I couldn't turn my neck, but managed with a few shoves and kicks to get my body oriented so that I could scope out the area. No one. My hijack victim had disappeared, though if I was any judge of human nature, I had a feeling she'd be back, and with the police.

I needed to get out of there, and with the last bit of strength in my legs, I scooted across the lot, ripping my oh-so-fashionable assassin costume as I aimed myself toward the edge of the lot.

This was where that extra oomph of strength really came in handy, because there was no way I could have managed this in my old life. At the same time, in my old life, there was no way I would have found myself paralyzed in a vacant lot after carjacking an innocent woman.

The lot ended at a grassy easement that sloped down to a second street. I rolled down the hill, pleased to find a smattering of tractors and bulldozers, all shut down for the night. I settled underneath a tractor, not because it seemed like an amazing hiding spot, but because my legs had finally given out.

I closed my eyes and prayed, hoping that God was keeping an eye on his nascent warrior . . . and hoping that the police would assume that a carjacker would leave the scene and not be stupid enough to camp under the nearby construction equipment.

Moments passed without a sound except for the gentle whiz of passing traffic. I closed my eyes.

Whether I died or merely slept, I didn't know. Certainly with the paralytic, my heart could have stopped. And with Zane's essence, it would have started up again.

Or, maybe I simply passed out.

I didn't know. Which, frankly, was a little freaky.

Not that I intended to dwell on the freaky. Instead, I needed to get the hell out of there.

I rolled out from under the tractor, my muscles stiff but once again fully functional. I saw no one nearby and breathed a sigh of relief. If the cops had come, they were gone now. And whoever my attacker had been, he hadn't found me.

My shoulder still ached, but a quick glance showed that the wound had healed. My clothing was ripped to shreds. I wanted a shower, but even more than that, I wanted answers.

And I knew of only one place to go to start asking questions.

THIRTY.

It was past midnight by the time I reached Zane's door. I used my palm to gain entrance, then took the elevator down to the training center floor, my eyes searching for Zane even before the cage-style elevator came to a stop.

Empty.

But I knew he was there. He had to be there.

I scanned the room, finally noticing a small, unmarked door on the far side, beside a metal shelf that held white, fluffy towels. I marched to it and pushed the door open, then slid silently inside.

I was in a spare room, and Zane was there, on a metal cot, his body covered by a thin blue blanket.

I moved forward with stealth, then sat on the edge of his bed, my hand pressed flat on his naked chest, right over his heart.

His eyes flashed open, the warrior in them fading to relief when he saw me. "We've been concerned. The portal closed, but you hadn't come through. Then hours passed and you didn't check in."

"How do you stand it?" I whispered. "How do you stand knowing that you can't die but that you could suffer endlessly? That you could be hacked into bits and left for dead? But you wouldn't be. Or buried in a cement vault for hundreds or thousands of years? How do you live with that?"

I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, then the gentle press of his hand over mine.

"I live with it, ma fleur, because I have no choice." He sat up, revealing the rest of his bare chest and firm abdomen. The sheet fell around his hips, and I had a feeling that the rest of him was bare, too. "What has happened tonight, cherie?" he asked, his voice infinitely gentle.

I pointed to where the knife had sliced through my now-battered skinsuit. "I was attacked. After the assignment. Poison on the knife. Something. I'm not really sure."

At the word poison, he'd tensed, leaning forward to look at the now-healed wound. "Tell me," he said. "Tell exactly what happened."

I told, and watched as his eyes went hard and flat.

"They did not know the truth about you, cherie," he said. "But the greater truth-who you are and why you are here-that, they must know."

"That's what I figure, too. End me, and evil takes a holiday." I glanced sideways at him. "Then again, maybe they did know that I've sucked in your essence. Maybe they paralyzed me so that they could chop me into little immortal pieces." I shivered at the thought. That really creeped me out. "But I got away."

"Possible," he said, looking thoughtful. "Though it would not, I think, have been that difficult to locate you. It is after midnight now, and you left here before dark. Plenty of time to locate an unconscious warrior."

"Which is why I didn't come here to slice off your head," I said, giving voice to a suspicion that had been gnawing at me. His brows lifted, but I pressed on. "You would have known what to do. How to stop me for good. You would have found me, and you would have done that. But here I am. Which means you didn't sell me out."

