L'Auberge Chez François is considered to be one of the finest restaurants in Washington. Located in Great Falls, Virginia, it has consistently won accolades for atmosphere and food. It is a top pick for a dinner to celebrate special occasions. Lush Virginia woods cradle the white building. The staff is unpretentious and seeks to make diners feel welcome. And it was there, later that evening, that Susana Alvarez Lecter and Luke Taylor were enjoying dinner. The cheerful waiter had asked if it was madam's birthday or perhaps their anniversary. Rather than explain that madam was a federal fugitive and monsieur had kindly killed the people tracking her so she could return, Susana simply said it was their anniversary.

Smiling across the table at Luke, Susana decided that he cleaned up nicely. The suit fit him well. He seemed to becoming more accustomed to this level of dress. A haircut, a shave, some cologne, and voila. He was quite presentable.

Susana Alvarez Lecter, who three weeks ago had lived in the Alexandria Detention Center half an hour, thirty miles, and a world away from the best special-occasion restaurant in metro DC, adjusted the silk jacket that she wore over her evening gown. It matched the gown and was necessary. Although she was not the only woman in the restaurant wearing a fine gown, she most likely was the only woman in the restaurant carrying a pistol. She adjusted the shoulder holster carrying Kelly McNeely's service weapon and smiled. In the candlelight, her maroon eyes seemed the color of blood.

"How are your scallops and shrimp?" she asked brightly.

Luke Taylor swallowed a mouthful of food and cleared his throat. "Excellent," he said. He was slightly nervous in these surroundings. It seemed almost sinful to him. He could have gotten an entire meal for half the cost of the wine alone. He had yet to quite appreciate Susana's guiltless use of money.

"How is the lamb?"

"Wonderful," she smiled. Luke tilted his head and enjoyed the sight of her. She looked quite glamorous: her hair was in a styled up do, her makeup flawless. A gold necklace circled her neck, a single ruby hanging perfectly centered from it. It set off her eyes nicely. The gown and jacket were an attractive dark red shade of silk.

Luke leaned forward, even though he was extremely paranoid about getting food on his tie. He'd never dreamed of ties costing as much as this one did. But he wanted Susana to be happy, and so he had let her choose his suit. It seemed to be worth it. Luke Taylor had never thought he would be in a suit like this, in a restaurant like this, with a woman like Susana.

"Well," Luke said, "I guess I'm curious about what comes next. We've gotten four of the dark disciples, but the other eight will be almost impossible to get." His tone was low and conversational: no one at the other tables paid him the slightest heed.

Susana smiled and reached across the table to take his hand. Hers was warm and made him tremble. He could feel sweat beginning to form against the back of the incredibly expensive suit jacket.

"Luke, we don't even need to take out all eight," she said warmly. "Just two or so more, maybe three. Seven people cannot do the work of twelve. Besides," she explained, "you said yourself we can't…go after all of the heathens. And we don't have to."

Luke blinked. He knew that he saw through a glass darkly, and it was perhaps not his place to know the Mind and Plans of God. Susana, somehow, had the gift of prophecy. He would have to remind her to cover her head: that was in the Bible too. Corinthians, it was. She would dishonor her head otherwise.

"What is the plan, then?" he asked gently.

"We're not trying to kill them all," she said. "If we had done nothing, they would hunt us – you and me both – down to the ends of the earth. No place would be safe. They would drag both of us in front of the judges and demand our blood."

Her eyes hardened as she spoke. "By going after their seers – their witches – we accomplish two things. First of all, it will make it harder for anyone to find us. And secondly, they'll be defending themselves and wondering when the next attack is coming. That's where we want them. The best defense is a good offense." She had stopped using the religious terminology that Luke preferred. It didn't matter. He seemed to understand just fine.

"And if we hurt them enough, they'll know that the cost of catching us is too high to pay. They'll beat their chests and talk about how no one evades their justice, but that's just talk. They'll stagger and lick their wounds, and you and I will be out of the country and to the promised land by the time they regroup enough to catch us." Her eyes gleamed.

Luke seemed very interested. "The Promised Land?" he asked, the capitals clear in his speech.

"Argentina," she explained. Luke looked puzzled. Susana grinned.

