The missing part of Perfect Passion starts with the last page of this chapter (in A Magical Moment), but I went ahead and posted the whole thing. This is the end of a murder mystery folks. Big SPOILERS ahead. Are you the type who likes to read the end first? Have at it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

This is an uncorrected, unedited copy. I had to dig it up out of the depths of my back-up files. Be warned again. I only hope it isn’t a frickin’ draft.

For the missing pages at the beginning of THE LOOK OF LOVE, the excerpt provides all of them.

Chapter 36

Kay pressed the call light again with a muttered curse. Damn nurses. They sure took their sweet time coming to help her. They treated her like crap, the bitches. Insisting on calling her Keith, looking at her like she was some freak. It was fifteen minutes beyond the time she was supposed to get her pain shot. They kept saying she’d have to ask for it, that it was “as needed.” Lying heifers, her doctor said she could have it every four hours, and she expected them to be standing in her doorway, needle in hand on the minute.

She spied something out of the corner of her eye. It looked like a black cloud approaching, a cloud roughly in the shape of a person. She blinked rapidly. Maybe she had been taking too many pain killers after all. The cloud came closer. Kay opened her mouth to scream, to get her roommate’s attention, but no sound came forth. She tried to jump out of the bed, and she couldn’t move. She felt the pillow being pulled from behind her head and watched with horror as it moved seemingly of it’s own volition.

The pillow came down with agonizing slowness to her face. When it finally settled on her face and relentless pressure was applied, cutting off her breath, she surrendered to her fate. She’d screwed up this life she’d been given past redemption. Maybe in the next one she’d have a better chance. Her last thought welcomed the blackness that descended to take her away.

Taylor chewed her nails, a bad habit she’d thought she’d broken ten years ago. She hadn’t heard from Stone and he was late for the date they’d arranged last night. She jumped out of the chair she had curled up in when the doorbell rang. Forcing herself to walk slowly to the door, she shook her head at the level of her anxiety. Falling in love was hell, she’d rather . . .The bad thing was she could think of nothing she’d rather do.

Her eyes widened with surprise when she pulled open the door and not only Stone was standing there. That older detective, Charles Redmon, stood by his side and they both looked grim.

“Are you saying that I’m a suspect now?” Taylor demanded. The detective pulled out a cigarette and Stone looked at the floor.

“Don’t light that in here,” Taylor snapped.

“Let’s say we’re exhausting all possibilities.”

“Well, as you see, I don’t have an alibi for the time of Kay’s death. After I left lunch with Samuel, I walked for over an hour. I had a lot to think about.”

“Who’s Samuel?” Stone asked.

The detective snapped his pad shut. “You know the drill, Ms. Cates. You can’t leave the city.”

Taylor felt the blood drain from her face and she sank into a chair. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She was a suspect.”

Stone let the detective out. “Are you okay?” he asked when he returned.

Taylor shook her head.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No. No, that’s fine.”

“Where is everybody?”

“Teensy took the kids to a movie, and I think Mai went to the store.”

Stone crouched down in front of her and lifted her chin. “It’s going to be all right, baby. I promise you.”

“Why all of a sudden, am I a suspect?”

Stone shook his head. “Charles and some of the other guys in homcide have closed up, now they know I’m involved with you. I think it’s something to do with some evidence they found, but I’m not sure.”

“They’ve been so secretive about this investigation.”

“Probably because they don’t have much. Charles said they were baffled. Some of the killings seem like they would have been impossible to pull off. It’s as if a ghost materialized, killed, and disappeared, all without a trace.”

Taylor shivered. “That may not be as far off track as you believe. Samuel said black magic is probably involved.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask, who the hell is Samuel?”

“This man who Bennie brought to lunch. He’s a true psychic, and he told me so much.”

“Black magic?”

Taylor nodded and bit her lip. “I’m scared, Stone. Whoever is doing the murders is directing psychic attacks at me.”

“You have no idea who?”

Taylor shook her head. “It could be anybody. But it’s probably one of the ex-shelter residents or staff. All this is connected with the shelter.”

