"Tired, rusty, worn-out!" she said with a smile. "Of course, I'm a woman, so I see things a certain way. But it's still a man's world-I don't care how many female rulers there've been. I'm talking about biology. Men might be able to procreate forever, while women have a set number of years during which they can have children. As the cliche has it, women get old, while men become distinguished."

"And bald, sometimes," Jude reminded her.

At least he'd made her smile.

"Isn't that supposed to prove a man has extra testosterone or something like that?" she asked, grinning.

The nurse called her name. "Mrs. Antrim, if you'll come with me..."

Lorna turned back to Jude, who'd risen along with her. "Thank you, Mr. McCoy. Thank you for listening to me." She hesitated briefly. "Did Roger send you in here?"

"No. But I talked to him. He's waiting for you outside. I came in to see how you're doing, because I wanted to know."

He felt a tinge of guilt.

I came to talk to you because your husband's on a short list that might include the name of a serial killer.

"Thank you," she said, smiling again.

"My pleasure. If you need anything, please let me know."

"Because you're an exec?"

"Because I like you."

She studied him for a second. "You mean that, don't you? You mean you like me-and not my husband's money. Thank you for that."

She went in to see the ship's doctor. Jude opened the door for a woman and a little girl who were just leaving, and followed them out.

Roger Antrim was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm just lucky, I guess," Ginny said humbly.

Hank had been going on and on, describing Ginny's natural grace and her ability to dance. "My family originally came from Virginia and West Virginia. They did all those reels and square dances and stuff. Maybe that's why I love to dance, whatever kind of dancing it is."

Alexi smiled-wondering if her smile had gone completely plastic.

"You're lucky," Clara said. "I have to work at every step."

"Isn't she wonderful?" Hank asked, looking besotted.

"Lovely," Alexi agreed.

"Absolutely!" Clara chimed in.

To Alexi's relief, Jude was coming back into the sushi restaurant. He smiled at the hostess and exchanged a few words with her.

The ship rolled heavily portside, but Jude didn't appear to notice; he seemed to balance instinctively and continued to walk toward them.

"h.e.l.lo," he said to Hank and Ginny, pulling up an extra chair.

"h.e.l.lo, Mr. McCoy." Hank stood up to shake his hand.

"It's just Jude."

"And I'm just Hank. This is Ginny. I'm not sure if you two have officially met.

"Jude," Ginny said sweetly, offering him her hand.

"Hi, Ginny."

To Alexi's mind, Ginny had offered that hand as a queen might-expecting her royal subject to kiss it.

Jude didn't.

He shook it briefly, taking his seat. "So, how are you two faring?" he asked.

"Ginny was a little ill," Hank said.

"I'm fine now."

"The fact is, she was very ill. But she's fine now," Hank said. "My poor girl! Ah, well, good to spend time with all of you-and we'll see you at the piano bar tonight, Alexi." He stood up and Ginny did, too. "We'll leave you to your privacy," he said and then inclined his head, grinning. "That sounded polite, didn't it? Actually, I'm itching to go into the casino. Ginny brings me luck!"

"So he says. He plays c.r.a.ps. I hardly know what's going on," Ginny said. "But I like standing there with him."

"May the fortunes of the sea be with you," Jude said.

"Lots of luck!" Alexi added.

"Ditto," Clara said.

When they were gone, Alexi moaned, "Oh, my G.o.d!"

"What?" Jude asked.

"Not to be cra.s.s, but...yuck!" Clara said. "If I had to listen to one more word about the wonders of Ginny..."

Alexi laughed. "If we had to watch them mooning over each other one more minute..."

"They just met, didn't they?" Jude asked.

"Yeah, on the ship," Alexi replied.

Clara smirked. "Their eyes met-across a crowded c.r.a.ps table."

"She's beautiful, she's oh, so perfect," Alexi said.

"And he, of course, is the studliest, most macho man she's ever seen," Clara said. "Now, I have to say I hope he's not being taken, but-"

"Well, wait," Alexi broke in. "If she's taking him, so to speak, and intends to keep him, that's great. Hank needs someone."

"She's making him pay for her," Clara said softly.

"Pardon?" Jude asked, frowning.

"She's a very pretty girl," Alexi said, stating the obvious. "Hank is nice and he's brilliant-but he's not firemen-calendar or NFL-quarterback good-looking. Plus, he's awkward with women."

"In other words," Clara said. "We believe she found his eyes so fascinating because she knew exactly who he is."

Jude grinned at them. "Well, that hadn't missed my attention, either. She is indeed a very pretty girl, but he's not such a pretty man."

"What I'm saying is this. If Hank wants to buy happiness and she wants to provide it, then that's a fair exchange," Alexi said.

Clara looked at her watch. "I have to be in the theater for a sound check. Want to walk me there?" she asked Jude.

"Will do," he said, rising. "Let me go take care of what we owe."

Alexi set a hand on his arm, stopping him for a moment. "What about Roger? And Lorna?"

"I don't know," he said. "Midlife crisis on someone's part? Or something worse? I don't really know yet."

He left to pay the check, then returned to Alexi and Clara, looking somewhat stumped. "We have no check. Hank Osprey paid it," he said.

"Well, that was-nice?" Clara suggested.

"I don't like other people picking up my bills."

