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Kat quickly scanned her surroundings and focused on the first thing that looked slightly risky and fun. "Let's do that." Kat pointed down a dark alley at a neon sign flashing Nig Club, the letters h and t were burnt out, making it look a little foreboding. It just added to her desire to go. The atmosphere around the door was menacing and definitely no place Katherine Percy would ever go. Therefore, it was the perfect place for Kat Percy to go and relieve some of her urge to be alive and unsafe.

"Are you sure? If you want to dance, we can find a more…pleasant establishment." Patrick looked uncomfortable and unsure. "Oh, I'm sure, let's go." Kat tugged playfully on Patrick's hand. "Or if you don't want to, I could go by myself. If you wanted to get home and go to bed or something, don't let me keep you up." Kat flashed him a playful smile and dropped his hand, although she fully intended to go into that club with or without him, she had no doubt he would follow her.

Patrick smiled back and grabbed her hand. "Come on, party girl. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Kat worried briefly that her white dress was less than nightclub appropriate, but then decided not to care. She was just going to have fun. She was not going to care about what everyone else in there was thinking about her and how they were judging her. That was what a person who was looking for the proper route through life would do. She was looking for the fun route through life and she didn't give a crap what anyone else thought. Well, almost anyone. The one person she cared about was Kevin, and of course that is why she hadn't slept with Patrick, yet. Damn her new brother for keeping her from giving completely over to her new self. She would make up for it in other ways, like striding into this interesting establishment with head held high and a determination to partake in whatever it offered.

Patrick stopped in front of the heavy wooden door, turned quickly and put his hands on Kat's shoulders. "I think that this is more than a nightclub, Katherine. I'm just warning you that you might not like what you see if you go in there. It could be disturbing to your delicate sensibilities." Patrick tried to sound a bit joking, but the sentiment was serious.

If Kat had been in any kind of right mind instead of half-crazed by his tempting body, she might have heeded his warning. As it was, her nerves screamed out for satisfaction and so she wanted a distraction, whatever it happened to be. This nightclub was the closest thing that offered any kind of distraction for her.

"I'm made of stronger stuff than you think, Patrick, and not so innocent either," Kat replied with a flip of her hair and a hand playfully on her hip.

"I see." Patrick smiled wickedly at her and pulled her roughly toward him. His lips crushed down on hers with unrestrained passion.

The flame of desire she'd held constantly lit since she met him, flared to life and she was instantly engulfed in the heat of her own desire. Kat threw herself unthinkingly into the kiss. She leaned into him and snaked her tongue out of her parted lips, caressing his.

Patrick crushed her soft body to his, molding her curves to his hardness. He met her tongue with his own and they mated passionately, clinging to each other, both mindless with need.

Kat's hands stroked up and down Patrick's muscled back, maddened by the thin cotton shirt that kept her from his hot smooth skin. Her nails raked down his back in an effort to tear the offending garment from his body.

Patrick's hands slid down to Kat's buttocks and pulled her even closer against his hard body. Proof that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, Kat's body trembled with this knowledge and her knees weakened as their tongues continued their intimate mating dance. Patrick slid his hands down to her thighs and pulled her legs up around his waist.

Kat clung to his shoulders and hooked her ankles behind his back.

Patrick kissed his way across her cheek and nibbled on her ear. His hands slipped easily beneath her dress, which was hiked up to her crotch from the position she was in. His fingers found the lace edge of her panties and traced it down and around to the inside of her thigh. Kat's body arched in anticipation and she threw her head back with a groan of pleasure. Patrick slid his mouth down to her neck, lavishing the delicate skin there with gentle kisses.

"Whoa, check out them going at it like the sky is falling." Patrick kissed his way back up to Kat's ear. "Darling, I think we are being observed."

"I don't care." Kat leaned forward and nipped lightly at his neck.

"Yeah don't mind us, we will just settle in here and watch the show. It's going to be better than anything inside, not to mention free." The two men leaned against the opposite wall, settling in for the show.

Kat unhooked her ankles and slid her body down Patrick's. She smoothed her dress and held her head high. She would not let her actions shame her, but she would continue on the road to not doing it again, if that was possible. She wanted Patrick now more than ever.

