Duncan opened his eyes, looking up at the thick interlacing of tree branches above them. He must have dozed off for a moment.

"Have a nice nap?" He rolled over on his stomach, zeroing in on the voice of his wildcat. Diana was fully clothed and perched on a moss-coated boulder ten feet away, legs crossed and elbows on her knees.

"A much-needed one. Damn, you wore me out!" He slowly gathered up his clothing and shook it free of bits of leaves and twigs, then dressed. "How long was I out?"

Diana slid gracefully off the boulder and picked up the blanket. "Only about a half hour. You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you." She started back towards the truck.

"I appreciate that. And I really appreciate the detour!" He draped his arm over her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled sweetly of raspberry shampoo.

"Thought you'd like a little taste of heaven before we get a dose of hell." She tossed the blanket in the jump seats as they got back in the truck.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

Diana steered them back to the main road and they continued down towards the town, passing the fire zone. Stark black patches abounded, still smoking gently, the blackened skeletal remains of trees and bushes jutting upward from the ashes. It appeared that the fire was significantly contained, an amazing feat considering the heat and arid conditions.

"They do great work," Diana commented. "Between the fire crews and the bombers, they caught it fast. It could have skipped the fire trails or this road and eaten up thousands of acres. If this is the most damage, we should consider ourselves fortunate."

She parked outside the Mastons' shop and went in briefly to let Neal know his work was a hit with Gabriella. "It's quiet in here. Where are the boys today?"

"Who knows? They took off after breakfast in John's truck. Probably visiting some of their buddies. They'll be back in time for supper. These boys, never far from their food source," Neal responded.

Duncan waited until they were back outside the studio to ask, "How did he paint your daughter if she's out in Colorado? Did she ever pose for him? Not to be crude or anything, but it's obvious that he's seen her naked at some time."

Diana laughed uproariously. "Good Lord, half the town has seen her naked! That little exhibitionist went out on a dare one Halloween dressed...or I should say, undressed, as Lady Godiva. Some of the local boys put her up to it when she was a senior in high school. She galloped her horse through downtown, egged on by her schoolmates, all male, of course. She was rewarded by them with a twelve-pack of beer, and by me with a month's worth of mucking out the stalls of every single horse barn within fifteen miles of this place. She didn't think of it as a punishment, just more time with her beloved equines. So, yes, Neal has seen her au natural. The painting is a little "in joke" between the two of us. But that's my Gabby, wild and free as her horses."

Diana was still chuckling as they toured the town. She served as Duncan's pass to get some of the local shop owners to open up about the history of their town, history that included tales of hauntings in the old grocery store once owned by Sarah Martinez, stories of spirits screaming in the canyons and pale fingers tapping on windowpanes in the dead of night, accounts of murder and mayhem that the town fathers of every small town kept to themselves.

The temperatures skyrocketed again and in mid-afternoon, Diana and Duncan took refuge from the heat in the pizza joint on the main drag.

"This place is just a little hotbed of activity," Duncan commented as they waited for their order to arrive.

"No more than any other small town. Damon's Canyon relies on tourists and vacationing families. Can't afford to let the seedier side of life here become public. It wouldn't do much good, even if the information was leaked out about what goes on behind closed doors. Most of the crime here affects the residents only, not people coming through the area. Domestic problems, bar fights, the usual."

"You're probably right. I am going to include some of the ghost stories in my article, though. They add flavor to this place. Don't worry, I won't mention a word about Damon Benyu. No one would believe it anyway."

As they were digging in to their pepperoni and sausage pizza, the front door opened to admit the massive police chief. He acknowledged the greeting of the girl behind the counter, then lumbered over to where Diana and Duncan were sitting.

"Afternoon, Diana," the man rumbled, taking off his uniform hat.

"Good afternoon, Seth. How are things this hot afternoon?"

"Well, not so hot-other than the weather," he said with a quick grin. "Have you seen the Maston boys, John and David?"

"Not since yesterday. Why?"

"Seems that John's big truck was seen up in Damon's Canyon a little while before the fire started. Just want to ask them some questions."

"Do you think they were messing around up there and started something?"

"Just conjecture at this point, Diana. Those two don't have a lick of sense between the two of 'em. Wouldn't surprise me if they were setting off firecrackers and lit the place on fire. They've lived here too long to have done anything on purpose. They aren't bad kids, just not really very bright sometimes."