“It somebody with a big beef against abusers, that’s for sure.” Stone covered her hand with his. “Do you still want to go out?”

“No, I don’t feel up to it now.”

“Let’s go to my place.”

That sounded wonderful. Her apartment was starting to feel like it was suffocating her. She stood. “I’m ready.”

Taylor gasped as she followed Stone into his apartment. She looked around her, eyes wide. “My God, it’s . . .it’s clean.”

Stone looked around smugly. “Looks great, huh?”

“I’m flabbergasted. When did you find time to do this?” she asked, knowing Stone had already trashed the apartment from her previous cleaning.

“I didn’t. I hired a cleaning lady. She’s going to come three times a week.”

“I thought you hated people cleaning up after you.”

“I think I can learn to deal with it. I let my secretary tackle my office too. She’s thrilled, she’s been begging me for years.”

Taylor wrapped her arms around his waist. “Maybe, we can work on you picking up after yourself next.”

“Now, don’t get carried away,” he said with a chuckle.

“What are we going to do for food?” Taylor wondered.

“Order pizza, of course.”

“I’ve never been so terrified in my life,” Taylor said. Although now she felt safe, cradled in Stone’s arms after his usual exemplary lovemaking. To be honest, the man could never pick up a towel, or put a dish in the sink for the rest of his life. She’d either do it herself or pay somebody. His compensating qualities were extraordinary.

“So this guy says there is something you can do about these attacks?”

“Yes, and actually it’s quite simple, you can do it yourself. It starts with visualizing a sheet of white light. Wrap the light around you using physical motions to reinforce the reality. Then ask God and specific angels for protections, using their names.”

“So how is imagining all this is supposed to protect you from real psychic attacks?”

“Thought creates reality. Everything real first began as a thought.”

“Still seems rather bizarre. Why do you have to ask for protection? And why do you have to call on God and the angels by name? What’s God’s name anyway? Yahweh? Jehovah? And how do you find out angel’s names?”

“You don’t get anything, good or bad, without asking for it. It’s a law. God’s name is I am. Yahweh and Jehovah is this name in different languages and variations. God told Moses his name was I AM that I Am. As for angels, I always call on the big guns, Michael.”

“Oh.”

“Most people don’t realize that their thoughts are real. They go around thinking anything about themselves and their world never realizing that they are creating their own reality. Then on top of it they voice negatives, saying things like, I Am fat, or I Am so Stupid, never realizing they are making their declarations real.”

“Okay, picture this. This woman conjures up a big monstrous demon to come after your butt. You stand there and visualize a white light surrounding you. I suppose calling on God, angels and anything else you can think of isn’t far-fetched at this point. But you’re saying that this is actually going to protect you.”

“While I seriously doubt any attack would be that unsubtle and physical, yes, that would protect you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It would protect you up to the extent of your faith, your surety that it would. Any doubt or fear would cause your shield to waver.”

“I’m toast then, because if I see some monster demon coming after me, I’m hauling ass.”

Taylor looked at him. “Stone this is no joke. The best thing you could do for yourself is to practice this technique. Samuel did it in a sitting position in a crowded restaurant, without motions or audible words to cement the intention, and I actually saw a shield of protection form around him.

Stone propped up an elbow, his finger tracing a lazy passage around one nipple, then another.

“I think we really should practice now,” Taylor said.

Stone dropped a kiss in her nipple, his tongue teasing it into a hard peak. Taylor shivered in response.

“Tell you what. I’ll count on you to protect me from mysterious forces, demons and things like that. Because I can think of better things I’d like to practice right now.”

And Taylor, as much as she thought otherwise, couldn’t disagree.

Chapter 37

He writhed in the grips of the force that pinned him against the wall of his metal cell. He felt it rip the very life force from his cells. Burning, stabbing anguish. He screamed in agony. Then it dropped him to the floor, finished with him. For now. Soon, he would have no more life left to give.