"I know, you think it's some sort of stinking pit. It isn't. Beautiful churches, you know. Theater, opera, you name it. You and I will be down there, safe from them. Forever."

Luke cogitated. "I can't work down there," he said.

Susana looked insulted. "First off, you won't need to. I certainly don't. Secondly, it can be arranged if you really want to do it."

"Can I ask you something then?" he said directly.

She nodded.

"Then why did you come back from Buenos Aires?"

Susana thought for a moment on how best to answer. There were several reasons. The first was, simply, that she wanted the FBI—and her cousin—to pay for what they had done to her. Susana had been jailed, held captive, deprived of her property and rights. The specter of execution hung over her head. Dr. Hannibal Lecter might have told his daughter she lacked perspective, as he had once told her mother, but he could not. There was a deep groundswell of anger in the mind of Susana Alvarez Lecter, and it demanded payment for what she had been through in terms Biblical enough for Luke: the blood of the guilty parties.

Secondly, she knew that the hunt for her would go on. In Argentina, she could stymie them in the courts for years. The Argentine legal system would be loath to send her north to her death in any case, and by the time they were ready to send her, she could be safely hidden away somewhere else. But the FBI would continue the hunt, implacable as ever. Taking out the best hunters now would hobble them.

But it was the third reason that she told him. In jail, Susana had come closer to despair than she would have ever admitted. Overnight, she had gone from a tony townhouse to a bathroom-sized cell she spent 22 hours a day in. Instead of being indulged in her every whim, as the wealthy often were, she had utterly no control over her own life at all. Other people decided when and what she ate, when she could shower, and what she was allowed to do. She was shackled like a dangerous animal when she was allowed out of her cell. At the few court appearances she had been obliged to make, she had been obligated to wear a stun belt under her clothing. From complete control over her life to none at all, and nothing she could do or say would change it.

Topping it all off, of course was the death sentence. Lisa Starling had been correct in pointing out to her cousin that she had not yet been found guilty, let alone sentenced, but Susana had been, and remained, convinced solidly that she would be given the death penalty if her trial had been allowed to continue through to its conclusion. The idea of spending the next few years entombed in concrete and steel, eating this swill and living in this tiny cell until it came her turn to be called into the death chamber and killed like a rabid animal frightened Susana. The idea of spending her natural life behind these walls, living this slave's life until she was old, knowing she would never be free, was only slightly less frightening to her. She was not used to being frightened. She hadn't felt that emotion since she had been sixteen, in a Buenos Aires basement.

Then there had been the news of her mother's death, a keener blow since it meant she was all alone. No visits or letters from her mother to look forward to, no hope of rescue as her mother had once done before. The third blow, getting appendicitis, she was now able to be philosophical about. She owed her current freedom to that. And even at the time, there was some comfort in knowing she would either be free or dead. That no matter what she wouldn't be in jail anymore. But still, the unpleasant idea that McNeely might not believe her and let her die on the cold floor of her cell had played through her mind that day.

But then, she'd sat in her cell looking at the radio that Lisa had given her and mulling over the news Lisa had given her too, wondering what could possibly happen to her next. The ministers had come to her door, and annoyed her with their syrupy words and watery promises. She'd ignored them and eventually they had gone away. She'd been looking at her ink tube at the time and trying to figure out how she could improvise a key with what she had before her appendix ruptured. It had been easy to ignore the ministers banging on her door. They were too afraid to attempt entering the cell itself.

And then, in Susana's darkest hour, there was Luke. He, unlike the others, had told her he would come in the cell if she didn't talk to him. It had been his next words that caught her attention.

"God wants you to be free," he'd whispered through her cell door.

She'd thought he meant in the stupid Christian born-again prison fashion, body incarcerated, 'soul' free. But he had not. He was utterly convinced that God would come down and set her free. He told her briefly about his martyrings. Susana asked him a few questions that only a real killer would know the answers to.

She'd told him she was sick and would be either dead or in the hospital by the time lockdown rolled around. He had asked if he could help. She'd been loath then, not trusting him. He'd offered her his phone number and told her he would help her any way he could. She'd told him to get her clothes, hair dye, and to be ready to meet her at a moment's notice with no questions asked. He had simply nodded and agreed.

