Deirdre O'Dare The Thin Green Line 1 Beyond the Shadows

BEYOD THE SHADOWS

DEIRDRE O'DARE

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.amberquill.com

Beyond The Shadows

An Amber Quill Press Book

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's

imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

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No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in

writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

ISBN 978-1-60272-670-3

Layout and Formatting

Provided by: Elemental Alchemy

Published in the United States of America

Also by Deirdre O'Dare

Armed And Amorous

The Canine Cupid Series

The Chap In Chaps

Daring Desires

Fire On Ice
Jesse's Girl

Journal Of A Timid Temptress

Muscle Car Man

Special Delivery

Treading Dangerous Ground

You Were Always On My Mind

Dedication

This one is for the officers of the Border Patrol

who do their best with often-limited resources to protect our

borders and hold the tide of violence and unlawful

activity at bay. It's often a thankless job but someone has to do

it so you step into the breach. Thank you for your

efforts and may the Powers protect you all.

Thanks as always to my very special and dear friends

who make up the Amber Quill staff. You are the best and bring out

my best as a writer who is striving to grow and improve

as well as to earn and deserve the great support and assistance all

of you provide. Go in peace and harmony and blessed be!

Chapter 1

Rhys Davis reined in the stocky bay gelding at the crest of the ridge. To his watchful gaze, the valley below yawned
black and threatening. He heard the muffled sounds as Liam Malone checked his horse just to Rhys' left. After that,
he couldn't hear a thing--silence, a profound and unusual silence. Not quite total, though, for, after a moment, he
could hear the horses breathing and a whispery sigh of the fitful breeze, but not the usual small noises of the night,
no coyotes or night birds. Too quiet, unnaturally quiet.

He tugged the night vision goggles free of his jacket and settled them over his eyes. As the wind slipped in through
the opening he made at his neck, he shivered. The late-November night's stillness seemed to add to the chill. They
might be far south, but they were also about a mile high, far enough up in the bleak, rugged mountains of the New
Mexico border land that winter was tangible.

Even the goggles didn't show him much detail. The deep narrow valley remained shrouded in charcoal gray. The
faint glowing traces of a few small animals slipping about their nocturnal business were all he could see.

"Too quiet," Liam said, speaking in a low, flat tone. "Billy would say the tchindi were walking."

Rhys snorted. "He would, and he might be right. This whole scene smells bad to me, a stench worse than rotting
corpses and bad drugs. Something's not right besides the fact there've been a dozen murders in the past month
scattered along both sides of the border and nothing to lead to the perp. Whoever's doing it isn't particular, either.
Anglos, illegals, Mexican law enforcement and some officers on our side. Skinwalkers? Tchindi? Hell, it's demons
for all I know."

The Billy who Liam had mentioned was the third member of the triumvirate they had been from the age of eight until
the present with only a few small breaks. Billy Sundog had been in the same class at Window Rock School as Liam
and Rhys. Billy was Navajo, while the other two boys were Anglo--or belagani in Navajo--sons of the teachers in
the school system of the Navajo nation's capital.

Billy had been a bit of a misfit, too, born to "city" Indians who'd lived in California until his father's death drove
his mother home to the rez to live with an elderly aunt and uncle, her nearest kin. Billy didn't blend in with the local
kids, so he'd teamed up with the two other new boys in the third-grade class--Liam with flame-red hair and freckles
and Rhys, almost dark enough to be taken for Latino or Indian, yet clearly not either.

Billy's great-uncle was a practicing medicine man. Billy soon became fascinated by the superstitions and lore of his
people when he encountered it for the first time. He learned the tchindi were the restless spirits of the newly dead
and much feared by most of the Navajo people. They all soon found you did not speak of the dead by name and
shunned places where someone died. Liam and Rhys, both carrying Celtic blood with its bent for superstition about
the unknown, jumped into the new mythology, too. They'd all shivered, but speculated at length about the tchindi,
Navajo ghosts, and the skinwalkers, shape-shifting witches, talking of them like many kids told ghost stories and
"bloody bones" tales at their sleepovers and campouts.

Rhys wiggled his shoulders, settling his pile-lined jacket more solidly in place as he slipped the goggles back into
its protection, still hanging from the strap around his neck. "Guess we ought to ride on down to the spring and look
for tracks before we head back to the truck."

Liam agreed. "Yeah. It doesn't look like anything's stirring, but we can check. Sergeant Gomez'll expect a detailed
report of what we did and if we don't make a full patrol, he'll be pissed, the damn hard-assed bastard."

Rhys snorted again. "Yeah, Gomez has a hard-on about us, or at least it seems like it. I don't think he likes gringos
and he sure doesn't like Native Americans! He's always riding Billy's ass."

"Maybe it's just that we're the new guys on his crew and he hasn't decided if we're going to fit in and work out or
not. He knows we're all buds, too, and probably wonders how in hell we got assigned together right out of training.
That never happens and if we'd asked for the same duty station, we'd never have gotten it. I'm even surprised we
ended up this close to home. We prob'ly should've gone to San Diego or Brownsville, even up on the Canadian
border or maybe one each way."

Rhys nodded, though he knew Liam could not see the action. "Right. Luck like that is almost too good to be true, but
this mess we're dumped into makes up for it. This whole thing gives me the creeps. It just doesn't feel right."

At a cluck and shake of the reins, the two horses started down, picking their way confidently along the rut of a cattle
trail leading to the spring at the bottom. There, an old concrete trough caught water trickling from a rusted pipe that
ran back into one rocky hillside, making a critical water hole for both livestock and wildlife. The U. S. Border
Patrol officers knew parties of border crossers also used it to refill canteens and plastic bottles to provide water
for the next leg of the dry trek northward.

Rhys and Liam approached the spring slowly, casting their senses into the darkness to try to determine if anything
larger than small wild animals were near. They sensed nothing. Swinging out of the saddle, Liam drew a powerful
flashlight from its loop on his gun belt and shone it into the trampled mud around the trough. The ground hinted at a
scuffle, but the tracks were too mixed and mushy to unravel.

"Billy might make some sense of this. He's a hell of a tracker, but damned if I can figure it out." He shone the light a
little farther afield, stiffening when the beam hit a lumpy shape, a shape seemingly out of place and wrong for a
rock or a stump. "Wait, what's that?"

Still mounted, Rhys urged his mount in that direction, pulling out his own flashlight as he moved. It was a body all
right. Slashed and bloody, the corpse looked to have been a small man or a youth, dark-haired and dark-skinned
from what they could see. That wasn't much because the victim had been literally cut to ribbons. Flesh and skin
hung in tattered strands off the frame, tangled and mixed with bloody cloth from shredded jeans and the remains of a
shirt, probably a T-shirt. Jagged cuts or claw marks had almost obliterated the victim's face. Claw marks? Knife
wounds? In the limited light, they really couldn't tell.

