"Hey, Dad. What's up? It's late there, isn't it?" He put the phone on speaker so Connie could hear.

"Past midnight. Just got back to the hotel."

"What happened?" Jason recalled his father had been going to see Tam in jail, and he wondered how the meeting had gone.

"Well… It's hard to even say this. At first he didn't even want to see us. I kind of expected that. What I didn't expect was how he looked when he finally agreed to meet with us. He's…not doing well. He's under forced withdrawal from meth. And he's very thin—looks older than in his twenties. He mentioned he'd been sick—I'm not sure if he meant from drugs or from something else. They're not exactly sympathetic to him in jail, so they're not treating him. That could be dangerous." His father's voice was troubled.

"Were you able to get him out on bail?"

"Well… drugs are a serious offense here. He was only charged with possession of a few grams. But since it's a repeat offense, they've set his bail high. He can't afford it. But… he won't let me pay for it."

"Because he doesn't want anything to do with us?" Jason's heart clenched at the thought of someone denying family even in such a desperate situation.

"No… that's not it. I mean, he seemed wary of us, and I don't blame him. We show up out of the blue… claiming to be his family. Or I do, anyway. Drugs don't help him trust us. And after what he's been through… I think it'll be hard for him to trust anyone. I tried to earn his trust but…. I suppose I did get somewhere."

"Really?"

"He…really wanted to make me see he didn't want out. Even though withdrawal could kill him. He…feels like he deserves to be in jail."

"So—he feels guilty for taking drugs? But—why wouldn't he want treatment?"

"It's a lot deeper than that. I feel we've just scratched the surface of all he's gone through. He…told me that he owed the drug traffickers a lot of money. He's barely scraping by as it is, so he couldn't begin to pay it back. The first time…they took his kidney as payment."

"What." Jason's heart turned over. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the young man.

"What's more, they did it without anesthesia. They threatened to take his eye the second time. He… couldn't bear to go through it again."

"I don't blame him."

"They also threatened to take him. Enslave him. He felt like he couldn't live without the drug, so…He let them take his daughter instead." His father's voice was heavy with pain.

"So he let them take her?" Anger shot through him, burning away the pity he'd felt a moment before.

"It was a moment of weakness, he said. He thought it just meant they'd take her to work for them as a courier, because a little girl would be above suspicion. But then they started hurting her…. He tried to get her back. But they beat him almost unconscious…. that's how the police found him. Someone informed on him and he didn't have time to hide the drugs. So he's been in jail four days… and that's how long she's been gone."

"Is there any way to track them?"

"Sierra's doing that now. She's hot on their trail. She just might find her. Meanwhile… I'll look online as much as I can, try to use some of my contacts over here, call in favors."

"I wish I could help."

"You can search online. There's… a large trade in kids sold online here in the Philippines. I only hope we can find them before it's too late."

Beautiful little Mai—his niece—sold into slavery—it was almost too much to bear. A nightmare he wished he could wake up from. He felt like he should blame his nephew but…. When you were under the power of drugs, you could do some pretty awful things. Plus he had tried to get her back. He was consumed with guilt and didn't even want to be released.

"I'm going to see if I can persuade Tam to accept my help. So I can post bail and get him a good lawyer. He'll need one—he's looking at twelve years at least, but a plea bargain could cut that down a lot."

"I hope you can get one."

"It's up to him now. I just… wish I could get through to him. I'm practically a stranger to him… but I hope I can earn his trust. And show him it's not helping his daughter to stay in jail. I did tell him that but…he thinks she hates him. If we got her back—maybe he'd want to get out. He still might think she'd blame him but—maybe he'd want to see her. And if there was a way for him to help her, I have a feeling he'd jump at the chance. I'm not sure what he could do in his condition, though…."

"If—when—we find her—" Jason wasn't willing to accept the fact his grand-niece had disappeared forever— "what will happen to her? If her father won't take her back?"

"She'd probably go to one of the orphanages. But I'm going to try as hard as I can to gain custody of her. That I'm her great-grandfather has to count for something. She has to stay with family. And if her father gets out, gets clean—well, of course she'll go back to him."

"Maybe she shouldn't."

"He's not the best father in the world. But he is her father. If he showed he has really reformed…. If he's going to take care of her, do the best for her…. He's already shown he loves her… he's just been consumed by addiction. Best thing for them both would be to come to the States with us…. But nothing else matters right now as much as saving Mai."

"If she's not found—by the time we're done here. I'm going over there. I can't stand the thought of her…trapped in the horrors I've seen…."

"I'd bet on Sierra finding her before you'd need to come over. Rushing in headlong could be counterproductive. I…was a little worried about Sierra. She looked wild, crazed for revenge, like an addict herself. So…just before she left… she let me know why it wasn't just a job to her."

"So… she did tell you."

"Mostly implied it but… I could read between the lines. I had no idea."

"She hides it well. She only let me know because… well. In that…house. She wanted me to know I wasn't alone."

"I was worried she might race headlong into danger—she said she'd blow them up if she had to and blow herself up along with them. I told her that could be dangerous to the victims—and I didn't want her to get hurt either. That's when she told me she'd been trafficked as a child, endured what no little girl should ever have to…and she saw herself in little Mai. But it helped, I think, to tell—she was a little calmer then—so I didn't have to worry quite so much. She's eminently professional… but if she lets it get to her, she could still make a mistake she wouldn't otherwise. Because she cares about this so much…. I can't say I wouldn't do the same. I'm tempted to go out on the streets of Manila myself. But I do know my limits…. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"You're not old, Dad!"

"I'm old enough to know better. I know where my strengths lie and it's not gallivanting around as an agent anymore."

"Even I'm getting more to that stage."

"I never thought I would see the day."

"Well…. PTSD has taken away my edge. I can never go back to how I was. I have to play to my strengths… even if I might want to go running after the traffickers. I have to do what's going to help, not make things worse."