"If I see them, I'll let you know. By the way, Chief Seth Mulavey, this is Duncan Sloan. He's here doing a story on Damon's Canyon for his magazine." The two men shook hands.

"Mulavey? Wasn't that the name of the sheriff back in the 1800's?"

"Great grandpa. Good man. Had his hands full back then with all those loggers and miners getting drunk on the weekends. There's been a Mulavey in law enforcement in this town every since. My daughter, Connie, is a deputy sheriff down in the Valley, but some day, she wants to transfer up here."

"Connie? As in Constance...?"

"You've been reading Auntie Constance's diary, haven't you? Crazy Constance. Never did really get over Damon Benyu. She never married, just lived out her life here in this town, teaching school at the one-room schoolhouse. Kept talking about him coming back someday." Seth shook his head. "Crazy Constance. Maybe not so crazy."

Diana perked up. "What do you mean, Seth?"

"Can we talk privately?" Seth directed his comment to Diana.

She patted a seat next to her. "Sit down. He already knows about the tale of Damon Benyu. Whatever you say here stays between us. What's going on?"

The big man eased himself gingerly into the small vinyl seat, eyeing the pizza. Diana motioned for him to help himself.

"Thanks, haven't eaten since breakfast. Look, it's still pretty toasty down around the canyon, but I asked for a report about the tomb from the fire chief. Some of his firefighters say the bushes and trees are burned to a crisp there. The gate's still locked up, but no one's been inside to see what the fire did to the interior or to the coffin. I got a bad feeling, Diana. And it's a full moon tonight. That always brings bad news for the police. Weird shit always happens when it's a full moon. Sorry about the cussing."

"You're right, Seth. Weird shit does happen during the full moon. I've been feeling the same thing-expectancy. Any way of spreading the word through the old timers without alarming the rest of the town?"

"The word's already spreading. The rest of the town won't know what we're talking about, but the old timers do. Already talked to Jacob Carpenter and a few of the others." Duncan couldn't believe the conversation he was hearing, as if Damon Benyu were really coming back to haunt their town.

"What do they say?"

"Keep your doors locked, hang onto your crosses and your daughters, because old Damon's coming back with a vengeance."

"'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,'" Diana quoted. "Be on guard, Seth. Things are going to get ugly."

Seth nodded in agreement, finishing off the pizza. "Yep, afraid you're right. How come you're not packing?" he asked, motioning with a finger at her shoulder.

Diana kicked him gently on the shin and pointed down to her ankle. "I am. You have a shipment for me?"

"Coming in Monday. I'll bring it up then, if you'd like." The chief got up from his precarious perch and arranged his hat on his graying hair.

"Sounds fine. Be careful, Seth."

"You, too, little girl. Your daddy would be awfully ticked at me if I didn't keep an eye on you." The human mountain swayed out on the sidewalk and out of sight.

Duncan held his questions until they were back in Diana's truck and headed down to Jacob Carpenter's wood shop.

"What the hell was that all about?"

"Remember that silver bullet you held in your hand last night? Seth is my contact for a supplier. You don't think they sell those in any gun shop, do you? Those are special order, special made, and very costly."

"You know, something tells me you do more than just handle antiques and deliver property to their rightful heirs."

Diana didn't answer, just pulled past the giant redwood bear and parked at the rear of Jacob Carpenter's woodcarving studio. They entered the building through the back door. The pungent odor of wood and sawdust was mixed with the sweet smells of various oils and varnish.

"Jacob, where are you?" Diana called.

"Back here," came a reedy voice from another room. Duncan followed Diana as she made her way through an obstacle course of carved wooden raccoons, rabbits and bear cubs, blocks of untouched wood, and piles of sawdust.

Jacob Carpenter was in his eighties, thin and weather-beaten, with long, sinewy arms and gnarled hands suffering the ravages of arthritis. Long, gray hair was pulled back in a braid that trailed down his back. He was putting the finishing touches on a totem pole that consisted of several wild animals forming a mammalian base for a dyspeptic creature that looked like it was part human and part eagle.

"Good day, Miss Diana," the old man quavered. He arched his scraggly eyebrows in the direction of Duncan.

