He stopped. Refused to let himself think of Bella.

As he stood up and felt his prosthesis bear his weight, he thought it was ironic that a nomad like him was missing a limb.

Tamping out his blunt, slipped a number of them into his pocket, and was almost out the door when he stopped and turned around. Four strides brought him to his walk-in closet, three clicks of a lock opened a metal door, two hands reached in. One black dagger came out.

He palmed his weapon, feeling the perfect balance and the precision grip that matched only his specs. Vishous had made it for him… hell, how long ago? Seventy-five years… yeah, it would be seventy-five years this summer since he'd joined the Brotherhood.

He examined the blade in the light. Seventy-five years of offing lessers, and not a scratch on the blade. He took out the other one he used. Same diff. V was a master craftsman, all right.

Looking at the weapons, feeling their weight, he pictured Vishous standing in the bedroom's doorway earlier this evening, explaining that the Scribe Virgin was going to allow the substitution of Primales. The icy brother had had life in his eyes. Life and hope, along with a shining purpose.

Phury tucked one of the daggers into the satin belt that was around his waist and returned the other to the safe. Then he strode to the door with steel in his spine. Love was worth sacrificing for, he thought as he left his room. Even if it wasn't yours.

At that moment Vishous materialized on the far side of the street across from Jane's condo. There were no lights on inside her place, and he was tempted just to go inside, but he stayed in the shadows.

Goddamn, his head was scrambled. He felt guilty as hell over Phury. Scared to death over what Jane was going to say. Worried about how to manage a future with a human. Hell, he was even concerned about that poor Chosen who was stuck having to man up for the rest of her kind.

He checked his watch. Eight o'clock. He had to imagine Jane would be home soon-

The garage door to the condo next to Jane's trundled up with a whining sound, and a real yawn of a minivan backed out. Its brakes made a little squeak when it reached the ass end of its K-turn, then the driver put it in forward gear.

V frowned, his instincts coming to attention for no apparent reason. He sniffed the air, but he was upwind of the vehicle and couldn't catch a scent.

Great, so he was paranoid, too-which, along with his ambient anxiety and the narcissistic behavior he'd been popping lately, meant he had most of the DSM-IV covered tonight.

He checked his watch again just for the hell of it. Two minutes later. Great.

When his cell phone rang, he answered it with relief, because he was looking to pass some time. "I'm glad it's you, cop."

Butch's voice was off. "You at her place?"

"Yeah, but she's not. What's doing?"

"There's something going on with your computers."

"As in?"

"One of the tracers you laid down over at the hospital's been triggered. Someone went into the medical file of Michael Klosnick."

"No big deal."

"It was the chief of surgery. Manello."

Man, V hated the sound of the guy's name. "And?"

"He searched his own computer today for the pictures of your heart. Looking for the file Phury corrupted while we were evac'ing you, no doubt."

"Interesting." V wondered what had gotten the guy's attention… some printout of the photographs that had a date/time on it, maybe? Even if there was no notation as to the patient, that Manello guy was probably smart enough to trace it to the OR and figure out who had been on Jane's table. On one level it was no BFD, because the medical record showed that Michael Klosnick had checked out AMA following surgery. But still… "I think I should pay a visit to the good doctor."

"Um, yeah, I'm guessing we might want to outsource that one. Why don't you let me handle it."

"Because you don't know how to erase memories, do you?"

There was a pause. "Fuck you. But good point."

"Is the guy logged on now?"

"Yeah, he's in his office."

Messy to do a confrontation in a public place, even if it was after hours, but God only knew what else the doc would get into.

Shit, V thought. Look what he had to offer Jane: Secrets. Lies. Danger. He was a selfish, selfish bastard, and what was worse, he was ruining Phury's life just so he could ruin hers.

A car turned onto the street, and as it went under a light he saw it was her Audi.

"Fuck," he said.

"She's come home, huh?"

"I'll deal with Manello. Later."

As he hung up, he wasn't sure he could do this to her. If he left now, he'd still have time to get to the Other Side before Phury took the Primale vow.

Shit.

Chapter Forty-one

Jane backed into her garage, put the Audi in park, and just sat there with the engine going. On the passenger seat beside her were the results of the CAT scan Manello and she had sneaked in. Big all-clear. No evidence of tumor or aneurism or anything out of order.

She should have felt relieved, but the lack of explanation bothered her because her thought processes remained slow and cumbersome. It was almost as if her neuropathways had to work around some kind of obstacle in her head. And her chest still hurt like a bitch-

A man stepped into the beams of her headlights… a huge man with dark hair and a goatee and leathers. Behind him the landscape was blurry, as if he had stepped out of a fog.

Jane immediately burst into tears.

This man… this apparition… he was her shadow, the thing in her mind, the haunting presence that she knew yet couldn't recognize, that she mourned yet couldn't place. It all made sense-

On her next breath pain lanced into her temples, a horrible crushing burden.

But instead of rolling through her, it dissipated, just floated off, leaving not even a sting behind. In its wake images came to her, images of her operating on this man, of her being kidnapped and being held in a room with him… of them being together… of her… falling in love… then getting left behind.

V.

The onslaught of memory warped and shifted as her mind struggled to find purchase in a slippery reality. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be back. He wasn't coming back.

She must be dreaming.

"Jane," the apparition of her lover said. Oh, God… His voice was the same as it had been, deep and lovely, sliding into her ear like wine-colored silk. "Jane…"

Fumbling with the ignition, she turned off the lights and got out of the Audi.

The air was cold on her wet cheeks, and her heart pounded as she said, "Are you real?"

"Yes."

"How do I know?" Her voice cracked, and she touched her temples. "I don't know anything anymore. I can't… think right anymore."

"Jane…" he breathed. "I'm so sorry-"

"My head's not right."

"It's my fault. It's all my fault." The strain and the sorrow in his proud face pierced her confusion, offering her some ground to stand on.

She took a deep breath and thought of Russell Crowe toward the end of A Beautiful Mind. Bracing herself, she walked up to what seemed to be V, put two fingers on his shoulder, and pushed.

He was solid as stone. And he smelled the same… dark spices. And his eyes-those brilliant diamond eyes-glowed as they always had.

"I thought you'd left for good," she whispered. "Why…"

At this point she only hoped to understand what was going on and why he'd returned.

"I'm not getting mated."

Her breath stopped. "You aren't?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't do it. I can't be with anyone but you. I don't know if you want me-"

Before she had another conscious thought, she jumped up and latched onto him, not giving a shit about the barriers of species and circumstance. She just needed him. The rest was conversation to be figured out later.