He withdrew the smartphone from his pocket and, turning it on with a stroke of his thumb, typed in a quick code and turned the screen toward her. On it was a short text message from Asikri.

“I’ve got the girl. Tossed the phone. ETA about four hours.”

She grabbed for the phone, wrapping her hands around his and jerking it closer, reading the words again as if there was a great revelation to be found in them.

“Why? Why would you throw away her phone? And why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been sick to death with worry!”

“I did tell you. That text came less than five minutes ago. Until it came there was nothing of comfort I could offer you, other than my complete confidence in Asikri. I didn’t think that would be accepted at face value, so I waited for contact from him.” He took a breath, timing it and the ones immediately after it in a steady, calming cadence. “He had to discard the phone because it has GPS inside of it. Any smartphone in the world can be traced with the right software, and I assure you, the Templars have an excellent phalanx of geeks at their beck and call.”

“GPS?” she repeated a little numbly, all of the wind knocked out of her self-righteous sails. She rubbed her thumb over the phone in their hands. “I didn’t realize … I mean, I knew, of course, but …”

“If there is one thing we have become masters of in our long lifetimes it is how to live off the grid. Sort of like your friend’s cabin. Self-sustaining and with as little record of ourselves as we can possibly manage. Our wealth is managed through front companies, our investments grow on their own accord and we track and adjust and give ourselves great means leaving little more than a ghost of ourselves behind. It is not foolproof of course, but we know how to avoid the most common pitfalls. Now, this phone has GPS as well, but the number is unknown and untraceable by anyone outside of the highest echelons of the Bodywalker governing seat. I want you to trade it for the one in your hand.”

“But …” She lifted the hand holding her phone. “I can’t just—”

“You can, and you must. Surely you see that? You don’t have to like it, but surely you see the logic of it?”

He waited patiently while she thought about it, her lips quivering with tension as she pressed them tightly together, no doubt forcing herself to think before she tried to argue with him. In the end she opened her hand palm up and handed him the phone. He turned it off, pulled the power supply out of the back of it, and pocketed it for their techs to tinker with. They would either remove the GPS and reuse the phone, or they would simply destroy it.

“I have to ask you to limit your use of this phone while you are in our company. It’s just like witness protection,” he said, her eyes catching her so he could be certain she understood and complied. “You can call any of us and, now, your sister, but you cannot under any circumstances contact anyone outside of our purview. All it takes is one call to lead them here. By giving you this, I am entrusting you with our safety, hummingbird.”

“I understand.” She breathed after a long moment. Emotional pain entered her eyes and he felt guilty for it. She shouldn’t have to go through this. They had done her a powerful injustice. He and Menes. It was their calling to make these sacrifices, and she should never have been involved.

“Jackson, they’re going to think you’re a murderer,” she said on a rush of injured words. “How can you let that happen? Can’t you just call or … or …”

“We’ve been over this,” he said gently, something inside of him filled with warmth, knowing that in a moment like this it was everyone else she was worried about. He had done her yet another injustice by ever thinking her to be a cold and emotionless cog in the wheels of bureaucracy. In truth she spent all of her time worrying about everyone else. He wondered where she fit her own needs in her grand scheme of things. “As of today Jackson Waverly will have disappeared. He will cease to exist. It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of him because he will, for all intents and purposes, die the death he was supposed to have died that night three weeks ago.

“You ask me why I didn’t leave right away? Because I needed the time to grieve one of the biggest losses anyone can ever experience. The loss of their entire identity as they once knew it to be. I know that the important parts of who I am comes with me, but that doesn’t stop me from grieving what once was mine and now must be let go of. I’m only sorry I didn’t leave sooner. I thought I was completely anonymous and that it was safe for me to stay … but I was wrong and I’m going to have to live with that knowledge and the knowledge of what it might have cost Leo in the process.” He had been speaking in a calm, steady voice, but it broke on Leo’s name as guilt threatened to swamp him. They must have known Leo was the closest thing he had to family … outside of Docia who was a Bodywalker and very well protected. It had very likely cost his friend his life, because Leo would rather die than ever give up any information about him. The funny thing was, Leo had been out of the country for the past couple of weeks. He hadn’t even had any idea where Jackson was. He certainly hadn’t known about him Blending with Menes.

Marissa was looking at him with soft, considering eyes, the blue of them so warm, in spite of it being such a cool color. But her eye color was closer to the blue at the center of a flame, like when a Bunsen burner is lit and it roars with its little storm of fire on the tip. And then, as intransigent as the wind, they would turn toward green, hovering on the brink of it, but not quite achieving it.

“You’ve come so far since I first began counseling with you,” she said, her tone so genuine that he didn’t feel she was patronizing or even doctoring him. It was if she were a friend, and not a doctor. “When we first met you were so determined to not acknowledge your grief. And now look at you. You’ve come to understand you’re allowed to mourn, and more importantly, to let go enough to move on. You were so determined to punish yourself, to blame yourself not only for Chico’s death but for replacing him with Sargent. So much so that you wouldn’t allow yourself to connect with him the way you needed to.” She smiled softly at him. “Now you love him so much you can’t even let him go.”

She nodded toward the dog sleeping soundly on the floor near the fireplace.

“I’m stealing him, you know. If I’m going to be a murderer, I may as well be a thief besides.” He frowned a little. “You know, three weeks ago, I would have never done something like this. I would rather have died than let someone think ill of me or accuse me of a crime, never mind flat-out commit one. But … maybe it’s because of Menes’s influence, that I am willing to do something because it is right and not just because it’s the rules. Sargent belongs with me. He depends on me just as I depend on him. And I have no intention of leaving the department ill equipped. They will receive a donation of two new pups to replace him from an anonymous donor.”