"Too bad, come on, Chuck, let's get inside before Millie gets onstage." The two men hurried past and into the door.

"Shall we go?" Patrick asked, meaning someplace more private where they could continue their interaction uninterrupted.

"Yes, let's get inside. Apparently there is some kind of show about to start. I'm sure we don't want to miss it."

With the intention of ignoring Helen, Andrew continued toward the door, but he was wrenched backwards. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Helen had grabbed Adoria’s upper arm and turned her around, pulling him backwards as well in the process. Adoria snapped something at her, and Helen raised her hand as if to slap her. With one hand, Adoria seized Helen’s elbow and pushed the producer to carry on with the momentum of her body, except, Adoria pulled backward and continued steering Helen’s arm until her hand connected with her own face in a loud slap.

The sound echoed in the hushed dining room, everyone stared at the two women, Adoria glaring at Helen, and the other woman holding her cheek, eyes brimming with tears of humiliation and anger.

“Now, this gives a new meaning to bitch slapping,” Andrew mumbled and snickered. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, he could still think clearly, he believed, but his actions went haywire. A few giggles sounded around them, as he, Adoria, and Steve walked away from a raging executive producer.

They stepped out into the night, the smog, for the first time, invigorated him, reducing his sickness and confusion. The downside to this change was that his senses were centered in his lower region. Adoria’s hips nudging his as they walked didn’t help matters any.

They reached the SUV, and Steve left his side to unlock the door, Andrew thought. He couldn’t take his closeness to Adoria anymore. He intended to move away from her, but instead he pushed her against the car, placed both hands on her waist and leaned into her, grinding that ache against her warm body.

“Andre—”

Desire, so long forgotten, hummed through him. Her breathing caught when he delicately touched her cheekbones and lips with his hand, his lips trailing his fingers’ path. They tasted her, teased her. He was driving himself insane, just as he did to her, for her body reacted to his touch, her breasts pushed against his chest in an inviting challenge.

Andrew, stop! You will ruin everything, Gruesome shouted in his head, but he ignored his Guide.

 

One night, Riley made his journey to the old cemetery and could feel the chill of the night seeping into his bones. “What a night to be out,” he muttered. “I have a feeling about tonight that I can’t shake.” Riley smiled, realizing he was talking, but only the empty cemetery and lonely tombstones could hear him.

He kept looking at an old tombstone a few feet from where he stood. The granite slab acted almost like it was beckoning him. He walked over and leaned down, brushing aside the leaves piled on top. The thick marble slab looked as if it had been there forever. The cut and style of the stone had to date back to the nineteenth century. The tombstone read, Wild Bart Jamison, from out west in Colorado.

Riley decided this gravesite might be an interesting plot to place his recorder on and let the microphone try to pick up any message that may be coming through. Something urged him to do this.

The marker stated that Bart Jamison died in 1850. After his death, the family brought the old prospector back east to be buried in the family plot. A small inscription at the bottom of the marble stone stated that Bart had discovered gold in Colorado right after the California gold rush of 1849. Near the inscription was a carved out picture of a cowboy astride a horse.

“Wow, this looks like a good find,” he stated, his voice carrying across the lonely cemetery on the stiff breeze now sending chills through his bones.

Riley felt excitement stir in him as he placed his recorder on the old gravestone and turned it on. Just maybe he would be lucky tonight and find out a little about this Bart Jamison. He wondered if the man had really struck it rich or died a pauper and his relatives had to bury him in New York City.

Suddenly, Riley saw a light flashing across the deserted cemetery. He didn’t bother removing his equipment from the marker as he hunched down behind the tall gravestone. The light made another pass right near his hiding place.

 

The man in the suit smiled and walked towards Ricky and Kristy. When he was less than three feet away, he asked, “A friend of yours?”

“Not our friend,” Ricky blurted.

“Hey, that’s not nice,” Frank laughed.

The man in the suit backed up and shouted, “Is he anyone’s friend here?”

The audience murmured.

Someone called out, “I don’t think he has any friends.”

The crowd laughed.

The man in the suit ambled over to Frank. “Looks like you’re alone,” he said.

“I got Connie here,” Frank laughed.

