Tom punched the elevator b.u.t.ton. He couldn't look her in the eye, much less answer her. He was so sorry. He felt a desperate need to apologize to everyone who loved Gaia: to Mrs. Moss, to George, to Sam Moon-and of course, and most especially, to Gaia's mother.

It's happening, Katia. I've lost you and now I've lost her- Tom cut himself off midthought. The elevator doors slid open and he stepped inside. He could feel Mrs. Moss's worried eyes on him. He ignored her. He forced all the dread and self-pity from his mind, and refocused.

The moment the doors shut, his cell phone rang.

He pulled it from his inside jacket pocket. "Yes?"

"We've got a lock on the Chelsea address," George breathed.

"Stake the place out now, because I think he's got her. I think he's got her already, George."

There was a split second of silence. "I'm on my way," George said gravely."Be strong, Tom. We've got to be-"

"I don't have a choice," Tom interrupted. "I'm going to her school to see what else I can get. He's probably been there already, too. Keep me posted."

"I will," George answered. He sounded as hopeless as Tom felt. "You, too."

garbage

She welcomed the sensation. It was like a taste of something sweet and long forgotten.

Illegitimate Love Child GAIA HAD NEVER REALIZED IT before, but daytime television seemed to be deliberately programmed for people who had an intensely high threshold for boredom.

Either that or serious developmental problems. These morning variety shows-all of them claimed to be "news magazines." But they all had names like "Nice Day" or "Fresh Start" or something equally unimaginative, and they all seemed to revolve around interviewing C-list celebrities or random people on the street. Finally, after she saw an interview with a dog that supposedly created works of art, she'd had enough. She jabbed the "off" b.u.t.ton on the remote control and hurled it to the couch.

Now what?

Instinctively she stepped to the window of Ed's den, peeking through the blinds for any signs of surveillance. Nothing out of the ordinary: no loiterers or new cars. Chances were that they still had no clue where she was. She marched to the kitchen and ripped open the fridge-and then she remembered that she had already done this five times in the past hour. Still the exact same gallon of milk, container of leftover beef with broccoli, pack of American cheese slices, and a jar of olives. She slammed the door shut.

She should leave.

But no. She'd made a promise. She smacked the refrigerator door in frustration. She hated promises. n.o.body ever kept the promises they made to her, so why should she be expected to be some kind of saint? She shook her head and stormed out of the kitchen to the front door.

And then she froze.

Once again, all she saw at the front door was a replay of the kiss. Then again. And again. Like some kind of broken DVD player. Where had it come from? And why had it been so G.o.dd.a.m.n-yes, it had been like this explosion, like every single stupid cliche she'd ever heard-but she refused indulge these memories anymore. Her mind had been playing a cruel trick on her. That was the only possible explanation. She'd desperately needed a human connection at that point, and Ed had provided it. She'd mistaken that connection for pa.s.sion. She'd been weak. It wouldn't happen again.

She turned away from the door and stomped back to the couch. She flipped on the TV, then flipped it off, and then threw the remote to the side. She was acting like that polar bear with the obsessive-compulsive disorder at the Central Park Zoo. Her behavior and thought processes were exactly the same every time she got up. She'd go to the kitchen; she'd walk by the door; she'd think of the kiss; she'd think of Sam.

And then she'd feel overwhelmingly guilty.

It wasn't just that she felt guilty about just about everything pertaining to Sam-about the way she'd treated him all these months, about her inability to see what was actually happening to him, to see what Loki was doing to him. It was guilt over the way her feelings had changed for him. He'd distanced himself from her to protect her. And she, in turn, had drifted apart from him. The demise of their relationship hadn't been his fault. But the truth remained: she wasn't in love with Sam anymore. In some inexplicable way, though, she cared even more about him now, even if Ed had- Stop it, she commanded herself.

And then she was pacing again. To the window and back. Next stop, the fridge.

She finally forced herself to stop at the doorway of the kitchen. This was ridiculous. Yes, she'd told Ed she would stay, but that made no sense. She was thinking objectively here. It was a bad judgment call. When the s.h.i.t hit the fan, who stood a better chance against Loki and the creeps who worked for him? Ed Fargo on crutches with no martial arts training and a fully functional fear gene? Or Gaia?

Ed wouldn't even be back until twelve. This was a wasted opportunity. So. She wouldn't break her promise to him. Not technically. But she had something to take care of before noon. She would find Sam and apologize to him. And thank him. For everything. And once she had some "closure," (it was a term she'd learned this very morning from some freakish woman who owned twenty-eight cats), she'd be ready to run. All she needed was a quick disguise.