Liam made a gagging sound before he forced the words out. "Christ, this is the worst one yet. I doubt if we'll have a
signal down in this pocket, but we'd better try to call it in." He pulled his mobile phone out, and hit a speed dial
number. As he'd surmised, there was no signal. "Shit. Looks like one of us has to stay here and the other go back up
on the ridge and call. I'm already dismounted, so you go."

Rhys wanted to say no way. Better to leave the ragged corpse where it lay while they both went. The hapless man
was far past more harm. Still, it was against policy to leave a crime scene unguarded until the responsible officers
arrived, probably members of the Hidalgo County Sheriff's Department. He guessed they were on federal land,
either U.S. Forest Service or the Bureau of Land Management, but that didn't mean the FBI would have jurisdiction.
They only took over in national parks and monuments and on the rez.

"All right. Stay on your guard, bro. Who or whatever did that is one mean customer."

Liam seemed calm. "Could be he was killed in a more or less normal way, maybe even not here, and predators got
to him. Coyotes, vultures and stuff can do a lot of damage. We really don't know, can't tell. That's for the CSI
people to determine."

To Rhys' ears, Liam's reasonable words still held a hint of whistling in the dark. Rhys knew his friend well enough
to be sure he was as spooked as Rhys was. Dead bodies were one thing, but mutilated ones were more than a little
bit worse. His skin crawled as goose bumps erupted all over his body. If he'd ever sensed pure and total evil, this
was it.

"Stay on your guard," Rhys repeated. "I'll be back as soon as I can. No need to wait for the investigators to guide
them in. Everybody who works the region knows this spring and how to get to it. As soon as I reach headquarters
and relay the info, I'll be back."

* * * *

Rhys twisted, fighting to free himself from the tangled, sweat-soaked bedding, caught midway between asleep and
awake, still mired in a dream too realistic to ignore.

* * * *

In the dark, he fumbled for his crutch, pushed by the urgent note in the voice of the lad who had awakened him.
"They're coming. We've got to get to the woods, away from the village. Hurry, hurry!"

It was the coldest, darkest part of the night, those power-filled moments just before the first hint of dawn. He
ducked out of the low doorway of his stone-and-wattle hut, straightened and cast his senses around, seeking
how far away the danger was. Has the enemy reached the village? Which way do they come? Do I need to warn
anyone else who is maybe still here?

He caught a vague scent of sweat and fear on the thin breeze drifting in from the coast, less than a league away.
Perhaps they'd come by water then, this latest group of the invaders that had plagued his clan for two seasons.
Leaning on the crutch to take some of the burden off his left hip, wounded in the first invasion six moons ago
and slow to heal, he scuttled for the nearest arm of the forest. The shelter of trees seemed like a haven while the
soft duff beneath them cushioned even awkward steps and muffled their sounds. If he got that far, he'd be safe.
He was not ready to die at the hands of the strangers. His people needed him and his growing Druidic skills...
He was their priest and healer, their connection to the gods and the future.

* * * *

By dint of sheer willpower, Rhys jerked himself free of the dream and back into the present. Small wonder he'd
dreamed of death and danger after the horrific night they'd spent guarding the mangled corpse and the crime scene
until law enforcement personnel arrived about three o'clock. The miasma was enough to mess with anyone's mind,
but why did he dream of a totally different place and time, a dream that seemed too vivid to be less than a memory?
He could still feel the coarse fabric of his robe and the smooth wood of his crutch. He smelled the musty smoke of
smoldering peat fires and the odors of sweat, fear and blood hanging in damp air, air touched with the perfume of
the sea. Nothing was at all like the high desert he'd known his whole life, yet, uncannily, it all seemed familiar.

He heard Liam across the hall, turning and muttering in his sleep. Sounded like he was having nightmares, too, but
he never admitted to them the next day, claiming he did not dream or, if he did, forgot them before he awoke. Rhys
shook his head. Damn stubborn Irishman. Temper to match his hair, too, but he couldn't help liking the guy, loving
him if he told the truth.

He kept telling himself Liam was just the brother he'd never had. Rhys' father had disappeared when Rhys was
barely out of diapers, and his mother had been hurt too badly to try again. She'd always said her students were her
family. Rhys was just one of the bunch, lonely without realizing it until he met Liam that first season at Window
Rock, Liam and Billy. He couldn't imagine life without them. But somewhere deep inside he knew there was more
to it, knew Liam was the other half of his very soul. He not only loved Liam, he wanted him with a gut-deep hunger
that scared him to death. Especially when he was sure Liam did not feel the same way. So he took the other man's
friendship, which had to be enough.

He and Liam were sharing a ramshackle little adobe house in Animas, New Mexico now as they worked out the
probationary first year on their new job with the border patrol. The fact the three of them had wound up in the same
region right out of training was almost unbelievable, but he'd never been happier about any coincidence. It felt like
this was meant to happen, like they were still together for a reason.

Billy lived a short block away, newly married to a young half Navajo/half Anglo woman he'd loved almost as long
as he'd been friends with Rhys and Liam. They were expecting a kid now, which made Rhys grin. Imagine, Billy a
dad. 4ow that's something. Crazy Billy--yeah, crazy like a coyote. Better to think of that than his maddening
dream anyway.

Chapter 2

Liam clenched his jaw as the bone-rattling jolt almost dislodged him from his seat on the three-wheeled ATV he
steered along a boulder strewn excuse for a road. Behind him, he heard Rhys grunt as his three-wheeler hit the same
tub-sized boulder. There was no way to get around the damned thing so you just had to go over it.

We'd have been better off taking the horses. But no, Sergeant Gomez said we could cover more territory and do
it faster if we used the ATVs. The sarge was supposed to be the expert and he was their boss. He wasn't the kind of
man you could sway with a logical argument either, so the best thing to do was just shut up and get out of his sight
as fast as you could. Four more months and their probationary year would be over. Then they could be a little more
assertive.

At times, Billy already was, but the lack of Native American officers in this sector of the patrol was a sticky point
already. Gomez had been slapped with a couple of equal opportunity complaints by Indians, and his seniority might
not save him if there were many more. Billy was sharp. He knew just how far he could push. With his amazing
skills as a tracker and what some deemed an uncanny nose for finding illegals, lost citizens who vanished in the
wild country, and anything else needing to be found, he could almost write his own ticket. Liam and Rhys were not
so fortunate.

