V's diamond eyes did not waver from Phury's face. "It's wrong."

"The whole thing is wrong. But that's not relevant, is it?" Phury glanced over to the delicate French desk, meeting the eyes of his king. "Wrath, what say you?"

"Fuck," came the reply.

"Appropriate word choice, my lord, but not really an answer."

Wrath's voice got low, real low. "You can't be serious-"

"I've got a couple centuries of celibacy to make up for. What better way to take the edge off?" It was meant as a joke, except no one laughed. "Come on, who else could do it? All of you are taken. The only other possible candidate would be John Matthew, because of Darius's line, but John's not a member of the Brotherhood, and who knows if he'll ever be."

"No." Zsadist shook his head. "No… this will kill you."

"Maybe if I'm fucked to death, yeah. But barring that, I'll be fine."

"You will never have a life if you do this."

"Of course I will." Phury knew exactly what Z was getting at so he deliberately shifted his attention back to Wrath. "You'll let V have Jane, won't you? If I do this, you'll let them be together."

This was not smooth, of course. Because you didn't give an order to the king, both by custom and law-and also because he'd kick your ass across the whole state of New York. But at the moment Phury wasn't too concerned with protocol.

Wrath pushed his hand under his sunglasses and pulled another rub routine with his eyes. Then he let out a long exhale. "If anyone could manage the security risks inherent in a relationship with a human, it would be V. So… yeah, fuck me, but I would allow it."

"Then you'll let me substitute for him. And he'll go to the Scribe Virgin."

The grandfather clock in the corner of the study began to go off, the steady chiming like the beat of a heart. When it ceased to ring, everyone looked at Wrath.

After a moment the king said, "So be it."

Zsadist cursed. Butch whistled low. Rhage bit into a Tootsie Pop.

"Okay, then," Phury said.

Holy shit, what have I just done?

Apparently, everyone else kind of thought the same thing, because no one moved or said a word.

Vishous was the one who broke the deadlock… and he came across the study at a dead run. Phury didn't know what hit him. One second he was about to light up another blunt; the next, V pounded across the study, threw a massive pair of arms around him, and squeezed the breath out of him.

"Thank you," Vishous said hoarsely. "Thank you. Even if she won't let you, thank you, my brother."

Chapter Thirty-nine

"You're avoiding me, Jane."

Jane looked up from her computer. Manello was planted in front of her desk like a house, hands on his hips, eyes narrowed, nothing but a whole lot of going-nowhere. Man, her office was fairly sizable, but he made it feel tight as a wallet.

"I'm not avoiding you. I'm playing catch-up from being out all weekend."

"Bullshit." He crossed his arms over his chest. "It's four in the afternoon, and by now we usually would have had at least two meals together. What's up?"

She leaned back in her chair. Lying was not something she'd ever been good at, but it was a skill she was sure as hell going to try to develop.

"I still feel like hell, Manello, and I'm buried up to my molars in work." Okay, neither of those were lies. But she said them only to camo the omission she was pulling.

There was a long pause. "Is this about last night?"

With a wince, she gave up the ghost. "Uh, listen, about that. Manny… I'm sorry. I can't do anything like that with you again. I think you're great, I really do. But I'm…" She let the sentence drift. She had the urge to say something along the lines of her being in love with someone else, but that was absurd. She had no one.

"Is it because of the department?" he said.

No, it just didn't feel right somehow. "You know it's not appropriate, even if we kept it quiet."

"And if you leave? Then what?"

She shook her head. "No. I just… can't. I shouldn't have slept with you last night."

His brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I just don't think-"

"Wait a minute. Where in the hell do you get the idea we slept together?"

"I… I assumed that we had."

"I kissed you. It was awkward. I left. No sex. What makes you think there was?"

Jesus Christ… Jane waved a shaky hand around. "Dreams, I guess. Really vivid dreams. Um… will you excuse me?"

"Jane, what the hell's going on?" He came around the desk. "You look like you're terrified."

As she stared up at him, she knew there was desperate fear in her eyes, but she couldn't hide it. "I think… I think it's quite possible I'm losing my mind. I'm serious, Manny. We're talking schizophrenia time. Hallucinations and distorted reality and… memory lapses."

Although the fact that she'd had sex during the night was not a figment of her imagination. Shit… or was it?

Manny bent down and put his hands on her shoulders. In a low voice he said, "We'll find you someone to see. We'll take care of this."

"I'm scared."

Manny took her hands, pulled her to her feet, and wrapped her up tight against him. "I'm here for you."

As she hugged him back hard, she said, "You would be a good man to love, Manello. You really would."

"I know."

She laughed a little, the choking sound getting lost in the crook of his neck. "So arrogant."

"Try accurate."

He pulled back and put his palm on her cheek, his deep brown eyes grave. "It's killing me to say this… but I don't want you in the ORs, Jane. Not where you're at in your head right now."

Her first instinct was to fight him, but then she exhaled. "What will we tell people?"

"Depends on how long it lasts. For now? You have the flu." He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Here's the plan. You're going to talk to a friend of mine who's a psychiatrist. He's out in California, so no one will know, and I'm going to go call him now. I'm also scheduling you for a CAT scan. We'll have it done after hours across town at Imaging Associates. No one will know."

When Manello turned to go there was heartbreak in his eyes, and as she thought about the situation, the oddest memory passed through her head.

Three or four winters ago she'd left the hospital late one night, feeling unsettled. Something, some kind of gut instinct, told her to stay and sleep on the couch in her office, but she chalked it up to the fact that the weather was nasty. Thanks to a bitter, freezing rain that had fallen for hours, Caldwell was pretty much a skating rink. Why would anyone want to go out in weather like this?

The nagging sensation wouldn't stop, though. The whole way out to the parking garage, she'd fought against the voice in her head until finally, as she'd put her key in the ignition, she'd had a vision. The damn thing was so clear it was as if the event had already happened and this was her memory of it: She saw her hands gripping the steering wheel as a pair of headlights pierced her windshield straight-on. She felt the stinging pain of impact, the jarring spin as her car whipped around, the burning in her lungs as she screamed.

Creeped out but determined, she'd pulled slowly into the freezing rain. Talk about defensive driving. She regarded every other car as a potential wreck, and would have used the sidewalks instead of the roads if she could have.

Halfway home she'd stopped at a light, praying that no one hit her.

As if it had been preordained, however, a car had come up behind her, lost traction, and started in on the great slide. She'd gripped the steering wheel and looked up into the rearview window… and watched as the headlights came toward her.

The car had missed her entirely.

After she was sure no one was hurt, Jane had laughed to herself, taken a deep breath, and headed home. Along the way, she'd reflected on how the brain extrapolated from its environment and jumped to conclusions, how strong thoughts and fears could be mistaken for some kind of prescient ability, how news reports of bad roads could percolate and lead to-