Chapter 12

It took Shalimar a moment to remember to breathe. A lot of things clicked into place. He's a mutant, he has to be, and a powerful one to be able to generate such a detailed illusion and hold it this long without apparent effort. The audacity, the scope of the thing was breathtaking.

Whoa, girl, she cautioned herself. Slow down. You heard the mug strike the bars. She considered that for a moment. The crack of the mug exploding against the bars might have been a sound effect. Now that she thought about it, she had a vague recollection of his left hand sliding into his pocket as he tossed the mug with his right. Seeking a way to test her theory, she got up and began to prowl the confines of her 'cage' in a circular route that took her near the bars. If his little demonstration had been real, she should be able to feel pottery shards crunching underfoot.

Nothing.

She made another circuit, thinking furiously. Something else had occurred to her, and she could have kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. This close to the bars, she should have been able to feel the subtle hum of the electrical current pulsing through the wiring, just as standing next to Brennan when he fired off a charge made the fine hairs on her arms stand up. Here there was no such feeling. Adrenaline began to push through her veins, clearing the last vestiges of the drug. She felt her pulse begin to quicken, just as it always did before a fight. He was keeping her prisoner with tricks, acting ability, and the pure nerve of a gambler facing down a flush while holding nothing more than a bobtailed straight. That was about to change. She just needed to time it right.

Dawson couldn't help but admire Fox's supple, feline grace as she started to pace restlessly around her cell like a captive tiger. No doubt about it, she was a hot-looking woman, and if circumstances were different he might consider taking a run on her himself. She was fast, strong and feisty, and he liked that in a woman as long as she knew her place. Taming this one would be fun, and given her powers not without risk, but a little danger added spice to the chase. If she got uppity – well, he knew her Achilles heel, and with his powers of illusion he could toy with her until she cracked; plus he had a couple of other surprises up his sleeve. She'd never know what hit her.

He saw her stop at a respectful distance from the bars, her eyes narrowing as she examined the wiring more closely for a moment before moving on. At one point she paused to pick up the cord that had bound her ankles, fiddling with it as she continued her circuit. He watched her, the cord in her hands making him think of bondage of a different, more erotic sort. That might be interesting once he had brought her to heel. Then with a sort of inward sigh, he dismissed the fantasy. Hot she might be, but if Mr. Acosta wanted her, whether for sex or any other reason, he wasn't about to get in the way. He didn't need that kind of trouble.

No sooner did that thought enter his head when, in a blur of motion so fast this eyes could barely track it, Fox flung the cord right through the bars of her cell. A heartbeat later she followed with a panther-like bound that brought her right at him, feet first. Her flying kick sent him reeling back into a wall, jarring his concentration so much that the mirage vanished. A spacious apartment appeared around them, tasteful and well furnished, complete with sliding glass doors leading to a railed balcony. He wiped a smear of blood off his lip with the back of his hand, his features twisting in a vicious snarl. It looked like he was going to have his fun and games after all, but she needed to be taught a lesson.

"You're gonna pay for that, little girl."

Even though Shalimar was half-expecting it, the towering circle of fire that suddenly surrounded her sent a shockwave of primeval terror surging through her, freezing her in her tracks. A couple of seconds later her senses confirmed the illusion, allowing her mind to shake free of the paralyzing fear, and she whirled just in time to defend against Dawson's attack. His fist whistled past her face with centimeters to spare. A high block stopped his next strike, then she slipped inside his guard to land a short blow to the jaw that spun him around. He tried again, launching a flurry of punches and kicks so fast and skilled that it was impossible to evade them all.

Somehow, she did so.

As Shalimar moved to counterattack, reality suddenly dissolved into psychedelic chaos, the room warping like images from a funhouse Hall of Mirrors. Something huge and monstrous came at her from the midst of the contortions. She backflipped to put some distance between them, but her depth perception was compromised. One foot came down on what felt like the edge of a coffee table, the other on pure air. She fell, crashing hard on one knee. Crossed forearms blocked the oncoming blow, and a swift yank added to his momentum to send him tumbling over that same table. Reality snapped back into focus.