So she was truly fond of Luke for that reason. He had been there for her when no one else had been. He had been willing to help her. Toronto had been fun, but it had been lonely as well. When she answered his question, her answer was not complete, but it was honest.

"I want you to be with me," she said. "I don't want to be alone."

Luke smiled. Internally, he was awash in nervousness. His deepest dreams had come true: she wanted to be with him. But there were other parts of his mind, whispering from behind doors he had believed long shut, whispering with Mother's voice: She's lying to you. She's either lying to you or she's crazy. You sniveling shit, who would want to be with you? She'll turn on you, she'll stab you and leave you in the street. She'll do it with other men behind your back, she'll laugh at you--. He had to swallow and close his mind to the voice.

Luke nodded. He did not know if he could speak without seeming weak. So he just nodded. Finally, he managed to say, "I want to be with you, too." His voice was calmer than he had expected and he was glad. Susana smiled at him and patted his hand.

"Then we'll be together down there," she said. "You'll enjoy it, Luke. I promise."

The raspberry torte for dessert was excellent, and they shared it. Afterwards, she chose a cappucino and he drank an espresso, enjoying its rich flavor. She paid, and that bothered him, although it did not seem to bother her a whit. The man should pay, he believed. It was his job to provide for his wife to be. The fact that Susana Alvarez Lecter was already fabulously wealthy did not change that.

Outside was a limo trundling in the parking lot. They walked hand in hand out to it, where the chauffeur graciously opened the door for them. The back of the limo was quite large for two people, grand and elegant. The carpeted compartment separating them from the driver was closed. They kissed in the back of the limousine as it pulled out into traffic, two bloodthirsty monsters completely at peace with each other.

"Ready for the live entertainment?" Luke asked playfully. This would be a good thing for her. He was proud that he had thought of it.

"Of course I am," Susana answered sweetly.

…

Joellyn Mackey turned into the driveway of her house and sighed. It had been another day on swing shift for her. Another day of whiny inmates, cell checks, and roll calls. Same as usual. Joellyn worked at the Alexandria Detention Center. Today had been a slightly exciting day only in that Ana Castillo had come back to the jail from Canada, where she'd been found hiding out. Joellyn thought Castillo was an idiot: someone had actually gone her bail, and the stupid kid had tried to run. Now she was back in lockup. Shoulda listened to the judge, kiddo.

The lieutenant was back, too. She'd been on administrative leave while they investigated the escape of Susana Alvarez. Joellyn couldn't wait until they brought that one back. She'd taught Susana who was boss when she had the chance, and she'd do it again once they brought her back. She thought about the look that would be on Susana's face when they jugged her back in her cell. Maybe then Lieutenant McNeely would learn what being such an inmate lover got you.

Kelly McNeely had made it a point to respect her inmates' rights as much as she was able to. Joellyn thought she was nuts. She'd worked on male as well as female cellblocks, and it all was the same. They respected force. You had to show them who was boss. The male inmates would try to fight you. Most of the female inmates were simply crybabies, but those who would fight you were hellcats. If they feared you, you'd be OK. Joellyn had become quite skilled in making inmates fear her. They knew better than to whine to her. She would overtighten their handcuffs, take the baton or the pepper spray to them, or break what little things they had and valued. In short, Joellyn Mackey was a bully, and she was very, very good at it.

But she might find out when the lieutenant dropped by later on tonight. She'd invited her by for a beer to celebrate her reinstatement. Much to her surprise, Lt. McNeely had accepted. Not too bad. Helped to be friends with the rank. You never knew when it could come in handy.

So as she stepped out of her driveway and headed into her house. She was tired, but pleased with herself. In one hand she held a twelve-pack of beer she'd bought at a convenience store on the way home from work. She approached the door, beer in her left hand, keys jingling in her right.

As she opened the door, something seemed different. The air was not as still as it should have been. She could sense something different. Joellyn frowned and put down the beer and keys in her foyer. She sidled across the hallway quietly, heading for the living room. Behind a curtain she kept a 12-gauge shotgun loaded with double-ought buckshot. There it was. Its weight was comforting in her arms.