A moment later, Liam was again cursing the fact he was not on horseback. A horse would have scented trouble
before they roared around the bend right into the middle of it. As it was he slammed on the brakes so fast Rhys
almost ran him over. The sight confronting them was too bizarre to absorb for a moment. A man-sized and shaped
figure loomed in the center of the faint two-rut trail. As Liam ground to a halt, the creature threw down the limp
form he'd been holding, a young woman from what Liam could see. It was still early in the morning and the deep
canyon had not yet seen the sun.

The body fell, loose limbed and lifeless as an oversized rag doll. The apparent killer stood a moment, staring down
at the still form. Liam's stomach clenched. Oh, shit. There wasn't any blood, nothing similar to the body they'd
found a week ago. What shocked him into paralysis, though, was the fact the man-creature was almost colorless, a
shadow of an entity whose opaqueness ebbed and flowed. For an instant you could see through it and then the next,
it would be dark and appear solid.

Rhys muffled words echoed Liam's thoughts. "Holy shit, what the fuck is it?"

At the sound, subtle though it was, the creature's head came up and he pinned them with a scarlet, glowing gaze,
eyes that seemed to reveal a banked fire smoldering within the shadow of his form. Liam swore he could feel the
heat and hatred shooting like a laser in that soulless stare.

He grabbed for his sidearm as Rhys dismounted and came up beside him. A slanting glance showed him Rhys had
also drawn his weapon. They both spoke as one. "Halt. You're under arrest."

The monster gave a harsh cackle that might pass for a laugh. "Try to stop me." He--or it--wheeled and sped away. It
didn't seem to walk or run, but simply glided over the rough ground, floating, skimming. Both men fired at the same
moment, but the figure did not waver. For a blink, it almost vanished and they saw their bullets impact into the
hillside some yards beyond where the thing paused. Then it darkened and moved on, vanishing around a bend in the
canyon far too quickly.

For a few breaths, Liam and Rhys stood frozen, looking at each other in total disbelief.

"What the fuckin' hell was that? Our bullets passed right through him. He just dimmed out and then went on like
nothing happened. Jesus! Were we hallucinating?"

Liam shrugged in reply. "Damned if I know. I guess we'd better check on the vic and then try to call this in."

The young woman was clearly past help. She wasn't clawed to pieces like the man had been, but that might only be
true because they'd interrupted the killer in the act of murder. Stooping beside the body, Liam shook his head.
"Gomez is going to think we're crazy if we tell this the way it happened. We'd better get our stories straight right
now."

Rhys nodded. Liam figured they were both still in shock, completely spooked. He damn sure was. Rhys' face, as the
first sunlight leaked over the rim above them, showed a greenish gray pallor. Liam guessed he didn't look any
better.

Anything that could shift from transparent to solid at will and let bullets pass through its shadow self could
probably morph into a dragon, a werewolf or a demon from the pits of hell. Shit, he couldn't believe it himself and
he'd seen the whole thing.

He studied the hapless victim. She seemed deflated, empty, reduced to a state beyond normal deadness to
something from which the very essence had been extracted. Although newly killed, the young woman's lifeless body
held no heat, no ooze of blood, and no trace of energy fading with the last of her life. The monster had drained her
completely, leaving only a husk of flesh.

She'd probably been pretty, but her face was shrunken and pinched now, marked by the last throes of total terror.
They found no ID on her, but that was not unexpected. Border crashers seldom carried their life history, if they even
had such documents. He'd guess this poor girl was mostly Indian, probably from somewhere far to the south. How
she'd become separated from the group she should have been traveling with they'd likely never know. They might
never even learn who she was. He blinked for an instant against the rush of sadness. Nobody deserved to die that
way for the mistake of listening to someone who promised a better life.

"We're not going to split up this time," Rhys declared. "I don't know what we'd do if that thing came back, but at
least we wouldn't have to confront it alone. We can carry the vic out; I'd say she wasn't killed here anyway,
although there isn't much sign to read. Doubt if even Billy could unravel this one, but he may get a chance to try."

They wrapped the woman in a small tarp and tied her body on the back of Liam's ATV, which had an empty carrier
rack. Once back at the trailhead on a ridge, they called the incident in. Then it was wait again for the CSI forensics
team and for Billy, who came with them.

The young Navajo shook his head as he examined the body briefly, with an obvious effort to subdue his distaste and
discomfort. "Tchindi," he muttered. "I can smell 'em. A really bad tchindi like a dead skinwalker." After he
climbed on behind Rhys, they drove back to the site. There was really nothing to mark the small flat as a crime
scene--no blood, no tracks, not even a stone or a dry leaf that looked disturbed.

The CSI expert opined the woman had probably not been killed there. Liam and Rhys had agreed to say they'd just
found the body, no hint of what had happened to her. They might have to say more later, but for now that seemed the
safest approach. They'd tell Billy more, of course, but not in the presence of the others.

After the CSI group left with the body, Billy checked the scene with the care of a search and rescue dog checking
for signs. He didn't quite squat and smell the ground, but he did almost everything else, even walking to the bend
and looking around it, where, of course, he could not see anything.

"Tchindi," he repeated. "No question. We're dealing with some bad medicine here, bros. Wish my uncle was still
around. He might be able to do something to stop this, but what little I learned from him is about as useful as a cap
pistol against an anti-aircraft gun. Let's get out of here. It's givin' me the spooks."

Liam had no issue with that. For the second time that day, they retraced the route back to the trailhead. There they
loaded the ATVs on their pickups and then headed back to town.

More than enough for one day.

Finally back home, Liam realized he was tired to the bone, but he dreaded bedtime and falling asleep. He'd been

having some strange and disturbing dreams lately and this was surely not going to help. He'd die before he'd admit
it to Rhys who was always going on about déjà vu and lucid dreaming and shit like that, but some of Liam's dreams
were getting much too vivid and hard to forget. Maybe I'm not cut out for this work after all if it's going to cause
this sort of reaction. Hell, even Iraq wasn't this bad. Blood and guts and death he could handle--well, most of the
time--but this weird stuff gave him the heebie-jeebies. Bad medicine indeed.

* * * *

He seemed to come awake drenched with sweat, aching in every fiber of his body. The bed was hard beneath
him, an uneven surface with prickly texture. The blankets felt heavy, smelled of dust and a raw animal scent.
The room seemed dark; the only light a low fire flickering to one side. A man-shaped shadow moved between
him and that light. The bed sank a little as the man sat down on the edge. Then a damp cloth swiped over Liam's
face, soothing, cooling. A pungent herbal scent stung his nose of a moment, but it seemed to ease his pain and
fear. He was safe and everything would be all right.