"You still have a lot left to give. I'm not saying I don't agree with you—it's better to stay back. But part of that is selfish. I don't want you to get hurt. If you're a little more cautious—then I don't have to worry as much. That you won't come over here and go off half-cocked like Sierra seemed to…. Like you've done before."

"Sorry, Dad."

"You just share impulsiveness with Sierra. It's not a bad thing—you need to think on your feet to be a good agent. And you are a good agent. You just have to temper that with a bit of caution—which it seems you have. Just so you don't become too cautious."

"There's such a thing?"

"Maybe not for you. It seems like a lot to you because you've been so far the other way. I wonder if I'm not being too cautious… I want to help. But then, I'm older so… I have to be realistic. Realistic for you is—keeping that balance, you can't do as much as before—but you still have a lot of talents as an agent. Which would be wasted in a desk job."

"Maybe." Jason wasn't thrilled to be glued to a desk the rest of his life, but at the same time… venturing out as an agent might do more harm than good, not only to himself but the people he wanted to rescue. Where was the line? How far was too far—and how careful was too careful? He wasn't sure he knew anymore—if he ever had. He hadn't cared as much before, but now…. how could he be sure it wasn't his trauma speaking or if it was actual levelheadedness…. Which he'd never had before so he wasn't sure how it worked. Well, if he examined himself and saw fear instead of logic… maybe he was being too cautious. But then… if you were too afraid, you would make wrong judgments. So you should stay out of the field. A lot of soldiers couldn't go back to the war because of PTSD… at what point would it be too dangerous? Gray was out despite his deep trauma, but as Sierra had said, it wasn't advisable…. Jason definitely didn't want to hold back when it meant rescuing someone. If it was possible he could. There was no use throwing his life away for something that wouldn't work—sacrificing himself and leaving Connie for no good reason… even if it were a good cause, rushing into danger wasn't always a good idea.

Maybe just safest to stay out of the danger zone. Do what I can from the background, let the true agents like Sierra and Markov do the work. Sierra went through a lot of trauma, but she's able to set it aside. I'm not so sure I can. But…what about risking it all for someone worth it? For Mai? Even if the chance was small he would succeed, there would be that much more chance to help…. As long as he didn't get in the way of the real agents.

Longing gnawed at him and he wasn't sure what it was. Then he realized—he didn't want to give up his claim to the label "agent" so easily. Even if he didn't deserve it….

He spoke with his father about what had been going on in Muldavia. Then his father hung up, sounding exhausted, and Jason hoped he got a good night's sleep. Though knowing his father, he would practically work himself into the ground…. He didn't want his father to overdo it. Like he'd done before, fainting and going to the hospital…. Jason's heart twinged with the memory— his father had been to the hospital way too many times for his liking…once was too much.

He has to live forever. Well… he will. Just not here.

No – I don't want to think about him leaving us. He's got so many more years ahead… although… Perhaps it wasn't best to foster a kid at his age. He could do it but… Connie wanted to adopt and…. Maybe if all else failed they could foster kids.

If they found Mai, she'd need a place. Maybe that could help Connie heal… and they could help Mai… His heart leapt.

"Connie," he said, as he drove back to the palace. "I was wondering…when we find Mai. If we could—"

"I was thinking the same thing!"

"Really?"

"If you mean—keeping her just till her dad can take care of her."

"I'm not so sure he'll ever be able to be a good father to her."

"I hope he can. But in the meantime…we could give her a home. She'd have enough food and a house and people who would never leave her…. We could help her after…all she's gone through. She could have all the toys she wanted."

"I want to give her the world. I want her to never lack for anything. If we have to…I'm totally willing to be like a father to her, if you are."

She nodded. "I love her already. It's like—" Tears sprang to her eyes. "Like with Jeremiah." Her voice caught. "I love her and I haven't even seen her. If we don't…get any other kids, we have to take in Mai. She's family."

"Just to live in the US with all the opportunities she'd have…. She'd have a lot more of a chance than in an orphanage or living with her father, if he gets out. He might reform but…it's probably best he come here to live too. It'd be easier for him to get treatment. And he'd be away from all his drug suppliers…. Part of me doesn't want him to take her back, even though he's her father. Unless he really cleans up his act and shows he can support her. Otherwise, we're her best chance."

"I want to give her everything she's never had. Just shower her with treats. She's lost her mom, now her dad's in jail and she's been sold…. If we get her back, she deserves the best possible, nothing horrible for the rest of her life… I have to help—if there's anything I can do to get her back… at the very least, give her a home to come back to."

"Even if we don't adopt anyone else, I do want to take her in. Temporarily, anyway."

"I'm ready for that. I think…all this has helped me. I might not have been ready before…. But I am now. To have a little girl and love her…" She took a deep breath. "I think…we should still see if we can adopt someone here. They need it. Especially the older kids, like Hannah and Daniel."

"So you'd be okay adopting an older kid?"

"Of course! They need just as much love—but not as many people want to take them. I want a younger kid too but… I want to help where I'm most needed. Besides—how old is Mai?"

"I think she's about nine."

"They could be a sister or brother to her. I want to adopt lots of kids at once… but… it's probably best not to go overboard. I just got used to the idea and… t takes a lot to take care of kids. I've worked with kids but…having one is a lot different."

"And these kids have gone through a lot. It might be extra hard."

"But worth it."

He nodded. "So worth it. We just gotta figure out what we need… how we can help them best."

"After seeing these kids…. I can't shut my eyes anymore. I don't want to be unrealistic either… I can't take a hundred or even ten. I wish I could, though."

They pulled into the driveway at the palace. Back in their room, Jason messaged Eugene about Mai and asked if he could look for her online, which Eugene readily agreed to. Katrina agreed as well.