A quick roll put some distance between them, enough space to allow her to assess the damage. The knee would probably sport a bruise tomorrow, but that appeared to be the extent of it as she rose to her feet without any feeling of lameness. Shalimar snatched a quick glance at her surroundings, trying to fix them in her head should the illusionist try that stunt again, but he had something else in mind. He grabbed a nearby shelf and hauled himself to his feet. As his hand left the shelf she could see it come away with a club of some kind. Holding it partially hidden behind his body, he approached warily.

Shalimar recognized the weapon the instant his arm swung up. 'Shock stick' was the colloquial name for the electrically-charged clubs that Genomex's Genetic Security Agency forces favored for addressing recalcitrant mutant behavior. It was sort of like a taser in that it pumped a stunning charge of electricity into the body through the conducting contacts, but unlike the taser it was used at close range. Shalimar had intimate and painful knowledge of its effectiveness. If this guy was an ex-GSAer, that would explain a lot.

With a banshee yell Dawson charged, brandishing the sparking weapon. Shalimar braced herself, preparing to meet his rush and deflect it harmlessly aside. Astoundingly, her grasping hand went through his arm like it was smoke, throwing her off balance. In the next instant something hard and invisible jammed into her side, sending electricity ripping through her body. She screamed and staggered back a couple of steps. He charged again, allowing her no respite. Once again she set herself to block his upraised arm, and again it was an illusion, the club connecting with her stomach this time. The jolt nearly paralyzed her with white-hot pain, dropping her to the floor and all but putting her out. Instinctively Shalimar tried to crawl backward, to put some space between them and buy herself some time. If she took one more shot it was all over.

"So fight back."

Brennan materialized from the graying edges of her consciousness and hunkered down in front of her. She glared up at him.

"You're a big help!"

He shook his head.

"You don't need my help. You can do this."

He wasn't really there. She knew that. The real Brennan would have intervened immediately whether she needed help or not. A part of her recognized that she was actually arguing with herself, but it didn't stop her from being irritated as hell at the simulacrum's complacent treatment of her situation. Her temper began to flare.

"Easy for you to say!"

He shrugged.

"Do you want us to become lovers or not?"

"Yes!"

"Then get it together and take this guy out. You knew he could make you see things that aren't there; now you know he can hide things that are there. But you don't need to see to fight, and that's your edge. You have other senses. Use them. Break free. Nothing you dreamed about for us can happen if you don't. It's as simple as that."

As simple as that. Deep in her heart Shalimar knew she was on the verge of finding something she had been searching for her whole life. She felt it coming together last night, when he wrapped her in a virtual embrace, so magical and yet unquestionably real in ways she could barely fathom. The prospect of being taken away, of never knowing love with Brennan, was more than she could bear. A hidden wellspring of power suddenly erupted from the very core of her being. With a titanic effort she fought past the pain and forced her mind into some kind of focus, closing her eyes and concentrating with all her might on the rest of her feral senses. The crackle of the club, the displacement of the air, the acrid smell of electricity, the subtle friction of fabric as he shifted, all told her what she needed to know. She blocked the oncoming blow with a nanosecond to spare and kicked out with her leg. Dawson's feet were swept out from under him, and he landed on the floor with a hard thud.

He wasn't out, though. She could tell that much. Her muscles still trembling in reaction to the jolts of electricity, she made it to her knees and risked opening her eyes. It looked like Dawson's head might have hit the arm of the big chair, as her surroundings had snapped back to normal. It was just a glancing blow, damn the luck, but it was enough to slow him down for a second. The club had been jarred from his hand, but even as her pain receded she could see him rolling after it.

Oh no you don't! Shal lurched forward, grabbed him by the boot and hauled him back. He cursed and tried to kick her with his other foot, but she was quicker and easily dodged the blow. The instant she let go the air seemed to shimmer, and then he vanished.