"You're awake." The voice was low and mellow, as soothing as the herbs and the cool damp touch on his
face."You've been very sick, stranger, but I think you're going to pull through. The wounds are closing, and I've
broken your fever."

The speaker used words and a tone he recognized--Druid. They were healers, wise men, priests and more, the
few who held keys to the future and ways to appease the vengeful gods. Maybe even ways to deal with the spirit
suckers who would steal so much from their victims there wasn't enough left to get to Tir-4a-4og or be born
again. He found a vague memory of encountering one of them in the forest while on patrol.

How he was still alive, he was not sure. A miracle. He'd have to make some major offerings to the gods when he
could walk again, even throw his best shield and maybe his spear into the holy well. You had to thank the gods
for saving you with valuable stuff. Weapons could be replaced, but souls could not.

"Thank you, Druid. I know I'm blessed to remain among the living after all I suffered. I will not ask how or why.
And I will make offerings to the gods--whatever you deem right--as soon as I am able to get up."

"Rest easy. There will be time enough for that later. My name is Rhysanos. Yes, I am Druid, but that is a title
and a duty, not a name. What do you go by, stranger? How came you here to our quiet corner of the Isles?"

"I think I am called Finbar, but my memories are unclear. I was on a patrol for my king, guarding the
boundaries of his domain, looking for signs of raiders and those who would steal from our people. Where is this
place? It seems far from my home."

The Druid's touch was gentle, yet it sent a strange energy surging through his weak body. His cock stirred at
that touch and blood pounded through his whole form as if he must run or fight or do something else he did not
understand. He stiffened with a mixture of fear and eagerness.

"4o, be still. Do not fear. You will be all right. 4ow you need to sleep more to let your body heal. I will be here,
guarding you while you sleep. I guarantee you will be safe."

As soft grayness enfolded him, he drifted off into it, fading to a similar shadow of existing. Fear blinked out;
arousal and tension did so as well. For a moment, he had a dim recollection of the security of his mother's
arms--a mother long dead and almost forgotten except in times like this...

Trust was not something he really knew, but it came to him now. This strange, powerful man, though no warrior,
would keep him safe. He knew that beyond any doubt.

Chapter 3

Rhys gulped back the sour taste of nausea and tried to take shallow breaths through his mouth. That helped a little.

4ot enough. Maybe there are odor sensors in the mouth, too.

His eyes rebelled at the scene spread before him, one straight out of a vision of Dante's Inferno. Overhead, the
vultures and ravens were already circling, although he suspected the mass murders were recent. A niggling sense
that this scene was somehow familiar distracted him just enough to tolerate the sensory assault.

This had to be the worst yet--broken bodies littered the small clearing high in the rugged mountains below Animas
Peak. This time the monster had taken on a whole band, apparently illegals, and murdered them all. Not satisfied
with that, he or it had also torn most of the victims apart.

Beside him, Liam gasped, gagged and exhaled sharply. "God, Rhys, what're we dealing with? Shit, I'll take the
freakin' Al Qaida any day over this misbegotten creature."

"You got that right." Rhys voice was little more than a croak.

'You know, I think we need to get Gomez out here--let him see the results first hand with all the special effects. He's
acting kind of funny about this whole mess, like he really doesn't want to get involved or doesn't believe how bad it
is."

Liam hesitated a moment before he replied. "I've had a hunch Gomez might have kinfolks in Mexico and is fearful
of the drug cartel taking revenge on them, or else he's working for the drug runners under the radar, but I think it's
more than that, or something else entirely. Anyway, I think he's scared shitless. Did you see his face when he looked
at that first victim we found?"

"Could be. I still think he needs to see and smell this, though. Let's see if we can get him out with the rest of the
team this time." Rhys' mobile mouth twisted in a bitter grimace as he dialed the cell phone. A few minutes later, his
expression shifted to a small, sly grin.

"He's coming. I'm surprised he agreed, but he's coming. Let's slide back across the hill to the far side to wait for
them. I've had about all I can take of this carnage. I know we should wait right here, but my stomach can't take much
more of this stench. I mean none of 'em are going to get up and leave, and we can see if anyone approaches the
scene from there just as easily."

* * * *

The portly border patrol sergeant was puffing when he reached the spot just below the crest of the hill where Rhys
and Liam waited. He was the last man in the group of five who'd showed up, trailing fifty yards or so behind the
others.

"This better be a big one," Gomez groused. "I haven't hiked this far in ten years and I'm too old for this shit."

Rhys privately thought the main problem was too much fondness for rich food and imported cerveza because the
sergeant was only in his late forties, but he kept the notion to himself.

"I think it's big enough," he replied. "We didn't count the bodies yet. That's going to be a little problematical
because most of them are in scattered pieces. Maybe we can count legs or arms and divide by two. Come on, it's
just a few steps more and you can take a look."

They topped the ridge and started down the far side. As luck would have it, the wind had shifted and the odors of
blood and the contents of ripped open bodies were drifting the other way. That did not improve the view, though.
Beside Rhys, Gomez staggered to a halt. The sergeant gasped and gulped a couple of times before he spoke.

"Aye, madre de Dios! I think it is the chupacabra or maybe a rogue jaguar or tigre strayed from its home. A human
could not do this, not even a gang of mercenaries hired by the cartel. Todos los Santos!"

Rhys responded in the other man's native tongue. "Quien sabe. Maybe this time there'll be more sign, some clues."

He looked down the remaining yards to the level ground where the CSI team was at work. Billy circled around, a
wet bandana tied across his face and his eyes hidden behind mirror sunglasses. He worked alone, relying on his
unique inexplicable senses and inborn skills. Billy could almost scent like a bloodhound, but Rhys knew he still
didn't like death. This place reeked of it, a miasma hovering almost visible over the whole area. Rhys could
imagine the strain marking the Navajo's face and could read his tension in the way he moved.

A step or two behind, Rhys knew Liam also scanned the scene. As Gomez trundled on down, edging to keep the
wind blowing past instead of to him, Liam joined Rhys.

"Do you think we should tell him about what we saw last week, when we found the woman? Is he ready now to
accept the unbelievable?"

Rhys shrugged. "Hell if I know. He seems to be pretty shaken up, and I don't think he's faking his horror. If he's
helping the drug runners behind the scenes, he may be having second thoughts. Somehow, though, I don't think this
has a damned thing to do with them."

"Well, whatever we saw sure wasn't an ordinary courier, messenger or even assassin for the cartel. It damn well
wasn't human. I'd stake my life on that, my very soul."

"Don't say that," Rhys protested, a shudder sweeping over his body. "Don't even mention souls in the same sentence
with that abomination. I had a dream..."

