PROLOGUE
NEUTRAL WATERS
Daniel stared out at the bay. His eyes were as gray as the thick fog enveloping the
Sausalito shoreline, as the choppy water lapping the pebble beach beneath his feet. There
was no violet to his eyes now at all; he could feel it. She was too far away.
He braced himself against the biting gale off the water. But even as he tugged his
thick black pea coat closer, he knew it was no use. Hunting always left him cold.
Only one thing could warm him today, and she was out of reach. He missed the
way the crown of her head made the perfect resting spot for his lips. He imagined filling
the circle of his arms with her body, leaning down to kiss her neck. But it was a good
thing Luce couldn't be here now. What she'd see would horrify her.
Behind him, the bleat of sea lions flopping in heaps along the south shore of
Angel Island sounded the way he felt: jaggedly lonely, with no one around to hear.
No one except Cam.
He was crouched in front of Daniel, tying a rusty anchor around the bulging, wet
figure at their feet. Even engaged in something so sinister, Cam looked good. His green
eyes had a sparkle and his black hair was cut short. It was the truce; it always brought a
brighter glow to the angels' cheeks, a shinier sheen to their hair, an even sharper cut to
their flawless muscled bodies. Truce days were to angels what beach vacations were to
humans.
So even though Daniel ached inside each time he was forced to end a human life,
to anyone else he looked like a guy coming back from a week in Hawaii: relaxed, rested,
tan.
Tightening one of his intricate knots, Cam said, "Typical Daniel. Always stepping
aside and leaving me to do the dirty work."
"What are you talking about? I'm the one who finished him." Daniel looked down
at the dead man, at the wiry gray hair matted to his pasty forehead, at his gnarled hands
and cheap rubber galoshes, at the dark red tear across his chest. It made Daniel feel cold
all over again. If the killing weren't necessary to ensure Luce's safety, to save her, Daniel
would never raise another weapon. Never fight another fight.
And something about killing this man did not feel quite right. In fact, Daniel had a
vague, troubling sense that something was profoundly wrong.
"Finishing them is the fun part." Cam looped the rope around the man's chest and
tightened it under his arms. "The dirty work is seeing them off to sea."
Daniel still gripped the bloodied tree branch in his hand. Cam had snickered at the
choice, but it never mattered to Daniel what he used. He could kill with anything.
"Hurry up," he growled, sickened by the obvious pleasure Cam took in human
9
bloodshed. "You're wasting time. The tide's going out."
"And unless we do this my way, high tide tomorrow will wash Slayer here right
back ashore. You're too impulsive, Daniel, always were. Do you ever think more than
one step ahead?"
Daniel crossed his arms and looked back out at the white crests of the waves. A
tourist catamaran from the San Francisco pier was gliding toward them. Once, the vision
of that boat might have brought back a flood of memories. A thousand happy trips he'd
taken with Luce across a thousand lifetimes' seas. But now--now that she could die and
not come back, in this lifetime when everything was different and there would be no
more reincarnations--Daniel was always too aware of how blank her memory was. This
was the last shot. For both of them. For everyone, really. So it was Luce's memory, not
Daniel's, that mattered, and so many shocking truths would have to be gently brought to
the surface if she was going to survive. The thought of what she had to learn made his
whole body tense up.
If Cam thought Daniel wasn't thinking of the next step, he was wrong.
"You know there's only one reason I'm still here," Daniel said. "We need to talk
about her."
Cam laughed. "I was. " With a grunt, he hoisted the sopping corpse up over his
shoulder. The dead man's navy suit bunched up around the lines of rope Cam had tied.
The heavy anchor rested on his bloody chest.
"This one's a little gristly, isn't he?" Cam asked. "I'm almost insulted that the
Elders didn't send a more challenging hit man."
Then--as if he were an Olympic shot-putter--Cam bent his knees, spun around
three times to wind up, and launched the dead man out across the water, a hundred feet
clear into the air.
For a few long seconds, the corpse sailed over the bay. Then the weight of the
anchor dragged it down ... down ... down. It splashed grandly into the deep aquamarine
water. And instantly sank out of sight.
Cam wiped his hands. "I think I've just set a record."
They were alike in so many ways. But Cam was something worse, a demon, and