She was just tired enough, just fed up enough, to say, “Yeah.”

  “You know someone there is doing something evil, huh?”

  “Someone is always doing something evil, Mort. It’s the way of the world. Get used to it.”

  “But like you said, some stuff is normal evil, and some isn’t. When you change, it’s to make you better able to deal with the abnormal stuff, huh?” This time, he didn’t even give her time to reply. “In the alley, when you fought those…things. You were awesome. Like an avenging angel. Even in movies, I haven’t seen anyone move like that. And you didn’t look so much like you. It was…well, not weird, so don’t get offended again. Just sort of amazing.”

  Gaby groaned. All her life, she’d assumed if anyone knew the truth of her, they’d call her a freak.

  Instead, Mort damn near idolized her.

  “There are no superheroes, Mort.”

  “You saved Luther. You saved that poor girl from more humiliation and worse. Against you, no one stands a chance, not a rapist and not a ghoul.”

  “Those things after Luther weren’t ghouls. They were evil people punished by God, and tormented by a human. Odds are they didn’t even know what they were doing. So much suffering would have to affect someone mentally.”

  “They were attacking Luther!”

  “I don’t know about that. Neither of them was agile enough or strong enough to do any damage to a big man like him.”

  “He was hit in the head. Hurt.”

  “Yeah, but did they do it? I dunno.” She put her head back and watched passing shadows out the window. “The one thing had a useless leg. It was there, but the appendage didn’t work, so if anything, that would have slowed him down. And that woman…her throat had been eaten away with disease. She only wanted help.” Gaby closed her eyes. “Unfortunately for all of us, she was beyond help, in life and death.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Her body was too deteriorated with disease to ever recover. And her past was too tainted for her to get any type of afterlife. God wouldn’t have—”

  Catching herself, Gaby clamped her lips together.

  Too late; Mort caught her misstep. “God wouldn’t have what?”

  He wouldn’t have sent Gaby to demolish the creature if she’d had any redemption at all. “Nothing.”

  “Did He send you after her?”

  She kept her lips firmly sealed. Anything she said would only make it worse. She’d turned into a damned blabbermouth and that just wouldn’t do.

  “I saw you, Gaby. I know something happened to you. That’s why I followed you. After I saw what you did, well, I want to keep helping.”

  “You’ve done enough. But…thanks.”

  “Could you maybe do an exorcism?”

  The absurdity of that almost brought a laugh from the humorless well of her soul. “No.”

  “But if evil possesses those beings, then maybe an exorcism could—”

  “It’s not like that, Mort. I wish it were that easy. Evil doesn’t come from hell to possess people. It is people. Some people, anyway.”

  He drove on in silence, rendering Gaby rigid with guilt for stifling his small hope.

  Then it struck her, what she wanted to do next. Mort would feel useful, and she could gain more clues. “Hey.”

  He glanced at her.

  “Feel like a drive?”

  “Uh…I am driving.”

  “Yeah, but not in the direction I want.” She instructed him toward the section of town where she destroyed the first creature. Rather than go the usual route, she took him past the abandoned Cancer Research Center that she remembered was visible from the road. The broad face of the building stood as an eerie specter in the darkness.

  Mort shivered. “Now that feels creepy.”

  “I know.” She opened her door. “You want to help, Mort?”

  His uneasy gaze went past her to look again at that imposing structure. “Yeah.”

  “Then I need you to stay here, with the doors locked and the engine running. No, don’t argue.”

  He closed his mouth against the automatic protests.

  “If anyone shows up, anyone suspicious, drive away, but only go around the block and then come back. If you aren’t here when I come back out of the woods, I’ll hide and wait for you, okay?”

  “This isn’t a very nice part of town.”

  So much for him playing sidekick. “No shit, but you’ll be safe enough. I promise.”

  Big eyes turned to her. “You’d feel it if anyone tried to hurt me?”