"It's all right, Jacob. This is Duncan Sloan. He writes for The Off-Ramp."

"Sorry if I don't shake hands, young man. Have to save these old fingers for my work these days. You were in here yesterday poking around. You write good articles, especially about the mountains."

"Thank you, Mr. Carpenter."

"You can call me Jacob. Come to look at my work again, did you?"

Diana answered quickly, "That and to talk a little bit, Jacob. Duncan, why don't you take a look around. I'm sure Jacob would love to have some pictures of his work in your magazine, wouldn't you, Jacob?"

Duncan took the hint and removed his camera from its bag, moving towards the display area of the shop. His keen ears picked up bits and pieces of the conversation between his hostess and the old man, but not enough to make any sense of it.

"You know about the tomb, Jacob?"

"Yes, Miss Diana. Bad news, that." The elderly man rubbed linseed oil lovingly into his creation as they talked. It reminded Duncan of the way he had massaged Diana's breasts and he felt himself becoming aroused again. A woodworking shop-great place to develop a woody.

"Very bad news. Do you have some wood for me?"

"Trying to get a supplier to ship me what you need. I'll call you when it comes in and I have them tooled out. Hard stuff to come by right now."

"Thanks, Jacob. And be vigilant, Jacob. He'll remember the old families, you know."

Jacob Carpenter glanced up from his work just briefly. "Ay, he will, missy. But the old families remember him. He best beware. I saw the young Miss Gabby driving through town early this morning. Is she staying long?"

"For the week, then back to Colorado. Don't worry, Jacob, she'll be fine."

"I know that. I would hate to tangle with you two wildcats. Take care, Miss Diana. Take care. And thank you for the pictures. That would be awful nice if they showed some of my work."

Duncan smiled at the man's earnestness. Duncan would make sure the magazine used the photos from the woodworker's shop.

"Ready to go, Duncan? We need to get back up the hill," Diana said.

"Yes, ma'am." They said their farewells to the old woodcarver and left.

As Duncan and Diana were negotiating the hills on the way back to her home, John and David Maston were returning to the canyon to check out the damage they had inflicted. John drove his truck down a one-lane dirt path that had served loggers for nearly a century, the suspension creaking and squeaking as they bounced over rocks and ruts. The path ended on a hill overlooking Damon's Canyon. John turned off the engine and the boys got out to survey the burn area.

"Jesus, David, you really screwed up!" John said with awe.

"Hey, don't blame me! You're the one who brought the fireworks and you're the one who suggested we come down to the canyon!" David protested.

"Yeah, but you're the asshole that lit all those bottle rockets and let 'em go! Come on, let's get a closer look," John urged, starting to climb down the steep embankment.

"I don't know, John. It's getting dark and it's pretty creepy looking down there," David stammered, gazing down onto the heat-blasted landscape.

"Don't be a wuss! I've got a flashlight. I just want to see if old Damon Benyu's tomb is really down there like the legend. Look, you can see some sort of building down there," John said, pointing to a small white rectangle on the canyon floor.

David followed his brother, vacillating between a desire to please John and a little voice inside his head that told him to run like hell in the other direction.

They slipped and slid down the slope, feeling the heat still emanating from the ash and burned debris field. They picked their way through the charred remains of old oak trees and twisted Manzanitas, kicking up gray clouds of ash as they went.

John and David finally arrived at the rectangle that had been Damon Benyu's tomb for over a century. The blackened stumps of what had been imprisoning hawthorn trees clawed up from the earth. David felt a flutter of fear deep in the pit of his stomach.

"John, let's go. We shouldn't be here," he whispered.

"Jeez, David, why are you whispering? Ain't no one here but a dead guy to hear us." That didn't ease David's nervousness one bit.

John tugged at the chain that was wrapped around the handles to the entrance doors, which were a double set of wrought iron gates with an intricate design, behind which hung a set of wood doors. The chain and lock rattled, but didn't give.

"Come on, I want to look inside," John said, picking a rock up from the ground.

"No way, man. I'm not going inside there!"

John ignored his brother and hammered at the rusty lock with the sharp rock until the hasp shattered. He unwrapped the chain and threw it off to the side, then pulled on the door handles. The doors opened with a creak on their rusted hinges. The wooden doors had been badly charred by the fire, and chunks of charcoal broke off as John pulled them open.