She didn't allow herself to think. She simply ran back to Ed's bedroom and snagged Victoria's furry orange coat. Then she dashed to the front hall closet. Her eyes roved over the shadowy garments, settling on a wide-brimmed sun hat and some oversized sungla.s.ses from a stack on the side shelf. Perfect. She slipped everything on in seconds and took a peek at herself in the mirror.

It was even better than she'd expected. She looked like the illegitimate love child of Audrey Hepburn and a pimp from a rap video.

n.o.body would recognize her out there. All of Loki's men would be searching for a girl in cargo pants, an army jacket, and a tank top. And Sam's dorm wasn't far. Just one quick trip. To set things straight. To make sure he would be all right. No, to make sure he got the h.e.l.l out of town, too. And she'd be back with time to spare.

"ED, WAIT UP!".

Big Bad Wolf Heather.

Ed's queasiness turned to full-fledged nausea. He hadn't realized it until now, but she hadn't crossed his mind once in the past twenty-four hours. Which was a very good thing, of course. He picked up his pace. Her voice had come from directly behind him, reverberating through the crowded first-floor hallway. He had to put as much distance between himself and that voice as possible. It was nothing personal. It was simply a crisis situation. He started booking toward the stairwell. Unfortunately, "booking" didn't mean a whole lot on crutches.

"Ed!" she cried. "Will you wait a second? Please?"

Now was one of those strange times when he actually longed for his wheelchair. He'd always been able to make quick escapes. But no matter how quickly he hobbled, he was no match for anybody with remotely functioning limbs. Heather had dashed forward and planted herself in front of him before he could even draw another breath.

"I know you don't want to talk to me," she snapped. "But I just wanted to say something to you, okay?"

She was still beautiful; there was no doubt about that. She always would be. That long brown hair. The hazel eyes. It was an unbeatable combination. So why was she so hung up on him? He was scruffy and sloppy and, well... disabled. But Heather always wanted what she couldn't have. It was the defining feature of her personality. Too bad it had taken him almost three years to figure that out.

"What?" Ed mumbled. He stared past Heather's face and gazed longingly at the stairwell. He had no desire to be vindictive towards her. But his thoughts were very far from the Village School right now. Another one of Heather's well-worded sermons on why they should get back together was not high on his list of priorities. The damage was done. She'd spoken her piece. He'd moved on.

"You tell me what?" Heather murmured, lowering her eyes.

"Listen, I'm a little late for MacGregor's-"

"No kidding," Heather interrupted. She flashed an increasingly rare smirk. "We've been in the same cla.s.s for the entire year..."

Nice one."Right." Ed choked out a fake laugh. "Do you want to walk and talk?"

Heather nodded eagerly. Ed's spirits sank even further. At this point, any kind or inviting word brought an excessively large smile to Heather's face. Maybe his choice of words had been too nice. In truth, he could barely maintain a conversation for more than ten seconds at a time. Everything in his life had pretty much turned to garbage: school, Heather, even the endless struggle to walk without the crutches. They were all just flat scenes from some forgettable black-and-white movie-the movie of his life before Gaia truly needed him.

"Ed Fargo walking and talking," Heather said with a grin. She must have used this line a million times in the past week. "I know you've been on your feet for a while, but it's still so amazingly-"

"You said it," Ed interrupted, practically diving for the stairs. Once again, fleeting pity was turning to anger. She'd had her chance to share in the elation of his recovery. And she'd done more than just blow it. She'd stomped on it, ripped it to shreds, and then drop-kicked it into the toilet.

"Ed," she groaned. "I'll be quick, okay?" She took an extra-large step in order to stand in Ed's way.

"Heather, come on," he pleaded. His throat was dry. "I don't want to talk about us anymore, okay? I have so many things I need to deal with right now-"

"This isn't about us," she interrupted quickly. "This is about me."

Ed's jaw dropped. He almost felt like slapping her. And it frightened him, because he wasn't a particularly violent guy. But after all the selfish lies she'd told him, after all the selfish lies she'd asked him to tell... how could she possibly, in good conscience, utter the phrase this is about me?

"What?" she said.

"You know, Heather, I don't really need to talk about you," he stated, his voice shaking in effort to maintain control. "I think you've got you pretty well covered. There are people out there with real problems right now. Life-and-death-type problems. And-"

"But that's what I'm trying to tell you," she interrupted. "This has been a ma.s.sive wake-up call for me." Every word out of her mouth seemed to come faster and faster; he could barely follow. "I realize what a completely narcissistic, self-involved, selfish b.i.t.c.h I've been for... I don't know, I guess forever, and I know you can never really forgive me, you know..." Her eyes reddened. "For that stupid, selfish dare that almost got you killed. But just hear me out. You woke me up, Ed. And I'm turning over a new leaf. I want to be selfless from now on. Totally altruistic. No more of my self-obsession bulls.h.i.t. Are you listening to me?"

