"Nice tits, though," the first said, leering at Ice's chest through the gaping tear in her shirt.

"Not bad," Tony said, treating himself to a nice long look. "Think I like the blonde's better though. Now there's a rack!" He cupped his hands out in front of himself to illustrate said 'rack' as I looked on, grinding my teeth.

"Oh yeah. I'd like a piece a that snatch!" Grinning, he looked down at Ice, threading blunt fingers through her hair and pulling her head up. "How 'bout it, dyke? Wanna watch when I fuck your little girlfriend senseless? Make her scream for me? Bet she'd like a little man-meat shoved up that tasty little cunt of hers, huh? Maybe in her mouth first? Wash the taste of pussy out of it?"

And as I watched, Ice's face, her whole body, seemed to change before my eyes. My racing mind likened the change to some werewolf movie I'd seen when I was younger-Michael Landon was in it, I think.

Her eyes, normally the palest of blues, darkened until they were almost black. Her face flushed, suffused with rage, and the tendons in her jaw and neck stood out in bas relief. I could almost feel the dark energy radiating from her body as her muscles quivered and jumped, bunching up like a predator cat about to spring.

With one single thrust of her hips, she managed to unseat the man atop her, sending him flying several feet up and back, to land on top of the still gasping Carmine.

Then she rolled, and as she did so, shot both hands out and grabbed Tony by his jacket, throwing him to the ground and pinning him beneath the weight of her own body. Sitting up, she reached down and grabbed his head and began bashing it down on the ground, over and over and over again without pause, guttural snarls coming from deep within her chest.

Even when it was obvious that Tony was well past the point of resisting, Ice continued to pound his head into the ground, her hands covered in his blood, her face and the remains of her shirt spotted with it.

The other two helped each other off the ground and plodded, limping, to their cohort's aid. Hearing them, Ice stood and whirled, unleashing her mindless fury on them both in a way I'd never seen before-and prayed mightily that I'd never see again.

I tried to remember that this was all a dream; likely my own mind's attempt to come up with a scenario for what had really happened in lieu of ever hearing it from Ice.

I tried to scream, to tell her, and my mind, to stop, but my voice was a tiny, insignificant thing, lost amidst the sounds of rage and pain which filled the night air to overflowing.

I tried to put my hands over my ears to block out the sounds, but they came through clearly.

I tried to close my eyes to the sights, but it seemed as if my eyelids were made of window glass, dooming me to stand silently by and watch as my mind turned the woman I loved into an animal..

She beat them bloody; beat them till they fell. And when they fell, she picked them up and beat them again. And again.

And again.

Soon, even Ice's reserves were spent, and the fight began to take on the look of a ballet attempted underwater.

A straight-from-the-shoulder right to the goon's face and he went down, only the whites of his eyes showing. When Ice took a second to catch her breath, bending over at the waist and putting her bloody hands on her knees, Carmine stumbled away and reached down for the gun he'd dropped when Ice had punched him earlier.

Turning, he lifted his arm slowly, as if the gun were made of the heaviest iron plating, the muzzle shaking wildly as he pointed it in Ice's direction.

Seeing him, Ice straightened and stared, absolutely no fear in the dark of her eyes. "Put it down, Carmine. It's over."

"Yes, it is," he said, his voice high and wavering. "For you."

"Even if you kill me, Cavallo will see to it you're a dead man as soon as you set foot back in the states."

Carmine shrugged. "So, I won't go back then."

"Then why kill me?" Ice asked reasonably, using the opportunity to take a couple of steps closer to him when she noticed, as did I, the gun barrel dip just a touch.

"Because I gave my word."

"Promises can be broken."

"Not this one." The gun became more steady. "Goodbye, Morgan."

My scream and the gun's firing sounded simultaneously.

Blood sprayed from a newly bloomed hole in Ice's thigh.

But this time, she didn't go down.

Like a robot impervious to pain, she continued to step toward him as his eyes widened and a very real fear came into them. He lifted the gun again, but the only sound heard was the impotent click of the trigger.

Ice grinned. A terrible, horrible smile. "Ya should have taken my offer, Carmine."

One step closer. Two. Three.

More clicks sounded as Carmine continued to fire a gun which was obviously empty, or jammed. In pure panic, he hefted the weapon again and, with the last of his strength, threw it at Ice, who batted it out of the way with an unconcerned, unhurried swipe of her hand while continuing her slow, deliberate advance.

With a gibbering moan, Carmine dodged left and hobbled as fast as he could to Tony, reaching down and grabbing the gun from the holster at the man's back.

Ice was on him before he could even think to turn around, her hand grabbing his wrist and wrenching the gun away.

