It took a few minutes, but gradually the chill of death began to infuse the air. Wispy strands of smoke began to rise from his body, the tendrils gathering several feet above his flesh until they'd formed a ghostly, almost humanlike figure that had no features. He didn't swirl as so many other souls did, but I felt the sharp tug of him sucking at my energy.

You lied, he said, his voice far clearer, stronger, than was usual for the dead. But maybe that was merely a result of the freshness of his demise. Usually I didn't arrive on the scene until at least an hour afterward.

"Anyone who shoots at a guardian needs to be prepared. We don't often miss." Although I could have, if I'd just taken a moment to think rather than react. It would have been better to interrogate his live body rather than his dead one.

But I didn't kill anyone, he said. His anger and fear swirled around me, through me, in a bitter, vengeful cloud.

It was the same bitterness I'd tasted in the park.

"If you didn't kill Johnson, then why were your prints found in the van? And why was your scent at the murder scene?"

He just sat there, a pulsing cloud of conflicting emotions. And he didn't seem more inclined to talk in this form than he had when flesh.

"If you want to move on and find peace, you'd better talk to me, Mr. Surrey."

I had no idea if it actually worked that way, but I was betting he didn't, either.

He stirred, sending a tendril of smoke swirling outward from his main form. The energy flowing from my body increased sharply, and pain stabbed through me. Obviously, I needed more recovery time between souls.

The bastard deserved what he got, he spat. He killed my family. Tortured them.

"He went to prison for his crimes - "

Hah, Surrey retorted. Twenty-five years for my wife and her daughter. Does that seem fair to you?

"That's not - "

Yeah, yeah, you bastards all stick together. Well, I don't regret my actions. He deserved it. I can move on in peace now, knowing he can't do that to anyone else.

"But you didn't actually do anything, did you, Mr. Surrey?" It was a guess on my part, but a pretty certain one. Surrey might be a vampire, but he didn't seem to have the balls for torture. Sure, he'd had no compunction about shooting at me, but I think that was more fear and panic than courage.

His sullenness swirled around me. The pain of him sucking at my strength was growing, as was the dull ache behind my left eye.

No, he said eventually. I hired someone.

"Tell me who."

I never knew his name and he never got out of that stupid costume he was wearing.

"The demon costume?"

His smoky form moved, which I took as assent. Maybe he'd forgotten he no longer had flesh.

"How did you get in contact with him, then?"

There was an ad in the paper.

I blinked. Contract killers were now taking out ads? "What sort of ad?"

A problem-solved ad. I contacted them, told them about Johnson, and they said they could help me.

By sending around a hit man? Interesting. "Was it their idea or yours to accompany the killer?"

Mine. I wanted to see the bastard die, wanted to feel it. Wanted him to know just how it felt to spend the last minutes of your life in such pain and fear.

Which was why the scent of vengeance had been so thick and bitter.

"Which paper did you see the ad in?" Dizziness swirled through me as I spoke, and I dropped a hand to the concrete to steady myself. But the weakness was growing. I'd need to end this soon.

The local paper, Surrey said. It runs every week.

"And there's nothing else you can tell me about the man you hired? How did you pay him?"

Cash up front. His smoky form began to swirl and his anger sharpened. I can feel you growing weaker, guardian. Perhaps you should join me in -

I didn't wait for him to finish, just chopped down on the link between us, cutting him off. The abruptness of it sat me back on my butt, but it had an even more resounding effect on him.

He screamed.

It was a high-pitched sound of agony and frustration combined, and the tendrils that had formed his body shattered, flying like broken glass in a hundred different directions.

Then he was gone.

I swallowed heavily and hoped like hell I hadn't destroyed his soul as easily as I'd shot him.

For several heartbeats I sat there on the cold concrete staring at his body, but the trembling in my limbs got worse, not better, until it felt like I was shaking from the tip of my toes to the end of my hair. I wrapped my arms around my knees and tried to get a grip, but it didn't seem to help. Coldness swept me - a coldness that had nothing to do with souls and everything to do with death.

And not just this death, but all deaths. The ones in the past and the ones in the future. The ones that had stained my soul and the ones that would.

I can't do this any longer.

I didn't want to do this any longer.

But short of death, I couldn't see a way out. I needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand ...

I'm here. Like a cool, calming breeze, Quinn's thoughts poured into mine, instantly stemming the rising tide of panic. Talk to me.

I couldn't. The words wouldn't form. I just wanted him here in the flesh, wanted him to wrap his arms around me and tell me it would be all right. That in the end, fate's fickle finger would start pointing at someone else, and my life would become sane again.

His warmth and love flooded down the link, battering away the doubts, the fear.

My thoughts unfroze. Panic subsided.

Sorry, I said eventually. I didn't mean to disturb you like that.

Sweetheart, you can disturb me anytime, anywhere, for any reason. He paused, and I felt the wash of his concern. What happened?

I killed a suspect.

Not without reason.

No.

Then you were doing your job - nothing more, nothing less.

I know, but -

Stop beating yourself up, Riley. His voice came, soft but firm. The only person you need to worry about at the moment is yourself. I can take care of everything else - even if that means getting you away from the Directorate.

I smiled. It was very nice being loved by this man.

But was I ready for him to go to war for me? Because that's what it would take to get me away from the Directorate. Jack was a great boss and a fair vampire, but he was still a Directorate man and he'd worked for a long time to get me where I was today. He wouldn't release me easily.

And while I didn't think Jack would resort to violence to keep me - especially against a vampire who was older and stronger - Jack wasn't the sum of the Directorate. His sister was - and she was both older and stronger than Quinn. I had no idea just what she was capable of.

I wasn't about to risk putting Quinn in harm's way. I'd already lost my soul mate. I wasn't about to lose my heart, as well.