John eased his way inside the tomb, flicking on his flashlight in the gathering gloom. It was still an hour away from sunset, but here in the canyon, the darkness was already near.

"Holy shit, look at that!" John's voice echoed within the stone walls.

"What?" David felt the flutter in his stomach rise up into his chest.

"Look, it's old Damon's coffin!" John aimed the beam into the center of the crypt.

The fire had managed to wreak havoc through the crevices of the disintegrating rock walls. The mustard seeds so devotedly placed by the old Slavs had burned up in the heat. The coffin's exterior was even slightly scorched by the flames that had managed to wedge their tongues in through the cracks.

"Let's look inside," John urged his brother.

"No way!"

"Come on. He's been dead so long, he's just bones. Think of the stories you can tell the girls at school this fall. You'll be one popular date, I tell you. Oh, David, you're so big, so strong, you're not afraid of anything," John piped in a girlish falsetto.

"Shut up!" David said, flinching at the hollow sound of his voice.

"David, you grab the top and I'll grab the bottom of the lid and we'll hoist it off. Don't be such a chickenshit!" John wedged the flashlight in between several of the rocks and grasped the foot of the lid with his hands.

Eager to prove his manhood to his older brother, David grasped the head of the lid and they pushed it upwards. It slid off the top of the casket and fell to the stone floor, shattering into splinters as it landed.

There was a snarl from the shadows just outside the door. Both boys spun around in time to see a shadow bound past the front doors.

"Stupid mountain lion. It must have freaked out from the fire," John said to his brother.

John reached for the flashlight to shine it into the casket. There was a rustle and a slither of movement from the inside of the coffin. Something dark and foul rose out of the moldy interior and stood behind David Maston. He screamed, a thin wail of terror that made John's testicles cramp up deep inside his scrotum, and then there was a crunch as the red-eyed being quickly twisted the younger boy's neck and broke it. The beast bent forward over the body and drove its sharp teeth into David's neck, sucking out his lifeblood with a slurping, hungry gasp. He quickly drained David's blood, then threw the body to the floor.

John had backed into a corner, the flashlight still wedged into the rock, dimly lighting the gory tableau before him. "Dad's gonna kill me," was the only thought that went through his mind as he saw his brother's body fall. He should have been so lucky.

Instead, the beast jumped on him, attaching itself like a leech to his neck, tearing and feeding, starving after its century-old fast.

The screams resounded throughout the crypt and sailed out into the darkness. Several firefighters who were walking down the road where the Maston boys has begun the inferno they day before stopped in their tracks.

"Christ Almighty, what was that?" Mark Briscomb said to his captain.

"Sounds like a mountain lion got hold of a big fucking rabbit," Manny Vargas answered.

"Down in the canyon? Everything's burned up down there."

"Ah, it's probably off in the hills. Sounds echo and travel out here in these canyons. Come on, I'm hungry and tired. Let's get back to town and pick up some burgers. There's nothing else we can do here. Nothing but smoking ash down there now." The two men got in their department truck and drove off.

Down in the canyon, a figure emerged from the viscera of its tomb. Blood ran from his full ruddy lips and down his wide masculine chest. His naked body gleamed in the moonlight and he looked up at the bright orb, smiling a snarl. He sniffed the air, smelling the trail of human scent. He would follow it to town. He was hungry and the need to mate was strong. He was Damon Benyu, and he had arisen from the ashes. He was Phoenix, once again.

The loud jangle of Diana's telephone intruded on another one of Duncan's dreams about something monstrous outside his window. Diana, Duncan and Gabriella had spent the evening together sharing tales of their travels. Diana was accurate: their paths had crossed many times, often within a few days of each other. Destiny, she had said.

Duncan walked to the study door, listening in on her end of the conversation.

"Seth? What's wrong?" Diana listened to the response. She sensed Duncan's presence, turning around and facing him. Her hair was down around her shoulders, gleaming copper-red in the morning sunlight.

"Are you sure? How long ago? I was afraid of this. Okay, I'll meet you down in the canyon in about an hour. Okay, I will. Later." She hung up the phone and stared at Duncan.

"What's the matter?"