His words trailed off as an illusive trace of memory again floated across his mind. Been there, done that. Bloodied
and broken bodies, drained and destroyed. Too many, too... He gave his head a violent shake. That could not be
real--the dreams and the mocking hints of another time and place, different and yet so strangely similar. He was
beginning to question his own sanity.

Liam looked at him, brow wrinkled in concern. "You and your fucking dreams. I'm starting to--" He, too, cut off a
thought in the middle of uttering it.

Rhys could see his partner was very uncomfortable with something, maybe everything. He put a hand on Liam's
shoulder. A tingle like an electric shock danced up his arm from that contact, a jolt of pure sexual energy. He almost
drew back, but made himself hold the connection. 4o. This is Liam, my bud, my brother. I'm just too wired.

"I know you don't like this weird stuff, the supernatural and all. I can't say I do either, but denial isn't going to make
it go away. I'm beginning to think the answer we need to find is there, in those dreams and visions, and maybe even
memories of lives we both lived a long time ago. Maybe we need to quit trying to run, stop hiding from it."

Liam looked directly at him for several seconds, anxiety and uncertainty clouding his keen blue gaze. Finally, he
looked down at their feet as if the matching hiking boots were the most fascinating thing in sight. "Yeah, maybe," he
mumbled. "I guess Mom believed in that stuff. It's kind of an Irish thing, but mostly only the women. At least that's
what I always thought."

Rhys chuckled. "Men, too, bro. Men, too. Men were druids, seers, magicians and more back in those ancient times.
Those powers run in our blood, straight from the Cymric and other Celtic people who were our forbearers."

Liam's gaze flashed back to his for an instant. "You think? You really think?"

Rhys nodded. "I do. We'll talk more about it later. Gomez is calling us." They headed off into the charnel disarray

together. Together seemed the best way to be right now.

* * * *

The persistent tickle on his face made Rhys' nose twitch. Then he sneezed. He started to work an arm out from
under the heavy bed furs and, as he did, his hand found warm flesh, the curve of a side, the slight rise of a hip.
The tickle resolved itself into a tangled cloud of hair, softer than the furs under which he slept. The color of that
hair was a mere shade darker than the hue of polished bronze. He had buried his face against the neck and
shoulder beneath the jumbled locks. Finbar. The name rolled across his mind carrying feelings of passion and
desire, love and union. His soul rejoiced in the finding of his missing half, the one who made him complete. It
was a joy he'd never expected to know, truly a gift from the gods.

His hand paused, curving around Fin's side, cherishing the smooth heat of the other man's skin, the gentle
ripple of his breathing and the low, steady beat of his heart. Sleeping together made the long cold nights of
midwinter so much more pleasant. The simple human comfort of another being near made a huge difference.
Beyond that was the wild rapture of touching, kissing, and loving each other...

At first, it had felt clumsy and awkward. Rhys had been solitary and celibate so much of his adult life. Many of
the common folk were fearful of one with the Druid powers. They might ask for guidance on how to appease the
deities or for a healing when it was needed, but they did not dare a friendship or a closer connection. His gift
was a two-edged sword. Until Finbar.

That night had been stormy, the wind howling like the banshees or a pack of starving wolves, but some inner
sense had demanded he rise, go out into the forest and follow an illusive trickle of energy. It led him to a sorely
wounded man, huddled in a small grove, one of the sacred places where even a wolf or a savage enemy would
not dare enter with evil intent.

Somehow, he had managed to rig the stranger's cloak between two poles and drag him back to the village, into
his hut and onto the low bed. For a quarter of the moon's journey, he had employed every bit of his healing
skills to save the man's life. Then the wounded warrior had awakened and from then on healing came fast.

Sleeping together for warmth led to their first time--the unexpected kiss, the hesitant, timid touches that grew
bolder with familiarity, touches that sent tendrils of golden flame licking along every nerve, that stiffened cocks
until uncertainty died and they had to find satisfaction.

He would never forget that amazing daybreak. The taste of Finbar's male juices would linger in his mouth until
his final breath. The feeling of Finbar's strong prick driving into his arse would also remain. The explosive
burst of release when Finbar took Rhys' cock between his lips and sucked until he thought his whole body would
turn inside out.

There were not a lot of man-lovers among Rhys' people, but Finbar told him many of the warriors in his tribe
formed such bonds and watched each other's backs as they patrolled the lands of their king, fought off invaders
and drove raiders from their borders. They shared beds, a cooking pot over a common fire and simple pleasures
when women were scarce. Rhys knew he lacked the means to support a wife and had never sought one, but he
and Finbar could form a team. The village of Llanwyr needed more warriors. They had lost too many of the
young men, killed in an attack by savage north-men two winters past. If that enemy or another should come
again, the village might not be able to drive them off because so few were left to fight.

If Finbar would stay, he would be welcome, more than welcome. He would be treasured. A prickle of anxiety
added to Rhys' determination to make the young man stay. Something was out there in the wilds beyond the
nearby wood, something incredibly evil and hungry, patient but implacable. In time, they would have to fight it,
and he'd rather deal with the north-men any day.

Fin awoke then and turned over. He gathered the slighter Rhys into his arms and covered his face with kisses.
"Ah, beloved friend, it is good to wake with a cherished partner near! I owe my life to you and it is yours today,
tomorrow and always. Whether either of us ever takes a mate to breed brave sons and strong daughters for our
people, our bond will endure. Men do not handfast, but I pledge myself to you from this day onward."

"And I to you," Rhys replied. "The lot of a Druid is often lonely, especially one such as I in a small remote
village, where others of my kind seldom come. But do you not feel a need to return to your people and your
king's service?" Anxiety colored his tone, but he had to ask, as much as he dreaded the answer.

"4ay. I know not how to return there. By some fearful magic, I was carried far from my native place and left to
die. Why the beast did not kill me I do not know, unless it was the gods' will that I come here to serve and
protect you and your people, now my people as well. Unless those powerful ones choose to take me elsewhere, I
will live out my life here."

4ow it was Rhys' turn to give kisses, kisses of gratitude and complete love. And in short time that led to an
eager and joyful coupling which passed the morning until the sun finally broke free of the heavy fog and clouds
near midday.

* * * *

Rhys snapped awake with a start. Finbar. The name echoed in his depths. It felt right, but there was another name
now borne by the same soul--Liam. The recognition of the eternal bond between them shot through him like a bolt of
lightning.

Liam? Yes. 4o! Oh, my God! Was the longing for his friend that filled him now an echo from this past lifetime or
was it equally real and valid in the present? He could not doubt he had been that Druid, just as he knew, without a
doubt, that Liam had been Finbar. The memories felt too real to be merely a dream. But why should he remember
all this now? Was he subconsciously seeking a way to justify the need and hunger haunting him?