It didn’t care is how much he screamed, cursed or raged. In fact it seemed to take pleasure in his emotional pain. Nobody would hear him. He once had hopes of someone coming and saving him. No more.

Sometimes she’d watch the thing feed on him impassively, indifferent to his suffering. He’d learned not to curse at her. He’d learned that the pain the force would cause him was minor compared to what she’d do to him. His scars had barely healed from the last time he’d angered her.

Once, right after it started, he’d been bold enough to ask her how she’d gained such power. “Hate,” she’d said. “I hated so much, my hate became real.”

Every so often she’d enter, while the force pinned against the metal wall of the cell she’d imprisoned him in. She’d hose out his wastes, refill his water jar, and leave a tray with several days of food.

The passage of time had become meaningless. He could feel that he didn’t have many days left and that was his only comfort, the peace of death would be a mercy.

Brent said she could start at his office next Monday. He’d been made partner last year, and apparently there was an opening in the firm for a part time associate. She’d make twice the money working half the hours as she did in her old job. No elation filled her, she wasn’t looking forward to doing the fat-cat corporate work Brent’s firm specialized in. She missed Helping Hands, Inc. already.

Mai’s application for housing had been approved. She’d be moving out next week. And when Teensy got her next paycheck, she said she’d be able to finally get her own apartment. Taylor would missed them, and dreaded living by herself. She’d gotten spoiled with the luxury of having friends around her all the time. She’d lost the art of being alone.

She got in her car and started it up. Turning in the direction of her home, she wondered what did she really want. An easy answer, Stone Emerson. Her apartment was bigger and far nicer than his. She wished he’d move in with her. They’d get the housekeeper to come everyday, maybe cook dinner too, it would be ideal.

She’d forgotten about Ernie. No way was Stone going to get rid of that dog. For Stone she’d put up with Ernie. She was getting sort of attached to that big mutt anyway. But Stone seemed perfectly content with the way things were, good companionship, good sex, and no real commitment.

Kara said she was moving too fast. Maybe she was, but with all that was going on she was frightened. She didn’t want to be alone, and the only person she wanted to be with was Stone. The vision she’d had about him nagged at the back of her mind. She couldn’t bear losing him.

The best approach was the direct one. Tonight, she’d actually cook for him for once, then she’d make a casual suggestion and see how he responded.

Stone leaned back in his chair, replete. “Baby, I thought you couldn’t cook, but when you put you mind to it, you put your foot in some food.” Taylor lazily ran her finger around the edge of her wine glass, and wondered how best to approach him. “I noticed you didn’t drink any wine.”

“I’m not drinking alcohol anymore. Stone, you know Mai and Teensy are going to be leaving soon, and I’m going to be all alone in that big apartment.”

“Are you worried about rent? I said I could spot you the money–”

“No it’s not the rent. I’ll be making plenty working with Brent to catch up with all my bills. It’s just that . . . I don’t want to be alone.”

Silence.

“You’re a grown woman, Taylor, surely you’ve come to grips with the necessity of spending time in your own company occasionally.”

She squeezed the stem of the glass. “You misunderstand me. I think it’s time we move to the net level.”

Stone’s eyes widened and he reached for her hand.

“I think it’s time we moved in together,” Taylor finished in a rush. He withdrew his hand.

He leaned away from her and crossed his hands across his chest. “What if that’s not something I want to do?”

Taylor’s vision blurred and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She rose and turned away from him, reaching for her purse. “I need to go. I have to think this over and I can’t do it with you,” she said in a strangled voice.

“Taylor–,” he started to say.

“No. Let me go. I’ll . . .I’ll call you later.”

She walked out of his door before he could see her tears fall.

“Y’all wait in the car. I’ll be right back,” Teensy said to her children. She knocked on the door of the small neat house where she’d invested most of her life and money in. The loss of the house was worth the freedom from the misery she’d suffered in it.

After a few minutes, she bit back an oath. That man knew she was coming to get the check. His car was in the driveway and the lights were on. He was obviously home. Maybe he was asleep over a bottle. That would be typical. She walked around to the back. The sliding patio door was standing open and Teensy felt the first twinges of alarm. She hesitated, then walked in.