"The Maston brothers have disappeared. Some hikers came across their truck at the end of a logging road above the canyon. Their parents are in a near panic. They called the chief last night after the boys never showed for supper. They've checked with all their friends and looked throughout the town. The hikers found the truck early this morning. I'm meeting Seth and we're going down to the crypt. Are you coming?" It was more of a command than a question.

"Let me grab a camera..."

"No!" Diana protested. "This is not something you need to report on. This is something you need to see. You want evidence. I think you'll have your evidence." Her face was set, her jaw clenched. "But it's not for publication, never for the general public. They'll never believe us, they never have."

Duncan hurried through his shower. He met Diana at the bottom of the stairs. She was checking the clip to her pistol, and he noted that she had several extra clips stuffed into her back pockets. She carried a small sports bag with her. Something rattled dryly inside.

"Gabby! Gabriella!" Diana shouted up the stairs towards her daughter's room.

"What's going on, Mom?"

"We're going down to the canyon. You keep everything locked up here, do you hear me? If we're not back by dark, you know what to do."

"I know. Mom, be careful, please."

Diana slammed the front door as she strode out to her truck, Duncan hurrying to keep up. They bounced down the road, Duncan silently praying that his kidneys would stay intact. Diana whipped the truck through the mountain turns and cutbacks, her jaw set in concentration.

As they came to the cutoff for the road to the canyon, they could see the revolving lights on top of several patrol cars and trucks blocking the entrance. Seth Mulavey waved them through, then jumped into his own squad car and led them down the canyon road to where it dead-ended.

"Has anyone been down there yet?" Diana asked as she and Duncan got out and met the chief.

"No. I wanted you and me to be the first ones down there. You got your tools?"

Diana held out her gym bag. "Let's go."

The chief led them down the hill. Their footsteps crunched and crackled in the burn zone. Duncan could see a small building gleaming in the sunlight. Damon Benyu's tomb.

"Oh, shit," Seth muttered. They could see the broken lock and discarded chain. There were dark droplets on the ground outside the front doors, and a strong odor of decay played out on the wind currents from inside the tomb.

"Look at that." Diana pointed in the ash outside the doors. "Looks like one of the big cats came down to check it out. Judging from the stride, I'd say he didn't want to stick around. He beat feet someplace else in a hurry."

"Duncan, you stay out here in the light," Diana ordered, drawing her weapon from its holster and chambering a round. She handed the gym bag to the chief, who unzipped it and pulled out a heavy wooden mallet and several wooden stakes. Duncan stared at the duo as if he were watching some late-night horror show.

"Let's go," Diana said. She moved into the tomb quickly, the chief right behind her. Duncan could hear muffled expletives from the two, then they came out, the chief's face sheet-white, Diana's an angry shade of crimson.

"What's in there? Are the boys there?" Duncan demanded.

"What's left of them," Diana answered grimly. "You want proof? Come on, I'll show you." She holstered her gun and grabbed him by the elbow, hauling him into the dim recesses of the crypt.

Shafts of light knifing into the tomb through crevices between the rocks illuminated the torn bodies of John and David Maston, together in life, together in death. Duncan stared down at the remains of what had been vital, living young men, now empty husks. Even in death, the look of terror was on their bleached faces. He could feel his stomach rising with nausea and gritted his teeth to keep the bile in check.

Duncan walked back into the sunlight to see the chief stowing Diana's "tools" back into the gym bag.

"He's gone. He's fed, and he's on the move," Diana stated.

"How do you know it was Benyu? You said yourself there are cat tracks in front," Duncan demanded.

"His tomb, two dead bodies, throats torn out, blood drained. If it had been a mountain lion, there would have been blood and worse all over the place. The big cat never came in here. He knew better. Too bad the boys didn't."

Diana continued, "There was little blood on the floor, which means he drank well. He's been unfed for a hundred years. He's making up for lost time. Some of the dirt has been scooped out of the coffin. You can see the tracks his fingers made as he removed his native earth. He's not coming back here. There are a thousand places in these hills where he can sleep during the day, feed at night."

"What the hell am I going to tell their parents?" Seth said, shaking with anger.

"You tell them that their sons were attacked by a mountain lion that got trapped in the crypt and that they are dead. You tell them that John defended his little brother well, judging from the defensive wounds."