“Are you desperate, Connie?” the man in the suit chuckled.

“Listen, asshole,” Frank sneered. “Getting insulted wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Oh, really?” the man in the suit snapped. “What about the actors you insulted?”

“That’s different,” Frank said.

“Is it?” The man in the suit put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a revolver and smashed Frank on the side of the head.

Frank screamed in pain and fell to his knees.

“Hey,” Connie shouted. She dropped to Frank’s side and tried to help him up.

“Come here, honey,” the man in the suit growled. He grabbed Connie’s arm and dragged her away from Frank. When she was in a dark part of the scenery, he appeared to punch her in the stomach. She began to moan and cry. The man in the suit returned to Frank. He hit him in the head with the gun again and pulled him to the center of the scene.

The man in the suit shouted, “What should I do with this asshole?”

“Kill him!” someone replied.

“Kill him!” Ricky yelled.

Soon the audience was chanting, “Kill him! Kill him!”

“See?” Ricky laughed. “I told you he was part of the act.”

“If you insist!” the man in the suit laughed. He aimed his gun at Frank’s head and pulled the trigger twice. The entire scene lit up with each blast from the gun while loud explosions rang in the audience’s ear.

The man in the suit faced the audience and yelled, “What about the bitch?”

“Let her go,” Kristy cried.

“Nah, kill her, too,” someone else shouted.

Again, the audience was again chanting, “Kill her! Kill her!”

“If you insist,” the man in the suit mumbled. He aimed his pistol at the sobbing woman and pulled the trigger twice, again assaulting the audience with harsh bright lights and loud explosions.

“What a fucking hoot!” Ricky laughed.

“That was the first part of this stupid show that I enjoyed,” Kristy giggled.



* * * *



Twenty minutes later Kristy had her head buried in Ricky’s lap. She was trying to gain her composure while Ricky talked with a uniformed policeman. “Don’t you get it?” he said. “We thought it was part of the show. I mean, we probably would have helped, especially the lady, but…”


He wilted under the dismissive stare of the cop, and his voice trailed off. “Don’t you get it?” he mumbled.

 

Back in England after the Great War, Archie Douglas meets a young lady whose beauty takes his breath away. But Cicily Broadbent, student of Egyptology, has sworn never to marry. She believes that Nekhbet the White Vulture, virgin mother goddess of ancient Egypt, can grant women children without man’s touch. Determined to win her hand, Archie awaits the day when she grows out of this experiment with paganism. But when Cicily succeeds in re-awakening the goddess, Archie has more to worry about than just losing Cicily.

 

“Ladiezzzz and gen’lmen. We seem to have a bit of a problem. We’re going to…”

The plane dropped. Nancy felt airborne. The woman in front of her was airborne. People screamed. Nancy screamed, “Holy shit!”

She and Don took one look at each other and linked arms. “Hang on to me,” she cried.

Don, his eyes wide with panic, cried, “I will!”

“We’re going to make an emergency landing mumble mumble…”

Don looked at her with mournful eyes. “I cheated on my fiancé.”

“What?”

“Twice in six months. I…I have to tell someone in case we…in case we die.”

“Die,” Nancy shouted. “Shut up. Shut the **** up!”

“I had to tell someone!”

“Why? Why did you cheat on her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then,” Nancy snarled, “You shouldn’t get married.” Despite the insanity of the situation, Nancy was pleased to be thinking about something other than the airplane, even if forced her to talk to the idiot next to her.

“I know,” Don moaned. “If we make this…”

The plane dropped again. The airborne feeling hit them again. Oxygen masks fell from the overhead compartments. More screaming. The old man in the window seat, his face pale, trembled as he tried over and over to get the mask on his face. Don pulled the mask over the old man’s head, pulled on his own mask and looked at Nancy, his expression a combination of fear and sadness.

“Passengers! This is the Captain! Please! Get in crash position. We’re going to…”

Loud noises. Upside down. Right side up. The world turned gray. Everything seemed to moving in slow motion. Blue skies appeared above. Billowing smoke and flames ahead rushed towards her. The right side of the plane disappeared.