Eugene also let them know that he'd taken down the videos of Ana, and Jason sighed with relief. At least no one could watch Ana get tortured anymore…

The rest of the afternoon, Jason settled in to search online for Mai and the others. First he looked through Eugene's program then he set up a more risky step. The Rising Star site had an auction coming up and Jason would pose as a buyer. He'd be anonymous but would have to put up real virtual currency to even attend and set up some assurances he wasn't affiliated with law enforcement. He crafted a more multi-dimensional online identity and when he was satisfied, he applied. Approval was pending, but he'd know in a day or two. Then, he'd have to watch kids being auctioned off, but at least he could buy them some time away from their abusers, since there were options to have no one else onscreen. And if he was able to provide enough money, he'd be able to buy a child exclusively. It made him feel sick just thinking of it, but at least this would save them. Perhaps get enough info from them to find them for real. He'd have to ask his father for money, since he didn't have enough. Especially if he were able to rescue a child for real. It would be more efficient to find the whole operation online, but these kids didn't have that kind of time. Who knew how long it would take. It was supporting the traffickers but…each child mattered. They didn't deserve one more second of suffering.

Connie agreed to pose as a buyer too, though Jason would guide her at every step since it was a tricky operation. It would save another kid… if they could find a way to scrape up enough funds. Buying one hour wasn't nearly enough.

While Jason was finalizing some of the details, Markov called.

"I have received some…horrible news," he said. His voice was weighed down with grief.

"What's wrong?" said Jason, looking out the window at the rolling hills glazed with sunshine. Connie was somewhere out there, strolling in the garden, taking a break from the darkness. He wished he could be with her but he would join her soon.

"I'm sending this to all of the task force. I know you have a lot on your plate, but I need all eyes on this I can get."

Silence except for a hint of labored breathing. It was alarming to hear the normally composed agent so upset he couldn't speak.

"If there's anything I can do to help…."

"Even if it's…watching the video for clues. I'm not exactly in the position to be objective. I try to see beyond what's happening to him but—because I care about him—"

"Who is it?"

"My son."

"I didn't know you had a son."

"I don't. I can't. My wife and I…we weren't able to have a child. He'd be older than my son could be, but…not by much. He was a promising young agent and I saw great potential in him. He came in, all wide-eyed and innocent…. I took him under my wing, wanted to teach him some realism. But instead, he made me feel passionate for my work again. He was—exceptional. His empathy didn't hinder his professionalism in the least. He was the perfect blend of compassionate and practical…. If he tilted a little one way, it was empathy for the victims.

"He disappeared one day on a routine mission. Without a trace. He was hunting some petty art thieves who weren't dangerous… We thought he might've run into a gang or perhaps had a personal issue catch up with him, though we didn't turn up much in the investigation. That was six months ago. The trail ran cold. If he were kidnapped, we got no demands. Some people said he had something shadowy in his past and ran from the law before we could find out, but I don't believe that for a second. Although the more likely possibility I thought of was…infinitely worse. I couldn't help but see him cut up, dumped in an ally somewhere…. If that happened, part of me was relieved we would never find him, never get closure.

"But I underestimated my enemy. They…don't just operate directly in investigations concentrating on them."

"So it's—Yavesh?"

"They're actually boasting. First real contact we've had with them. Knowing them, it'll be pretty meticulous. Hard to find clues. That's why we need all eyes on this. We need to find him—before—" His voice caught. "They've hurt him. It's like Agent Beck, only…worse, in a way. I'd understand if you didn't want to watch it, because of what happened to you. But at least it's not personal. No one you know."

Jason recalled how hard it had been for his father to watch videos of his torture for clues. And he knew Ana—and it had been impossible to watch that video. Still…he didn't know if it mattered if he knew the victim or not. Since he'd gone through something related… it would probably always affect him. He would always identify in a way with the victim.

"If it makes you feel any better," said Markov, "They don't actually show any torture in the video. Just…mention it and…display him like some…trophy." Disgust and grief tore through his words.

"I suppose…I could take a crack at it." Trepidation threaded through him but he at least had to try. For this young man's sake. "What's his name, by the way?"

"Elliot." His voice was hoarse, as if holding back tears. "Elliot Von Warberg."

"What?"

"Yes, he's related to the late Great Leader. Not a bit like him though. His parents were part of the opposition. In diaspora but…the premier was ruthless with any possible family who could usurp him, so I don't blame them for getting out. They came back the day of the revolution. Helped rebuild the country. El was just a kid back then. He's twenty-seven now. He has a fiancée too… she's heartbroken. I…don't think she should see this video. I don't want to give her any news unless it's good news. Although…even if we can get him out…" He took a shaky breath.

"What is it?"

"Just—watch the video. I don't want to dwell on it. But I can't help but see him…the pictures of him, so lost and broken… almost unrecognizable. I'll have to toughen up somehow if I'm to be of any use on this case. I've got to—pull myself together. Mm. Perhaps by tomorrow….."

The line fell silent again. Jason wasn't sure whether to reply. "So… I'll work on the video in the meantime."

"Sorry if it's disturbing but…this is Yavesh. We need all possible weapons to take them down. Get him out. We can't afford to be weak…. Thanks, Jason." He hung up.

Jason took a deep breath and sat down in the desk chair. Dread gripped him. He didn't want to see this… it could trigger some PTSD symptoms.

Perhaps he's right and I can push through it… for Elliot's sake. It's not like it's active torture, anyway, so maybe I can handle it.

A moment later, a message from Markov appeared on his computer screen and Jason clicked on the link, his heart pounding.

A masked man, clad in black from head to foot, stood in front of a cement wall with some cracks in it. A harsh white light spilled over his form. The mask concealed the lower half of his face, disguising his identity. His eyes, though, were fierce, almost fanatical.

"I'm sending this to you, Markov," said the man, "because I want you to back off of the investigation. You'll be so much better off if you just ignore us. We won't bother you, you don't act like the pesky little mosquito you are. You're not in the least hampering our efforts, but we don't even like one sand grain causing friction. Stop this folly, and we won't take down your agents. Continue to investigate us, and—well. I'll let images speak for themselves."