"What defensive wounds?" Duncan asked. He hadn't seen a mark on the bodies except for the torn throats.

Diana reached under one leg of her jeans and pulled out a deadly-looking tactical knife from a boot sheath. "The ones on his hands and arms he received from fighting off the mountain lion," she emphasized, heading back into the tomb.

Duncan stared at the chief. "Are you just going to let her do that? What about the truth? And won't the coroner know the difference between knife wounds and mountain lion teeth marks? Who are you trying to fool?"

The chief snorted derisively. "You don't believe the truth. How many other people will believe it? Better to save the family the pain, they'll have enough grief knowing they lost both their sons. And, son, I'm the coroner in these parts. I'll have little talk with our town doctor, who also happens to be the medical examiner. The marks are for the family's benefit, proof of the boys courage in the face of death. When they view the bodies, they have to be convinced of a wild animal attack. The Mastons are city folks. They'll see the marks and think they're from the big cat. I'm letting Diana do what she does best."

"Which is?"

"Recover and deliver." The chief walked to his car and called in his deputies and an ambulance, while Duncan sat in Diana's truck awaiting her return.

Diana ran to the truck after she finished her mission of mercy, throwing the gym bag behind her seat. "We have to get back to the cabin. There's nothing more I can do here. I have to get Gabby out of here."

"Why?"

"Because Damon Benyu will be looking for a lot more than blood. He's going to be looking for a mate. And it sure as hell isn't going to be my daughter."

They tore back up the mountain to the cabin. Diana raced into the house, shouting for her daughter.

"Gabriella, where are you?"

"I'm up here," Gabriella answered from the library.

"You have to go. Now!"

"Why? What happened?" Gabriella faced her mother, her eyes sparking.

"Benyu is back. The two Maston boys were murdered last night. You have to get out of here now. It's a full moon and the beast is on the loose. Get back to Colorado and do what you have to do out there. I'll take care of things here. Get moving!"

Gabriella obeyed, rushing down to her bedroom to pack up her suitcase.

Diana pulled Duncan by the wrist upstairs to her study. She seated him in her office chair. "Listen to me very closely. You are about to learn exactly what I do for a living," she said intensely, leaning into him, her face close to his. He resisted the urge to tangle his hands in that shining hair and pull her lips to his.

"I recover and deliver more than just property. I deliver justice. I seek that which walks the night and haul its ass into the daylight. And sometimes, I have to deliver the pale horse of death to the undead. It is a line of work that I have done for over twenty years, and one that my father and mother did before me, and one that my father's father did before him. It is ugly and secretive and messy. But it is God's work in the end. I am a hunter. What I hunt is evil and unclean, and it is a dangerous path I must take at times. Do you have the stomach to walk that path with me?"

Duncan gazed into those stormy eyes, stunned. At that very moment, he was terrified of this woman, terrified of her ability to kill, terrified of her zeal. Yet, he was drawn to her, mesmerized by her devotion to her duty, captured by those eyes and that hair, and the strength he could feel radiating from within her. The words came out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying.

"I don't know. I want to understand what it is you do. But you scare the hell out of me."

"I make it my business to scare Hell. Then sit there and watch and listen. And don't question my authority or my decisions. It may cost you your life or someone else's. I've been doing this a long, long time. I recover and deliver well."

Diana dialed a phone number and paced the office as she spoke, passing by the open door and nudging it closed with her foot.

"Jacob? It's Diana. The sooner you can get that supply to me, the better. Yes, he walks. The two Maston boys, but as far as the public is concerned, it was a mountain lion. I know, the old story. It will have to do for now. Talk with you later."

She hung up and dialed another number, removing her holster and gun and perching on the edge of the desk. "Josef. The Phoenix has come back from the ashes. You'll have to assign that problem in New Mexico to someone else. I'm sorry, that's the way it is. I have a responsibility to the people of this town. No, I don't need reinforcements quite yet. I'm not sure what direction he is going to take, he's just getting started. Just stand by, I'll be in contact. Danke schoen, Josef."

"You have a network set up!"

Diana sat on the desktop, swinging a foot and rubbing a knot out of the back of her neck. Duncan rose and sat on the desktop next to her, using his strong fingers to knead the back of her neck. She sighed.