The sound of screeching metal assaulted Nancy’s ears as the plane skidded to a stop, and then there was nothing but silence. As Nancy and Don sat stunned and unmoving in their seats, the smell of burning fuel filtered into their nostrils. The old man next to Don slumped forward in his seat.

As Nancy looked up at the billows of smoke drifting in the clear blue sky, a sense of calm washed over her.

“Hey, you,” some moron screamed at the top of his lungs. Would these people ever consider adding a name when they call each other? Sheesh! Pru straightened up and resumed walking while massaging her middle.

“You, girl in violet shirt! Wait up,” the man shouted again. Yeah, adding an adjective might attract some girl’s attention. What a lousy pick up line.

She stopped in half stride. Hold on a second, she thought, I’m wearing a violet shirt.

“Yes, I’m talking to you. Turn around,” he said, more calmly now that he had her attention.

The resonance of his voice kindled a flicker of recognition in her. His voice, full of authority, demanded immediate yielding. Pru half turned, hope surging through her like an electric shock. She pointed at herself and asked in a shaky voice, “You’re talking to me?”

The man’s upper half was in shadows, but he seemed to still at hearing her voice. Anyone would if they could see through someone else.

“Pru?” He uttered her name in a husky and deep whisper. It did nasty things to her pulse.

He stepped out of the shadows. Long, muscular legs clad in black pants were revealed, the swagger slow and surefooted. The shadow receded and the man’s torso emerged. Black t-shirt stretched over a broad chest, outlining every bit of its firm muscularity. Raising her gaze, Pru encountered a firm mouth set in a smirk and deep cryptic, dark eyes that made her their sole focus. All that rugged handsomeness was topped by army style trimmed black hair.

“Luke?” Pru blinked, not believing her eyes. Occasionally, memories of her teen crush pushed through her mind for no reason and she used to push them back. She couldn’t do that now, those memories were in the front seat because he was standing right in front of her.

He just had to develop a voice that dripped awesomeness.

Pru shook her head. What’s wrong with me?

Luke gawked at her, his hands tucked casually into pants pockets. Pru had the impression he wasn’t as nonchalant as his appearance implied for meeting the girl who—according to him at the time—qualified to enter a mind-**** contest.

“What are you up to?” He barked at her.

Definitely tense. She chose to ignore his rudeness. “You can see me?” She rushed toward him then halted as memories of previous attempts to touch others surfaced in her head. They were nasty experiences that left her reeling with emotions alien to her.

“Are you looking for a place to stay?”

She tucked a runaway strand of hair behind her ear and frowned. “What do you mean?”

Slowly, he said, “Are you up for a stay?” His voice had an edge to it, one she didn’t trust.

Eyes narrowed, she said, “I’m not homeless. Your hostility doesn’t make sense.”

He lowered his head and shook it. Perhaps if she explained her situation, he might know what she should do. “I guess I should be grateful for meeting someone. It’s been very lonely. No one to speak to—”

“And no one to possess.” A vein throbbed in his jaw.

She took a step back. “Possess?”

“Since I’m the only living person who can see you, I suggest you drop the innocent act.”

People gawked at him and changed paths as they neared him. It didn’t seem to bother him that others thought he was talking to himself.

Pru laughed, pointing a finger at herself. “You think I’m dead?”

“I know you’re dead,” he said through gritted teeth and pulled his hand from his pocket. “Time to send you home.”

Home was too far away, way beyond her lifeline’s limit. An ache pulsed in Pru’s chest and birthed a fury that paralyzed her with its intensity. Instead of facing her, Luke swiveled about, his gaze following a woman pushing a baby stroller. Pru ceased to exist for him and that infuriated her even more. She stomped a foot. “You don’t even know where I live.”

He kept looking at the other woman.

“I’m talking to you, Luke. Look at me.”

He tilted his head as though tuned to something else. Finally, he said, “Yeah, I see that.” His eyes flicked back to Pru. “I’ll have to give this one a rain check then.” Smirking, Luke lifted his hand and saluted her. “Catch you later, sunshine.” With that, he followed the other woman.

“Don’t call me that,” Pru shouted and dashed after him. After few strides, her breath caught and her steps faltered. Like a lasso, the invisible lifeline tightened around her mid-section, constricted her chest, and snatched her back.

She had overstepped her boundaries.