Ed had been doing his best to listen. He truly had. But about halfway through Heather's little monologue, he saw somebody-and Heather disappeared from his consciousness. A tall man in a black suit (a suit that looked like it cost as much as Blane's trust fund) had emerged from the school office at the opposite end of the hall. He was slowly surveying the pa.s.sing crowd. Gaia's uncle, Ed thought in a panic. The man had those annoying, George-Clooney-style, aging-movie-star looks, but his eyes were dead, like a robot's. Ed knew he'd try to find her here- "What is the matter with you?" Heather demanded.

"Shhh" Ed placed his fingers to his lips and gently nudged Heather toward the corner behind the trophy cases. The man was beginning to turn in their direction. But somehow, Ed couldn't move. His gaze was frozen on this... this vision. Death dressed in haute couture. Theurban-chic version of the Big Bad Wolf. And even though Ed was unquestionably terrified, he still somehow felt disconnected from the reality of the situation. Maybe the stakes were just too high.

"What are you looking at?" Heather demanded, glancing over her shoulder.

"I..." Ed swallowed.

But just as terror gripped him completely, the man gave up. He turned and stalked down the hall, disappearing out the front doors-a vampire melting in a glaring shaft of sunlight.

"Ed?" Heather snapped. "Ed, are you playing some 'ignore me' game, because that is the most immature-"

"We're walking and talking," Ed interrupted in a whisper. He made a beeline for the stairs, taking each step as quickly as he could. "I'm not ignoring you. We're late, that's all." He tried to smile over his shoulder. "MacGregor isn't my biggest fan."

Heather caught up to him in less than two seconds. "What's the matter with you?" she asked, peering at him closely. "Since when have you cared about MacGregor? Okay, look." She sighed. "I know you don't want to hear anything I have to say right now. You're making that abundantly clear. But I just want you to know I'm serious, Ed. About my new leaf. I want to try to be there for other people, instead of-"

Ed stopped so short that Heather nearly tripped over one of his crutches. His body simply shut down. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. And he didn't believe in magic powers or warlocks or any of that supernatural BS, but when he'd reached the second floor landing...

There the man was. Standing right smack in the middle of the hallway, having a conversation with Mr. MacGregor. The same man in the black suit. No doubt about it.

Ed staggered backward. Only Heather prevented him from falling down the stairs.

I saw him leave the building, Ed told himself. Panic took hold once more. I saw him leave the building five freaking seconds ago. He needed to reason this out. And quickly. A human being could not be in two places at once. He knew that Gaia's father and uncle were twins, but n.o.body could be this identical. n.o.body could be a complete carbon copy of somebody else-down to the same G.o.dd.a.m.n suit.

"Ed, please tell me what's going on," Heather groaned.

Ed never got a chance to answer. Because at that moment, his nightmare came true. The man turned to him, his eyes widening in recognition. He glanced back at MacGregor, who nodded.

No, no, no- "Ed?" the man called out. "Ed Fargo?"

Ed bowed his head. There was no point in trying to run, not that he could have gotten very far, anyway. No, right now there was no nothing to do but accept his inevitable fate-which was that he was a marked man. He had failed. Worst of all, he had probably already cost Gaia her life.

GAIA STOOD IN SAM'S DOORWAY, breathing heavily. Until this instant, she'd been debating what to say to him first. She had no idea what he would want to hear. She'd only promised herself she'd keep it quick. That was always best. She didn't want to cry, or to argue-or worse, tell him what had happened with Ed last night. Mostly she didn't want the guilt to overwhelm her to the point where she went numb.

c.o.c.ky Mr.- Nice-Guy ftct Unfortunately, numbness now seemed like the best possible option. Sam's room had been an absolute pigsty before-but it had never approached this level of foulness. She took a step back, nearly gagging. Her nose wrinkled at the fetid stench of stale sweat and rotten food. It literally looked as if every kind of natural disaster had hit the room at once: hurricanes, tidal waves, tsunamis, whatever. Drawers had been pulled out of the dresser and left flipped over on the floor. Torn papers and coffee cups littered the desk. His computer was covered in dust. Every piece of clothing Sam owned lay strewn in filthy piles across the bed.

"Holy s.h.i.t," she heard herself whisper.

