the building. "No! He's not...he-he's my ma—uh...a-a...friend. He's a friend. Can you let him in?" she asked the woman, her voice quavering unevenly.

"Are you sure? He doesn't sound very friendly," the woman pointed out as another reverberation sounded through the building.

"He's one of us," Bethalie assured, trying to keep hugging Evyn back instead of bolting from the apartment and going back down to Noah. She absolutely refused to be that desperately weak.

The woman gave a curt nod and disappeared out the door, leaving Bethalie alone with Evyn and Mace, who was hovering nearby and looking strained.

"Bethalie, are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Evyn asked in a watery voice, still squeezing Bethalie as hard as she could.

"No. I'm fine," Bethalie answered, squeezing the woman back and trying to calm her raging insides. "Are you okay? Did he get his hands on you?"

"No. Noah kept him off us so we could get out," Evyn answered, sending a wave of relief through Bethalie.

But, that relief was followed closely by a wave of guilt. She hadn't thought about Evyn first and that bothered her. Evyn was her family, her responsibility, and she hadn't given the woman a thought until she made sure Noah was safe.

She would never forgive herself for that betrayal.

"Bethalie," a deep, coarse voice sounded out behind her and Bethalie let go of Evyn to turn around, her gaze falling on Noah, who was looking at her as if she was separated from him by a thousand miles instead of only a few steps.

A surge of agony gripped her, taking her breath and twisting her insides so that her knees went weak. It slammed into her then that she was going to have trouble not thinking of Noah before anyone else.

Damned blood bond. She was...ruined.

"Bethalie," Noah said again, the harsh despair in his gravelly voice running over and through her and before she had time to think about it, she was across the space and had her arms around him.

As soon as Noah had hold of her, relief came crashing in on her, so strong and complete that if Noah hadn't been holding her she would have crumpled to the floor. But, he was holding her. His strong arms were around her and he was looking down at her as if she was the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

"Do not fret, Bethalie," he whispered to her, his gravelly tone threaded through with a measure of softness. "I am back with you now. You're safe again."

Bethalie nodded, despite the fact that her mind was grappling to deal with what was happening. She didn't need Noah to feel safe. She didn't need Noah period. But, that wasn't what her body was feeling at the moment. She was feeling as if she had been parted from Noah for decades and being reunited with him was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever experienced.

"Um, I know it's not my business, but...what, in the name of the moon, is going on here?" the familiar feminine voice questioned, popping the bubble that had suddenly surrounded Bethalie and Noah.

Jolted, and suddenly very thoroughly humiliated, Bethalie quickly dropped her arms and stepped away from Noah. She turned around to face the room, finding four people all staring at her with wide, questioning eyes and slightly open mouths.

Damn. Stupid sire bond. She was...ruined. That was all there was to it. She was...ruined.

"Bethalie?" the small, buxom woman with the large, sharp green eyes and glossy brown hair urged. "What's happening? Is...is this man not a Vampire?"

Bethalie sucked in a breath and stiffened her spine. She needed to pull herself together because there were several people who were waiting for her to explain the unexplainable. She opened her mouth to say...something, anything...but not a damned word could she get out. How could she explain something that simply made no sense?

"Well, why don't we have some tea? That might help loosen things up a bit," Sue suggested, heading past everyone and toward the kitchen on the opposite side of the cavernous apartment.

"Come on over and have a seat. She won't be satisfied until you've told her everything," the tall, thin man with the soft brown eyes, chestnut hair pulled back into a pony tail, and neatly trimmed goatee that was streaked with grey stated, motioning for everyone to follow him.

For a long minute, no one else moved. Evyn and Mace stood staring at Bethalie, who stood staring back, with Noah hovering so close behind her she could feel the warmth radiating off him. And then a small sob burst out of Evyn, breaking the silence and the awkward moment that had dropped over them.

"Bethalie, that was a Nagas Demon! He sent a headhunter after you!" the woman choked out, her large eyes welling with tears. "What are you supposed to do when bounty hunters are coming after you!"

"That thing was a Demon bounty hunter?" Mace asked, sounding incredulous.

"I thought that had been established, Tuck," Noah ground out, putting his hands on Bethalie's shoulders in a protective gesture that half irritated, half appeased her.