The camera panned the left. A man appeared, tied to a chair. At first, Jason thought he was dead. His head was hanging and his hair fell in front of his face. Long, tangled black hair, rather dull even in the bright light. Then Jason saw he was breathing, rather erratically. The masked man stepped back into view and yanked the captive's hair back. He gasped in pain, his breath trembling. His eyes shot open—startled, anguished eyes. They were blue, almost indigo—beautiful, striking eyes that may have once been brilliant and sparkling with life but now were teeming with shame and horror. His face was beaten, with old and new cuts and bruises crisscrossing it. Beneath them, he had a noble, chiseled bone structure, but now he was gaunt, haunted.

The masked man released him and he sank down again as if he barely had the energy to hold himself up. His tormentor drew a knife; it sang out into the air, glinting in the light. The knife edged closer, pricked his cheek. "Go on. Tell him."

Elliot looked up, his face bewildered. "Please. Just tell me what you want. I—I won't defy you again."

"Your old mentor. Remember? His mission is futile."

Elliot's brow furrowed. "Mentor? What… Oh." He looked toward the camera. "I'm sorry, Kristian. I…let you down. I'm not the agent I thought I was; couldn't even do a routine mission. I didn't see the signs… till it was too late. I deserve this. But—the other agents don't. If you care about them, please—please stop looking into it. Don't find me. I'm not worth it. Not worth any more of your time. Spend it on agents who will actually…follow through." His voice caught; he dropped his eyes. "Don't try to take down Yavesh. It'll crush you—like it's crushed me. I'm weak in the first place—but it's strong enough to crush even you. Don't resist them. That's the only way you'll survive. The only way…you won't see more agents broken. They know how to break you in here. This place is—"

"That's enough," said the torturer. He took a step toward the camera. "You see? Your old protegee agrees with me. He may be weak, but he has the sense to know when he's out of his depth. You're all out of your depth. I know how tenacious you are but… I thought this might give you the message, considering how much he means to you. You'd break down the world for him—but not if it means breaking him apart. You see, the longer you investigate, the more we'll have to focus on your friend here. Who knows, if you stop looking into this, we might let him go. Not that there's much left of him…. But if you don't do as we say… let's just say you'll see more videos soon. And he'll be a little bit more the worse for wear each time.

"Otherwise…We have no need to hurt him. Only if he resists, and he's got very little fight left. This was just… well. A fortuitous circumstance. We could've beaten him up specifically for this video, but he… got a little out of hand just before this and we had to teach him a lesson. I must admit, he is…fun to have around." The man's gloved hand slid over Elliot's jaw. He flinched, his eyes sparking with terror. Elliot tried to move away, which was hard as he was bound to the chair. The torturer slid his hand into Elliot's hair, stroked his temple with his thumb. His eyes lingered on the young man and Jason's heart lurched at what he was implying.

"You have quite an exceptional young man here. Beautiful even wounded. Especially so, perhaps." His hand slid down, grasped Elliot's jaw. He froze, then tried to struggle away. The kidnapper held firm, then let his chin slide out of his hands. Fear and defiance warred in Elliot's eyes. Jason was gratified to see there was still some defiance left. He wasn't totally broken… but it was only a matter of time.

"So you see, none of you are safe. Even your so-called elite agents. Many of you are corruptible. The ones who aren't—well. We'll take all the ones you care about until you're alone at the center of that flimsy spider's web. Then, we'll cut its threads and you'll have nothing. What images do you want? More of this, or… something better? You decide."

The camera zoomed in on Elliot's tormented face. His eyes seemed to meet Jason's, and a cry for help seemed to resonate through space between them.

Then, blackness.

Jason took a deep breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, for what seemed the entire video. At least there hadn't been much onscreen torture, per se…. To have been captured for six months—Jason could hardly imagine it. To go through what he had yet still harbor a spark of defiance— Admiration stirred in Jason's heart. Even though Elliot felt he'd failed, even though he seemed complicit in a way. Jason knew what torture did to you, and that was just after two days. You did what you could to survive. You tried not to give in… but it was hard to resist relentless attacks. Everyone had their breaking point; even if he'd broken to some extent, that didn't mean he had totally given in. It wasn't like the movies where people resisted heroically without breaking, constantly taunting their tormentors. You couldn't be tortured relentlessly for months without it changing you, shattering your psyche to some degree. Elliot couldn't see that just to survive and resist to any extent was heroic—and Jason longed to find him and let him know that.

There had to be a way to get him out of there, although it seemed impossible. It looked like a completely generic concrete wall, for one. The man was totally anonymous. Perhaps there were some small clues…. Jason would have to watch the video again to find them. Maybe Elliot had given some clues, whether inadvertently or on purpose. It had been a marvelous opportunity, after all, if he could get away with it. He might feign complicity while sending a coded message. Although, considering how professional Yavesh was, they would probably catch any messages, unless they somehow wanted a message to go out….

Jason recalled the time he'd decoded the message from Tasha on the video from Red Scorpion. She'd been clever, but Mustafa hadn't exactly been the brightest person in the world. Yavesh, on the other hand, would probably think of Morse code; after all, that's how POWs in Vietnam had communicated to the US their captors were using torture. Perhaps Elliot had used another innovative way…. Or perhaps he'd been too shaken to think of anything. Which was more likely, considering what he'd just gone through.

Jason could at least help by looking at the video. He probably couldn't do anything else…but if he and other freelancers could take up the reins, perhaps that was the loophole Markov needed…. He would be able to agree to Yavesh's demands without resigning Elliot to his fate.

Determined to examine the video later until he found at least some small clue, he headed out to the garden. He had to get out, clear his head. The darkness was oppressive. He felt a twinge of guilt because Elliot didn't have the choice to avoid the darkness he was immersed in. But in order to focus on his work, Jason had to take breaks once in a while. Find the epitome of beauty.

