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  Gaia shrugged. "Who knows?" She sighed and sat back down. The important thing was that they were gone. There was no way she could deal with either of them right now. George would probably try to have some misguided heart-to-heart, and Ella would probably bawl her out for wasting a serving of breakfast cereal. But there was no point in getting

  angry over imaginary events. She had plenty to worry about in real life. She nodded at the paper. "You know, I don't think you're gonna find his name in there even if he did die," she muttered.

  "I know," Mary whispered. "I was just ..." She didn't finish.

  "Maybe we should go look for him," Gaia suggested.

  Mary nodded grimly. "Yeah. I was thinking about that."

  Gaia ran a hand through the tangled blond mess on her head. "The problem is ..."

  "If we find him, and he is okay ..."

  Their gazes met across the table. There was no need to complete the thought. If Skizz had indeed survived that attack--and if he was out of the hospital and out on the streets--well, then, he would have only one mission in life. Revenge.

  "Gaia?" Mary's voice was soft, shaky. She leaned across the table. "Look, I know you hate talking about yourself and revealing your deep, dark secrets or whatever, but ... but the thing is ... I mean, what made you freak out like that?"

  Gaia stared back at her. She blinked a few times. She'd known Mary was going to ask that question sooner or later. It was actually pretty amazing that Mary had waited so long. And she deserved to know. Even though Gaia hated confessionals more than she hated hanging out with Ella, she figured she owed Mary some kind of explanation.

  At the very least she had to soothe Mary's fears that such an attack would never happen again. And if she tried to articulate what she did, then maybe she would understand her own actions better herself.

  "I really don't know," Gaia whispered, staring down at the newspaper. "It was just a lot of things, really." She drew in a deep breath and raised her eyes. "But mostly ... mostly it was that I felt responsible for putting you in danger. I was mad at myself. I just took it out on him."

  Mary shook her head. "But it wasn't your fault. I mean, I didn't have to go into that park. I could have said no--"

  "But I pushed you," Gaia insisted. She tried to smile. "And the thing was, I thought I was actually doing you a favor. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. I thought that if you went into the park and nothing happened, you wouldn't be scared of Skizz anymore." Any trace of her smile vanished. "And look what happened."

  "You saved my life, though," Mary pointed out. She swallowed, drumming her fingers on the wooden tabletop. "I mean, even in the worst-case scenario, you know, even if he doesn't make it ... you were protecting me. He had a gun. It was self-defense."

  "Right," Gaia whispered emptily. "Self-defense." Guilt chewed through her like some kind of flesh-eating disease. Mary's words were a lie. Gaia didn't have to defend herself; she could have scared that guy off with one punch.

  "It was," Mary stated. But she might just have been trying to reassure herself. She slouched back in her chair and eyed Gaia curiously. "You know, you never told me. Where did you learn to fight like that, anyway?"

  "My father," Gaia grumbled.

  "Really?" All at once Mary sat up straight. Her gaze took on a new intensity. "The way you talk about him, it sounds like he knew everything about everything."

  Gaia couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah. Sort of." She didn't try to mask the bitterness in her voice. "He instructed me in a lot of things."

  "Like what?"

  "Like ..." Gaia hesitated. Amazingly enough, discussing her father wasn't nearly as painful as she would have imagined. It actually felt good to talk about him. And it wasn't as if Mary was trying to get information from Gaia for any sinister purposes; she simply wanted to know as much as possible about her friend. It was perfectly natural. Especially since Gaia hardly ever talked.

  "Well, he made me read a lot," Gaia continued. She lifted her shoulders. "He basically made me do things that most kids shouldn't have to do until they're a lot older. Or not at all."

  "Why?" Mary persisted.

  Gaia laughed again. "Beats the hell out of me. I'd like to ask him myself."

  "Why can't you?"

  "Because I haven't seen the son of a bitch in five years."

  The words flew from Gaia's mouth even before she was aware of saying them. Damn. She blinked. She hadn't realized the depths of her own venom. She was surprised. But most of all, she was surprised she had revealed so much. Had she made a mistake? Mary didn't need to know all the specifics. And Gaia certainly didn't need to discuss them. It had been a reflex; she couldn't help it--

  "What happened?" Mary whispered.