  Hell, she honestly didn’t know. It came down to that contrast of commonplace evil versus the deviant, preternatural evil. If a bully came after Mort, a drug dealer or a punk from a gang, that’d be an everyday type of crime, and she might not have a clue. “Look, just keep the doors locked and pay attention, and nothing can hurt you, right?”

  His bony shoulders straightened. “Right. I’ll be here, Gaby. I won’t let you down.”

  She did not want him to take any stupid chances. “Stow the melodrama and keep alert. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” She slammed the door, waited while Mort secured all the locks, and then faced the anomalistic presence that hid in aged brick and mortar.

  This, she decided, was where the core of malevolence issued forth. She would find her answers here.

  Uneasily, Gaby moved forward. She remembered that the research hospital hid the smaller buildings behind it, especially the isolation hospital. That’s where the auras had been most frenetic and disjointed, as if many discontented souls had coalesced into one excruciating, violent emanation.

  She felt it now.

  Drawing her. Pulling her in.

  Being receptive to the energy of others had its drawbacks; Gaby sensed it wasn’t only evil spirits at play. The emanations could also be coming from those who had led desperately unhappy lives—or those who faced terrible deaths.

  The grip of so many forces had the ability to bleed her of her own resources. In the normal course of things, she’d withdraw from the area, from the person or people depleting her.

  But this wasn’t normal.

  This was her mission, not God’s. She wasn’t His conduit, as was usually the case when she faced evil, and that alone made it exceedingly dangerous. If she didn’t fight the allure, it might consume her. And if that happened, who would look after Mort?

  Who would protect Luther?

  Uncaring whether curious eyes might notice, Gaby withdrew her knife. Having it in her hand amped up her courage. High weeds and prickly scrub shrubs knicked the skin on her feet and snagged in her jeans. Gaby pressed forward, past the looming structure, into the woods, and beyond.

  With each step, her heart beat harder and faster until it pained her. “Fuck,” she whispered, just to hear her own voice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Who are you?”

  Far ahead, she saw a faint illumination through the shrouding woods.

  Fear evaporated in the face of discovery.

  Hunkering down behind a broken tree trunk, Gaby watched. Weaving with the cadence of footsteps, the light shifted, dimmed, and grew brighter.

  Ah. Someone carried a flashlight and the uneven ground made the light bounce and shudder. Who? And why be in the woods this late at night?

  Sounds reached her attuned ears—footsteps, crunching leaves, soft crooning.

  She also heard great suffering.

  Then…coercion. And joy.

  Horror at those combined murmurings kept Gaby still. She saw it all as a human, and hated the view. Why did God do this to her? Why now, and why with this particular wickedness?

  There were no answers, and she strained her ears to hear more. A small brook, relaxing in its monotone flow. Bubbling. Gurgling…

  Choking.

  Comprehension brought Gaby to her feet. No! That wasn’t water; it was…spittle. Life.

  Being crushed out of another.

  Unthinking of her own possible peril, of where to go or what to do, Gaby charged forward. She tripped over fallen branches and rocks, rushed back to her feet only to be snagged in dead foliage and grabbed by thorny weeds. She fought wildly to free herself.

  All in vain.

  With the first thundering rush of her footsteps, the light went out and the woods fell dead silent.

  Oh please. She searched, but there was nothing, no life and no death and no noise, movement, or light of any kind.

  It was so silent that she knew it wasn’t natural. The night breathed and shifted; it made its presence known. But not tonight. This night was utterly still.

  She couldn’t do anything about it. Not in the darkness, alone.

  In the daylight, she’d come back.

  In the daylight, she’d make someone, or something, very sorry.

  Defeat left a bitter taste in her mouth and filled her heart with heavy stones. Her weakness had allowed someone to die.

  Someone to murder.

  She found Mort where she’d left him, and he was so relieved to see her that at first he asked no questions. Anxious to be out of the area, he just drove.

  It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when they’d reached the apartment, that he said, “Well?”