"Hmm," Alexi said to Clara. "I'm willing to bet he was trying to pick up the check for all the sushi we ordered-and he's annoyed because Hank beat him to it!"

"All right, all right, point taken," Jude muttered. "Except that...'

"What?" Alexi asked.

"I'm not a suspect in a series of murders-which he still is at the moment, making it very uncomfortable that he picked up the check," he said. "Shall we go? It's time to get Clara to her rehearsal."

"Why does even that sound ominous?" Clara asked.

Jude dropped Clara off at rehearsal and brought Alexi back to her room; she promised she'd wait for him there, and he promised he'd be back in plenty of time so she could settle in and get organized for the night ahead.

He told Jackson about the scene between Roger and Lorna, and how Hank and Ginny had been with them at the sushi table.

"What do you think? Is Ginny in trouble-or is she taking advantage of Hank Osprey?" Jackson asked. "I'll get Angela on it, see what she can find out regarding Ginny Monk."

Jude shrugged in response and found himself studying Jackson curiously.

"What is it?"

"None of my business, probably," Jude murmured.

"Well, whatever it is, I'd rather you spoke than stared at me."

"Okay. How exactly did you end up on this case?" Jude asked. "I understood from the beginning that you're with a special unit of the bureau. But your special unit comes in when there's something unusual about a case. When there's an unexplained element. Or a special request. Not that this case isn't top priority right now, but still...you're from this 'special' unit in the Quantico office. There are excellent agents all over the country-not to mention profilers and behavioral scientists-studying the case. So...why the Krewe of Hunters?"

Jackson Crow had been focused on his computer screen. Now he gave Jude his full attention. Jude wondered about his background. Had Crow spoken to someone he'd later discovered was dead? Or had his relationship with the lingering souls of the dead begun as it had for Alexi, something he had somehow known and accepted from the time he was a child?

"Angela and I were away for a weekend vacation eight months ago," he began. "In Charleston, South Carolina. We were staying at a bed-and-breakfast with a charming courtyard. Our room opened onto the courtyard, and I went outside in the morning, just to see the sunrise. The courtyard started to fill with light-and that's when Peggy Carlyle came to me."

"Peggy Carlyle, the first victim," Jude said.

"As we later learned. She appeared suddenly, as if she was part of the light. She wore a beautiful white dress."

"But, of course, she was dead."

Jackson nodded slowly. "She was fragile, barely noticeable, like dust motes on the air. I was almost afraid to speak, in case she just disappeared. The doors to our room opened and Angela came out, smiling, happy, excited. She loves Charleston and that particular B and B. But she stopped, seeing what I saw. And she whispered to the young woman, asking if we could help her. Peggy looked lost, entirely lost. And then she disappeared. The next week we were back at our offices in Northern Virginia when we heard that the body of a young woman, draped with a saint's medallion, had been found in a church near the bed-and-breakfast. I knew it was her. Peggy was a graphic artist and the medallion around her neck was St. Catherine's. Patron saint of artists, as you'll recall... The police were on it, and naturally they wanted the case to be under local jurisdiction, but I was able to obtain the crime scene photos-and then those of the next murder, also in Charleston. I knew I had to get myself a.s.signed to the case. Then, while we were investigating leads, the killer moved on. Four women were killed in South Florida, and while we were following leads there, he struck in Mobile. I believed the Archangel was speeding up, and that he might well hit New Orleans next. It just seemed to fit his pattern. And you know the rest."

"So," Jude said, "it was a Krewe case from the beginning."

Jackson shrugged. "As far as I was concerned, yes. Now we're officially in. We've had Krewe members working in the cities where he's already struck. And we have one of the finest medical examiners around, Kat Sokolov. She's seen the bodies, determined how the killer manipulates his weapons, the way he displays his victims. Which has helped us conclude that we're looking for one man-and not copycats."

"Did you ever see Peggy Carlyle again?" Jude asked.

Jackson shook his head. "No. Just that one moment. I found out that she liked to come to the courtyard where I was sitting. The B and B had a little cafe, and she'd buy a coffee and bring it to the courtyard."

Jude digested that information. "And you investigated me before you reached New Orleans?"

Jackson smiled at that. "As we've discussed, you had a reputation for solving difficult cases because of your uncanny hunches-or what you called hunches. And your military record was interesting. Yes, I had access. You managed to cover it all really well, and you were smart to agree to therapy. I doubt it answered your question-whether or not you'd talked to a dead man. At least it helped you live with yourself more easily."

"Maybe we all need therapy," Jude said.

"Maybe you've finally discovered the therapy that's right for you," Jackson said.

Naturally, the man knew that he and Alexi had become close, that the relationship had gone beyond agent and-what? Witness?

He raised his hands; he couldn't tell if he was being reprimanded. If he was supposed to have an excuse for being in a situation he shouldn't be.

"It's not easy for people like us to find the right partners," Jackson went on. "Our best therapy seems to be the fact that we can speak freely to one another."

"Magic men," Jude said.

"Is that what you call it?"

Jude smiled. "That's what Alexi calls it. Seems the ability is genetic or inherited. In her family, anyway."

"Magic men," Jackson murmured. He looked at Jude. "I'm praying we can pull off some magic. The storm's been upgraded. It's a hurricane now. We're going to need all the magic we have to make it through the next day or so."