s the afternoon's light waned through the forest, O backed the Toro up, avoiding the pile of earth he'd created with it.

"You ready for the pipes?" U yelled out.

"Yeah. Drop one down. Let's see how it fits."

A composite-metal corrugated sewer pipe about three feet in diameter and seven feet long was lowered into the hole so it stood on its end. The thing fit perfectly.

"Let's get the other two in there," O said.

Twenty minutes later the three pipe sections were lined up. Using the Dingo, O pushed the dirt in while two other lessers held the pipes in place.

"Looking good," U said, walking around. "Looking damn good. But how do we get the civilians in and out?"

"Harness system." O shut off the Dingo and went over to peer inside one of the pipes. "You can buy them for rock climbing at Dick's Sporting Goods. We're strong enough to lift the civilians even if they're deadweight, and they'll be drugged, in pain, or exhausted, so they won't fight much."

"This was a great idea," U murmured. "But how do we cap them?"

"The lids will be metal mesh with a weight on the center."

O glanced up, seeing blue sky. "How long do you think until the roof's on?"

"We'll get the last wall up right now. Then all we have to do is erect the rafters and drop in the skylights. The shingling won't take long, and the clapboards are already on the three walls we have now. I'll move the tools in here, get a table, and we're rolling tomorrow night."

"We'll have the shades for the skylights by then?"

"Yeah. And they're retractable so you'll be able to open and lower them."

Man, those things were going to be handy. A little sunlight was the best maid a lesser could have. She comes in, flashes through the space, and presto!, no more vampire debris.

O nodded to his truck. "I'll take the Toro back to the rental place. You need anything from town?"

"Nope. We're good."

On the way into Caldwell, with the piece of machinery in the bed of the F-150, O should have been in a good mood. The building was going well. His squadron was accepting his leadership. Mr. X hadn't brought up the Betas again. But instead he just felt... dead. And wasn't that ironic as hell for someone who hadn't been alive for three years?

He'd been like this once before.

Back in Sioux City, before he'd become a lesser, he'd hated his life. He'd squeaked through high school, and there'd been no money to send him to even a community college, so his career options had been limited. Working as a bouncer had called into service his size and mean streak, but it was only moderately amusing: The drunks didn't tend to fight back, and coldcocking the unconscious was no more engaging than beating a cow.

The only good thing had been meeting Jennifer. She'd saved him from the mindless tedium, and he'd loved her for it. She was drama, excitement, and unpredictability in the flat landscape of life. And whenever he'd go into one of his rages, she'd hit him right back, even though she was smaller and bled easier than he did. He'd never figured out whether she threw her punches because she was too dumb to know he'd always win in the end or if it was because she was so used to being beaten by her father. Either way, stupidity or habit, he took everything she could give him and then pounded her into the ground. Tending to her afterward, when his fire was out, had given him the most tender moments of his life.

But like all good things, she had come to an end. God, he missed her. She'd been the only one who understood how love and hate beat side by side in the chambers of his heart, the only one who could handle both at the same time. Thinking of her long, dark hair and her lean body, he missed her so much he could almost feel her beside him.

As he came into Caldwell proper, he thought of the prostitute he'd bought the other morning. She'd ended up giving him what he'd needed after all, though she'd had to trade her life to do it. And while he drove along now, he scanned the sidewalks, looking for another release. Unfortunately, brunettes were harder to come by than blondes in the skin trade. Maybe he could buy a wig and tell the whores to put it on.

O thought about the number of people he'd taken out. The first person he'd killed had been in self-defense. The second had been a mistake. The third had been in cold blood. So by the time he'd come to the East Coast, running from the law, he'd known a little about death.

Back then, with Jennifer just gone, the pain in his chest had been a living thing, a mad dog that needed to stretch its legs before it destroyed him. Falling into the Society had been a miracle. It had saved him from tortured rootlessness, giving him a focus and a purpose and an outlet for the agony.

But now, somehow, all those benefits were gone and he felt empty. Just as he had five years ago in Sioux City, right before he'd run into Jennifer.

Well, almost the same, he thought, pulling up to the rental place.

Back then, he'd still been alive.

"Are you out of the tub?"

Mary laughed, put the phone to her other ear, and burrowed deeper into the pillows. It was sometime after four o'clock.

"Yes, Rhage."

She couldn't remember when she'd had a more luxurious day. Sleeping in. Food delivered with books and magazines. The Jacuzzi.

It was like being at a spa. Well, a spa where the phone rang all the time. She wouldn't count how many times he'd called her.

"Did Fritz bring you what I asked?"

"How did he find fresh strawberries like that in October?"

"We have our ways."

"And the flowers are beautiful." She eyed the bouquet full of roses and foxglove and delphinium and tulips. Spring and summer in a crystal vase. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like them. I wish I could have gone out and chosen them myself. I would have enjoyed finding you only the most perfect ones. I wanted them to be bright and smell good."

"Mission accomplished."

Male voices sounded in the background. Rhage's voice dimmed. "Hey, cop, mind if I use your bedroom? I need some privacy."

The response was muffled and then she heard a door shut.

"Hi," Rhage said in a husky drawl. "Are you in bed?"

Her body stirred, heating up. "Yes."

"I miss you."

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

"You still there, Mary?" When she sighed, he said, "That doesn't sound good. Am I getting too real for you?"

I've had eight different females this week alone.

Oh, God. She did not want to fall for him. Just could not let herself.

"Mary?"

"Just don't... say things like that to me."

"It's how I feel."

She didn't respond. What could she say? That she felt the same way? That she missed him even though she'd talked to him once every hour throughout the day? It was true, but not something she was happy about. He was too damned beautiful... and hell, he could put Wilt Chamberlain in the shade when it came to a list of lovers. So even if she were perfectly healthy, he was a recipe for disaster. Add to the situation what she was facing healthwise?

Getting emotionally attached to him was downright absurd.

As the silence stretched between them, he cursed. "We have a lot of business to take care of tonight. I don't know when I'll be back, but you know where to find me if you need me."

As the phone connection was cut off, she felt just awful. And she knew the lectures about keeping distant were not really working.