He found her in the center of the garden among the roses near the gazebo. She was leaning over, smelling a rose, her eyes closed in bliss. He stood there watching her for a moment, reveling in her exquisite beauty. Her cinnamon-shaded hair, tousled a little by the breeze, shining in the ray of sunlight breaking through the cloud. Her freckles decorated her nose, enhancing the flawless porcelain of her skin.

He took a step forward and she turned, a little startled until she recognized him then she jogged over to him and embraced him. He wrapped his arms around her and inhaled the fragrance of her hair, the smell of roses after a rain. His fingers lingered in her silken locks. He kissed her temple, longing to do nothing more than stay here, pressed close to her.

"Are you all right, Jason?"

He nodded.

"How did it go? Did you find out anything?"

"Markov called."

"Really? What did he want?"

Jason told her about the video of Elliot as they climbed up into the gazebo and sat down. Growing horror dawned on her face. He hesitated when describing what the captor had implied, but he didn't want to keep anything from her. She'd find out anyway if she watched the video.

"You mean he—"

"I want to ignore it but—I can't see how it could mean anything else. The way he looked at him."

"That's—the worst possible torture. I don't even want to think about it. Is there any way to get him out?"

"Well, we can watch the video for clues. If you're up to it."

"The good thing about doing stuff online is, we can still investigate once we're back home."

"Though I hope we find them all before that."

"There's got to be some shortcut…"

"Well, we're working on Ali… though I'm not sure what the next step is after he found me out. He did give us the tip for Zelise… We actually rescued kids because of him. Maybe he's turned into more of an ally, though I don't want to let my guard down where he's concerned. I'm…not sure what to do next, other than online research… maybe we need to ask Eugene if he can create a linguistics analysis program."

"What's that?"

"It might find language patterns that we miss. Or we could do it manually… I'm not the biggest linguistics expert, I just know a few languages. I'm not sure what clues we could find… maybe there are some words the captor used that are specific to a certain area of Muldavia."

"That might be useful."

"If I knew what words were specific to different parts of Muldavia… it is a small country, I doubt there's a lot of variation… but it's an angle worth checking out."

They headed back inside and inquired after dinner. One of the servants told them that the king and queen were off on business and would be occupied for quite some time. The prince was taking dinner in his room.

"His Majesty has instructed me to let you know you can request anything you desire," said the servant, "and eat either in your room or in the dining room."

Connie glanced at Jason. "Well… the dining room would be nice."

"That sound good," said Jason. He wasn't eager to go back to that room, which had become shadowed with screams.

The servant gave them a list of potential meals and Jason told Connie she could pick what she wanted. She chose the lasagna.

"We just had that the other day," said Jason.

"It was good. Besides, you told me I could choose." She nudged him with her elbow.

"I suppose…"

"Muldavian lasagna is the best, anyway."

"That it is, madame," said the servant, who bowed and strode away with her selection underlined.

They headed to the dining room. Jason pulled out the head chair for Connie and she sat down. Jason bowed. "My queen."

Connie giggled. She looked down at her white shirt, which was a little smudged from the day's adventures. "I hardly look like a queen. I bet my hair's a mess."

"You're gorgeous. Besides, look at this." He tugged out the hem of his green shirt. It was smudged a lot worse than Connie's. He'd gotten dirt on it deliberately, after all, to play his role.

"It does need to be thrown in the wash. Maybe you'd better…take it off."

"I don't think the servants would approve."

"Who cares what anyone else thinks. I want to see you."

"Really?" He lifted his shirt. He didn't want to display his scars, but he'd do it for her.

"No—don't!" said Connie. "I'm just kidding. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Besides—I want you all to myself."

"I could go back and get another shirt—"

"We're guests, so we can do what we want."

"Within reason."

She nodded.

He sat down in the chair to her left. "I could go sit at the other end, like Roderick does." He started to get up.

She grabbed his arm. "No—don't! I want you close. Please."

Her touch sent shivers through him. He sat down again and shuffled his chair closer. She beamed. "That's what I want. We were apart too much today."

"Just for about an hour."

"That's too much."

He squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you got to come with. Last night—being hours away from you—I couldn't stand it. And you weren't in any danger today so… it worked out."

Pain shot through her eyes. "But you—you were in danger. You…almost got shot."

"I'm got through okay."

"But—that's not the point. It was dangerous. They kind of… pushed you into that."

"I'm glad I freed Tatiana though. And—it was successful. Unlike last night. Maybe I'm not as bad an agent as I thought…"

"You're a great agent. But even great agents can get hurt. I wish… I could help—be an agent alongside you so I could protect you."

"Then you'd be in harm's way too."

"Then you'd know how I feel.

"I'm glad I got to help out with those kids, too. It was hard… but—to help them—not like any other feeling. I want to do more of it. Now that I've… seen them. I know I can't be an agent—but I can be on the front lines, comforting them, helping them."

"You're good at it. You looked like you belonged there, among all of them. Your kindness and carefulness— exactly what those kids needed." He brushed her cheek softly with his fingers, sliding a swirly wisp of hair back.

"I want to go back and help them… and I want to help more."

"I hope we get as many away from the traffickers as we can. It's not just about Ben and Luna… all of those kids matter. Just as much."

"I wish there was a way to shut down all the traffickers for good."

"There's supply because there's demand—that's the sickening thing. There will be demand as long as people give in to their perverse desires. All we can do is put out fires… shut them down whenever we can, get kids away… but more will pop up in their place."

"That sounds like Jack's dream."

"I suppose it does. It means that there will always be small fires—and large fires. Doesn't mean it's futile to be a little pool dousing the fire. Fighting the vast evil. It's always right to stand for the light—even if you get a little singed."

"Well, it matters to those kids. Each one we save is precious."

"Evil will always exist—but one more kid trapped in that life is too many. The people who do that—they're irredeemable. I want to take them all out, one by one." He envisioned taking a sniper rifle and shooting them down—a little shocked by the images in his mind, but at the same time, part of him was unapologetic. Those people hardly were human anymore—they'd given themselves over to base lusts and were akin to demons.

"Yavesh is a really big machine that's making all this happen."