Not that it mattered. She had a fix on him now, and she knew where he was headed. Like a cat after a mouse she pounced. He reappeared with a loud oof as her knees drove hard into his spine, his flailing hand flopping just inches from the shock stick. She seized him by the hair with her left hand and rolled off him, dragging him another foot away from the weapon. Cursing viciously, he swung at her wildly, missing as she swayed out of reach with feline speed. The punch left him wide open, and Shalimar was quick to oblige. Her haymaker caught him flush on the point of his chin, and just like that the fight was over.

Brennan ended up landing the Double Helix on top of a hotel a block away from the GPS location. He wasn't happy about it, but it was the closest building that was both large enough to land on and high enough that the sound of the landing, as well as the accompanying jet wash, wouldn't be readily detected by people on the street.

By mutual agreement Jesse stayed aboard the Helix to continue tracking Damien Acosta electronically while Brennan and Lexa followed the GPS signal from Shalimar's comlink. They located the alley where she had the run-in with the trio of thugs without difficulty. Even though they already had a pretty good idea of what they would find, it was still a shock to discover her ring sitting in the grit and refuse of the alley floor where it had been carelessly tossed. Lexa thought she saw something like despair in Brennan's face as he bent down and picked it up, but when he slowly straightened, it was expressionless, all iron control, his jaw as square and hard as granite.

"Jess, we found Shal's ring," he said, his tone flat and unemotional, "Do you still have tabs on Acosta?"

"Yeah, I've got him; I was able to break into the GPS on the limo. He's on the Bayshore Freeway, coming up on Highway 280."

"How far from this location?" Brennan asked the question on the premise that whoever had Shalimar hadn't taken her too far. There was no basis for that supposition; he understood that, but if nothing else it gave him a reference point.

"Hard to say. If that's where he's going, or at least the general vicinity – with what I can see of the traffic patterns, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes."

"Don't let him out of your sight." He turned to the tall brunette. "Lexa, why don't you see if you can spot any security cameras nearby? If you find one, head back to the Helix and hack in while Jesse stays on Acosta. Maybe we can get a jump on this guy. I want to take a look around this alley. I'll meet you back at the Helix in…" he glanced at his watch, "…ten minutes."

Lexa met his eyes steadily. It was a good performance, she had to give him that. He really looked and sounded as if the urge to put his fist through a wall in sheer frustration was the furthest thing from his mind. A lot of people might have bought it, but Lexa knew more than a little about self-discipline and masks herself, and she was well aware of the gut-wrenching anxiety slashing through him right now, as well as the pride involved in maintaining control. She could see it in the involuntary twitch of his jaw muscle, the rigid set to his shoulders, the unconscious clench of his fist around Shal's ring. She started to raise her hand, to offer a touch of comfort, but restrained herself. There was nothing she could say, really, and offering useless platitudes had never been her style. The best thing she could do for him right now was to do as he asked, give him some privacy to vent if he needed to. There was an unwritten code among those of the warrior breed, and particularly prevalent with the testosterone-laden alpha set, all of which described Brennan, about not letting anyone see your weaknesses if you could help it. She understood that because she followed the same creed herself. Because of that, she kept her opinions to herself, and with only a nod of acknowledgement turned and strode out of the alley.

Brennan watched her go with a gratitude he wouldn't ever admit, then turned back to his task. It was a given that he would find some sort of sign; there was no way, even if she was outnumbered, that Shal would be taken without a fight. Sure enough, he found indications of a struggle near a battered dumpster; there were some spatters of blood and even a tooth that didn't look like they had been there all that long. He couldn't be sure because they usually left that kind of information gathering to the feral's infinitely keener senses, but once upon a time when they were stuck on a series of boring stakeouts Shal had undertaken to teach him the rudiments of tracking in an urban environment. One of the lessons involved how to discern the little things that separated a fresh sign from something older, and another how to look for tracks even on pavement. He sought to put those lessons to good use now,

He hunkered down to study the ground near the dumpster. Most of the scene was pretty scuffed up; not unexpected if there had been a fight. A little further on he found one or two marks that might have been made by a petite foot. Or not. The distance between them looked about right for Shal's walking stride. They pointed toward the mouth of the alley. He moved on, seeing a crushed leaf here, a smeared bit of oil there, until he got to where he found her ring.

