Aggie looked at him, pouring strength into her desire to see, and much to her shock, the barrier between herself and the future wavered, broke. Images flashed, probabilities dancing. She saw Charlie's dark body, and it was wrapped tight around something-someone-but that person he held, who he embraced...

Oh. My. G.o.d .

It was her. Aggie was looking at herself. Her eyes were closed, mouth parted, body writhing like an eel, and-holy s.h.i.t-when she moaned, the sound was electric, pure unadulterated pleasure. Aggie pushed for an alternative future, variations, but almost everything she saw was the same. The probabilities were high.

She closed her eyes, whirling away from Charlie to stare at the wall. Her heart pounded so loud, she barely heard him when he said, "Maybe you should get dressed."

"Right," she said, and then, louder: "I'm not sleeping with you."

"I didn't ask you to."

"Well, I won't."

"Glad to hear it. Now please, get some clothes on."

"I just want us to be clear."

"Fine," he spat. "I get it. Besides, it's not like I have any usable appendages anyway." He stopped. "Pretend you didn't hear that."

"My hand to G.o.d," Aggie said. "I'll never tell a soul that you're impotent."

A strangled sound choked up through his body. Aggie smiled. "Still glad you picked me?"

"I-" Charlie began, then touched his chest. He had no features, so it was impossible to read his expression, but Aggie knew instantly something was wrong. The way he moved was different. Jerky.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I have to go," he said, and his voice was tight, strained. "Emma's in Washington state, in a town called Darrington. Don't wait for me. I'll find you."

"Charlie," Aggie said, but he never said another word. His body split into fragments, like shattered gla.s.s, and she pushed her arms into those remains of his shadow and felt a brief comforting warmth before everything that was left of him snapped upward and disappeared.

Gone. She was alone.

Aggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Counted to five.

She walked to the nightstand and picked up her gun. She brought the weapon to her desk and set it down on Emma's picture, covering her naked body with the stock and muzzle.

"Okay," she whispered to the girl. "Hold on."

She was going to get a little bit crazy.

Chapter Four.

Aggie caught an early morning flight to Seattle-so early, none of the airport coffee shops were yet open when she boarded the plane. Bad, evil, the work of the devil. She felt very cranky. Thank goodness for first-cla.s.s seating, purchased in its entirety with her agency credit card. Roland could yak at her later. Which he most undoubtedly would, especially after he read his e-mail, which contained a very short and inexcusably cryptic note: I had a vision. I'll try not to get shot.

Yeah, he was going to love that.

Aggie had Emma's photo in her wallet. Just a head shot. She did not want to get arrested for carrying child p.o.r.n. She also had her guns, but those were disa.s.sembled and stored in her checked luggage. As were her knives, handcuffs, and other sundry items necessary to being an effective wayward detective.

Her cell phone rang just as she took her seat on the plane. s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t. She had forgotten to turn it off. She glanced at the screen and Roland's name blinked at her.

" Yo," she answered, dreading the man on the other end.

"Jesus Christ," Roland said. "You're on a plane."

"Your powers of observation are only improving with age."

"I want you off, Aggie. Right now."

"Is it going to crash?"

"You tell me."

Aggie glanced at the flight attendant, who continued to smile like a plastic doll throughout all the variations of her immediate future. "That would be a resounding no. Which also means there's no good reason for me to lose my nice warm seat."

Roland swore. Aggie said, "This is important. Another kid's life is at stake."

"That's what tip-offs and local authorities are for, sweetheart. We only get involved when all other avenues have been exhausted."

"And that's this one," Aggie told him. "I'm not being frivolous, Roland, and I haven't become some righteous martyr. The circ.u.mstances of this case are... unique."

"And you had to be the one to take it?"

"Yes." I had no choice, she wanted to tell him, but that would be a lie. She could have said no to Charlie, turned her back. Only, he had chosen too well. Aggie was not a quitter, not when someone needed her. Push, and push hard, no matter what.

Roland said nothing. She heard cracking sounds and knew it was pencils snapping in half. He kept boxes of them around, just for that purpose.

"Okay," he finally said. "Tell me where you're going and I'll send Quinn after you."

"No," Aggie said. "Not Quinn."

"Got no choice. Most of the guys are overseas, and the newbie shifters are too green for this s.h.i.t. Eddie's in the f.u.c.king hospital for his appendix. We're stretched thin enough as it is, and the New York office has their hands full."

"No," Aggie said again, insistent. "Quinn needs to rest. You were right, what you said yesterday. It's been too much, and he's felt it even worse than me. Leave him alone, Roland."