“Somehow I knew you were going to say that,” she said with a smile, impulsively reaching to hug him. It was an affection he hadn’t expected, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to initiate it. But, of course, she realized what she was doing and pulled away moments later, her head dipping so her loose hair hid her blush pink cheeks. She stepped back and smoothed her skirt and blouse, though neither were out of place. It was, he realized, more like her version of donning armor. She did it almost like a reminder to herself that there were protocols to be acknowledged.

He wondered, once more, why she felt the need to hide her true depth of compassion and emotion, not to mention her carnal side. She was so incredibly passionate. He should know, he’d held that passion in his hands and had felt the sensual power of it. He had felt what it was like when she released all her inhibitions and just lived for the sensations of the moment.

Not that her conscience and ethics were inconsequential, but there were other things equally, if not more, important. And while she bestowed nothing but respect and understanding to others, he wasn’t quite sure she gave the consideration to herself.

He wanted so badly to kiss her right then. It wasn’t about the desire that constantly crawled through him whenever he looked at her. Or the fact that she was unbelievably beautiful. Nor was it the way her gorgeous red hair framed her delicate features hinting at the passionate woman within her. All were present and accounted for, but what compelled him most was her kindness and the understanding he knew she felt toward him in spite of him having screwed up her entire life and thrown her into the deep end of the Bodywalker world with absolutely no forewarning whatsoever.

“I’m so sorry about your friend,” she said, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth as though she wanted to nibble on it but caught herself in time to quell the undisciplined action.

Good god she’s wound up tighter than a watch, Menes thought with no small amount of frustration. A feeling Jackson shared. In fact, he was noticing a lot more similarities between him and Menes than in the very beginning. They both had strong personalities and both had this powerful need to do something when they saw what needed to be done. It was just that sometimes it seemed like Jackson wasn’t as willing as Menes was to do whatever necessary to see the right thing done. Or what he felt was the right thing.

For instance they felt that the right thing to do would be to grab hold of her and pull her close. To kiss her and force her to see the passionate woman she was inside. But they knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as that, and they knew that heaping that kind of revelation on top of all she was dealing with bordered on selfishness.

“And,” she said, “thank you for keeping my sister safe. She means more to me than anyone else on earth and the idea of her getting hurt just because of me …” She shook her head, mute with all the negative things that came after such a thought, too disturbed to voice the possibilities.

“It was the very least I could do, considering I’m the reason you are in this mess to begin with. Come,” he said, pulling her with him as he left the room, “let me get you something to eat.”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten since … good God when did we last eat?”

“I suppose it has been a while,” she said as he drew her into the enormous custom kitchen in the center of what had to be the largest home Marissa had ever been in. It was large enough, he had told her, to house several Bodywalkers in comfort. They tended to travel and live in groups, a way of protecting one another from Templars or any number of hazards. This was to be Jackson’s new home and, for the time being, hers. She took the seat he offered her on a barstool near the counter and he went to the fridge. He started pulling out enough food to feed an army.

“You can’t be that hungry,” she said with a laugh as he began preparing what looked like at least three sandwiches. “No mustard, please. I’m allergic.”

“Really? I never knew that about you. And I don’t think I’ve heard of a mustard allergy before.”

“It’s something of a pain in the neck when I go out to eat. I constantly have to ask if they use mustard or mustard seed in something. It’s used much more often than you might think. And it’s kind of a downer because every time I hear about honey mustard dip or honey mustard dressing it always sounds so delicious.”

“What happens if you eat it? Rashes and such or full-on anaphylaxis?

“Oh, I’m the grand prize winner. I get the whole deal. Blisters, anaphylaxis … I almost died the first time I ate it when I was five. Fortunately, since we’d been outside at a picnic, my parents and the doctor thought I might have been stung and that I was reacting to that. The adrenaline treatment stopped the worst part of the reaction long enough for everyone to figure out what had happened.”

“Fortunate indeed,” he said, his tone seeming to go a little distant, a small frown toying at the spot between his brows. “No one really knows when the fates will decide to end our lives. It is inevitable for us all. Except perhaps Gargoyles. They are virtually indestructible and it takes some pretty specific series of events before it … well, that’s neither here nor there.”

“But in a way, aren’t you really the immortal ones? If I understand this correctly, you are the exact same soul, if not the exact same physical rendition, of the pharaoh Menes. Isn’t that immortality at its plainest?”

“In simplified terms, I suppose it is. But with every generation, our souls are touched by the soul of another, Marissa. There is nothing to compare it to, I know, but learning someone … knowing them that completely changes us until, by the time we part each other, it is as though all of what Jackson is will have been included into my soul and he too will have immortality through that means.” He put a sandwich in front of her and came around the bar so he was standing close to her. He reached to touch her chin, tipping her head back so she was looking into the sea green of his eyes. “Think of it like finding a soul mate. Like loving someone on such a visceral level that it becomes almost impossible to think of living without them. To know that they are etched in your heart and your soul for all time, that is how deep an impression they have left. That is how it should be. And everyone should know what that feels like, though I’m sad to say that I know they won’t. I think in that way we are truly blessed, we Bodywalkers. Sometimes I look at a human being such as you and I think, how do you do it? How do you move through this world knowing you are so alone in everything that you do? And then Jackson remembers what it was like and that it wasn’t so bad. It eases my worry.”