But there was also the larger problem of the drug in my system. Quinn might own pharmaceutical companies, but they weren't set up to monitor me like the Directorate was. Until we knew the direction of those changes, I was basically stuck.

Riley, he said softly, if you want out, I'll make it happen.

I know. And that's what worried me. But it's not that simple.

It can be.

I rubbed a hand across my eyes. Maybe it could. Maybe if I gave up fear and simply trusted, it would all fall in place.

But I couldn't. Not yet.

Not when everything was still so raw and fresh.

I think I just need time, I said softly. Time to understand what I really want.

Time to gain the courage to go after it.

Maybe you also need to talk to someone who has been through what you've been through, he said. How long has it been since you've talked to Ben?

Once upon a time, he would have seen Ben as a threat, but after everything we'd been through of late, I think Quinn finally understood just how secure he was in my world. It didn't matter if the moon heat drove me into the arms of another - it hadn't anytime recently, and certainly never with Ben - because for a wolf, sex was a physical thing, a need as deep and driving as Quinn's need for blood, and it did not affect the heart or mind. The possessive, controlling part of him had finally given way to understanding.

In return, I gave him my all. Or as much of me as there was left to give.

I talk to Ben all the time. And he did understand, because he'd lost his soul mate and had come out the other end.

But maybe that was also the problem. He'd coped. I really wasn't.

I think you need to go talk to him again. Quinn paused. You need to talk to someone.

I closed my eyes. The pain behind that statement was easy to hear. I'm sorry, love. I don't mean -

I know. He cut me off gently. And I know I told you in the past that I didn't want to know about you and Kye. But you need to release the pain of it, Riley, or it's going to eat you up and destroy you.

I know. I took a deep, shuddery breath. I'll arrange another meeting with Ben.

And after that, maybe, finally, I could find a way to talk to Quinn. To open up about the pain and the hurt that still festered inside.

Though he sensed that hurt. He was too attuned to me now not to.

I need to report the kill to Jack, I said eventually. Whether we'll meet for lunch or dinner very much depends on what he wants me to do next.

I'm here at the office all day, so just call when you're ready.

I will. I paused, then added softly, Love you.

He smiled. It came down the link between us like sunshine through rain, all warm and glittery.

And you are my world, and everything that means anything to me, he replied. Remember that, when the demons start getting the better of you.

Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them away. I must have done something right if fate had left this man in my life.

I sent him a mental kiss, then closed down the link between us. My gaze fell on Surrey and, with another sigh, I dug my phone out of my pocket. Humans often got surprised that things like phones could come through the change with us. To be honest, I really couldn't explain it myself. But the things we wore - on our bodies and in our pockets - were looked after by the magic, in much the same way as our clothes were. The things we carried - like handbags - weren't. Where it all actually went when we were in our alternate shapes I had no idea - and, really, I preferred not to know.

I hit the record button, ignored the fact that my hands were still shaking, and propped the phone in position.

"The victim's name is Hank Surrey," I said, moving around to the other side of his body so I wouldn't obstruct the recording. "One shot was fired to the middle of his forehead, resulting in a clean kill."

I didn't bother adding that I'd fired in self-defense. It wasn't really relevant in this case, and Jack didn't care anyway.

I reached into Surrey's pockets and began pulling items out. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't be me doing this but Cole. But given that Surrey wasn't actually responsible for the killing, we needed to find some answers fast.

Or rather, I needed to find the answers fast.

"Handkerchief and three-fifty in coins found in left front pocket of jeans." I dumped those back, then moved to the right side. "Wallet found in right side pocket."

It contained about forty dollars in cash, several credit and key cards, and several bits of folded-up newspaper. I repeated this for the phone's benefit, then drew out the paper and unfolded them. Both were newspaper clippings, and both were relatively small but explosive in their own way.

The first was a short article that had obviously been in his wallet for many years. The ink was all but faded and the paper so thin it was coming apart along the well-worn crease lines. It spoke about the brutal murder of a woman and her child in a park playground in Eltham, and it was little more than a couple of lines long. But that was enough to hint at the brutality of the event.

Surrey's wife and adopted child, obviously.

No wonder the air had been thick with the scent of vengeance. Surrey had been holding on to his anger for a very long time indeed.

The other bit of paper was the ad he'd spoken about, and it simply said all personal problems solved, and gave a contact number. It was a land line rather than a cell phone, and in this day and age that was unusual.

I repeated it for the benefit of the recording, then continued searching, but there was little else of interest. Moving the search to the van produced the same result. I stopped the recording, then sent it to the Directorate and rang Jack.

"Riley," he said. "We've just installed a scrambler program onto your cell phone, so hopefully that'll stop the scanners from picking up any information until we get a new number. What's happened?"

"I cornered Surrey and he wasn't happy,"

"Meaning he's dead." It wasn't a question, and in so many different ways that was disturbing. The worst being the fact that Jack had no doubt that I would shoot to kill, and that certainty was the one thing I'd wanted to avoid.

I desperately wanted him to have doubts. Needed him to have doubts, for my own peace of mind if nothing else.

"Surrey's soul rose and I questioned him. It appears he hired a hit man through an ad in the local paper. The clipping was in his wallet - "

"You recorded your search?" he interrupted. "Cole's very particular about that."

And I'd been told off enough times by him to do it automatically nowadays. "It's already on its way to you, though you might want to warn him he'll also find my prints in the van. I now need to trace the phone number I found." I reached for the ad and read out the number. "I might as well go investigate it if we can pin down a location."

"Hang on." He plonked the phone down, then murmured something to whoever was in the main office with him. Papers shuffled, then he came back online. "The labs just came back with the latest test results."