Pulling an arm tight around Carmine's neck, she lowered the gun and gave a coup de grace behind the left ear of Tony, who was face down and moaning in agony.

Then she dragged Carmine with her as she moved over to the second thug, killing him in the same way as he struggled to get back to his feet again.

She dragged Carmine to the center of the clearing, then forced him to his knees as she followed behind.

She put the gun to his temple.

"Anything you'd like me to pass on?" Her voice was dark with intentional irony.

"Please. Don't kill me."

"Too late." Her finger tightened on the trigger. "Goodbye, Carmine. Tell the devil I'll see him soon, huh?"

"Ice. Noooo," I moaned.

But of course, she couldn't hear me.

A split second later and the deed was done.

Without any emotion whatsoever, she pushed his already toppling body over, then rose back up to her feet, her body swaying as the gun hung limply from one bloody hand.

After she had gathered what remained of her strength, she turned back toward the road and looked up. For a split second, I thought she saw me.

Her eyes widened.

Then she stumbled and almost went down.

Gritting her teeth, she began once again to move in my direction, as if pulled to my presence like a magnet to iron.

I held out my arms to her, calling her to me even as, within the very depths of my soul, I felt, for the first time, fear of this woman who was my lover.

She crossed the distance between us in a numb, shuffling gait, blood pouring from her many wounds, head down, gun swinging without purpose by her side.

And then, as I'm sure can happen only in dreams, she walked right through me as if I wasn't there at all.

And what I felt . . .god . . .what I felt as she passed through my soul. . .

Death.

A cold, empty void of the deepest rotting black.

And amidst the horrid darkness, the tiniest of guttering flames, one soft breath away from dying.

A flame that bore my image.

And seeing it, I screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

PART 9.

A HAND CAME DOWN on my shoulder, and in my terror, it felt cold and skeletal. I turned my head, half expecting to see Carmine's rotting corpse beckoning me to follow. Or-and god help me on this-an Ice who decided that as a witness to her depravity, I was just too much of a liability to let live.

Instead, it was Corinne's concerned, battered face which greeted me, an eon's worth of questions in her eyes.

"C-Corinne?"

"In the flesh, such as it is." She cocked her head, looking at me over the tops of her glasses. "That was quite a nightmare you seemed to be having."

"Nightmare?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you alright, Angel?"

Reaching out a trembling hand, I brushed the tips of my fingers against her arm. It was warm and solid and very much real.

That was all it took.

Launching myself forward, I threw myself into her arms, burrowing into the living warmth of her, letting it permeate the cold death which surrounded me like a slaughterhouse stench, too empty even for the relief of tears.

After a moment, she wrapped her arms around me and I felt a gentle hand stroke my hair as whispered words came softly to my ears.

A short while later, she carefully, gently disentangled herself and held me at arm's length, looking at me very intently. "Now, would you like to tell me what's going on and why you're down here having nightmares and not where I'd expect you to be?"

After several hesitant almost-starts, I finally gathered what remained of my wits and told her about my dream; everything up until the last, horrible, scene. That was something, I thought, I would never be able to tell anyone as long as I lived.

"Sounds rather plausible," Corinne remarked when I was done, her tone conveying no more surprise than if I had just told her I'd gone for a walk. "Is there something more?"

Confused, I stared at her. Where was the anger? Where was the outrage that my mind should conjure up such a horrifying image of the woman I professed to love?

After a moment, her expression changed. Her face became hard and her eyes narrowed. "Please tell me there's something more, Angel."

I looked at her, unable to say anything, unable to understand where this was going.

She sighed. "Angel, Ice was forced to watch you held at gunpoint, knocked unconscious, and dragged from her home to be executed. Did you just expect her to allow that to happen?"

"No. No! I just . . . ."

"Just what, Angel?" Her dark eyes lit with a terrible pity and I felt myself becoming very defensive.

"Stop looking at me like that, Corinne."

"Like what?" she asked, her smile mocking.

"Like I'm some damn child who just got told Santa Claus doesn't exist."

"Perhaps when you stop acting that way."

"Corinne!"

"How many times has Ice told you she's a murderer, Angel?"

"What? I don't . . . ."

"How many times?"

I could feel myself heating up as I looked at her, fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly. "I don't know."

"Once? More than once? Surely you'd remember something like that, Angel."

My teeth ground against one another. "Corinne . . . ."

"It's a simple question, Angel. How many?"

"I don't know. A few," I allowed.

Smiling, she nodded. "And how did you respond? Did you tell her you understood? Did you run away screaming? What?"

"You know what I said, Corinne." I could hear my heart pumping in my ears.