"Yes, we have a vast network set up. We monitor this sort of thing all over the world. We often have to go into a town that is being attacked by an evil entity and blend in, spending time there until we can clear out the problem. That's why your articles are so helpful to me, they give me some insight into how to approach an assignment with advance knowledge of the environment and people."

"You make it sound so scientific," Duncan murmured in her ear, his hands moving to her shoulders.

"In a way, a lot of it is. We have to use the best technology to track these creatures, night vision-at least for the werewolves, doesn't work too well on cold-blooded vampires. DNA tracking, hacking into law enforcement computers. But when it comes down to the delivery, it's usually old-fashioned methods that work-the stake through the heart, a silver bullet or cross, exposure to sunlight. This one, though, he won't be so easy to deliver."

"You keep talking about "delivery." What does that mean?" Duncan's hands trailed down her back. He could hear her expel her breath with restrained pleasure.

"Remember the Lord's Prayer: 'Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil'?" That's what we do; we deliver people from evil."

"How do you know you're not destroying some innocent human being? How can you be sure you're dealing with something supernatural?"

"We research our cases very well, Duncan. We don't just go in, guns blasting, so to speak. We have to have proof that what we are dealing with are vampires or werewolves or shapeshifters, whatever we're called upon to recover. There are tests and signs. When all other explanations are exhausted, we are left with the inevitable truth, that we are dealing with monsters. "

She closed her eyes, tilting her head to one side. Duncan tasted her neck with his tongue, then kissed her, slipping his hands around to her breasts. He fondled them through the fabric of her shirt. Duncan and Diana slipped off the desk and he turned her in his arms, his hands sliding down her muscular back to that tight ass. God, this woman felt good in his arms! She wrapped a hand in his curls, the other freed the bulge threatening to tear its way out of his pants . They kissed, a kiss he would remember for the rest of his life, deep, probing, and warm, tongues corkscrewing to taste each other.

Duncan pushed her back onto the desk, digging at the zipper to her jeans as she kicked off her shoes. He yanked her pants off and pushed his way into the auburn tangle between the V of her bent legs. Diana wrapped her legs around his hips and hooked her fingers around the edge of the desk, anchoring herself as he drove his pole into her. Paperwork and pens rained onto the floor, vibrated off the desk by the force of Duncan's pounding. Sweat poured off his contorted face onto Diana's lips, and her tongue darted out to taste the salty droplets.

"Come on, Duncan, fill me up. Give it to me, come on, give it to me!" Diana whispered fiercely.

Duncan shoved her tee shirt and thin bra above her breasts and leaned down to suck on her sweet nipples.

"Bite them. It's okay, bite them. Baby, harder, just a little harder!" Duncan nipped and sucked, feeling Diana's response lubricating his tumescent rod.

Diana tightened her grip with her thighs and began to quiver and buck. She bit her lips, muffling the groans that wanted to burst from her throat.

"I'm coming, Red, hang on tight, I'm coming." Duncan straightened up and slipped his hands under her butt, pulling upwards as he rammed himself into her and jettisoned his load. He moaned, a harsh choking groan rumbling in his throat.

Duncan fell to his knees, his heart thumping against his sternum as he gasped for breath. Diana melted off the desk onto the floor, kneeling face to face with him. He gently laid his forehead against hers.

"Damn, honey, I'm not sure I can stand up."

"You'd better. We need to get dressed." Diana got to her feet, swaying with the effort. She held out a hand and Duncan steadied himself against her as he stood.

"Where are my pants?" Duncan wheezed, searching with unfocused eyes.

"I don't know. You were wearing them last time I looked!"

They had barely managed to pull on jeans and shirts before Gabby slammed the door open.

"Hey, Mom, I'm ready to go...oh, God, take it into the bedroom, would you!" Gabriella wailed as she noticed their flushed faces and state of semi-dress.

"Too late," Diana said as she bent over and picked up papers and pens, relocating them on the desk. "Next time, knock."

Diana brushed past her daughter on the way out the door and they could hear her clumping down the steps.

Gabriella smiled mischievously. "Mom hasn't gotten any in ten years. She must have blown like a volcano," she confided brightly.

Duncan stood eye-to-eye with Diana's daughter. "Each and every time," he stated calmly, then ambled out the door, tucking his shirt in his pants as he went.