  “Nothing,” she lied. “A dead end.” She wouldn’t take Mort back there with her. She wouldn’t involve him. Never again. Her skin still crawled with the taint of iniquitous depravity. She would destroy the evil, but she’d do so while protecting Mort, whatever it took.

  It struck Gaby that she’d once thought her life complicated, when in fact, it was absurdly simple. But now, the more she interacted with regular, normal people, the more twisted and gnarled it made her life, and she feared she’d never get it unraveled again.

  One thing was certain: having a friend was a real pain in the ass.

  Midafternoon on the next day, Gaby found Luther on a basket- ball court. A much smaller bandage had replaced the wrapping around his head.

  Hell of a way for a man with a concussion to behave, Gaby thought. He didn’t exert himself overly, but he didn’t sit on the sidelines either.

  Rather than call out to him, she sat cross-legged on the lawn beneath the shade of a tall tree, and just observed. He played with a bunch of inner-city kids in a rainbow of colors: ebony, pink, beige, brown, caramel. Boys and girls. Some barefoot, most stick-thin. They looked to be around nine or ten.

  They enjoyed themselves.

  So did Luther.

  It felt odd to see someone so carefree and happy, someone who knew about the cancer, and the malevolence, and the doctor…

  Had he even checked into it all, as she’d asked?

  Or had he blown off her directions to play instead? That is, if you could call civic duty on a hot afternoon “play.”

  Gaby looked up at the blistering sun. It had to be eighty-five, which was cooler than they’d had lately, but under a cloudless sky was still hot enough to roast. The blacktop court would amplify the heat. A concussion would amplify the discomfort.

  Luther didn’t seem to mind.

  He looked good in dirty white sneakers, gray sweatpants, and nothing else. Gaby had seen men without shirts before, but none like Luther. He had a naturally strong body, not muscles carved in a gym. Sweat gleamed on his sleek shoulders and darkened his chest hair. Gaby visually followed the path of that hair as it narrowed to a line running down his abdomen to his navel, and into his sweats.

  He turned, feigned a shot, and then allowed a kid to steal the ball from him.

  Her heart skipped at the sight of his smile.

  Hands on his knees, head hanging and blond hair sweaty, he called it quits. “That’s it, kids. I’m beat. You’ve done me in.”

  A chorus of complaints rang out, but Luther just straightened on a laugh, ruffled hair, patted backs, and walked to a bench to get a towel. Another cop, this one a shapely female, took his place.

  As she passed Luther, he said, “Thanks, Ann. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, sweetheart. This is my chance to prove I’m more than a pretty face.”

  “I never doubted it.”

  Gaby took in the exchange with a scowl. The woman flirted with him, but Luther took it in stride.

  Without seeing Gaby, he used the towel to dry his chest and shoulders and started in her direction. Arm raised, he rubbed the back of his neck and Gaby could see his armpit, the bulge of an impressive biceps, and…

  A gold cross hanging around his neck.

  She was on her feet before he reached her.

  He drew up short. “Gaby?” After glancing around to see if anyone had noticed her, he moved closer. “What are you doing here?”

  She snatched up the cross hanging from the short chain. “What the hell is this?”

  The backs of her fingers touched against his damp, heated chest. She felt his body hair, crisp but also soft. She could smell him—man and sweat and…Luther. Her heart thumped harder.

  Sneering, she said, “You’re kidding, right? You think this will help anything?”

  He studied her, and without her realizing it, he’d curled his big hand over hers. “Come here, Gaby.” He pulled her hand from his cross and led her away from the basketball court to the other side of the street. “Sit down.”

  The hell she would. “Don’t give me orders.”

  He eyed her. “Are you pissed for any particular reason, or just as a way of life?”

  Damn it. She hadn’t been pissed. Not until she saw the woman with him. And the cross.

  But mostly the woman.

  Not that she’d ever tell him so. If she did, she’d really feel like a moron.