"That's true. If we could take them down—not just put out small fires but douse the inferno—then it would eradicate a massive source of torture. Maybe… I don't know. I'm just one person, I don't have the abilities I used to… I'm more limited in what I can really do now. Rescuing one girl is one thing. To take down a whole organization—you need an organization, and the Internal Security Service is equipped to do that. There's only so much I can do even on my best days. But— I still want to do all I can. Imagine if all those kids were free!"

"I wish it could collapse today. At least now we're really working on it…."

"Even so… it might take years. In the meantime… we have to just rescue a few at a time…"

"Like Luna, Ben and—the agent, what was his name?"

"Elliot von Warberg."

"Oh—so he's related to the king?"

Jason nodded. "Goes to show your blood doesn't predetermine who you are. His ancestors were tyrants—now he's fighting evil." Jason's chest tightened. "To be fighting for good like that—but to be cut down, dragged into darkness…. Yavesh was kind of this distant amorphous thing—now I've seen up front what they actually do. No moral limits—I don't know why I'm shocked, they sell children. But—it's different seeing it, I suppose. Seeing one of their members….knowing what he would do himself. If that's what they are at the center—no wonder they spread poison through society.

"Maybe get to their leader. Decapitate the organization. Undercover agents have just been able to get in on the periphery—I can't imagine the effort it would take to get in the inner circle. You'd probably have to show you were one of them, which would preclude any upstanding citizens, who are the people you want for a mission like that…. If we could just find out where the leader lives. They're not invincible. I'd be up for that mission if it meant crushing Yavesh once and for all."

"I wonder what the leader is like…he has to be like demonic, considering what Yavesh is."

"The worst of the worst. The thing is, those people can hide in plain sight—it's why they don't get caught. They don't look evil or act evil to casual observers…like serial killers."

"Maybe it's the man in the video."

"Somehow I doubt it. The leader probably directs people from behind the scenes. Probably does unspeakable things we can't even imagine."

"I don't want to try to imagine… I hope they don't catch anyone else… and I hope we can find Elliot before they kill him. Like they did that other agent."

He rubbed his chin. Felt the day's growth of a beard; he'd forgotten to shave this morning. "I wonder… Markov is a bit out of sorts—understandable but not usual for him. I can't see him giving up…maybe that's not the point of the video. They know he won't give up. They just want him off balance—and know what would trigger it. A nasty bit of psychological warfare. Poor Elliot caught in the middle. Markov's able to remain objective, eminently professional, most of the time, but now—he might make a fatal mistake." Jason tilted his head. "I hope Sierra doesn't do that."

"She's a good agent so… she'll probably be okay."

"She could still go feral and take them down and her along with them. I think in the end she'll see what's best for the kids…for Mai. She won't spare the enemy but she'll be careful. Maybe it's good that it's personal now… as long as she doesn't let her feelings take over completely. That could happen to anyone…."

"Do you think she'll find Mai?"

"If anyone can, she can."

The servants brought in their dinner. They set the table with silver platters and lit the candles in the center. One set a bouquet between the candles.

The candlelight danced in her eyes. He longed to kiss her but…he hadn't shaved, for one. And she had to take the initiative. He didn't know what she wanted or how far she wanted to go; he wasn't going to push her.

Any touch, any look, was always and never enough.

Connie avidly scooped up some lasagna and Jason took some next. She took a bite and her face filled with delight. "Mm, this is really good." She swallowed. "Better even than before. Best lasagna ever."

Jason tried it and it was very good. It made him want to cook for her, to give her something she adored. Though he probably couldn't match it, he'd have to get the recipe, so he could approximate it at home.

The green beans and fruit salad were delicious. There was also a bottle of Muldavian strawberry wine, gleaming a glimmering soft red in the chandelier light. Jason picked it up, looked at the year. It was from decades ago, when his father had probably been here. A thrill raced through him. Perhaps Roderick had realized since they were alone, they would turn it into a romantic evening. Jason's heart warmed at his thoughtfulness.

However—he didn't want to drink any if it made Connie uncomfortable. He set the bottle back down reluctantly.

"Don't you want any?" she asked.

"I don't want to leave you out…"

"I'll try just a little sip."

"Okay."

He poured her some; it streamed out in a scintillating red. "That's enough," she said, holding up her hand.

Jason poured himself some and lifted his glass. "What shall we toast to?"

"To us," she said.

He clinked the glass against hers. A thrill of wonder swept through him—feeling something glorious would happen. Just meeting together by proxy—their glasses touching—was astonishing. His heart throbbed with anticipation—of what he wasn't sure.

They each took a sip of wine. It was lovely—delicate with a rose-like undertone. At the same time, it was rather strong; the alcohol burn came sweeping through as he swallowed.

Connie took a small sip then set her glass down. "Mm, that is good. Tastes like the garden. The flowers in it anyway. And the strawberries."

"It'd be nice to take some of this home. For later so you can have more if you want. I'll pay Roderick for it—though it can't be cheap. Maybe even from the day that his father's plane went down." He took another sip, feeling a bright warmth burgeoning through him. He set the wine bottle down, not wanting to go too far and ruin the evening.

The waiter brought in dessert: raspberry, strawberry, and blackberry tarts with flaky, decadent crust. They were delectable, but they were nothing compared to her enticing mouth. He longed to gather her in his arms, but this wasn't the place.

"Do you have more to work on tonight?" she asked.

Work was the last thing on his mind. He didn't know if he could take any more darkness. Any more twisted acts or brutality. It weighed heavily on his mind, shadowing even the bright beauty of this evening. As much as he wanted to be with her, he dreaded going back to that room. It had become tainted with evil. That was fine for an office—he needed to bear at least some of that to rescue the innocent. But to bring her back into it….

An idea sparked in his mind. This palace was huge. Perhaps Roderick wouldn't begrudge him another room? It seemed there were no other guests at the moment. Perhaps they could use one room for an office and another for a bedroom.

