“Jane?”

I tentatively touched her good arm, and she stirred, groaning in pain. Her eyes fluttered open, and after a moment, they focused and smiled.

“Hello, Simon,” she said weakly. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping in.”

I brushed golden strands of hair away from her face as I inspected her for damage. Her left arm hung uselessly at her side. She looked like shit, but even so, she was still cute. I felt slimy for thinking it, but as I checked her over, I couldn’t help noticing her body once again. It curved in all the right places, even battered like this.

“Jesus, Jane,” I said. “Are you all right?”

She nodded slowly, wincing and looking a little loopy. “Ow. As all right as someone who just plummeted off a roof can be, I guess. I had some painkillers with me, but I don’t know where they are anymore.”

She raised her good arm and opened her hand. It was empty.

I looked at her glazed, unfocused eyes. “Um, I think you already took them. You think you can move?” I asked. Jane couldn’t stay here. She was in danger for several reasons. I took a look around the apartment, and though I was worried sick about Irene, I was glad I saw no sign of her. It was odd, but I felt like I was somehow betraying Irene just by having Jane here. It was all in my head, I told myself. I didn’t owe either of these women anything, and here I was feeling guilty. The dead girl and the enemy. Great taste, Simon.

My work was mixing terribly with the rest of my life, and I felt helplessly out of control. I had to take charge as best I could of this situation, though, not only for my sake but for Jane’s.

“Is anything broken?” I asked.

Jane slowly assessed herself, flexing muscles wherever she could.

“My arm’s pretty beat-up,” she moaned, “and I don’t think I can make my Pilates class tomorrow with my ankle like this, but I think I can move.”

She smiled through all of it. It was probably the painkillers mixed with loss of blood making her delirious. I gently took hold of her right arm, the good one, and slowly helped her into a sitting position.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” she said. Then she looked down and saw her blood pooling on my floor. A slow whine began in her throat and her breath hitched as she started crying in long deep sobs. “Oh, look at that. Simon, I’m so sorry.”

I ran to the bathroom, and held a towel under the faucet. When I returned, I applied it to her arm and then wiped her tears away as best I could.

“There’s no need to apologize, Jane. Listen, we need to get you out of here. If the Department finds out you’re in my apartment, I’ll be fired for sure.” I wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but it sure sounded true. “I have no idea what your own people will do to you. So don’t worry about the blood. There’s much less than if you had got a chance to shoot me, believe me.”

She looked at me blankly, then squirmed her good arm behind her and produced the gun by its muzzle. She dropped it to the floor and sniffled through her tears. “I don’t think I would have gone through with it, Simon. Honest.”

She looked sincere, but just in case, I kicked the gun under the couch. “That’s very reassuring, coming from a cultist.”

She looked hurt, and I felt like an asshole. Clearly this was no time for me to get petty. Jane favored one leg as I got her into a standing position, and I grabbed a nearby jacket and threw it around her. It would cover up the majority of her injuries to the casual observer. I kissed her forehead the way my mom used to when I came in, all too often, with a scraped knee.

“You’re doing great, Jane.”

This brought a slight smile to her lips. She looked up at me gratefully. I resisted the inappropriate urge to kiss her on the mouth. I was pretty sure that snogging the enemy was frowned upon. The Department had given me a pamphlet entitledBlind Date with Disaster and an orientation lecture concerning intimate relations with the forces of Darkness. Strictly taboo, and spelled out in an ancient tale about a D.E.A. member named Edgar and his obsession with his lost love, Lenore.

The smile faded from Jane’s face as her eyes rolled back into her head, leaving me only the whites to stare into. Her legs gave out and I balanced her on the armrest of the couch to keep her from falling. “Stay with me, Jane.”

The blood loss had made her light-headed. I eased her back on to the couch and ran to the fridge to grab a carton of orange juice. My medical expertise might be lacking, but with my psychometry-induced hyperglycemia, I knew O.J. might be enough to bring Jane around.

I tipped her head back and placed the carton at her lips. Her eyes fluttered as the juice hit her tongue and she began drinking greedily.

“Easy,” I told her. “What happened? What do you recall?”

She gasped for breath as I pulled the near empty carton away.

“Thank you soooo much,” she said, the life returning to her.

Her face looked a thousand times better and her eyes were alive again, though still a little glassy from the painkillers. They bore into mine, and without warning, she kissed me. My first thought was of juice. Her tongue tasted like juice. After that, all other thoughts left me. The idea of this being taboo lurked somewhere at the back of my mind, but clearly my own eager urges had taboo pinned safely out of my brain’s way.

My hand traced the back of her neck, my fingers running through her hair. Our bodies moved closer, toppling back onto the couch, and I felt the warmth of her body underneath mine. She jerked with a sudden convulsion.

“Owwww!” she hissed as she bit my tongue mid-probe. “My hip. I think it might be broken.”

In that instant I recovered my senses and slid off her. She was half doped up, for God’s sake. “Sorry, I shouldn’t French with the forces of evil.”

“Don’t be,” she said, not taking offense. I helped her sit back up. I glanced at her briefly, and this time, she was careful not to look too deep into my eyes. “Don’t you want to know why I was here?”

“Later,” I said. “I think we both have some ’splainin’ to do, but first we need to get you to a hospital.”

Immediately there was terror in her eyes. “You can’t!”

“Jane, you’ve got to get medical attention…all I’ve got is juice.”

“It’s just…” she started, but couldn’t speak. “I can’t let Faisal or the Sectarians know I got hurt this bad. I’ll never live it down. They’ll fire me…or worse.”

In all the madness, I hadn’t considered what the Sectarians might do to someone who had failed. Especially someone as fresh-faced as her.

“Take me home,” she said. Under other circumstances, I might have been thrilled to hear those words from her lips. Now was not one of those times.

“Right,” I said, nodding. “Sure.”

Now that I was coming to my senses, I wanted to get her out of here should Irene suddenly reappear. She had seemed…strange, and I didn’t know how she would react to finding Jane in the apartment.

“My apartment is at-”

“I know where you live, Jane,” I interrupted. She looked at me quizzically. “Like I said, I think we both have some ’splainin’ to do.”

I scooped one arm around her and started for the door. As an afterthought, I grabbed the Other Division emergency kit the Inspectre had given me months ago. I was pretty sure that escorting the enemy from your home before she died certainly counted as an emergency.

If I was lucky, I’d get her out of here without further incident. If I was unlucky, Faisal and his people would be waiting for us.