The first thing that struck her was the smell of shit. Then she saw him. He sat at the table, an incredible litter of liquor bottles around him with his head down, asleep. Her nose twitched. He’d soiled himself. She touched his shoulder and withdrew her hand as she felt the cold clamminess of his skin.

Then she looked closer. His legs were tied together with wire, and wire was wrapped around his waist to secure him in chair. Her hand covered her mouth. Finally, he was dead.

About three blocks from Stone’s apartment, Taylor pulled over and parked. She gave herself over to the sobs that racked her. She played her card, she’d asked him point-blank, would he move in with her. And just as point-blank, he’d turned her down. It was his right. She had no call to be angry. But the hurt stabbed her very soul.

What could she do now? Be satisfied with what he offered? Enjoy the sex. That was what she wanted in the beginning, no? Just to kick it with him, to have a good time and get him out of system. That was all he seemed to want from her.

Well, he’d given her plenty of good times, and it wasn’t enough. She blew her nose noisily, a sick emptiness was left from her storm of weeping. What could she do next? Be satisfied with what he had to offer? At least until he saw something better, she thought bitterly. Would he even want her around now that she’d played her hand so boldly?

A whimper rose from her throat as the familiar tingle rose on the back of her neck. She tried to raise her defenses, but her emotions too tangled, her mind to unfocused.

“I’m almost finished here,” the husky feminine voice announced.

“Why am I not hearing you in my mind like last time?” Taylor whispered through stiff lips.

“Too much trouble.”

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong with you?” the disembodied voice asked almost conversationally.

Taylor choked back a hysterical giggle. “Man trouble.”

“Ahhh. We’ll see what we can do about that.”

Then, the tingling sensation was gone, the presence departed. Taylor started the car again and she was several blocks away when the implication of what the voice said finally sank in.

Chapter 38

When she got home, Mai Lin was sitting in the living room, sipping a cup of tea. “Have you heard the news?” she asked.

Taylor’s heart sunk. She doubted if the news was good. “No, I haven’t.”

“Teensy found her husband earlier today. He’d been killed. She’s gone to take care of arrangements.”

Taylor gasped. “Oh, no, not another one.” Taylor sank into a chair. “She’d said she was almost done.”

“What do you mean?” Mai asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve got a lot a messages. Everybody from the shelter seems upset,” Mai said.

“Apparently almost all of us connected with the shelter are suspects.” Taylor sighed and went to listen to her messages.

Man after man died in a wash of blood and pain. The killer was an avenging angel, releasing woman from the bonds of true evil.

“It’s all relative after all, isn’t it?” a voice whispered. “Depends on how you see things. On one hand these men deserve to die. Each one is guilty of harm to a woman. Possibly a woman who loved him. Unforgivable.” She was bringing righteous judgment, freeing these woman to live in peace and harmony.

“It’s a lie,” Taylor screamed. “The end never justifies the means. Killing is always evil!”

“Oh, yeah? What does that say about your God who slain all those people in say, it’s hard to give one example, there’s so many, Jericho? Pregnant women, babies in arms, even pets and livestock. What about those killings?”

“To slay the wicked and promote righteousness.”

“My point entirely.”

“It’s not your place. Vengeance is mine saith the Lord,” Taylor whispered in despair.

“Truer words were never spoken.”

The hand held a knife that had just gutted an man. Her hand. She turned to a mirror and looked into her own eyes. The eyes of a killer.

“Nooooo,” she screamed.

Taylor sat up in bed, the room dark. Beads of cold sweat plastered her T-shirt to her body. The dream had been terrible. She trembled in reaction, the metallic odor of blood still seeming to fill her nostrils.

She reached for the phone to call Stone. She needed him, wanted him so badly . . . Slowly she withdrew her hand. She played her best cards with him, and lost. She wouldn’t beg him. She’d face this thing alone. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she brushed them away. She turned on the lamp. She couldn’t tolerate the darkness. Then she sunk back into her pillows her eyes staring straight ahead, keeping a vigil. For what reason, she wasn’t clear. She laid awake rest of the night.