A clink of glass from the kitchen. Joellyn's eyesn narrowed. Moving very quietly, deceptively quietly for a big, muscular woman, she passed through her cheap swinging doors into the kitchen.

Seated at her kitchen table was a tall, cadaverous guy she'd seen before. Wait. Work. No, he wasn't a CO. Something else…oh yeah. Ministry. Those jail ministry pukes who came around and sang about Jeeee-zus to the inmates, like God would give a rat's ass for a bunch of lowlife inmates.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she said, raising the double-barrel to her eye.

Amazingly, he grinned. "Do you believe in God, C.O. Mackey?"

That's it. Some drug fiend. Probably had a brother or something in lockup himself, or been there. She'd blow him away and worry about it later.

"You're gonna find out if there is one," she said, and pulled the triggers. Both triggers. Three things happened when she did.

The first was that two impotent metallic clicks sounded from the twin chambers of the shotgun. Upon hearing them, Joellyn's face fell. No wait…that can't be…I check 'em every weekend…that gun's loaded.

The second was that Luke Taylor threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, C.O. Mackey. Don't you know that faith alone will save thee?"

The third was that Susana Alvarez Lecter pushed through the swinging door from where she'd doubled back through Joellyn's inexpensively furnished living room. The end of the baton she'd taken from Kelly McNeely whistled through the air and landed on the back of Joellyn Mackey's head. It made a meaty thud when it hit. Joellyn's unconscious body, when it hit the ground, also made a meaty thud.

…

Kelly McNeely downshifted, looking around for the damn side street. There were several The Shadow's engine grumbled in protest. Windhorst Drive, there it was. She caught the turn and drove down the street, looking for Joellyn's house. 133, there it was. She pulled up in front of it and sighed. She was wondering what she was going to say.

She was Joellyn's superior, of course. But that didn't make it easier. They'd never been close. Kelly wanted a smoothly run cellblock. She didn't think it was necessary to use force, but she would if it was strictly necessary. Joellyn seemed to enjoy tormenting the inmates out of sheer malice. Lt. McNeely had heard the rumors, but very few inmates were willing to tell her: they believed that she would side with the C.O. no matter what.

So when Joellyn had invited her over for a beer, she thought it would be a good way to bring it up. Here, where it would be private. Maybe she could get the other woman to settle down and ease up. She could always send her off the cellblock, but that wouldn't solve the main problem. Abusive guards were bad for things: they made the inmates angry and resentful.

So she was preoccupied when she went up and knocked on Joellyn's door. As she heard footsteps approaching the door, she was thinking of how to phrase it. Joellyn, I've heard some complaints about you being too rough with the inmates…You know, Joellyn, physical force is a last resort, not a first…Joellyn, you're a sadist and a bully. Quit it.

As a result, she was only half paying attention when the door opened. She could be forgiven this: after all, she expected to see her underling before her when the door opened. But the woman inside was not Joellyn: she was shorter and thinner. A confused glimpse of glittering maroon eyes flashed across Lt. McNeely's vision. Something with great power and force grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the house.

Whatthehell? she had time to think quickly. Then she was smashed against the wall, drywall crumpling around her head. A starfield burst into life in front of her vision. Dazed now, she tried to defend herself, her arms coming up to try and break Susana's grip. But this was not a weakened, sick woman she was facing: this was the monster at top form and strength. Susana flipped her neatly, and then she was on the floor, carpet fibers in her nose, her eyes woozy.

A voice in her ear, calm and mocking: "You know what happens now, Lieutenant. We've done this before, haven't we?" She knew who had her then, and she tried to twist out of Susana's grip. But she was dazed and Susana was not. Not thirty seconds had passed from when she'd been outside the door. Then Susana's arms were weaving around her neck and pressing. Kelly McNeely grabbed at the arm circling her throat, aware that she had to get it off her or it would be too late.

Inexorably, Susana's arms tightened. Kelly McNeely fought until the end, but sparkles burst over her vision and suddenly her arms would no longer obey her commands and fell limp, and then she knew no more.

Susana hauled the lieutenant into the kitchen, where Joellyn Mackey sat in a wooden kitchen chair, her hands cuffed behind her. She arranged McNeely in the seat across from her and cuffed her too.

