"You bastard," I murmured, for somehow I sensed Morningstar was to blame for their "heart attacks."

Michael lifted me off my feet and took me into his arms. I groaned as he pried me away from the wall. The steady coolness of the plaster had been my anchor. Without it, I felt dizzy and, seeing the trail of gore I left behind, my stomach lurched again.

Wrapping his arms around me, Michael put a hand over mine where I pressed my shoulder. The coolness of his flesh was comforting and he added needed pressure to the wound. I laid my head against his chest and, despite myself, snuggled deeper into his embrace. Remembering the infrared, I hoped all the heat from the center of his body was enough to keep me from going into shock.

"Deidre?" Michael said softly, rousing me. "Can you tell us how to get out of here?"

I forced my lips into a sneer. I didn't want to help them. Michael was no better than his Mafioso brother to let those detectives die. "Could have talked our way out."

"It's already done." He glanced over his shoulder at the smirking Morningstar. "The point is moot. If I have anything to say about it, they'll live. You might not. Tell us how to get out of here."

I shook my head.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Leave her," Morningstar said. "We don't need her to get out of here. You don't need her."

"Deidre," Michael's voice cut through the fog in which my mind floated. His eyes drew me in, holding me firm. His gaze glowed with a deep, fearsome fire that seemed to reach out and physically warm me. Enveloped in heat, I floated, tied to reality only by those unearthly gray eyes. The cops survived. Somehow I knew what Michael said was true.

"Locker room," I said finally, my confidence in Michael renewed. "Through the office to the locker room. It leads to a parking lot. But, I wanted ... I wanted to get files ... Jordan ..."

"There's no time." Michael's breath tickled at my ear, and I shivered.

"Very nice," Morningstar said warmly, as Michael started down the hall. "I feel you stepping just that much closer to me, dear brother."

"It was necessary," Michael said.

"It's also distinctly against the rules. And, here I thought you were so very 'by the book.' After all, you're always so careful to use doors and cars and all these earthly crutches. WE could just leave, you know. Speed would save her."

"I will not cheat, simply because it is easier. That's your way, not mine."

"Is it?" Morningstar said. "You're willing to ask me for a miracle you won't do for yourself. How is that different – besides being more cowardly?"

Michael said nothing as they walked on. Each step he took jarred me painfully where I was cradled against his shoulders. I shut my eyes. Fighting to remain conscious, I concentrated on the sound of their voices. I could hear the click of Morningstar's steps fall into rhythm with Michael's.

"You have forgotten the rules, haven't you?" Morningstar's voice was swelled with glee. "Or are you willfully ignoring them?"

Michael's grip tightened around my shoulders. He said nothing for a long moment. I must have drifted out of consciousness because the next thing I knew Michael was trying to rouse me. "Deidre?"

I opened my eyes to look around. Michael had brought me as far as the main hub of the station. People ran around us as if we were invisible. The room was a tangle of desks and chairs. Half-eaten sandwiches littered several tabletops. Every desk's monitor blinked in protest of the power outage. A hiss came from the main precinct hologram, and it flickered unsteadily. Hundreds of red dots littered the surface of the map, each indicating a reported crime in process.

The wide glass of the captain's central office reflected the chaos. Beside me, I heard Morningstar let out a satisfied sigh. "Beautiful."

"Behind the captain's area, there's a door," I said. "It leads to the locker room, from there you can get to the parking lot. But ... there are security cameras ... automated checkpoints ... all these cops, surely one of them will stop us..."

"Don't worry about that right now, Deidre," Michael said. "We'll take care of that."

"We?" Though I couldn't see his face, I could hear the smile in Morningstar's voice.

Michael grunted in response. He started toward the door, without another word. My head started spinning with the motion. I focused on the sight of my own shoulder. My fingers and Michael's were entwined. Blood outlined each digit of my hand, filling in the crevasses of wrinkled skin. Michael's hand was smoother than mine. I might have been beginning to hallucinate, but I swore the blood seemed reluctant to blot his perfection. Where my hand was blackened by the flow, his appeared nearly spotless.

I heard a door spring open. "After you, my dear Alphonse," Morningstar said.

Wordlessly, Michael descended the stairs. I reached up with my other hand and grabbed a fistful of Michael's jacket. I squeezed it at each step. It didn't replace a bullet to bite, but it helped.

"Don't get too familiar, Morningstar," Michael commanded. "You're mistaken if you think I trust you for a moment. For all I know, you set this whole thing up."

"Why would I do that?" Morningstar asked.

"To hurt Deidre. To separate Jibril and me. To weasel me into a position where I would ask for your help. Who knows? Maybe all this is just to aid Letouraeau. He is one of yours, isn't he?"

"That would make things easier for you, wouldn't it, Captain?" Morningstar said. His voice had a seriousness in it I hadn't heard before.

Michael said nothing. The pounding of his steps was the only response he gave. The sharp echo in the narrow staircase sounded like a hammer. Each ringing blow felt like someone was driving a hot spike through my should der. My vision blurred from tears of pain. I held on to Michael's jacket, swaying on the fringe of consciousness.

"What if I told you Letourneau had nothing to do with me?" Morningstar said, when Michael didn't respond. "Maybe all of this is part of the plan. Did you ever consider that? What if you and I are still just puppets? It wasn't we who tasted the fruit of knowledge. It wasn't we They made in Their image."

"Your jealousy is so apparent, Morningstar." Michael's voice was a fierce growl in my ear. "You will not corrupt me."

Morningstar laughed wickedly. We had reached the bottom of the stairs, and Michael stood in front of the door. He tried to use the hand that held my legs to work the knob. His grip shifted me awkwardly; I cried out in painful protest.

"Allow me." Morningstar laughed again. This time the sound was soft, but it was still as mocking. I heard the latch click and felt a cool breeze rush in. "As for your corruption, my dear, dear Captain, it's not up to me. It's you who will decide if the flesh will corrupt the spirit or make it stronger."

Michael stood in the doorway. His breath came in sharply. "Decide?"

"Yes. Freewill, Michael. It comes with the territory. I tried to warn you earlier. Spirit united with flesh, it seems, breeds it ... like a disease. For once in your miserable existence, the choice is yours. You could make a mistake. Perhaps you already have."

"No," he whispered, still not moving.

"Yes," Morningstar said firmly. A small chuckle escaped his lips, "An interesting dilemma, isn't it? Your light has certainly shone brighter; will your darkness eclipse even mine?"

"You lie," Michael snarled.

"Sometimes Truth can be the greatest of Adversaries."

"No!" Michael shouted.

A strange sound tickled the edges of my consciousness. It reminded me of a sunny day, when my mother would hang the clothes out to dry. Eion and I would run between the sheets that flapped in the wind.

Darkness swallowed my vision; I felt myself floating away. From a distance, I heard a voice say: Forgive me, Father...