His eyes narrowed. "Although I am pleased to be off your suspect list, I had no knowledge of where you were. The portal reveals its destination only to you."

I frowned. I hadn't realized they wouldn't know where I was.

"Beyond that," he continued, "I would like to know why you would think of me as a traitor for even a moment."

I tilted my head, but never took my eyes off his. "You're a demon. An incubus."

The hard edge to his eyes glimmered with amusement. "Am I?"

I swallowed, certain I was right, but at the same time knowing it was one hell of an accusation, especially considering whom we both worked for. But it made sense. His immortality. His intense sensuality. The way he was able to melt me with only a look.

And the way the heady power of that sensual fire now burned within me.

He was an incubus. He had to be.

He rose, the sheet dropping away to reveal his perfect, naked body. I stood firm, my knife held out, forcing myself to keep calm as he drew near. He might not have been the one who attacked me, but I couldn't fully trust him. Not knowing the truth about him.

He moved toward me, stopping his advance when his flesh touched my blade, a single drop of blood beading on that perfect caramel skin. "And what do you intend to do with that knife?"

"Isn't this what I'm supposed to do? Kill demons? Don't I at least have to try? Even against the immortal ones?"

He turned, ignoring my knife as he pulled on a pair of thin gray sweats. "You assume that is what I am," he said, moving back toward me with slow purpose. "That this sensual buzzing and humming between us comes from a dank, dark place." He'd pitched his voice low, and the thrum of my body deepened, all of my senses coming to life as he spoke.

I forced myself not to touch him, though I desperately wanted to. "Turn it off," I demanded, even though I knew that part of it now came from me. Our two natures-hot and quick and designed for pleasure-seeking each other out. Craving release.

I swallowed, my mouth gone suddenly dry. "Turn it off now."

He ignored me, coming closer still. "So quick to condemn what you do not even understand. Tell me, Lily, what is it you think an incubus is?"

"I already told you," I said. "A demon. One who draws strength and power through sex and drains the victim in the process." I glanced across the room to the cabinet that held the books I studied during breaks in physical training. "I've been doing my reading, remember?"

"You forgot the best part," he stated calmly, circling me as he spoke, his body mere inches from mine, his proximity working like static electricity and making my skin tingle. "An incubus makes love like no other. The pleasure he brings his partner is unrivaled, and his skills as a lover are unmatched."

"Back off," I demanded, my skin heating and my senses tingling.

"Ah, cherie. Sexuality is not about being ungodly. It depends entirely on how it is used. Pleasure?" he asked, running his fingertip lightly from my chin down my neck, and then brushing over my breasts ever so lightly. To my abject horror, I felt my nipples tighten and knew without a doubt that my panties were wet.

"Or control," he said, and before I could react, he'd cupped my ass and pulled me close, his rock-hard erection pressed against my Lycra-covered thigh. "There is a difference, no?" He released me and stepped back. I stood there, gasping for breath, the heat of this man starting a fire inside me.

"Sit," he said, nodding at the bed.

"I prefer to stand."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He moved and sat, and I had to wonder if I'd made a mistake. He was half naked and on a bed, and I was in a libidinal fog. Possibly not the best move on my part.

"You are right, of course. I am an incubus-or what human culture would call an incubus. But that does not make me evil, Lily. It does not make me a traitor. And it certainly does not mean that I am a demon."

"But I thought-"

"You thought that the bedtime stories were true. They are not." He reached for me, and without thinking I moved to sit beside him. "There is nothing inherently bad about those of us with sensual allure. It is only those who would control-who would use that allure for power and persuasion-who kneel at the altar of evil."

"And you?" I whispered.

His hand stroked my cheek. "Sexuality can also be a form of worship, ma chere. The connection, both physical and spiritual."

He sat back and drew in a deep breath. "Do not condemn me, Lily. I am not evil. Far from it. I am, in fact, much like you. Caught in the middle. We are alike, you and I, in more ways than the essence we share."

I pressed my lips together, feeling lost and foolish. As if I didn't know where good ended and evil began. Something that should be the simplest question in the world, and now it seemed unduly complicated.