“I’m glad you decided to join our firm, Taylor.” Brent took a Styrofoam cup of coffee from his secretary and handed to Taylor. “You like it black, right?”

Taylor nodded. “Thank you for giving me a much needed job. I really appreciate you hooking me up like this, Brent.”

“No problem. We go back a ways.”

Taylor sipped her coffee and remembered all the angst and trauma Kara went through before she got together with Brent. It had been a picnic in the park for her and Stone by comparison. Then again now, there were no signs that her and Stone were ever going to actually get together. Stone couldn’t have made it more clear that he didn’t want her. Although she had to admit that her problems with Stone paled in the face of a few bad dreams, sleepless nights, a lunatic serial killer, and demons to fight.

“Taylor?”

She looked up at Brent. “Sorry, I missed what you were saying. I didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“I’m going to have to talk to Stone about that,” Brent said with a grin. “Why don’t you spend an hour or so with our human resources manager? Then I want you to spend the rest of the day reviewing some cases similar to the ones you’ll be working on. Cathy has the files already. Just tell her when you’re ready for them.”

He stood. “Let me show you where personnel is, then we’ll go see your office.”

Taylor followed him out the door. He gestured to a closed door with a small plaque labeled human resources. “That’s Jody’s domain.” He continued down the hall. “You’ll be sharing the office with another woman. Eventually, you’ll be working on the same caseload. You’ll need to call her later today and confer on your working schedules. Essentially, you job share and you’ll need to work opposite her.”

He opened the door to a small sunny office. Two desks were present, one overflowing with papers. “That’s Jennifer’s desk. The other one is yours.”

Brent turned to the door. “I’ll leave you to get settled in. Like I said, Check with Jody first, then my secretary. Cathy has the files I want you to review.” He smiled at her. “I hope you like it here, Taylor.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you again, Brent.”

After he left, she walked to the window and looked out on the view of downtown Atlanta. Something nagged at her. A restless, uneasy feeling and she couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause.

She returned to her desk and rifled through the drawers. Somebody had stocked her with new office supplies. A small business card lay by the phone. She picked it up. Jennifer Sidarin, the office mate whom she was supposed to call. They certainly were organized around here.

She drummed her fingers against the desk. The uneasy feeling persisted. Something was wrong. A small frown creased her brow as Taylor picked up her coffee and made her way to the human resources manager’s office.

When the thing was finished with him, he was so weak he could hardly move. Still he gasped, when the unseen force grasped him and forced him up upright against the cold, hard metal wall of his cell. She approached him, rolling a tray. His eyes widened when he saw what was on it.

An assortment of shiny knives, sharp and lethal. Then he sagged against the invisible bonds holding him. It was time, and he was ready. He knew better than to hope for a quick, painless death.

She had a pleasant smile on her face. “I’m practically finished here. And you’re all used up. You know that don’t you? Time for me to move on. Get someone fresh and strong to take your place.” She picked up a knife and looked at her reflection. “Do you remember the first time you hit me?” She turned to him and he regarded her with dull eyes. He wished she would shut up and get it over with.

“I see you don’t. You beat me until I bled because I didn’t have your dinner on the table on time. Remember?”

She eased the knife point near his eye and his natural fear took over. He nodded.

“I thought you would.”

She took a step back and he let out his breath, not realizing he’d been holding it. He wanted to beg for mercy, a swift bullet to the head. But he knew she’d take pleasure in denying him.

She picked up two knives and rubbed the edges together, sharpening them. “A knife or a bullet to the gut is one of the most painful ways to die, you know that? Slow too.”

A deep, rich laugh came from within her. “I wish I could say I’m going to miss you, but sorry, I’m not. Nope, not going to miss you at all. The one I’ve chosen to take your place is tall and strong and handsome. He’ll probably last much longer than you.”