The security guard had mentioned that he hadn't seen Sam in a while. Now Gaia was beginning to wonder just how long that "while" was. A few days? Weeks? She shook her head. In a sick way, it reminded her of the Mercer Street apartment that she had left behind-the place that was supposed to be a home for her and her father. Once he'd abandoned her again, Gaia had allowed that vast loft to turn into an indoor landfill-an unsanitary heap of junk food and clothes and dirty dishes. It was an unconscious work of art in progress, a raw expression of solitude and anger. It was the home of someone very, very alone.

Just like this room.

Sadness threatened to overpower her, but Gaia fought it back. She was on a simple, clear-cut mission: Find Sam. But where could he go? Who could he turn to? Maybe he'd gone home to Maryland. Back to his family. That would have been the smartest move. And Sam was smart. The game was over; he'd been checkmated, and he knew it. There was n.o.body left for him in New York. He didn't have her. Mike Suarez was dead. Brendan had moved to another dorm. And then there was Josh....

Gaia's blood simmered, snapping her thoughts into focus. Yes, Josh. Sam's supposed RA; obviously, he worked for Loki. That was why he'd been at the Bubble Lounge the night before. That was why Sam hated him so much, why he'd looked so tense around him. It made perfect sense. But knowing that only served to make Gaia feel more ignorant, more blind- downright stupid, in fact. How could she have missed all the clues? All that time Josh had been keeping tabs on Sam for Loki, she could have been doing something about it. Helping Sam. If he had just told her what they were doing to him- "Gaia?"

The voice came from behind her. Gaia recognized it even before she whirled around into a fighting stance-before she caught a glimpse of that smarmy, fatuous grin and that spiky black hair.

"You must have just missed Sammy," Josh murmured.

But then his grin faltered. He frowned, giving her a once-over, examining her raised fists and bent knees. His hands were clasped behind his back. He didn't seem prepared for combat. He seemed almost...nonchalant.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

Gaia hesitated for a second.

He doesn't know I know, she realized. He must have not seen her the night before. He was still trying to con her with his c.o.c.ky Mr.-Nice-Guy act. For all she knew, Loki was waiting just out in the hall. They probably thought they had her cornered then and there-off guard and by surprise. But they were very, very wrong.

"Gaia, are you-"

"I know, Josh," Gaia interrupted him coldly. "I know who you work for, and I know what you've been doing to Sam, so you can just drop it."

Josh's grin returned. Then he shrugged. "Okay," he said simply. "Have it your way." He pulled his right hand from behind his back-revealing a nine-millimeter pistol with a four-inch silencer. "This is easier, anyway. I don't have to make nice to such a ball-busting b.i.t.c.h. It's harder than you think."

Gaia's leg muscles tensed. Adrenaline shot through her, pumping her body with the electric, pre-combat fizz.She welcomed the sensation. It was like a taste of something sweet and long forgotten. She could kick that gun away from him and snap his neck in two before he even had a chance to exhale a dying breath.

"I wouldn't try anything," Josh added calmly.

As if on cue, the suite door came crashing open, and three burly men burst into the common room- all clad in black, all brandishing pistols. Before Gaia could make a move, the three muzzles were aimed at her head.

"You're making a big mistake," she whispered, making mental notes of the positions of all the guns.

Josh smirked. "How's that?"

"If you ever hurt Sam again, I swear-"

"Shut up, Gaia," Josh interrupted. "I can certainly promise you that I will never hurt him again. How's that? Now let's move."

One of the thugs stepped forward and reached for her arm.

That was all Gaia had been waiting for. As twisted as it seemed, she'd been looking forward to this moment- the moment when she could stop fighting shadows, when the real enemy presented itself. In a flash she grasped the man's wrist, twisting it back and then flipping his entire two-hundred-pound frame into one of the other meatheads. They collided with a sticky slap reminiscent of a boxer's fist against a frozen carca.s.s-then tumbled to the floor on their backs.

"Freeze!" Josh shouted, raising his pistol.

Gaia smiled. He'd done precisely what she'd wanted him to do. Her right leg was already a blur of motion, sweeping through the air in a roundhouse kick that first snapped the gun from Josh's hand, then the remaining gun from the last thug. Still in midair, she shifted her position and aimed her heels into the respective stomachs of the downed thugs. Both connected. The two men let out a simultaneous groan. Gaia used their muscles and organs as a trampoline- springing back into the air and somersaulting past Josh and the other goon into the hall.

"Block the exit," Josh grunted. "Get her!"

She heard rapid footsteps behind her. A hand clamped down on her shoulder. Without even glancing back, she snapped her elbow into the center of her attacker's face, hearing the crack of his nose as he fell backwards and collapsed.

"Stop it, Gaia!"