"I hope you didn't expect her to save you," Susana said to Joellyn.

Joellyn Mackey was a bully, but she was not an idiot, and simply turned her face away. She glanced out on her patio, where Luke Taylor was tending the coals of her grill. What the fuck do these two want anyway?

"Do those cuffs hurt?" Susana asked.

The cuffs on Joellyn's wrists were fastened down as tightly as Susana could make them close around the larger woman's wrists. They cut into her skin, leaving visible red divots. The hands themselves were choked red with blood that could not pass.

"No," Joellyn said, not wanting to let Susana have the victory of knowing that it hurt. Actually, 'hurt' wasn't the correct term: beyond the steel tourniquets binding her wrists she felt very little. Circulation had been cut off fifteen minutes ago. A vague discomfort was all she felt.

"I imagine they would have gone numb by now," Susana allowed. "After all, the day you took me to my arraignment, my hands were numb by the time you had me in the van. And then there was that little matter of the stun belt…,"

"You want me to say I was sorry?" Joellyn spat. "You want me to cry? I'm not gonna, Alvarez. You're gonna kill me anyway, so get to it."

Susana shrugged. "I don't expect an apology from the likes of you," she said delicately, "so I'll settle for your acceptance."

Joellyn looked at her dubiously.

"Acceptance of the matter that things have changed," Susana explained. "When I was a prisoner, you took the opportunity offered you to indulge yourself in needless torments. Now, things have not worked out to your advantage, and I'm the one indulging myself. Chin up, C.O. Mackey. You should have known this was coming."

She glanced over at Luke through the kitchen window. He waved at her and held up a steel bowl. She smiled like a young girl and waved back at him. Slumped in her chair, Kelly McNeely coughed and stirred. Susana walked over to her and took her chin. The lieutenant's eyes swam into focus as they fixed on her prior prisoner's face.

"Lieutenant," Susana said delicately. "What a surprise. I'm glad you could join us. This is something you ought to see."

"Susana," Kelly said weakly, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but…,"

"I'm not thinking of doing it, Lieutenant. I am doing it. And please, spare me the 'you'll just get in worse trouble if you do this', as there isn't much more you can do to me." She dismissed her jailer and turned her attention to her own prisoner.

"I'll be kinder to you that you were to me," Susana said meditatively. "You may have one wrist free. Right or left?"

From the look on Joellyn's face, she knew there was some trick. She would find out soon.

"Right," she said finally.

"Very well," Susana said, and unlocked the cuff around Joellyn's right wrist. She locked the empty cuff around the back of the chair, so Joellyn couldn't move that hand. Carefully, she allowed the larger woman to bring her arm around in front of her. The hand itself was still numb.

Kelly McNeely somehow knew that something was about to happen just before it did. One moment, Susana was allowing Joellyn to bring her arm around in front of her. She held Joellyn's wrist with her left hand to assure control. The next moment, Susana's right hand plucked something off her belt. There was a flash of silver and Susana's arm raised high in the air. Then, Susana's arm came down, and there was a wet sound of steel punching through meat and wood. Both correctional officers gasped.

Sticking out of Joellyn Mackey's palm was the handle of an ice pick. Feeling had not returned to her hand yet, so there was no pain. But the hand was pinned down neatly as a butterfly; the shaft of the ice pick driven all the way through the meat of the palm to the table. Joellyn turned pale, her fingers fluttering like trapped animals. Slowly, the hole in her hand grew lined with red as blood rose to the wound.

Luke came in. He had donned a black ski mask, so that the lieutenant would not recognize the jail minister who came in and preached to her inmates. He held a steel bowl with gloved hands. Heat radiated from the bowl. Sticking out from the bowl was a set of metal tongs. He put the bowl down on the table.

"There you go," he said, and gave Susana his gloves. "Red-hot coals, just like you wanted."

Lt. McNeely pulled away from the bowl. "Susana…listen to me. You know I was fair to you."

"Yes, you were, Lieutenant," Susana rejoined, "but C.O. Mackey was not. She over-tightened my handcuffs anytime she took me out of my cell. She's done it to other prisoners, or so I've heard." She speared the cuffed woman with an unforgiving look. "So I must presume that she did so with your knowledge."