And that was it. If there was anything further, he just wasn't skilled enough to recognize it. Shalimar was gone, taken God knows where, and there was nothing he could do about it. Failure lay like a crushing weight on his shoulders. The only chance now was to follow Acosta's limo and get to her before he could sink his slimy mental claws into her. If they couldn't….

Don't go there! he commanded himself, but for once his mind refused to bend to his will. It insisted on tormenting him with recent images of their time together; teasing her as she dangled from his snare, tumbling through leaves in the woods, holding her while she cried. He couldn't lose her now, not when they were on the brink something so special. He couldn't bear to think of what might be happening to her right now. Rage, helplessness and cold terror mixed with potent elemental energy, boiling inside him until he could barely breathe, building and building until he thought he would explode. With her ring digging into the palm of his tightly clenched fist, his other hand shot skyward. A raw, primal sound ripped from his throat as lines of blue fire lanced from his fingertips.

For a moment Shalimar just sat there, resting on her heels as she caught her breath and shook off the last effects of the electrical zaps she endured. She couldn't help smiling a little at her victory, but then the professional took over. She reached across Dawson's supine body and picked up the shock stick. It was a temptation to use it on him just to show him what it felt like, but in the end she decided against it, snapping it in two pieces with her bare hands. She was going to need answers from him, and pleasant though it was to contemplate, shocking him unconscious was not the way to get them. She would just have to use her own, more personalized methods.

He was starting to groan a little as she sifted through his pockets. Her comlink ring wasn't there. She grimaced in disgust. He probably left it in the alley where he kidnapped her. What she did find the key to her broken handcuffs. She got them off, and after rubbing her chafed wrists for a moment, continued her search. There wasn't much else in his pockets, so she had to settle for going through his wallet. His driver's license gave her a name to go with the face, something she would have Jesse run through the mutant database at the earliest opportunity. There were also membership cards to several local casinos. Evidently her boy here liked to gamble. He probably thought of her kidnapping in that light. Shalimar's grin widened. He must not have seen all those warning commercials about betting with your head, not over it. He was definitely in over his head when it came to taking her on. Talk about crapping out.

The rest of the contents of his pockets told her nothing of importance. She needed answers, and it looked like she was going to have to get them the hard way. Thinking of her treatment in the last few hours, she couldn't be more pleased at the prospect.

Shalimar leaned over Dawson and began to lightly slap his cheeks. As soon as it looked like he was coming around, she rolled him onto his stomach, put her knee on his neck, and twisted his right arm behind him. He groaned again and opened his eyes to pain. Recognizing his predicament, he tried to break free, but the grip that held him was like a vise, and he only succeeded in making the pain worse. The feral bent his hand back, applying leverage, bringing a new round of sulfurous curses from her victim.

"If you so much as think about creating another one of your illusions, I'm going to rip this hand off and stuff it down your throat," she said in a low, silky voice, "Got it?"

When he didn't answer immediately, she pressed harder. He screamed as the blazing agony tore up his arm. She eased off a little and repeated her question.

"All right, all right! No illusions!"

"Good boy.' With her free hand she gave him a little pat on the head. "Now – who set me up?"

"Kiss off!" he shouted. Shalimar shook her head. And here she thought he was intelligent. Probably he was expecting her to pressure his hand again, but that was taking too long, and she was nothing if not inventive. It was time to up the ante. He screamed again when she snapped his little finger.

"That's one. You want to try that answer again?"

Veins stood out in his neck as he gritted his teeth against the pain. She broke the next finger and was rewarded with an agonized howl.