"I'm going to have to stop your father," she said, shooting him a look over her shoulder. "As soon as I can leave the city...he's done." Time had officially ran out for Bartholomew Grey. The second she could get herself out of Port Angeles, Mr. Grey was going to be paid a visit and his little vendetta was going to be laid to rest right along with him.

Noah tightened his hands on her, his ruggedly handsome face taking on a look of steely determination. "You won't have to. My contact will get him. It's just going to take a little time to get close enough to put him down. He's not an easy man to get next to."

Bethalie turned back to Evyn and Mace, letting the conversation drop. She wouldn't push the issue, but as soon as things in Port Angeles were settled and she was free to go, Noah's father would be ended. And she wasn't going to bother being stealthy about it. She was simply going to shoot everyone standing in between her and Bartholomew Grey and then she would shoot Bartholomew Grey. And the problem would be solved.

"Come on and have some tea!" Sue called across the space.

Evyn was the first to turn and go in that direction and Mace obediently followed behind her, but before Bethalie could go after them, Noah spun her around and crushed her to his chest hard enough to cause her spine to pop. He held her there for a long minute and though Bethalie would rather have died than admit it, she allowed herself to close her eyes and just...feel...those strong, warm arms engulfing her, holding her as tight as they possibly could. She breathed in his scent, letting the heady, masculine aroma fill her senses, roll through her in a wave that left her feeling whole and...complete.

Damned sire bond...

Noah sat her on back onto her feet and wordlessly took her hand, leading her across the space and into the kitchen area, where everyone else was gathered around the table while Sue filled glasses with iced tea and her partner, Teddy, sat out a plate of gingersnaps.

Sue Smith was a Witch and her partner, Teddy Koller, was a human oddly enough, and both were transplants from Tennessee, just like she herself was. And they were the only people other than Evyn that she considered to be her friends. Bethalie had met them both soon after moving to Port Angeles and Sue had agreed to be their backup escape plan in case things got hinky. She was talented enough to actually cast a barrier around her own building that kept unwanted creatures out...or in, depending on the situation. She was a fascinating sort, as far as Witches went. She had a soul as sweet as sugar and a smile and laugh that were infectious. But, if you pissed her off, she'd make sure you knew it and would never again repeat that same offense.

"Bethalie? Do you want lemon slices in your glass?" Sue asked and Bethalie looked over at her, their gazes meeting, which sent something chilling sweeping over Bethalie. Sue had a gaze that could pierce a person's very soul. And there was a reason for that.

"Uh, sure.  Lemon sounds nice," she stated, trying to shake off that cold, slightly creepy sensation.

Sue dropped a slice of lemon into a glass of golden sweet tea and then handed glasses to Mace and Evyn. She brought Bethalie's over, handing it to her and then reaching out to take hold of her hand. "While you're here, let me show you some of my new candles," the woman smiled, tugging her away from the table and out of the kitchen space. Noah was right on their heels, which prompted Sue to shoot a stern look over her shoulder. "You can stay in the kitchen. I have nothing to say to you," she told him in an icy tone.

"That's fine. I have nothing to say to you, either," Noah shrugged, but continued following them.

Sue made a derisive sound in her throat and looked to Bethalie. "Do you want him to go back to the kitchen?" she asked, obviously prepared to make it happen.

Bethalie considered it, but only for a second. She didn't want Sue to end up doing something that might cause Noah immense amounts of physical agony. Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day. "He likes to hover. Just ignore him."

Sue didn't seem too happy about having a large Vampire looming over them, but she didn't say anything else on the matter as she led Bethalie across the space and toward the back side, which was scattered with a maze of shelves and worktables and a couple of desks that were cluttered with computers and...things. The shelves were stacked neatly with candles in all shapes, sizes, and colors, hundreds of glass jars of herbs and cardboard boxes of supplies. Sue owned a small candle shop in the Business District and made all of her own candles in the apartment.

"So, tell me what's happening," the woman stated as they came to a stop amid the shelves and tables.

The aroma of all the scented waxes and essential oils was somewhat overwhelming and Bethalie had to force herself not to cough as she inhaled the odors, which seemed amplified tenfold since the last time she'd been in the loft.

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to feign innocence, but it was hard with a six foot four Vampire hulking at her elbow.

Sue lifted a thin brow at her. "Bethalie, how did this happen to you?"

Bethalie huffed out a breath, feeling rather helpless. "Which part?" she asked.