He texted the king, not wanting to take up any more of his time than he had to. Roderick texted back, "Of course! Whatever is mine is yours. You can have our best guest room."

They headed to the room, which was toward the center of the hallway of the guest suite wing. The door to their own room was at the end of the hallway.

Connie grasped his hand. "It's like an adventure."

"Let's see what it's like." The large, ornate mahogany door swung open with a faint creak. Light spilled from the grand windows; a huge bed stood in the center of the room, canopied, misted with a light filmy screen. The bedspread gleamed with golden scenes of medieval knights and swords, like a tapestry. A huge wardrobe sat in the corner, carved with intricate flowers.

"A wardrobe!" said Connie. "Isn't that what it is?"

Jason nodded. "Maybe Narnia is in there."

"That would really be an adventure. We could find an even more secluded place …a mossy glade in the sunshine…."

"We are in a Spare Oom."

Connie laughed. She dashed over to the wardrobe and flung it open, pressed her hands through the clothes in the back.

She came away, looking at her hand as if it was the offending party. "No other worlds back there."

"Well, the way to the other world is tricky, remember? It doesn't always show up."

"Maybe it will tomorrow."

"Maybe."

"Just think—if we could be there and explore… or if it's some other world… what fun we could have."

"Well, we'll have to make do with an adventure here."

"This place is like a fairytale, isn't it." She skipped over to the window and opened the curtains. Roses framed the window, climbing up the outside of the frame. A stream trickled past, glittering with shattered pieces of sunlight, flowers hugging its edges. Beyond that, a grove of birches perched over a moderate drop off, hinting at secret depths below. A hill, fringed with trees, rose up past the valley and a golden path of hills led to distant mountains.

"This is even more beautiful than our own view." Silhouetted against the window, she turned, the indirect light glowing on her face. Her hair shimmered with threads of gold. Her lips mirrored the rose petals. Her eyes were astonishing shards of emerald. They widened as she gazed at him. "Wow. You're so—in that light—the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." She stepped closer, a look of awe on her face, which he was sure was mirrored in his own.

"You should be where I am. I mean—you're perfect."

"No one's perfect, Jason."

He touched near the scar on his cheek. "I'm so flawed, I don't know how you can…"

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. That the scars mean you were hurt—hurts me. But nothing could take away from your beauty. I…don't want you to see yourself as less because of them. They're not flaws as far as I'm concerned. Okay?"

He nodded. "Yours is the only opinion that matters. I… do feel beautiful when you look at me…. But I don't know if I can ever think I deserve it or see myself from your eyes. I'll just have to take your word for it."

"Oh, Jason." She smiled, moving closer.

"Besides, no one comes close to you. You're more beautiful than anything."

"I can't see myself that way either…. Well, sometimes I feel cute but… a lot of times I feel kind of awkward."

"You're never that. You're…." Words failed him. He wished he could paint her, show her how he saw her. "More amazing than I can say." I wish I could kiss you all over, he thought, but refrained from saying.

"Same here. For you, I mean. I see the way girls look at you sometimes and I know how they feel—but you're all mine. Only I get to touch this… statue of a Greek god come to life. Only I get to taste…." She traced his mouth, lingering on his lower lip. Trembling, he kissed her finger. She pressed close to him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her head to his chest. Stunned, he slid his arms around her carefully, held her, astonished at her closeness. Hardly able to handle it. It was like an amazing dream but with the added bonus of being able to feel her…. He slid his hand into her hair, his other hand pressed against the small of her back. Softly, he slid his fingers just at the top of her neck, his other hand tracing small circles over the fabric of her shirt, longing to gain access to the skin beneath.

Her palms slid up and down his back, thrills erupting through him at her touch. Shivers raced up and down his skin, clashing with each other. He kissed the top of her head.

She looked up, love blazing in her eyes. "Jason," she said, sound barely escaping her lips. Then she pressed her palms to his chest and kissed him lightly on the mouth. Drew back a little then crushed her lips to his again, razing a wild kiss across his mouth, leaving him breathless. He struggled to keep up—he'd been caught off guard. Wasn't sure how much she wanted—but he'd follow her lead. As far as she wanted to go.

He marveled at her soft, luscious lips, the way her movements showered delight through him. He swept his lips along hers, devouring each drop of her love. Glorying in her taste, like nothing else in the world. And in her body, so close to his there was negligible space between them… just two thin pieces of fabric… he couldn't help but long for them to disappear so he could be as close to her as possible. But this… this was good. He'd felt so little of her for so long, he'd take anything she offered.

She drew away, a little reluctantly, joy dancing in her eyes. "Jason… I…"

"I love you, Connie. You're so, so amazing. That kiss…" Words failed him again.

"I don't want to stop."

"Me either. But—" he hastened to add, not wanting her to feel pressure in the least, "I suppose we need to figure out new boundaries. For the game." Although he wasn't sure how much further they could go, after that shower ….

"We didn't exactly figure out much… it's just been what we think of at the time."

"That works, too."

"I do want to keep playing…." Her eyes shadowed a little, and he wondered what she was thinking. "The boundaries can be kind of… flexible. Push things as far as we can without…." She bit her lip, a furrow in her brow.

"I have an idea," he said. "I can repay you for the massage this morning."

A smile spread across her face, dispelling the uncertainty. "Okay. That sounds good. I can just lie down. You can turn around and…"

"Okay."

He turned his back to her, thrills racing through him as he did. He couldn't help but imagine what she looked like as he heard rustling fabric behind him. And then a soft creak as she must have been lying down on the bed. He wanted to turn but waited for her to give the all clear.

"Ready," she said.

He turned around to see her lying on her stomach, her white shirt pooled beside her. He sauntered over, preparing to give her something wonderful.

He sat down beside her. She looked up at him in profile from the pillow, her hair fetchingly tousled. He longed to bury his hand in it…

"Ooh, I'm looking forward to this," she said. "Your hands are—amazing."