"That's two. You know, I could keep this up all day – or at least until I run out of bones to break - but since your boss is supposed to be here soon, let's speed this up." She brought her hand in front of his face, letting him get a good look at her well-honed nails. Her hair tickled his ear as she leaned close, her soft voice almost a purr. "Since you like illusions so much, how would you like to live one 24/7?"

Dawson's face blanched. The fingers before him began to curl, and it seemed in his horror as though the nails were growing, becoming as pointed and sharp as the claws of a tiger. He jerked, a frenzied movement as he tried to pull away, but he was held as securely as if he were tied down. One finger slowly stroked his cheek. He felt the flesh part, leaving a trail of red.

"Hmm, that's a start. Let's see…" She traced another line down the opposite cheek, and let him see his blood on her fingers. There were some who would cavil at her methods of persuasion, but that the moment she couldn't care less. He'd forfeited any expectation of gentle treatment when he used that shock stick on her. A meat-eating smile touched her lips.

"These two little scratches might heal okay, but if you don't start talking, I'm going to cut a bone-deep tic-tac-toe board across your face. And if you really annoy me, one of the lines is going right across your eyes."

Dawson screeched, an inarticulate sound, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. He struggled again, wildly, desperately, with no better result that before. She placed her nail at his temple, letting him feel it pop through the skin and start blood trickling down toward his ear.

"The name!"

"Damien Acosta!"

Blinking in shock, Shal unconsciously eased up a fraction on her impromptu facial. The name was not one she expected. She well remembered the renegade telepath/telekinetic who crossed their path nearly a year ago, but they hadn't heard so much as a whisper about him since then. A shiver of fear rippled up her spine. Although she never engaged Acosta face to face, so he never got the chance to invade her mind, memories of Gabriel Ashlocke, and how it felt to have him inside her head haunted her. She refused to go through that again. She'd kill him first.

"What does he want with me?"

"I don't know. I don't know!" Dawson's voice rose a notch, broken and pleading. "He didn't say, and I didn't ask questions. All I know is that I was supposed to watch you until he got here!"

Shalimar believed him. The smell of his fear was potent and unmistakable.

"When is he due?"

"Any minute!"

A flash of lightning punctuated his words, suddenly splitting the late afternoon sky visible through the balcony's glass doors. Shal felt her stomach turn to ice. The bolt was a vertical strike, not cloud to ground as was found in nature, but the opposite. It was close, too, within a couple of blocks at her best guess, and too big to have come from something as mundane as a blown transformer. This had to come from a mutant, and its form and power were far too familiar to her for there to be any doubt. It must have come from Brennan.

What was he doing here? Did he come alone, or were the others with him? And what could have caused him to shoot off such a charge? A fight, obviously, but Brennan wouldn't light up like that where ordinary people could see it, unless he had no choice. The only cause she could think of that was dire enough and that close to hand was Damien Acosta.

There was no time to waste. If it was Acosta, and he was battling her friends, they would need her help. Her knee left Dawson's neck as she grabbed him once more by the hair and snapped his head around.

"Gotta go," she said, her voice low and menacing, "But if you ever come near me or mine again, I won't just finish carving up your face. I'll rip your heart out."

With one last contemptuous glance she threw open the balcony doors, leaped to the roof, and was gone.

"Brennan, are you all right?"

That was Jesse's voice coming over the comlink. He must have seen his bolt and thought he might be under attack. Brennan cursed himself, disgusted with his momentary loss of self-control. If the molecular had seen it from the Helix, chances were half the city had also. Hopefully no one would come to investigate the phenomenon.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Thankfully, Jesse was intuitive enough not to ask the obvious follow-up question. Brennan drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. He had to put aside his emotions for now; he would be no good to Shalimar if he couldn't think clearly. The thing to do now was to get his head back into the strategies he devised on the way out to battle Acosta. It would be dangerous taking him on without any real preparation, but right now it didn't look like they had any other choice.

