By the time Short Eyes had caught up with him, he’d flipped the pic over, and was reading the inscription. “Me and Rachel at Lake Washington.” It was dated just a couple of months before.

De Vries flipped it back over and looked at the image closely. In the background, Lake Washington gleamed like a blue-gray crystal. Rachel had her arm around Warren, staring straight into the camera as he kissed her neck.

“She loves him,” whispered de Vries.

Short Eyes sighed. “Changes are a comm’.”

De Vries glanced up at her as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Changes? Yes, this changes things for me.”

“Sensei, plans are laid, and they’re golden. Changes now could shuck us to the bone.”

De Vries looked back at the pic, at the woman who could have been his dead wife’s twin, at the love that was displayed so freely in the image. “You let me worry about that. There’s no way I’m going to let Josephine down again.”

Short Eyes reached out and touched the holopic with one elongated fingernail. “Not Josephine. Rachel. Not the same thing.”

De Vries rubbed a thumb over that perfect face. “Tell that to my heart. We have to make sure that boy doesn’t die.”

In the dust bowl of Hell’s Kitchen, the stepvan plowed along, its headlights cutting through the swirl of volcanic ash that still plagued the area despite the many years since Mount Rainier had last erupted.

The van pulled up to an armored gate, passing the small camp of denizens who were already forming up for the free meal that would be passed out just before dawn.

Marco shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair and listened as Max and Sonny spoke in the front seat. Max chuckled and looked over at Sonny. “That was us, just a few weeks ago.”

Sonny didn’t seem to find the memory so humorous. “Yeah. and by tomorrow, some of them will have disappeared. I wonder what happens to the ones who don’t turn out?”

Max laughed. “Who gives a frag? The ones who can’t cut it get removed. That’s life. And death.” His own wit caused him to laugh so hard that he almost missed the stop.

Marco was not amused. “Damn you.” he said, as the van skidded to a halt. “Pay attention to what you’re doing, or you’ll find out what happens to fools who think they are immortal.”

Max keyed his window, letting a swirl of gray dust into the van. The speaker, mounted on a thin post, crackled. “Business?” came a thin, distorted voice.

Max leaned out. “Marco, with a special delivery for Wake.”

“See some ID.”

Max slid the ID card into the reader below the speaker.

The armored gate slid backward, and Max pulled the van inside. This was the first of two walled partitions that separated the compound from the outside world. Through the swirling dust, Marco could make out the subtle forms that roamed the fifty meters separating the two walls. Cyberdogs and their handlers. But no ordinary dogs. These were beasts, their thin, cadaverous bodies supporting cyber headgear that made them Look impossibly top-heavy.

They passed the second checkpoint, where the van was sniffed by a small Doberman with a telescoping cybercamera cut into its head, just behind the dog’s ears. Cleared through, they entered the main compound proper. Max backed the van up to the loading bay, then stepped out and set up the ramp for Marco’s wheelchair.

As Marco rolled out behind Max and Sonny, who were carrying Warren’s limp body from the van, someone Marco had met only once came out onto the loading bay. Dr. Raul Pakow was a short man, with a heavy shock of sable hair that continually threatened to fall into his eyes. He was forever pushing his hair back with an impatient gesture.

“What’s going on?” asked Pakow, the low undercurrent of anger in his voice telling volumes about his frustration. “Dr. Wake didn’t authorize any new acquisitions.”

Marco’s anger at the man’s tone blazed, and he stood, his twisted hips jutting forward as he maintained his balance with difficulty. “I authorized it. And if Dr. Wake wishes to remain in my good graces, he will do as I request.”

Pakow showed neither surprise at Marco’s twisted appearance, nor did he back down. “That is something you will have to take up with Dr. Wake, Mr. D’imato.”

Marco smiled, and for just a second, Pakow seemed to shrink back. “Oh, I intend to. Now get Wake down here. Time is short.”

“I’m already here, Mr. D’imato.”

The man had approached so silently that even the vampires were caught unaware. Marco twisted around painfully.

Wake stood on the opposite side of the loading bay. He had risen to his full height, which allowed him to tower above all those present, but his skeletal frame made it seem like a strong wind would carry him upward like some crazy, human kite. His white hair jutted painfully from his head, crowning his look of complete exhaustion. “What is it that I can do for you?”

Marco let his body go, and felt his very atoms begin to flow, until he was nothing but mist. He let his essence guide him until he was in front of Wake, then he willed his body to coalesce again.

Wake continued to look at him casually.

“You know of the troubles of the last few weeks?” Marco said.

Wake nodded. “Of course. I’m very sorry for the loss of your son. Still, I’m confused by what you’re doing out here in the middle of the night.” He looked over Marco’s shoulder at the still form lying on the concrete. “Is this some form of retribution? Or do you have something even more… diabolical in mind.”

Marco laughed, a short bark completely devoid of humor. “The only thing I have in mind is the continuation of my lineage. I’d have preferred to keep my options more open, but I’ll simply have to work with what I’ve got.”

Wake nodded again. “And this young man has something to do with that? I’m sorry if I seem a bit slow, but I was given to understand that you had only one son.”

Marco looked behind him, and a fierce grin spread across his face. “That is correct. This is my nephew. I want you to perform the process on him.”

Wake looked at the body and his eyes took on the faraway look that told Marco he was peering into the astral. With that distant look still in his eyes, Wake said, “And it would seem that he isn’t undertaking the process with the same… gusto displayed by your son.”

Marco laughed, a low angry sound. “He would have taken some convincing, but unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of the time it would take.”

Wake snapped back to the physical world. “Are you also aware of his talent?”

Marco paused for a moment, puzzled. “Are you talking about his sculpting? I’ve seen some of it. It’s not bad, if you like that sort of thing.”

Wake smiled, a small thing that refused to reach his eyes. “No, I was speaking of his magical talent.”

“He’s got no magic.”

“In that you are mistaken, I’m afraid. In the astral, his ability is obvious.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Wake laughed. “You already are.”

The two vampires at Marco’s back joined in the laughter until Marco’s glance silenced them.

Marco turned back to Wake. “Your attempts at humor are on the verge of being offensive.”

Wake looked into Marco’s eyes, as though measuring him somehow. “Is it still your wish that the process be performed?”

“Of course.”

“Even though you know the the procedure affects magically active creatures in different ways?”

Marco shook his head. “You don’t understand. This is my last chance to keep my legacy within the family.”

Wake looked at the body of Warren, who was beginning to stir. He paused for a moment, as if making a decision. Then he nodded. “Dr. Pakow, ready room number three. Put this young man on a saline IV with Syndorphin infusion, and prepare the vat. We have quite a bit of work ahead of us.”

Pakow nodded, and stepped up to a wall-mounted telecom next to the bay doors Team alpha, report to bay six, priority red.”