He touched her back; it felt slightly cool. Her skin impossibly soft. What perfection, nothing marring it… He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy; he'd never have an unmarred back again. Never be totally divorced from the torture that had raked across his body, leaving an indelible mark. Pain was a part of him…

No. Focus on her.

He kneaded his fingers into her back, pressing against her silken flesh. When he reached the center of her spine, she gasped a little, telling him that was where to focus on. "I must not have been sitting right…" she said. She took a deep satisfied breath, letting him know she felt better, and he moved on to her shoulders, pressing out the knots in them. The base of her neck was especially sore, and she gasped in pain. He pulled back, alarmed. "No, don't stop," she said. "Good kind of pain." She laughed, jiggling the bed a little.

He finished by massaging up near the top of her neck. "Mmm…" hummed low in her throat. When he was done, he swept her hair back from her face a little, entranced by the curve of her forehead, her cute nose, her full lips, sculpted cheekbone and chin, all blending together in exquisite harmony.

She stretched a little, still on her stomach; he turned away in case it meant she was flipping over. He was disappointed to hear the rustle of fabric, the soft susurrus of her hair falling back over her shoulders. Oh how he yearned to feel the silken skin beneath his fingers again…

When he looked back, she was sitting up against the pillows. The white shirt caressing her lovely form again…this time, nothing else beneath. He could feel his jaw drop. What was hinted at beneath….took his breath away. The soft, sweet curves, unhindered by anything… oh how he longed to see more of them, touch them, kiss them.

"This is a nice bed," she said, unaware of how she was undoing him. She patted the bed beside her. "Come sit by me."

As he climbed up onto the bed, he could tell she was right. It had just the right springiness while still being firm. And the pillows—as he sat against them, he sank into them. They must be real down. What luxury we're in…

"This really is a fantastic room," she said. "It's like….better than a honeymoon suite." She fingered the translucent lavender canopy, then slid her hand over the luxurious bedspread. "These are so cool." She traced a knight on horseback. "He kind of looks like you." She tilted her head, looking at him. "But then—you are my knight." She laughed. "I mean, I know you'd protect me with your life. I wouldn't want that. But I know it's because you love me. I'd do the same for you, but I…probably couldn't protect you very well."

"I don't know… you're pretty fierce sometimes."

"I'm not going to let anyone I love get hurt if I can help it." She traced another golden scene between them, two figures, a knight and his lady holding hands, facing each other. "I do feel like a princess in a fairytale…. We could pretend you were my knight, I was your lady."

He lifted her hand from the bed, kissed it. "Your wish is my command."

She giggled. "Ooh, I do love you! I can just imagine you in a courtly outfit like this." She poked the knight. "And me in a beautiful dress…. A forbidden love, maybe…. You always the perfect gentleman…. Oh and we could get married in secret and then…" She caught his eyes, hunger burning in them.

He caressed her cheek. "We could rage with passion, all through the night…"

"Discovering each other, you…. oh, so wonderful. I never dreamed love could be so… impossibly amazing." She traced his chest.

"And nothing would ever tear us apart."

"No other knight… though they might try. And you would fight them and…" She pouted. "That's not as fun to think about. You might get hurt, except—you would have armor to protect you. Not…just this fabric." She fingered his shirt near a smudge and the pout turned into a frown. "I doubt any knight would show himself in this state."

He mock-bowed. "I apologize for appearing to my lady in such a fashion. I would go change if it would please you…."

"Well, we are married, so what would please me is if you would just…take it off."

His heart dropped, thudding to the floor of his rib cage. "Really?"

"Oh, yes, I cannot stand the sight of it for it offends me." She laughed.

He slid the shirt up over his head obediently, though his hand shook. She helped him with it. Then bundled it in her arms, buried her face in it. "It was awfully brave of you to go in there armed just with this."

"And my gun, remember."

"Yeah…"

"The shirt did help, I mean, getting it messed up. Part of my costume."

"It's served its purpose." She flung it to the ground, then her eyes flickered up and down his torso. "That's… oh, Jason." She shuffled closer, closing the gap between them, hiding the picture of the knight and his lady. She kissed the center of his chest then spread more kisses downward, sparks bursting across his skin at each touch. She blitzed his stomach with kisses; he hardly realized he'd lain down until he was looking up at her ministering to him in such sweet ways.

He tried to get up again but she pressed his chest with her hand. "No—I've got to repay you for the massage," she said.

"But I was repaying you."

"This is the game. I do something for you, then you do something for me…until…"

"Until what?"

She smiled. "We don't know when it'll end."

He never wanted it to end.

Her kisses became more insistent, not soft and gentle anymore but fiery, passionate. Her movements became more complex, like a dance, and he could barely absorb all of them, but he wasn't complaining. Raining fire down on him. Exquisite torture. He hissed between his teeth at the pleasure shooting through him, holding back a moan low in his throat. "Connie—my love—"

"You like this?"

"Don't stop."

She kept it up, raising the bar even higher—doing things he didn't know a mouth could do. Finally she finished at his lips, swirling a kiss over them, and he finally was able to repay her by kissing her back, and the kiss became frenzied, and he gathered her in his arms and they pressed back against the pillows, fire roiling over his body. Their limbs entangled, bound tightly together as the kiss built to a raging inferno consuming them—

Her lips, heaven. Her body wrapped against his—every nuance of it delighting him even as he desired more—

She spread kisses down his chest again and he couldn't believe such good fortune. But he couldn't just lie there passively without returning the favor…. How could he stand not giving her some sliver of what she'd given him…

He laid her back against the bed and scrolled her shirt up a little, then kissed her stomach. Laughter fountained out of her throat and it sent wonder through him…. Since she didn't object, he slid the shirt up a little higher, her soft skin sending rapture through him. He lingered in the velvet texture of it.

He was just about to slid the shirt up a little more—and he'd stop if she objected to crossing that boundary—when he heard the door creak behind him. He whirled around—only to see James standing there, shock written on his face.