"Where is Acosta now?"

"He's made the turn onto Central Freeway; less than five minutes away. Both of you, come back to the Helix; we're going to have to let him lead us to Shalimar."

Lexa responded first. "This may help – I've spotted several security cameras in the area. If I help you hack in, maybe between us we can see who took her and where they went."

"Good work, Lexa. Brennan, did you find anything in the alley?"

"Nothing that would do any good." Frustration freighted his voice, lashing him with the reminder of his failure.

"All right, come on back. We'll follow him from the air."

Brennan acknowledged, and started down the alley. He would have to hustle; there wouldn't be much time to clue the others in on the strategies he devised. He made it about a dozen steps when something hit the ground a few yards behind him. He whirled, a fistful of lightning blazing in his hand ready to launch. Only finely-honed reflexes enabled him to restrain the blue-white fire in time as he recognized the slim figure who straightened and started toward him.

"Hey – watch where you're pointing that thing."

"Shal!"

The relief that sluiced off Brennan was so powerful that he was almost light-headed with it, banishing his anxiety and frustration as if they had never been. He drank in the sight of her as she approached, the familiar feline grace of her stride, the amused smile on her face, the tousled blond hair. He also noticed the redness of hands, the barked knuckles, and the stylish suede pantsuit now rumpled and a bit the worse for wear. She looked like she came fresh from a fight, though thankfully there was no sign of any injury that he could detect. In fact, she appeared completely, wonderfully normal, with that pleased little sparkle in her eye and unconscious swagger in her step that was always there after she had just kicked some bad-guy ass. Evidently her captors had underestimated her – and thank God for that. If they hadn't….it didn't bear thinking.

Seeing him standing there, with no sign of danger around him – and really him, her senses told her, not some kind of mirage - Shalimar felt her own tension fade to puzzlement. She was immensely glad to see him, of course, but she could discern nothing that would have caused him to fire off that lightning bolt. For that matter, now that she thought about it, what was he doing here in the first place? Did he fly out on his own because of last night and what was happening between them, or did the whole team come because they somehow found out about Damien Acosta stalking her? She was a little surprised at the small voice inside that hoped it was the former. Not that the latter wasn't a good reason, but it would be nice to know that he felt it, too; this new sense of closeness that seemed to be growing between them. On the other hand, if he didn't know about Acosta and had just flown out because he was feeling overprotective, she'd probably have to slug him on general principles. The nuances here were important. She stopped before him, tilting her head up inquiringly.

"Fancy meeting you here."

It was all he could do not to crush her in his arms and never let her go, but he figured she would probably split his lip if he did. This was not the time or the place to let her know how his emotions were running rampant at the sight of her safe and sound. With a huge effort he restrained himself and drew in a deep, steadying breath. "Lexa's Dominion contact tipped us off that Damien Acosta was after you," he explained, "It was because of him that your mom was able to get in touch with you. He arranged it on purpose so he could get you alone. We just spent the day racing him across the country to get to you first."

Shalimar stared at him in stunned disbelief. "Are you saying that my mother set me up?" No. She couldn't believe it.

He hastened to reassure her.

"No, no, it was all Acosta. He orchestrated this whole thing from behind the scenes, using your dad's old secretary to slip your contact information to your mom. She had nothing to do with it. Acosta just used her to get to you. All the way here we kept trying to warn you, calling both your cell and your mom's phone, but couldn't get an answer. And then we got here and I found this."

He opened his hand to reveal her comlink ring. She started to reach for it, but he was quicker. He caught her right hand and held it as he slowly slipped the gleaming circlet onto her finger. Immediately the unique sigils of her DNA appeared on its shiny surface. She looked up into eyes suddenly deep and filled with unspoken things, and felt her breathing start to quicken. Then he released it, and that mysterious look was gone as quickly as it appeared. Before she could do any more than register that her heart was unaccountably racing, Jesse's voice suddenly crackled over the comlink.