Things are different now. We're friends, brothers, not lovers, aren't we? Should we, could we be? After years of
denial, he'd recently admitted to himself how badly he wanted to be Liam's lover, here and now, despite all the
reasons why that should not be. But it would probably destroy their friendship if he even hinted at such a thing.

Sex had been one topic they'd never really discussed, although they talked of almost everything under the sun. They
had both dated and gone through the normal flash-in-the pan love affairs while they were in school. For a while in
Iraq he'd been sure Liam was going to build something lasting with a young woman serving in the same unit, but that
did not happen. He wasn't sure why.

And he suspected he could have hooked up with a couple of other guys in their unit, but he hadn't wanted that
enough to take the risk. The few casual couplings he attempted never satisfied him. It was such an irony to see
himself as a one-man man...and that one man was Liam.

This was not the time to try to make a move, to change the tenor of their relationship, was it? They were on the track
of a monster that would take everything they could summon and more to defeat.

Yet in a dim corner of his mind, he felt sure they had done this before--together. Could he tap those memories in his
dreams and pull forth the answers they were going to need? Unless he could, it would likely cost them their lives,
and their souls as well.

Chapter 4

Liam watched Rhys pick at his breakfast. They were off this Sunday. Instead of spending a needed R&R day
vegging in front of the TV watching football or even catching up on chores, though, Rhys was going to have to drive
to Albuquerque for a three-day training class. He had received the notice two days ago. Liam would probably go
later because Gomez did not want them both gone at once. His sector was already short-handed.

Although he felt like a fool for it, Liam did not want to see Rhys leave. He'd always claimed not to believe in
hunches or premonitions. Still, right now, he fought a shiver along his spine. His mother used to say, "A goose
walked over your grave," about such things. Liam wasn't sure what she'd meant by that, but it rang of an old, old
superstition, perhaps one with a grain of truth hidden behind it.

Rhys shoved his plate aside and rose from the table. "No use putting it off. It's about six hours to Albuquerque and
with that storm coming down from Colorado later today I'd be wise to get there as early as I can. My stuff is in the
truck. Guess I'd best put my butt there, too, and get on the road."

Liam followed him out of their partly restored old adobe home. Although they were not touchy-feely types, when
Rhys paused on the porch, they hugged for a moment. Liam hated to break that contact, the comfort it gave, yet he
felt himself hardening and knew he had to move away.

Liam spoke first after Rhys drew free. "Take care, bro. Give me a call tonight when you get settled in the motel,
okay?"

Rhys nodded. "Will do. And you watch out for that chupacabra critter while I'm gone. See if Billy can go on patrol
with you. Gomez has assigned him to this case full-time so there shouldn't be a problem."

Liam agreed. "Yeah, that would work. I wasn't exactly looking forward to running in to that thing alone. I have a
feeling it wants something beyond just more bodies and blood, though I can't imagine what. I felt like it was
watching and laughing Friday when we were up in the Animas. Shit, I never was into this woogie-woogie stuff. I
don't like it, not a bit."

Rhys grinned, a hint of bravado in his expression. "Guess we're going to have to come to terms with it. Still, we
won't let some bogeyman get the best of us. Hell, you, me and Billy, we're the super-kid ninja power ranger trio.
Remember?"

Liam had to grin, too. The three of them had definitely been the terror of Window Rock Middle School and not too
bad on the high school football field and a few other places as well. "Yeah, we're the three musky-teers alright. See
you Thursday then."

He turned and went back in before Rhys drove away. Another of his mother's old epigrams came to mind. "If you
watch your lover out of sight, he won't come back." She used to say that to Liam's sister Fiona when she was
mooning over a boyfriend. Liam stomped across the porch and slammed the front door behind him.

Hell, that's crazy. Rhys isn't my lover. But...

He slammed a mental door on that thought before it took shape.

* * * *

Liam met Billy at the station Monday morning after spending a restless day and night alone in the house. He hadn't
realized how much difference it made to be alone instead of knowing someone was there, even if you weren't in the

same room or doing anything together. Or was it just Rhys? They'd been together so much of their lives, almost like
twins. He'd felt like some critical part of himself was missing.

Billy stood beside the pickup they'd been assigned for the day with his shoulders hunched and his hands stuffed into
the pockets of his trousers. Although his habitual mirror-dark sunglasses hid his eyes, Liam still read unhappy and
troubled emotions in his friend's expression.

"Horses or ATVs today?"

"Horses," Billy's flat one word answer carried a strong overtone of "Duh, what the fuck do you think?"

Billy didn't care for the ATVs and used one only under duress. They caught two sturdy cowpony type geldings out
of the station corrals and loaded them as soon as they hitched up the horse trailer. Tack was already aboard the
trailer so they were ready to go.

Gomez came out just as they were considering where to make the day's patrol.

"I want you guys to head over to the Peloncillo Mountains today. Word came in that a rancher saw something
suspicious up Cottonwood Canyon, on the Arizona side. Don't have a lot of details as this report is third hand, but I
want you to check things out over there. Even though it's right along the state line, our jurisdiction isn't affected by
that."

Liam frowned. Shit, why does he have to give us the idiot treatment as if we didn't know federal jurisdiction?
Gimme a break! "All right," he said, after a moment's silence.

Billy didn't say anything at all. He just climbed in on the passenger side of the truck and then made a production of
fastening his seatbelt.

The locale they now headed toward was in the far reaches of the New Mexico "boot heel" region, about as remote
and isolated as you could get. Why people would pick that route for their border crossing could only mean they
were seriously trying to stay out of sight. And if the mysterious killer was there now, who knew why or what it was
after. So far, their monster seemed to pick remote areas, but not so remote no one would find the victims for weeks
or months, as if he wanted to stir up fear and confusion, maybe draw more officers out to hunt him.

I hope that rancher isn't in trouble. The errant thought drifted across Liam's mind as he drove south on State Route
338 from Animas. He had no desire to come upon another grisly scene, especially not without Rhys at his side.
Somehow, they were able to calm and reassure each other when things got ugly. They'd done it as kids and then in
Iraq and now more recently here as well. He liked and trusted Billy, but he also knew Billy had a real problem
about dealing with the dead, especially those whose deaths had been violent and vicious. He'd have to be the cool
head of their team if they got into anything like that today.