"No," Lt. McNeely said, and leaned forward. Susana took out a flat packet of incense and carefully broke up the sticks into fragments. She dropped them into the bowl of charcoal briquettes. A pleasant aroma arose from the bowl.

"Susana, I was going to talk to her about that tonight. No one mentioned anything to me."

"You wouldn't have done anything," Susana said flatly. "You knew about the stun belt. I do know that, Lieutenant."

Kelly McNeely sighed, her heart racing. She did know about that. Susana had been required to wear a stun belt to court, as an extra means of control. Essentially, it was a stun gun that a prisoner wore; an obstreperous prisoner would get a 50,000 volt shock to the kidneys. It was an effective means of controlling the most dangerous prisoners.

But Susana had behaved herself, and there hadn't been any reports. She'd suspected Mackey as soon as she put Susana in the shower later that day and seen the welt on her back. Mackey had denied it, but the mark was plain as day. Mackey had zapped her with the belt, probably just to show her who was boss.

"You never said anything about that," McNeely implored. "I would have done something."

Susana shook her head. "You'd have yelled at her or put a meaningless letter in a meaningless file somewhere," she said. "Nothing would have changed. And I prefer to take my revenge personally."

She dropped a hot charcoal briquette calmly into Joellyn Mackey's palm. Almost immediately, a sizzling sound arose from Joellyn's palm and an anguished scream from her throat. Calmly, Susana brought out another.

"This is an old style of torture," she said calmly. "They'd force you to sprinkle incense to the idol. Mixed with hot coals, of course. It forced you to scatter the incense. But Joellyn's going to have a little problem with that, isn't she?"

Joellyn tried to dump the coal out of her hand. Raising it was impossible, and she could not tilt her hand very far either way until the steel shaft through her palm stopped her. Her eyes clamped shut and a scream labored in her locked chest. But she did not scream openly. She did not want Susana to have the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

"Oh, you'll scream," Susana assured her in a just-us-girls tone. Her gloved hand clamped down over Joellyn's and forced the briquette into her palm. A pained grunt escaped the tortured woman's chest. A frying smell escaped her destroyed hand. When Susana let her fingers up, the pads of her fingers were twisted and burnt.

When the coal was no longer hot, Susana replaced it with another, then another. She sent the bowl back to Luke for a refill. Eventually, Joellyn did scream. Her hand was blackened and charred, a claw of a hand pinned to the table. Lt. McNeely looked sick. Susana seemed pleased with herself.

"Okey dokey," Susana said. "I think I've made my point there, C.O. Mackey. I'll let you have what you want now."

She picked up another glowing coal with the tongs and grabbed a handful of Joellyn's hair with her left hand. Her head swiveled down to look the doomed woman in the eye.

"Any last words?" she asked curiously.

Joellyn sobbed.

"I'll choose some for you." She pretended to think. "Take this as a warning, fellow C.O.'s," she began grandly. "Learn from my example. Don't be cruel to helpless inmates who have no recourse against you. You might end up like me." She smiled cruelly down at Joellyn's tear-stained face. Her tone shifted.

"Are we ready?"

"Don't," McNeely whispered strengthlessly. She knew what Susana had in mind. "God, please, Susana, don't. If there's anything I can do, anything I can say that'll make you stop--,"

"There isn't, Lieutenant," Susana said. She brought the glowing coal down into Joellyn Mackey's left eye. The doomed woman screamed and tried to throw her head around, but she was weak from her torture and Susana was able to control her head. The glowing ember sizzled through her eye. Its heat enabled it to simply burn through anything in its path. Then it was through the eye and into the abusive correctional officer's brain.

Susana pulled the tongs free and stared at their empty jaws for a moment.

"Damn," she said. "I lost it." She dropped the tongs onto the table with a metallic clack.

Then her head tilted and she took in the cuffed redhead before her for a long moment. Kelly McNeely trembled. Helpless in front of her most dangerous charge. Would Susana kill her? Did Susana care that McNeely had been respectful of her? She knew what Susana was thinking – they could only execute her once.

"Now then," Susana said conversationally. "Whatever am I going to do with you, Lieutenant?"