Ryan pulled his Manhunter and was about to pull the trigger when he heard Jane's voice in his ear. "Ryan, no! If you spark it now, I won't even be able to save Nadja. You're too close to her."

Burnout looked up and suddenly was scrambling toward him.

Ryan threw his body backward, catching the edge of the table directly behind him with his left hand.

He pulled his legs in tightly, and pushed off with his hand, causing him to flip over back into the center walkway.

Ryan stood for a second in the silence. Once again, Burnout had disappeared on him.

"Position?"

"He's standing right next to Daviar. He knows you won't pull the trigger if there's a chance you might hit her."

"Burnout!" Ryan called. "You talk big, but when push comes to shove, your cowardice shows through. Taking refuge behind a hostage, that takes guts. Yes, sir."

Out the corner of his eye, Ryan saw the form hurtling through the air, and he turned, the Manhunter ready to fire, but he never got the chance.

With a scream of rage, Burnout slammed into him. One metal hand grabbed the pistol's barrel, another caught Ryan's throat.

As they fell, Ryan slammed his free hand into Burnout's chest, packing a magical, as well as physical punch, and Burnout's body twisted in mid-air. The cyber-zombie's momentum carried him over Ryan's head, but the metal man kept his grip on Ryan's neck, and Ryan felt himself start to black out as his body was wrenched backward and down.

Ryan's grip on the Manhunter loosened for just a moment, and it was gone from his grasp.

Damn, he's strong.

Choking, he let his legs go over his head, and he found himself on top of Burnout's prone form, straddling the man's huge artificial torso.

Holding Ryan at arm's length above him, Burnout tightened his grasp, and a sparkling blackness began to close at the edges of Ryan's vision. Ryan struggled, his hands battering at Burnout's chrome body, bashing deep dents into the scarred metal. His legs thrashing, searching for purchase.

Then, just as his strength started to fail him, his flailing hands felt the Dragon Heart, tied to Burnout's waist.

Ryan touched it with his mind, and he felt its power surge through him.

"So we meet again, Ryan Mercury."

The voice dropped into Ryan's mind like an old lover, so familiar, yet so hostile.

I thought I might find you here, Lethe.

38

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. The words had become a mantra in Lucero's mind and she couldn't shake them. She was back in the dark stain, at the metaplanar outcropping of stone. She sat at the edge of the newly reconstructed wedge of blackness, her back propped against the body of a young boy, his smooth skin cold against her spine.

Directly in front of her, Senor Oscuro was pulling another docile young girl toward the new altar of corpses. The pretty raven-haired child slipped on the blood of the latest victim" and dropped to her knees.

It had taken Oscuro a fraction of the time to create the new wedge-shaped stain near the tip of the outcropping. He worked with a renewed vigor that made Lucero ill, spilling blood and carving up corpses against the music. Pressing forward until the dark barrier came very close to the singer of the song.

The black line edging just around the source of the light.

Now, with all the grace of a prince at a royal ball, Oscuro gently took the girl's hand and helped her to her feet.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. With each repetition, Lucero imagined that the blood stain in her soul grew fainter and fainter, until it was nearly gone. Gone also was her strange blood lust, the twisted, manipulated manifestation of her craving for the power the blood could bring.

Lucero shivered in revulsion when she thought about the things she had done, when she thought about how Oscuro had magically turned her lust for blood power into some strange, sick obsession for the blood itself.

She knew now that Oscuro had been using her all along. Everything he had done, and everything he'd caused her to do, had been a trick to keep her soul riding that fine line between light and darkness. He had managed to maintain that balance so Lucero would remain functional as the link between the real world and this one.

But was the stain on her soul really growing lighter? Could the mantra truly erase her sins?

She could tell by Oscuro's ease of movement. Before, when the black spot on her soul had lightened, it had strained Oscuro to the limit just to complete the sacrifices. Now, Oscuro moved as if he were taking a relaxing walk through a quiet park.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

As the raven-haired girl lay back on the bloody mound of dead bodies, Lucero became aware of her own scarred hands, clutching her knees. She was rocking back and forth in beat to her litany of apologies.

Oscuro looked over at Lucero and grinned, a track of spattered blood dripping down the side of his face. His violently shadowed face watched her, not the sacrifice, as he raised the gore-covered blade and let it fall.

The young girl's head nearly came away from her body as the knife cleaved the delicate skin, splitting tissue and cartilage with equal ease.

Oscuro had brought a real Chac-mool with him this time, and he bent to catch the spurting flow of life in the black granite bowl.

"We are almost there, my child, we are on the edge of the bridge," said Oscuro, his gaze still fixed on Lucero. "Soon, all of your struggle, all of your suffering will reach fruition. Soon, you will have the release you crave."

Even the sound of his voice made the bile rise in the back of Lucero's throat.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Lucero rocked faster, the words echoing in her mind until they started to run together, to become a blur of supplication.

Oscuro turned from the still twitching body, and delicately picked his way over the jumbled tangle of lifeless limbs.

He reached the last small section of the uncompleted wedge. Very near the power of the song, at the sharp edge of the outcropping, right next to the tip. But instead of finishing the wedge and bringing the dark stain to the tip of the spike, Oscuro turned back to Lucero. "Come, my child. This is a grand moment, a momentous occasion. I think it would be fitting if I shared it with the one who made it possible."

Lucero continued to rock, continued her mantra as stark horror filled her soul.

Oscuro smiled softly. "As you wish, my dear. I can understand how this glorious achievement might be a bit overwhelming for one so young." With that, he turned back toward the tip of the outcropping and raised the bowl.

No! Lucero struggled to her feet. She had to stop him, she had to keep him from completing the wedge. Dread filled her, and her soul quaked before it.

She staggered across the corpses, stumbling with every step as the flaccid limbs of dead children seemed to catch at her flesh, to block her steps.

Oscuro held his position, Chac-mool raised high, until she was only five meters from him. Then he tipped the bowl.

The thick burgundy liquid poured out, searing the cracked earth with its stain. Completing the wedge. And as the wedge closed, Lucero could hear Oscuro say in a deep booming voice, "My masters, Darke welcomes you."

A tiny sliver of darkness had edged past the singer and reached the tip of the outcropping. A mere splinter. Yet it was enough.

An icy chill crept into her limbs then, a dark, barren, numbing cold that froze her mid-step, that clenched all the muscles in her body as her very flesh revolted against the touch of pure evil. This was despair at its true depths, this was hatred in its most refined form. The only thing that kept her from losing her mind completely was the muted sound of the music.