  Gaia's eyes fell back to the newspaper. A bitter bile rose in her throat. A stream of disjointed images floated through her consciousness: her mother's flowing dark hair ... the delighted sound of her father's voice at the chess table in their cozy little wood-frame house: "Katia! Our little girl is going to grow up to be a grand master!" ... a roaring fireplace ... a terrible, driving snow that obliterated everything--

  "No."

  Mary blinked. "What?"

  Gaia stared up at her. Had she said "no" out loud? She must have. This was not good. Thinking about her father would inevitably lead to her thinking about her mother, about that final night--and she was in no condition to go down that road. Not now. Not ever.

  "I'm sorry," Mary murmured. "I don't mean to pry."

  Gaia shook her head. "No ... no, it's just that ...

  my--my father's a lousy guy," she stammered. Her throat tightened. "End of story."

  Mary nodded. "I understand."

  No, you don't, Gaia thought. Her mind was in a very dark cloud. And you never should have to understand about people like him--people who desert the ones they're supposed to love. Nobody should have to understand. I sure as hell never will.

  "So what do you say?" Mary asked. Her tone was colorless. "You want to go to the park and see if we can find anything out?"

  "Yeah." Gaia nodded. So much for opening up and confiding. She felt nauseated. Trying to determine whether she had killed a drug dealer was far preferable to digging up more of her past. "I do."

  SUBJECT: JOHN DOE, MALE, CAUCASIAN, AGED forty to fifty. Admitted to St. Vincent's at 10:33 P.M. December 28. Injuries: fractured clavicle, fractured jaw, massive internal bleeding. Preliminary reports indicate assault. Subject is still unconscious. Condition is stable but critical.

  Exquisite Skills

  Fourteen grams of cocaine were discovered on his person.

  Loki tossed the report on his desk without bothering to read the rest. There was no point. It merely confirmed what he had witnessed with his own eyes.

  He'd been wrong to doubt Gaia's discipline. Very wrong. A smile spread across his face as he leaned back in his leather chair, basking in the sunshine that streamed through the giant windows of the loft. He didn't understand why Ella was upset. She stood by the door, pacing the wooden floor in small circles. But then, the woman's motives almost always defied logic.

  "She could have killed him," Ella muttered.

  "I'd have been that much more impressed if she had," Loki replied dryly. "And he still might die. He's not out of the woods yet."

  Ella stopped pacing and shot Loki a hard stare. "She's out of control. If she had--"

  "On the contrary," he interrupted, glaring at her. "She's very much in control. Had you been there with me, you would know. Her skills are still exquisite." He paused for a moment, furrowing his brow. "And why weren't you there, exactly?"

  "I'm married," Ella snapped. She looked down at the floor. "In case you forgot, that takes up a lot of my time." Her voice softened. "George is a smart man. I've been playing this charade for five years, and if--"

  "You're complaining?" Loki demanded.

  Ella lifted her eyes. Her jaw twitched.

  "Because if you're not satisfied, I can simply have

  you removed
from the assignment," he remarked. His tone was casual.

  She didn't answer. Loki smiled again. Every operative knew what it meant to be removed from an assignment. It meant removal from existence. Permanently. She would envy "John Doe" in her final breathing moments.

  "All I'm saying is that her behavior has been erratic," Ella murmured after a moment. "You said so yourself. One day she's out vandalizing, the next she nearly kills someone."

  Loki shrugged. "I know now that it shows she has a highly developed sense of loyalty. All we have to do is manipulate that loyalty when the time comes."

  Ella threw her hands in the air. "Well, when is that time?" she cried. "We've been--"

  "That's none of your concern," Loki interrupted. "You know that. And if anyone's behavior has been erratic, it's been yours."

  Again she was silent.

  Loki's eyes fell back to the report. With the drug dealer out of commission--indefinitely, it seemed-- Mary Moss's life was no longer in jeopardy. They would have to come up with an alternate plan should it become necessary that she be neutralized. But he needed to observe her a few more times before he made that decision. It would have to be made soon, though. Ella's impatience notwithstanding, time was getting shorter.