"That part," the woman stated, nodding toward Noah. "This was...accidental?"

Bethalie nodded. She sure hadn't meant for it to happen. "I was ambushed and Noah...had no choice."

Sue studied her for a minute with her sharp green gaze. "Do you want me to...remedy the situation?" she asked. "I know you can't bring yourself to do it, but I don't have any heart trouble lightening the load for you."

Bethalie felt Noah stiffen and a dangerous sound rumbled forth from inside his chest, but she shot an arm out to try and keep him behind her. He might be quick, but Sue would have him skinned before he had time to do more than close the distance between them.

"It's alright. Just leave him be for a while. But, when I need your help, I'll let you know," she added, just for Noah's benefit. She wouldn't want him to think she was too attached to him. Granny always told her to make sure a man knew, beyond any doubt, that he wanted her a little more than she wanted him, and that seemed like sound advice.

"Is there anything I can do to help you? You know I'll do whatever I can," Sue offered, her voice rife with sympathy.

"I'm fine. Really," Bethalie answered, trying to believe that she was telling the truth.

"What can I do for Evyn? She doesn't seem herself. She's very...closed off.  I can't get a bead on her and that's not like her," stated Sue, sounding worried.

"Evyn's had a hard few days. She's not used to dealing with this kind of stress." It wasn't an easy thing when your best friend died and came back and then had to worry about fighting off hordes of assassins every half hour. 

Evyn wasn't a Ward. She was just a human and these things took a toll on a human system. In fact, once this mess was over and done with, she was shipping Evyn off for a vacation. The woman could use a couple of weeks away from this side of reality...before it drove her mad.

"Does Evyn know what's happening to you?" Sue asked seriously.

"No. It would kill her," Bethalie answered somberly. "And she has enough to deal with."

Sue studied her for a long minute, her eyes narrowed...again sending that uncomfortable chill through Bethalie. "I think I need to give you something," she said, turning and walking away through the maze of stocked shelves and cluttered tables. She took something off one of them and returned to Bethalie, handing her a small glass vial of lavender colored liquid that was plugged with a tiny cork. "I want you to keep this close to you at all times. I think its going to help you when you need help the most."

"What the hell does that mean, Witch?" Noah grumped skeptically.

"It means there'll come a time when she needs to drink it," Sue told him haughtily.

"Why would she need to drink it? What's in it?" Noah demanded, sounding as if he was accusing the woman of something...treacherous.

Sue cast him a frosty look that, shockingly, began to slowly thaw out. "I don't know why, but i think that you'll know when it's time to use it. And I'll not tell you what's in it because it's nothing you would understand. Just make sure she keeps it close to her at all times. It may spare her life."

That said, the woman swept past Noah and headed back toward the kitchen. With a shrug, Bethalie followed after her, handing the vial to Noah to slip into his coat pocket. She had no idea what Sue was talking about, but why stand around and pick it to death? She trusted the woman and that was enough for her.

"Witches!" Noah scoffed as they went. "Why are they are always so damned obscure!"

Back in the bright kitchen, she dropped down at the table, making a pretense of drinking her glass of tea while Sue and Teddy chatted about plans to expand Sue's candle shop, which would allow Sue to get into selling her own soaps and lotions and shampoos. There was talk of the new zoning laws in down town Port Angeles that would prohibit Sue from doing some of her work outside in the alleyway. Lighting a fire inside the city limits was banned, which was an issue if a gal wanted to use her big old cast iron cauldron. Mace, residing mostly in the human world and having to worry about things like laws and restrictions, came up with idea of trying to get an outdoor cooking permit, which was good for a couple of days and might give Sue a chance to cook up...whatever it was she wanted to cook up.

Believe it or not, sitting around sipping sweet tea and talking about a business that had nothing to do with snuffing out Darksiders was...a welcomed reprieve, and Bethalie listened quietly, absorbing the peace and enjoying the downtime. She also enjoyed watching Mace make a friend for life in Sue Smith.

After she felt they had lolled off long enough, Bethalie got to her feet and gave the order to head for the door. Goodbyes were exchanged and hugs doled out and everyone followed Sue back down the narrow stairway and to the front door, where she simply waved a hand across the doorway and everyone was allowed to exit and head back out into a world where the bodies had to be cleaned up and zoning laws and restrictions were the last things that anyone worried about.