He whispered her name. “You have last words?” she asked.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She regarded him steadily. “Truer words were never spoken.”

A quick motion of her hand, and fire filled his guts. His eyes watered and little grunts came from his throat.

“Please, feel free to scream,” she said with a smile. “We’ve only just begun.”

Chapter 39

Stone, got up bright and early as was his habit, and was in his office before his secretary. He had a lot he wanted to do today. He had the feeling that today was the day everything fell into place. He was so close to the answers he sought.

His speciality was analyzation and deduction. Not necessarily combing the crime site for tiny bits of evidence, although he could do that too. He had a gift for combining the evidence into a big picture and studying it for tiny blemishes and discrepancies. Human nature was generally very predictable.

He brewed himself a cup of coffee, then settled in front of the computer. Manila folders were heaped over his desk, each in messy disarray. Each folder was labeled with the name of someone connected with Helping Hands battered woman’s shelter, or the agency itself. Each folder was stuffed with documents and data.

He settled in to review everything again. As soon as it was nine, he’d make a few calls.

Hours later, a knock sounded at the door. His secretary entered, fresh coffee and a sandwich in hand. She placed the offering beside him wordlessly while he continued working.

He ate his sandwich slowly. Leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. Then he nodded. Finally, he understood. The husbands, they were the key to the killer. And suddenly, as if someone had drawn him a map, he saw the pattern, that pointed to the killer. Taylor was right, it was a woman.

He opened on of the folder, and scribbled an address on a post it note. He slid a gun out of his drawer into his holster. He was going to check out the address out, and see if his hunch was correct. He turned to pick up the note, but he didn’t see it amidst all the disarray of papers. He flipped open the folders and scribbled the address down again. The he stuck the folder back into the pile.

He wheeled as his hand touched the doorknob on his way out the door. He thought he heard a husky chuckle behind him. But when he turned, no one was there.

The words of the brief Taylor was trying to read blurred. Brent had treated her to lunch at a posh downtown restaurant, but her appetite was gone. She’d just had a salad.

She rubbed the back of her neck. Her head was pounding, focused on the tight muscles back there. She groped in her purse and gulped down two acetaminophen with stale coffee. She tried to refocus on the brief and suddenly gasped, making a jerky movement spilling muddy brown coffee across pristine black and white pages. Pure fear and adrenalin had raced through her for no apparent reason.

Taylor stood with a swallowed oath and tried to brush the offending coffee away. Didn’t work. She went into the bathroom to find some paper towels. Pulling handfuls of paper towels from the holder she caught sight of herself in the mirror and gasped again.

She leaned closer, not willing to believe her eyes. Instead of the reflection she expected to see, she saw a white, gold and blue colors swirling. Then the mirror cleared and she saw Stone, walking toward a house. Her heart almost froze when she saw the house almost inhale and exhale evil. The windows looked like malevolent eyes staring right at her. The walls dripped freshly shed blood. Stone stood in front of the door for a moment, than it opened like the red maw of a hungry beast to admit him.

She beat her lip and touched the mirror with a trembling hand. The surface was restored. Her own face reflected in the shiny silver. She hurried to back to the office to call Stone. He must not leave his office until she got there.

“You just missed him,” Stone’s secretary said. “He rushed out the door in quite a hurry.”

Taylor squeezed the telephone receiver so hard her hand hurt. “Do you have any idea where he went?” she asked trying to keep her voice calm.

“He’d been working on the computer, and thinking about that shelter murder case all day. Maybe he found something.”

“It’s urgent that I locate him. I’ll be right over.”

Ten minutes later she was going through the heap of manila folders on his desk. The sheer amount of data he’d amassed was incredible. He had entire dossiers on people she didn’t know he knew of.

A half hour later she buried her face in her hands and tears stung her eyes. Nothing. Near despair, her eyes fell on a crumpled post it note, near the computer monitor. She picked it up, smoothed it out, and stared at the address scribbled there. That was it. She knew it beyond a doubt. She grabbed her purse and hurried out.