  Changing the subject from her mood to his bling seemed a good idea. “That’s nothing more than an icon, you know. It’s not going to ward off evil.”

  “It was a gift from my grandmother, who has since passed away. I loved her, so I wear it.”

  How dare he continue to sound so levelheaded and calm in the face of her growing ire? “That’s all there is to it?”

  “I’m not worried about vampires, if that’s what you mean.”

  Her shoulders straightened, but still she felt about two feet tall. “Sorry.”

  “Wow.” A smile teased his firm mouth. “You almost said that like you meant it.”

  Pressing her fingers under her sunglasses, Gaby rubbed at her eyes. “Look, I didn’t hunt you down to argue with you.”

  “Could have fooled me.” He slung the towel around his neck. “How did you hunt me down?”

  “I went to the station, and was told it was your day off. I asked if anyone knew where I could find you, and someone sitting in there—not a cop, but someone else—”

  “Gary Webb? Twenty-one-year-old kid with too much energy?”

  “Maybe. He told me to check here.”

  “All right. And you hunted me down because…?”

  Gaby looked around the area. “Is there someplace I can buy you a Coke?”

  “No.” He folded his arms over his chest. “But I can buy you one if you feel like walking a block.”

  “I can walk.”

  In strained and silent agreement, she went with Luther to his car where he stowed the towel and then dug out a white T-shirt and slipped it on. He finger-combed his sweaty hair away from his face and retrieved his sunglasses. “Ready?”

  “Sure.” They started down the street.

  At a convenience store, he went inside, and Gaby followed. There was no air conditioning, but a squeaky fan stirred the humid air, offering a modicum of relief.

  “Get what you want,” he told her, so she chose a cola and a candy bar. He grabbed a sport drink and two traveler’s packs of aspirin.

  “Head still hurting?”

  “A little. I’m fine.” But he opened both packs and popped them into his mouth, washing them down with the cold green drink.

  “You were probably supposed to take it easy today, huh?”

  “I had other things to do besides taking it easy.” He paid and they went back outside. “This way.”

  There were no benches nearby, so he led her to a grassy spot beneath a tree, and together they sat.

  With each passing second, Gaby felt more like an idiot. The man had barely had time to sleep, much less do as she’d asked. And he was hurt, so probably shouldn’t have done anything at all anyway.

  Luther stared at her, waiting.

  “I wanted to talk to you for a couple of reasons. I was going to tell you how I cut my arm—”

  “Let’s start with that.”

  She shook her head. “In a minute.” She indulged in a long drink of her cold soda, and then on impulse she stretched out on her back in the grass. “I guess you’ve been too laid up to check into the hospital stuff like I asked, huh?”

  He stretched out, too, but on his side, propping himself up on an elbow so he could watch her. “Actually, I did that before I left the hospital.”

  She turned her head toward him. “Really?” Wow, so maybe he’d listened to her after all.

  “They’ve lost twenty patients over the last two years.”

  “Is that a lot?”

  “Not according to them. Not for the cancer ward.”

  Gaby put an arm behind her head and stared up at the sky. “Doctors usually visit more than one hospital. Check the other ones that Dr. Marton goes to, too.”

  “Okay.”

  She scrutinized him. “Did you check on that place where the indigent patients go?”

  “I got an address, but I haven’t been there yet. I did some research, though, and nothing fishy turned up.”

  Gaby nodded. “Visit it anyway.”

  “I planned to.”

  He was so agreeable, so easy, that somehow the words just slipped out. “I stabbed a man last night.”

  In the middle of taking another drink, Luther halted. He didn’t blink. He didn’t say anything. He just froze.

  Gaby rolled her lips in, worked the words around in her mind, and then plunged on. “He’ll live, I think. Without giving my name, I called the cops so they could take him to a hospital or whatever. You’ll probably hear about it at the station, and I didn’t want you to start suspecting me of anything.”