  Yes. The new year would bring many changes. For Gaia most of all.

  Ella placed her hands on the back of Loki's neck. "I'm tired of waiting. And I'm tired of watching," she whispered, rubbing his shoulders--at first tentatively ... but then slowly, sensuously.

  "Most of all, I'm tired of not getting what I want. What I know you want, too." She leaned down and kissed his lips softly, stroking his cheek.

  For a moment Loki let himself be kissed. It had been a long time. Too long.

  He pulled her onto his lap, caressing the small of her back with one hand. With the other he pulled at a strand of her hair. For such an incredible bitch she could be so soft, so delicious, so ...

  Suddenly his senses returned in a blinding flash. What the hell was he doing? He had no time for Ella's foolishness. Loki stood abruptly, dumping Ella into a pitiful heap. He met her eyes with a glare of disgust. After all of the mistakes he had made, how could he ever be willing to let a woman distract him from the task at hand? Especially an inferior specimen like Ella. He knew perfectly well who she could never be. And so did she.

  Neither of them had any illusions about that.

  FOUR DAYS. THAT WAS THE LONGEST ED had ever gone without talking to Gaia. But even that seemed like nothing compared to the past two. Of course, the queasiness probably had something to with it. And the terrible certainty that the two days would stretch to three, then to four ... and that he might not ever talk to her again.

  Too Damn Pitiful

  But he'd made a decision. He didn't care what happened to Gaia Moore. Not as long as she insisted on acting like an imbecile. He wouldn't apologize.

  Funny how those kinds of decisions never seemed to stick.

  He sat at his desk, staring at his computer. He couldn't bring himself to do anything else. Like turn on the computer. He thought about calling Heather, mostly to see Phoebe ... but she would probably be on her way out to have some fun somewhere, and that would just make him more depressed. Anyway, if Heather or Phoebe wanted to hang out with him, they would call him. And they hadn't. Seeing him at that diner had probably been enough Ed Fargo to last the Gannis sisters another few years or so--

  Stop feeling so goddamned sorry for yourself.

  He ground his teeth. All day he'd sat in this exact spot, staring at his distorted reflection in the grayish

  cube of the blank screen, reliving the events of that night in Chinatown. He couldn't even remember how the fight with Gaia had started. One minute they were staring at a rack of grade F meat; the next, he was storming away from her.

  Why? What the hell had she done to piss him off so much?

  If anything, he should call to apologize. He was the one who had freaked out. He'd been so damn jumpy. For no reason at all, really. Now that he thought about it, he probably had imagined seeing that fat bearded guy in the window. And even if he hadn't, that guy wouldn't have tried anything on a crowded street.

  And even if that fat guy had tried something--even if by some miracle that guy had suddenly attacked all three of them with a machete or a submachine gun ... then Gaia would have kicked his ass.

  Ed shook his head.

  He was to blame. There was a way to end his suffering, though. Several, actually. Turn on the computer. Pick up the phone. Call. E-mail. Apologize. Bada-bing, bada-boom. Over. Problem solved.

  But he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Because deep down in his battered soul, a part of him still clung to his old pride--the pride he'd felt when he could walk, when he was known as "Shred," the baddest skater south of Fourteenth Street. It would be just too damn pitiful if he made the first move to reconcile

  with Gaia. Yes. If she valued the friendship as much as he did, she would have to be the one to call. It was a test. And if she failed--

  Bzzzzzt.

  Ed jumped slightly. The apartment buzzer was ringing. He rolled his eyes and scooted out of his bedroom into the narrow hall that led to the entranceway. It was probably some guy from Federal Express, delivering a lame Christmas fruit basket from a cousin twice removed in Hackensack that Ed had met only once.

  He pressed the intercom button. "Hello?"

  There was a crackle of static. "Ed?"

  His jaw dropped. That voice. It sounded like ... her.

  "Gaia?" he asked, pressing the button again.

  "Yeah. Is it cool if I come up?"