Stone checked his address and the house again. This was it, an older home in a stable, mixed Decatur neighborhood. He approached the house. It seemed dead, and unlived in. Stone walked on the front porch and the boards creaked in protest. He rang the doorbell and waited a few minutes. Hearing nothing, he rang it again.

Then he knocked on the door and to his surprise it swung open. “Hello?” he called.

He heard nothing but a faint rustling and a hum, probably appliances. It wouldn’t hurt to look around since he was here. The open door had seemed to welcome him.

The house was very neat, but a little old fashioned, like his grandmother’s house. Crocheted doilies laid over overstuffed upholstered chairs and a couch trimmed in wood with claw feet. An off odor permeated the house, but Stone couldn’t place it.

The he swung around, he thought he heard something from the basement. He entered the kitchen with it’s neat fifties appliances, and immediately saw the open door. Something made him hesitate, the hum was louder here, almost like an animal inhaling and exhaling. He clicked the light at the top of the stairs, it was dead.

Shining the beam of the small flashlight down the rickety stairs, he thought he heard a woman’s chuckle again. “Who’s there?” he called.

He walked down the stairs wincing at the loud groan each step made. “Who’s there?” he called again.

At the bottom of the stairs he paused to allow his eyes adjust to the dim light. The sticky feel of cobwebs covered his face and he brushed them off. The smell was stronger down here, like something rotten. Then as his eyes focused, and he saw with surprise what looked like a large metal box standing to his left. He shined his flashlight on it to examine it better. It was at least seven feet high and five or six feet wide. No way anybody got it down those basement steps, someone had to have put it together in the basement.

Then his eyes widened as he saw the wash of fresh blood oozing down the drain in the basement floor in front of it.

Stone stepped near the drain, shining his flashlight on the viscous maroon fluid. It came from the box. He circled the box, seeing a door with iron bars on the far side. A chill ran down his spine. It was a jail, a jail for a man. The door was open, seemingly beckoning him. He took a step closer, than another, certain he was going to find a body in there. He shined his flashlight in but the tiny beam couldn’t penetrate the thick impenetrable blackness within. Another step. Another.

Suddenly he felt something from behind him shove him into the cell. The clang of the iron barred door sounded behind him. He gave a cry and whirled, throwing himself against the bars. Locked. A woman’s dry chuckle sounded. “Now, you’re in a pickle aren’t you?” she said. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you what curiosity did to the cat?” His eyes widened with recognition as she stepped in front of his prison.

Chapter 40

Taylor got out of her car and stared at the house. It was the same one in her vision and she shuddered at the evil emanating from it. She spread her arms wide and spoke to the heavens and a sheaf of white light immediately poured sown and clothed her. She looked at her hand. Even it was glowing with an inner luminescence.

A human conduit was needed, an opening on this earthly plan for the continuing battle between good and evil to manifest in a physical sense. She had to bring the light, as the killer brought forth the darkness.

Despite the much welcome assistance she sensed near her, she wished she could wait until the car until it’s was over. She’d think those beings and especially the Big Guy would recognize that demon battle was not her forte and send someone more suited.

But who was she to question the Big Guy?

“Indeed,” she heard a light, silvery voice to her right.

She took a deep breath and walked toward the house. “You got my back, don’t you?”

No answer, but she felt a little reassured.

Stone’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the woman. “Guessed it was me? You’re one smart boy.” Then she chuckled. “Maybe not. You are in there, and I’m out here.”

“The cage is iron,” she said conversationally. “For your comfort and protection. Keeps my companion out until I let it in. It tends to be a little greedy. You’d last no time at all with unlimited access.”

She reached out to unlock the door, and Stone’s muscles tensed to jump out as soon as he heard the click.

“I don’t mind if you don’t thank me,” she said looking slightly miffed.

The door clicked and Stone leapt. A strangled scream came from his throat as he was slammed back against the metal wall of the cell by some unseen force. He blinked in disbelief as he was suspended in mid air, his feet dangling, unable to move a muscle.