"Shalimar! Are you all right?"

The ring's activation must have popped up on the Helix's tracking system. Shalimar didn't know whether to laugh or groan. Jesse really needed to do something about his appalling sense of timing, but at least it allowed her to regain some measure of equilibrium. Brennan's teeth ground in frustration. She managed a weak chuckle.

"I'm fine, Jess."

She could hear his relief blow out in a long breath.

"Thank God. Listen, you two need to get back here asap. Acosta's limo is heading in your direction, maybe two minutes away."

He must be headed for Dawson's apartment. She didn't get out of there any too soon. "We'll be right there."

Ah, hell. Even if she did slug him, it would be worth it. Brennan couldn't stand it any longer. As Shalimar took a step toward the mouth of the alley, he reached out and snagged her around the waist, pulling her into a rough embrace. For a long moment he just stood there, his arms wrapped tightly about her slim frame.

Startled, pressed so close she didn't need her feral ears to hear the beating of his heart, she glanced up, and was surprised to see that he wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were closed, his visage cast into harsh planes by the subtle shadows of the alley wall. She read tension there easily enough, and yet there was something else in his familiar features, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She got a second surprise when she felt a tremor ripple through his big frame. Unbidden, one hand reached up to lightly touch his face.

"Brennan?"

He expelled a long breath, letting the last dregs of the rigidly coiled tension in his muscles drain away, and reluctantly let his arms loosen. His eyes opened to meet her mystified gaze.

"You scared me," he said simply. Man, was that ever the understatement of the year! He had never known such terror in his entire life.

Shalimar's heart melted. The big lug must have really been worried about her. Usually her response would be to remind him that she could take care of herself, but not this time. This time it felt good. Right. This was where she wanted to be.

In his arms, that is, not standing here in this alley. For one thing, the rotting garbage and other smells were getting pretty intense to her feral nose. For another, she wasn't in the mood to tangle with Damien Acosta. The moment would come later when she would return his embrace with her own, and let the love foretold to her take flight. Leaning against his hard, muscled body, she reached up, and her lips were soft and warm as they brushed his. Then she stepped back and slipped her hand into his.

"Come on – there's someone I want you to meet."

Damien Acosta stood in the middle of the room Shalimar Fox so recently quitted, and minutely straightened the cuffs of his impeccably tailored suit jacket. Silence settled like a velvet cloak around him. The battle had been invigorating but short, the outcome never in doubt. Beside him his dumbfounded chauffeur stared at the still, bloodied form of Allan Dawson, lying on the floor with his neck at a neatly perpendicular and wholly unnatural angle to his body.

As soon as he entered the apartment and saw that his prize had escaped, Damien knew what had to be done. He couldn't have his underlings defying orders. Dawson's arrogant impetuosity had wrecked a carefully planned strategy, and cost him a valuable asset in the bargain. Worse, the man even tried to lie to him, as if the facts weren't plain enough for even a blind man to see, let alone a telepath. Oddly enough, he seemed truly astounded when informed of the consequences of his rash behavior. How strange.

He would need another stalking horse now, something or someone else to spearhead his upcoming attack on Dominion headquarters. He would have to give it careful thought. Still, this fiasco wasn't a total loss. Damien gestured, and the area rug on which the body was lying wrapped itself around the corpse. He waved his man forward.

"Bring the body. We'll take it to the Providence facility. Mr. Dawson's DNA will be a useful addition to Dr. Harrison's grafting process. Let us hope that his recipients will be more… obedient."

He turned on his heel and strode leisurely from the wrecked penthouse.

The End

Author's note: I hope you have enjoyed this story, which takes them right up to "The Assault'. Watch for 'Counterstrike!', my version of what happens next. It climaxes in a three way battle royal between Mutant X, Damien Acosta, and the Dominion, and involves the fate of Adam, the Creator, the team themselves, and perhaps all of mutantkind. All this, and some old friends come to call. Stay tuned!

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