At the end of the drivable road up Cloverdale Canyon, he parked the rig. After unloading and saddling the horses,
they mounted and headed off up the ridge. This was the only route to a spring farther up the canyon because at one
point the streambed descended in a pair of steep cataracts, normally dry, but far from passable without technical
climbing gear. One was about twenty-five feet high and the other only slightly less, and both were in a box canyon
with vertical walls.

They paused to let the horses rest a moment at a spot that looked down on the spring about a quarter of a mile
below. The rusty old tank that served as a trough was barely visible through a tangle of live oak and hackberry
trees, little more than shrubs, but nourished by the available water. The spot looked peaceful. Still, if anyone or
anything beyond cattle and wild life had been around, there should be tracks, sign that Billy could read like a book.

"Well, let's go down and see what we can find."

"Kemo sabe." Billy responded, his tone more droll and caustic than usual.

At the spring, they stopped and dismounted several yards from the trough. Billy began a slow circuit, each lap
edging closer to the moist area around the water. Liam stood aside and watched, knowing from experience he

couldn't do anything that would help at this stage. Finally, needing to do something constructive, he took his
binoculars out of the saddlebag and began to scan the hillsides around them. He wasn't sure what he was looking
for, but he thought anything out of the ordinary would likely catch his eyes.

So far so good, anyway. No trace of blood or violence, no stench of death or decay. Liam could not help a stir of
relief at that. He'd had a bad feeling about this, not sure what or why, but dread had settled heavily on him all the
way down from Animas.

His attention jerked back to Billy at the slight grunt the other man made. When Liam looked, Billy was on one knee,
studying the ground in front of him.

"Funny track," he said, as he glanced up at Liam and then back down. "Almost like a wolf, but then kinda cat-like,
too. Just the one--no more. This one is clear as anything, but there aren't any others. That's weird."

Liam picked his way to where the other man knelt, careful not to step on anything that looked the least bit like a
track. Most of the ground was hard packed and appeared undisturbed. Near the trough, it was softer--not quite mud,
except in a couple of spots--but damp enough to hold impressions more clearly.

Not until Billy outlined the mark with a fingertip, just short of touching the print, could Liam see it. He couldn't
have even guessed what had made the mark--a vague impression with pads and maybe claws. Hell, for all he knew
it could be a dragon or a gryphon or that legendary chupacabra.

"I'll keep looking," Billy said, answering Liam's unasked question. He took a small notebook from the pocket of his
Levi jacket and made a sketch of the track, even took out a tape measure and carefully recorded the dimensions.

Liam took up the binoculars again. Sweeping along in a careful pattern, he paused as something snagged his
attention. A shadow maybe, a rock or bush? Now he couldn't see anything at all. Like whatever it was had vanished
in a blink. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him; maybe the wind had shifted a branch or...

He had seen something, something he needed to investigate. Without hesitating, Liam mounted and headed his horse
across the rocky creek bed to begin a zigzag course up the steep slope beyond it.

Edging into a narrow arroyo that plunged into the canyon, he lost sight for a moment of the spring area. He felt the
gelding tense an instant before a shadow appeared in front of him, coalescing into a solid shape, no longer
transparent, though still too vague to define. He clawed for his pistol and gave a firm tug on the reins at the same
time before the horse could bolt.

"Put the toy away. It will serve no purpose. You cannot hurt me as you should know by now, and I am not going to
kill you this time."

Did he actually hear a voice or did the words just emerge in his mind with no trace of sound?

"Who are you? What are you?" He fought back the clench of terror in his gut and breathed deeply, twice.

"I am Guillermo Alamodovar." This came in a different voice than the first words, but again without an actual
sound. "Your miserable patrol made the mistake of killing me. For that, you will pay."

The shadowy form vibrated, almost as if two parts of it engaged in a struggle.

"No, you were Alamodovar. Now you are nothing, just my tool and my slave. I took your life energy as you lay
dying and absorbed your hatred along with it. I find hatred is such powerful fuel." This was the first voice again,
arrogant and cold, urbane, almost bored.

The creature's attention focused once more on Liam and continued. "I am an old friend of yours, Liam, who was
once called Finbar. Do you not recall? I am hurt. We had several very close, one might almost say intimate
encounters, you and I and your friend the Welsh Druid as well. The pair of you caused me a great deal of trouble.
This time I will not let you get the best of me."

If a shadow could grin, the entity did so. The wicked humor came through clearly in the silent speech. "I grow in
strength with every life I absorb. Soon there will be none who can vanquish me. Yet I want the two of you together,
you and the one who now calls himself Rhys. I want you to convey this to him. Tell him I will be waiting for the
time and place to take you both together. I will enjoy that, but you will not. You will suffer as you've never
imagined."

Struck dumb for a moment, Liam could not react or respond. A wash of distorted and disconnected images crashed
through him, most horrible, but a few jewel bright and splendid. By the time he was able to pull himself together,
the entity had again become a shadow and then less, fading swiftly to nothing at all.

After a few seconds, the horse snorted and started forward. Liam almost felt as if the whole incident had been only
a figment of his imagination. Perhaps it actually was. God knew he'd had enough screwed up dreams about it
recently. At any rate, he didn't find any physical evidence the least bit unusual and finally turned to make his way
back down to the spring.

* * * *

He came awake suddenly, with a start. Dim memories skittered along the edges of his mind but refused to take
shape and become solid. He glanced around, not recognizing the place where he lay, warmly cushioned in thick
fur robes and supported by a pallet of straw scented with sweet herbs that shifted gently when he moved. A
warm body pressed near him on the right, the side away from the wall, which appeared to be stone chinked with
moss and mud. A normal hut then, but still not one he knew.

Where am I? Panic welled for a moment as one image became almost painfully clear.

The Soul-Eater.

That evil being had been lurking around the edges of King Bruz's lands, had stolen livestock, then children, and
finally even adults. It left them lifeless husks, emptied even beyond the normal hollow shell of death. Over the
course of a couple of moon cycles, it had become increasingly bold in its predations.

The whole king's guard, of which Finbar led a band of twenty-four men, had harried the demon to small
purpose. It did as it chose, and it chose to plunder and kill. Then Finbar had become bold or foolish enough to
go after it alone, determined to win the glory and honor of driving the scourge from the territory of the tribe of
Tirumvantes.

That had nearly been his last mistake. His weapons had proved of little use, sword and spear no match for
monster strength and evil magic. The demon seized him, raked him with cruel talons that left streaming wounds,
burning like firebrands driven beneath his skin. Then it carried him on a freezing flight through the darkness.
He knew not how far they traveled.

Somehow, he had pulled free at one point, fallen to the ground and then run. He ran until his heart was ready to
burst and his legs wobbled like a newborn foal's, but he made it to a sacred grove and fell between the trees
into their holy shelter. With a howl of rage, the monster had finally flown away.