  "Uh ...sure."

  His arm fell to his side. He glanced around the apartment. His heart immediately started thumping. Gaia Moore was coming up. Here.

  Maybe he should clean up a little bit. Maybe he should tear down all the Christmas streamers and bulbs and paper angels that were still strewn all over the place. Jeez. He never realized how lame they were. This place was like one giant advertisement for corporate holidays. Speaking of which, at least his parents were at work. That lowered the lameness factor considerably--

  He scowled.

  Why was he getting so worked up? Almost

  everyone had Christmas decorations, or Hanukkah decorations, or Kwanza decorations ... probably even Gaia's mysterious guardians. There was no point in trying to mask the fact that his parents weren't hip. Ed rubbed his palms on his jeans. He'd never tried to put on an act with Gaia before. He shouldn't start now....

  The doorbell rang.

  He took a deep breath. Then he rolled over and opened the door.

  Gaia stood before him. She didn't come in. She looked more beautiful than ever. But he didn't know why; she was still wearing those baggy cargo pants, some nondescript gray sweatshirt, and that overcoat-and-hat combo that looked like it had been swiped off a homeless person. Maybe it was her hair. It looked more sultry somehow--hanging in tousled curls across her face. And her cheeks were flushed from the cold, almost as if she were blushing.

  "Hey, Ed. Sorry to bother you."

  "I ..." He didn't even know what he wanted to say.

  "Look, I don't have a lot of time," Gaia said quickly. She stared down at her sneakers. "Mary's waiting downstairs. I just wanted to tell you that I'm really sorry about the way I acted the other night. It was stupid."

  Ed just stared at her. He couldn't believe this. He

  didn't have a clue as to how to respond. For once Gaia Moore was doing exactly what he'd prayed she would do. It was almost frightening.

  She looked up at him. "You were right, too, by the way."

  "What do you mean?"

  "There was a guy following us. Mary's old drug dealer."

  "What?" Ed gasped. "How do you--"

  "Look, I can't go into it right now, okay?" she interrupted. She glanced back toward the elevator and flashed him a quick, enigmatic smile. "Just ... things are a little weird right now. But I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I swear I've learned my le
sson this time. Okay?"

  He nodded vigorously. "Well, yeah. I mean, I'm sorry, too--"

  "I gotta go. See ya." She turned back down the hall.

  Ed blinked. But before he could even open his mouth, he heard the elevator bell ring, then the doors open and shut.

  He laughed. Well. It looked like everything was back to normal. He was friends with her again, and she was involved in something bad again. Yup. It was just another ordinary day for her. Appear out of nowhere, make Ed experience a dozen emotions in the space of about thirty seconds, and vanish. Classic Gaia.

  "OH, NO," MARY CROAKED THE MOMENT she and Gaia turned onto MacDougal Street. She pointed a shaky finger at the park.

  Turf War

  Gaia peered through the tree branches, following Mary's outstretched arm-- straight to the spot where she had left Skizz on the ground.

  Her mind suddenly went blank. She knew why. She should have been scared.

  Cops were there.

  Part of the path had been roped off with yellow police tape. Two policemen in dark blue jackets were standing on the other side of it, talking to two guys in long trench coats--detectives, maybe. One of them had a camera.

  "He must have died," Mary whispered, shivering in the cold. "He must have--"

  "Shhh," Gaia whispered gently. She knew she should probably turn and run--but instead she felt only a powerful curiosity. The presence of cops was actually a good thing. Now there was a quick way to find out if Skizz had died there last night. She knew police procedure when a body was found in the park. Her face darkened. Oh, yes. She knew it all too well. When "the Gentleman" had murdered Cassie Greenman there a couple of months ago (and tried to make Gaia his next victim), the police had outlined

  Cassie's body in chalk on the ground, leaving a grim memory of the crime for all to see. So if Gaia had really killed Skizz, there ought to be one of those outlines as well.

  "Wait here," Gaia instructed Mary. "I'm gonna go check it out--"

  "Are you crazy?" Mary hissed. "Gaia, they could be looking for you."