"I think you've forgotten just who the boss in this outfit is, Aggie."

"I haven't forgotten," she replied, quiet. "But you're a friend before a boss, and that just can't be helped. You raised us that way."

"My mistake," he muttered. "I'm a lousy sap."

"Just a teddy bear. A big overstuffed one."

"Whatever." He sighed, long and mighty. "Fine, have it your way. Do your thing. Go Solo like Han. If you don't get killed, I'm firing you."

"Thank you."

"Don't. And wipe that f.u.c.king smile off your face."

Aggie heard a phone ring in the background; Roland answered it and said a few m.u.f.fled words. She heard a loud slam, a crash, and then, "Aw, h.e.l.l."

"Trouble?"

"Dean. He's tearing a hole through Taiwan. You may have to wait in line while I kill him first."

"Be gentle," Aggie said. "He screams like a girl."

"He will be a girl when I'm done with him."

Aggie began to mouth off a pithy reply, but the flight attendant tapped the arm of her seat and said, "Time to turn that off, dear."

"I got that," Roland said, as the woman moved up the aisle. "She's hot. What's her future?"

"She's all smiles," Aggie said, and then hesitated. "There's a thirty percent chance she'll stick her heel in a grid as she disembarks the plane. She'll break it off and hit the ground with a twisted ankle and a hitched up skirt."

"Bad, but s.e.xy."

"Uh-huh. Everyone will see her p.e.n.i.s."

"Right," Roland said. "Take care."

He hung up the phone.

Almost an hour into the flight, Aggie felt something warm touch her hand. Someone whispered in her ear, "We need to talk."

No one sat in the seat beside Aggie, but she did not want anyone to see her talking to the air about child molesters. She got up and went into the bathroom. Maybe the drone of the engines would be enough to drown her out her voice if she whispered.

Charlie materialized the moment she locked the lavatory doors. It was a small s.p.a.ce; he towered over her and she pressed back against the door and counter, banging her head on the paper towel dispenser. Under normal lights he looked different; his body still solid, but the surface textured, almost as though he was made up of an infinite amount of vibrating particles. She wanted to touch him.

"Go ahead," he said. "It's not like we're going to jump each other if you do."

"You just had to bring that up."

Charlie shrugged, and his body moved just like any other, except for his size and grace. He was the perfect rendition of a human. Aggie could not help but think it was all a lie. It also bothered her that he didn't have a face. It made listening to him a strange experience.

"Think Spider-man," Charlie said. "You don't see his mouth move."

"A telepathic apparition who reads comic books," Aggie replied. "Nice. That must be where you get your hero complex."

"Right back at you, sweetheart. Or isn't that Wonder Woman underwear you've got on?"

"f.u.c.k you." Aggie patted her hips, frowning. "I thought you couldn't see through clothing."

"I can't." He sounded smug. "I read your mind."

Aggie narrowed her eyes. "I never did like Spider-man, you know. The mask always p.i.s.sed me off. That, and his stupid sense of humor."

"So cranky," he said. "That line in your forehead is going to become permanent if you're not careful."

Aggie sucked in her breath; Charlie raised a shadowy hand before she could launch a rant. "Sorry. Really. But I look this way for a reason, and believe me, it's better that I do."

"Really? You must be the vainest person I know."

"I'm a person now? How nice."

"Don't distract me. I want to know what you are. Underneath."

Charlie paused. "Does it really matter?"

No, she thought, but said, "I don't know you yet."

"Then maybe this is better," he replied, and there was no amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice. "You might not like the way I look for real. It might scare you."

"Tell me," she said. "Show me."

He shook his head. "It would only be a distraction. And besides, we've got bigger problems than my appearance. For starters, this toilet is filthy."

Aggie gave up. "Just why are you here?"

"Because Emma is asleep," he said, with a matter-of-fact honesty that took her off-guard. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," Aggie said.

"You don't look fine." Charlie's hand traced a line across her forehead. Gently, he said, "You're tired. You didn't sleep at all last night."

"I had no time." Aggie tried to ignore the warmth of his hand, the warmth of his spirit, bathing her like some dark sun. Visions split her mind; she saw herself held tight within shadowy arms, head thrown back...

Aggie leaned away, heart thudding in her throat. She tried to speak, but her voice would not work. Charlie said, "You want to know why you keep seeing that."

"Yes," she breathed.

"I don't have an answer," he whispered.

"Are you sure?" She could not believe those words came from her mouth.

Charlie went very still. Aggie did not wait for his response. The unheard possibilities scared her. She said, "What happened last night? Why did you leave so quickly?"