The rear lights of the package truck came on again and an instant later a blast of hugely amplified music boomed like an explosion. Chad recognized it as something early by Metallica, but he didn’t know their stuff well enough to identify the particular song. He gulped as the front door of the house began to creak open. He saw dark shapes come into view, hands clasping weapons.

Then there was a loud WHOOSH of sound, followed immediately by another identical sound. The AT7’s. Heavy shells passed through the front door and the bone-bruising sounds of explosions followed.

The AT7’s weren’t reloadable. The men dropped the spent weaponry and cleared the zone for two more men wielding AT7’s. There was that WHOOSH again. And again. Followed by still more explosions. They were softening up the enemy, paving the way for the initial push into the house, which would begin within seconds. Chad kept expecting the fragile old house to collapse beneath the brunt of the heavy ordnance, but somehow, almost miraculously, that didn’t happen.

Then Allyson was in front of him, moving to the rear of the package truck. An M-16 was thrust into her hands by a man in camos. Like all of them, she’d been trained on the weapon in preparation for this moment. She took it and hurried back to Chad’s side. Then Jim emerged from the back of the truck, hair ruffled as if he hadn’t slept in days, eyes bleary and haunted. Chad had barely seen the deposed Camp Whiskey leader since the night of the coup. But like the rest of them, he was armed to the teeth. He looked Chad’s way and acknowledged him with a nod. Then he turned and hurried to a forward position.

Chad wanted to call after him, but it was too late.

He dimly heard Bai’s screamed exhortations over the buzzing in his ears.

And then they were moving forward, all of them.

Gunfire erupted from both sides.

Chad lifted his weapon, aimed quickly, and squeezed the trigger. The weapon chugged and the scent of blood was heavy in the air as Chad and the woman he loved rushed into the thick of battle.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

They were out on the long balcony overlooking Razor City as they heard the muffled thumps of the first explosions.

Dream frowned. “Something’s happening.”

The Master stood with his forearms balanced against the balcony railing. He looked just as he had the last time Dream had seen him, and she understood that what she was seeing was part illusion. He had a chameleonic ability to shift his appearance at will-it was one of the traits of his race-and he’d chosen to present himself the way she remembered him. He was handsome, with fine, chiseled features, and a muscular body with a deep tan. The same thick, broad shoulders that had so turned her on the first time. The same intense, passionate eyes. The strength, confidence, and poise he’d possessed in such abundance was still there too, perhaps even to a greater degree than before.

Because something serious was definitely happening somewhere in the house and he didn’t seem the least perturbed by it. Dream heard more explosions and a rapid, snapping sound she assumed was automatic gunfire.

Still looking at the red sky of the alien world beyond the balcony, he said, “Do you know what this place is, Dream? That world out there?”

She frowned again. “No, but-”

He stood erect and turned toward her, took her gently into his arms. She shuddered and slid with a sigh into the embrace. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “That red-sky world is where my kind originated. Our race thrived there for many thousands of years. Then some ravaging disease blighted it and the survivors took to the stars in silver ships.” He glanced over her shoulder at the barren landscape beyond Razor City. “It is still a dead world, all of my kind are long perished, but for some reason it calls to me. See that pyramid in the distance?”

Dream looked at it. “That’s new, isn’t it? Or relatively new. The slaves were working on it for a long time before I got here.”

The Master nodded. “New, yes. However, it is being built according to ancient specifications. When finished, it will be a precise replica of the pyramids my ancestors used as holy temples. I believe Evelyn intended to eventually use it in an attempt to resurrect my mortal form.”

Confusion creased Dream’s brow. “Evelyn?”

“You knew her as Ms. Wickman.”

Dream stiffened slightly. “Oh.”

Dream stiffened slightly. “Oh.”

“Of course, she had no way of knowing how close I was to achieving that goal on my own.” His smile this time had a rueful quality. “It isn’t easy to send information through the veil separating the mortal world and the various afterlife dimensions. Even those skilled in such things frequently get it wrong. Poor Giselle, for instance.”

Dream shivered and turned her head against his chest again. “What will happen to her?”

“Those sounds you’re hearing? The approach of invaders. They have come for her.” He lifted her head from his chest and stared into her eyes. “And they will have her.”

Dream felt a fresh sense of alarm. It had been so easy to allow herself to be hypnotized by the sound of his voice, to slip into a cocoon of comfort while wrapped in his arms. She pushed away from him a little and said, “Shouldn’t we be doing something? They’re coming here.” She nodded at the open French doors. “She’s in there, in that nasty chamber on the other side of that wall.”

He smiled and stroked her hair again. “We will do nothing.”

Her eyes gleamed with sudden fright. “Why?”

His smile remained unwavering. “We are in no danger. We could repel the invaders, if we so chose. You are strong enough to do it on your own, in fact. But we will not do this. They will take Giselle and de part this place, never to trouble us again. Then we will rebuild this kingdom, perhaps even expand our presence in the land of my ancestors. And we will reign as king and queen for a thousand years.”

Dream laughed. “A thousand years?”

“Yes. It is part of the bargain I made with the death gods.”

Dream stopped laughing. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

The Master shook his head. “I am not.”

Dream shivered. It was a strange thing to contemplate. Suicidal impulses had plagued so much of her younger years, and now she was looking at a potential lifetime stretching across centuries. The concept was initially jarring, but the more she thought about it-and the more she stared into her lover’s intense eyes-the more right it felt.

She smiled and touched his face. “Okay.”

He took one of her hands in his, kissed the back of it. “I love you, Dream.”

She tugged at the sash around her bathrobe and pulled open the flaps, exposing the front of her body.

Her breasts were pale in the alien sunlight. The sound of the gunfire was growing louder as she said, “Come fuck me.”

The Master smiled again.

And did as his Queen bade.