"Poor Lily," Zane said, looking at me with gentle eyes. "The world is not like the stories of your youth, n'est-ce pas?"

"No, it's not."

"At least for you, it is simple. You hunt demons. Do not make it more complicated than it must be."

"But I'd always thought that an incubus was a demon-"

"Forget what you know," he said sharply. "You must let go of the old ways of thinking."

"I know! I understand. But-" I cut myself off, trying to form the thought that filled my head, demanding and yet amorphous. "Can a demon be good? You say kill them all. But are they all evil?"

The amorphous cloud in my head took form, and I concentrated on the floor, afraid Zane would see the reflection of my thoughts on my face: Deacon.

"A most interesting question," he said, his voice low and scholarly. If he had any clue as to the motivation behind my question, he kept it to himself. "Like all things, there is a hierarchy in the heavens, and the demons who thrived when the universe was a formless void drew back into the dark when God breathed light upon this world. The darkness shrank, shut out by the light. And the dark-dwellers-the demons-did not seek this new dimension. Not at first. Not until something new and wonderful appeared and walked there."

"Humankind," I said. "Evil came into the world along with humankind."

"For whatever reason, humans are uniquely subject to the temptations of the dark, without in fact being dark by nature. And those that dwell in the dark are uniquely tempted by humanity. And so evil crossed over. The first evil. The serpent of mythology. And once the crossing was made, the path was forged."

"Is this real or mythology?"

"If you are living it, it must be real."

I couldn't get my head around the idea of a cognizant darkness or a powerful snake that was the embodiment of evil, but I tried to go with it, because underneath the parable was the story of what I was fighting. "Go on."

"Once evil began to tempt humankind, it realized that evil could also exist within humans. Could merge. Could possess and influence. And with every human who took the dark inside, the dimension of evil grew larger."

"As evil spreads in the world, hell expands."

"Exactly."

"So that Goth girl. The Tri-Jal. She really was human. Just a really, really, really dark human?"

He shook his head. "The flesh became so key to the dark-dwellers that some species of demon learned to create a shell. But it is only packaging used to cross to this dimension, because a demon's true form does not blend in here, as you have seen." I nodded, thinking of the Grykon. "Evil is best able to get a grip when it is subtle. When it looks and feels like that we know best."

"So it looked like a girl, but there was no humanity inside. Not like that human who was possessed. There was still humanity in him. Just trapped inside with the demon."

"Trapped," Zane said, "and subjugated."

I stood up and wandered over toward the cabinet with the books as I considered everything he'd said. "If humans can suck in the dark, can demons suck in the light?"

He smiled. "Ah, ma cherie, that is the question. If a single man can expand the dimensions of hell by aligning himself with evil, can God himself not be enriched by a child of the darkness turning to face the light?"

"Can he?"

"All in nature can be good. And all can be evil. Free will, cherie. But each of us, human and demon, has a true nature. And very few among us are brave enough to fight it."

I took that as a qualified yes, then licked my lips, wondering what my nature was. Wondering more if it had changed when I became Alice, and if it was changing still as I absorbed the demons day after day.

"Do not question your nature, cherie," he said kindly. "Your heart is good."

"And you? What's your nature?"

His smile was tight. "I fight on the side of righteousness. That much, I will swear to you. Though I do pay daily for my hubris."

"Hubris?"

"In my youth, I wanted to live forever, a trait that is awarded only to the true angels and incorporeal demons. I acted rashly, trying to manifest a desire I did not truly understand and would not have wanted fulfilled had I considered the ramifications. I was punished for my foolishness." He closed his eyes, sighed deeply. "And now you share my torment."

"But that means you got what you wanted." I said, my voice a whisper. "Immortality."

"It would seem so," he said. His smile when he looked up at me was wan. "There are times when I believe that hell is the place where all your dreams come true."

"I don't understand."

"Do you know why I am down here, Lily? Down in this prison of concrete and metal?" he asked, and I realized that his voice was no longer accented. "Do you have any idea how old I am? How many lives I've had? How many places I've lived, wives I've had, years I've seen pass by as minutes?"

"I don't."

A sad smile touched his lips. "Neither do I," he said. "But it has been far too many."