She stood in front of the open cell. “Some times it can be a little rough. Especially when it’s very hungry.”

She beamed at him. “The basement is fairly soundproof, so I don’t mind if you scream. Releases tension, y’know.”

Then the agony begun. His muscles stained against the pain, and he groaned. After a while, he couldn’t help but shriek.

Taylor touched the door and it swung open. She gulped, and stepped over the thresh hold. Palpable gusts of psychic evil assailed her senses. They were strongest coming from that way. She walked to the kitchen and stared and the shut door. It glowed red, and with her heightened senses she saw it seep blood. She didn’t want to touch the door knob.

Then she heard a strangled scream. It was Stone. She threw open the door and stumbled down the rickety wooden stairs. A large metal box sat in the middle of the basement, and Mai Lin stood in front of the far side.

Taylor drew up short, gasping with shock.

Mai Lin smiled at her. “Welcome to my modest home. Would you like some tea?”

Taylor stared at Mai and noticed she was standing with in a chalk circle. A groan came from Stone and she ran to the box. Tears came to her eyes as she saw Stone pinned against the wall by a black mass. He writhed in agony, just like her vision. Then the thing dropped Stone to the floor and poured out of the box. Toward her.

It slammed against her barrier of white light. She stretched her arms wide, and saw a gold light penetrate the ceiling and pour through the top of her head issuing forth from her mouth in words in a language she didn’t know.

She saw shapes of light struggling against the black mass. Mai was knocked out of the chalk circle and the blackness descended on her. Mai started screaming, high, shrill panicked screams filled with pain. The light issued from her through her and penetrated the black mass. There was a sound like the whooshing of a vacuum being filled and the blackness was gone. Then the light drew in on itself and rushed through her, back to the heavens, leaving only the soft glowing white of her shield.

She stepped over the unconscious body of Mai Lin, and ran to Stone, gathering him in her arms. He lifted his head and stared at her. “Is the thing gone?”

“Vanquished.”

“I don’t suppose I’m dreaming, huh?”

“No, love, you’re not dreaming.” She softly kissed his lips before she pulled the cellular phone out of her pocket to call the police.

Epilogue

Taylor laid in Stone’s arms, finally back at his apartment. Mai Lin had been led away by the police in handcuffs. It was over. Stone cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, what happened in that basement?”

She traced the line of his jaw with a lazy finger. “What did you see?”

“Nothing, really. I heard you coming down the stairs and you stood near Mai Lin. She said something to you then you spread you arms and started babbling. In a few minutes Mai fell down and started screaming.”

“It was a battle against good and evil. I wished you could have seen it. It was glorious.”

“I hope you’re not planning to go into the demon battling business?”

“No, I think not. Once in a lifetime is enough. Stone?”

“What, baby?”

“You know when I asked if we could live together. Why did you turn me down?”

He sat her aside and took her hand. Unbidden tears rose in Taylor’s eyes. This is where he told her that it was over between them.

“I don’t want to live with you.”

She turned her head, not bearing to hear more.

“Taylor. Listen to me. I don’t believe in live-in situations. I want to put a ring on your finger and walk down the aisle. I want us to buy a house, and fill it with children.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, tears of joy. She threw her arms around him, speechless, the words caught in her throat.

“I love you, Taylor Cates, and if you don’t marry me. I’ll–I don’t know what I’ll do.”

She touched his cheek. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend the rest of my life with you.”

Stone whooped, picked her up and swung her around. Then he bent his head, and sealed the promise with a kiss.

Mai Lin tilted her head as if she was listening. Then a small smile touched her face. She was happy it worked out for those kids. No hard feelings. Taylor had won the battle fair and square, but the war still raged. Those police were quite silly to believe that a jail cell could hold her. A new city, a new shelter. Her work continued.

“Lee Oh, do you have anything to add?” the social worker asked.

She looked slowly around at the other women seated in my circle. “I’m happy for the woman who lost their husbands, maybe now they’ll be able to live.” She unfolded her hands. “My daughter died. She was the love of my life, my only child . . .