He was no longer in the grove, though he could find no memory of leaving it. Did this hut belong to the beast or
to a friend? Who might have come to his aid? Where was he? Enmeshed in anguished questions, he struggled to
sit up, to see more of the dimly lit space and learn its secrets.

The body at his side moved with surprising speed. Two hands grasped his shoulders and pinned him back to the
pallet.

"4o, you are in no danger. Do not struggle or you will tear open wounds just starting to heal. You are safe. You
need not fear."

The voice was low and musical, gentle and vaguely familiar. He'd heard it before, these past hours and days
when, for a few lucid moments, he'd emerged from the fog of pain and fever. This hut belonged to the owner of
that voice, the owner of the cool hands that had soothed him and lifted his head to pour cool water and healing

draughts between his parched lips.

Finbar relaxed, feeling a new heat and energy surge through him at the touch of those magical hands. Strength
built suddenly so he was able to reach up and grasp the shoulders above him even as his were held. He pulled
hard, bringing the other man's body down upon his.

At that moment, a beam of sunlight slipped through a crack at the doorway and lit the face that was now very
close. Eyes dark as cinders, yet alive with embers of vital energy and vivid with warm light, met and probed his.
The other man's hair was dark, long, falling down across his shoulders in nut-brown waves. His rosy lips
curved into a smile. Although it was a completely masculine face, Finbar had never seen a woman as beautiful.

"So you're better; finding your strength again. That is good. I can see your spirit is back in your body to stay a
while. Soon you must tell me what happened to leave you torn and shredded like an old garment and leaking
away your lifeblood, exhausted and alone. I think you have a very evil enemy. Perhaps we can find a way to
vanquish it together."

Finbar had to taste those lips. They were so close and appeared so sweet, as tempting and heady as honeyed
mead. He tangled one hand into that thick hair and drew the other man's face to his. Lightning bright heat and
power surged through him with the kiss. He felt as if his body was melting while the other man's form merged
into his. He had never experienced anything so compelling, so enticing or so...

* * * *

Liam jerked himself out of the disturbing dream to find he was shaking and drenched with sweat. His first thought
was of Rhys. Where was he? Was he all right? What was his likeness doing in Liam's realistic but completely
unbelievable dream? In a few seconds, Liam remembered his partner was in Albuquerque and would not be home
for two more days. In a way, that was a relief. He had forty-eight hours to detach himself from the raw sexual
energy that had seared through him at the touch of Rhys-not-Rhys's lips.

What in the pits of fucking Hades is going on? I don't like this shit. Damn it, Rhys is my friend, my brother. If he
knew how I've felt about him for so long, he'd kill me or take off or... Shit, as far as I know, he's never been with
another man, so why should he respond to me?

Despite his best efforts, that haunting dream stubbornly lurked in his mind. He could not erase it or cease to think of
it.

Chapter 5

Rhys stalked out of the improvised classroom in the Albuquerque office building where the border patrol had
regional offices, his sharp steps betraying impatience. He juggled his notebook, a certificate for completing the
class, and his cell phone, which he fumbled to turn on with one hand.

One pressing question dominated his thoughts. Has Liam called? The students had been required to turn off their
phones while in class, but when he remembered how tense his friend had sounded in their conversation the
previous evening, he could not suppress a nagging worry. Even though Liam had insisted everything was fine, some
inner sense told Rhys things were anything but fine. He'd learned to trust his hunches. They very rarely proved
wrong.

4o messages and no missed calls. Shit. He shoved the phone back into the case clipped on his belt as he glanced at
his watch. He had to admit it would be foolish to head for home this late in the afternoon, but sometimes foolish
was the only thing to be. He knew for sure he didn't want to spend another night in Albuquerque when he could be
home in about six hours.

The storm had blown past and the highways were all clear and dry. With any luck, he'd be there before midnight.
He'd lose a night's cost for the motel since he hadn't checked out at the prescribed time, but what the hell. An hour
later, he was heading down the Interstate in the tag end of rush hour traffic.

About an hour from home, Rhys could no longer resist calling Liam's number. He'd expected a call all evening, but
none had come. The phone rang and rang, but the voice mail message didn't come on. He was ready to give up when
the other man answered.

"Rhys? I just got home. Did you try to call earlier?"

"No," Rhys admitted. "I thought about it, but figured I'd wait."

"We were having a meeting at the sergeant's place. Gomez has called in some outside experts for the case. He says
he isn't sure what to call it, but I guess he's got some exorcism honcho with the Catholic church and some BP
higher-up experts. He had a Catholic bishop and a couple of patrol suits there tonight. I had to keep my phone shut
off."

"Has something happened I don't know about? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll fill you in tomorrow when you get home."

"It'll be sooner than that. I'm just turning off I-10 between Deming and Lordsburg. I should be home in about
forty-five minutes."

A few seconds of silence was the first reply. Then Liam spoke, short and almost tersely. "Good. See you then." He
ended the call before Rhys could respond.

As he drove into the carport to stop beside Liam's old Jeep, he noticed lights were still on. In fact, it looked like
every light in the house was ablaze. Liam flung open the kitchen door and held it wide while Rhys stumbled in with
his stuff. All at once, he was dead tired. Relief compounded the result of a six-hour drive on top of a full day,
coupled with constant worry. He tossed his gym bag, laptop, and an armful of other stuff onto the counter and sank
into the nearest chair.

For a long moment, he looked at Liam, really looked, seeing the newly deepened lines that bracketed the other

man's mouth and the tension around his eyes. Still the familiar and beloved face looked good, comfortable and
precious beyond words.

"I worried," he said finally. "I sensed something was out of whack when we talked last night."

Liam's gaze fell away from his for a moment and the other man exhaled a long, slow breath, almost a sigh. "Yeah,
it's been weird. No more murders, but... I'm not sure how to explain this or even what really happened. Maybe it
was a hallucination or just my imagination." With that preamble, he launched into the tale of his encounter on
Monday.

Rhys nodded several times, but did not interrupt. He sensed Liam needed to get this out as quickly as he could, as if
to eradicate the incident from a deep place inside himself and dispose of it by sharing the story. He could see the
encounter haunted his friend and troubled him in ways the other man was not able to explain and probably didn't
fully understand. He even sensed there was something Liam was not revealing, but what that was he had no idea.

"The monster wants us both," Liam concluded. "At least that's what he said, and he hinted about the two of us
causing him a lot of trouble, thwarting his goals a long time ago. I--that didn't make sense to me, but then, well,
there're those stupid dreams. I never used to dream, but lately I've had a couple about another time and place,
another life maybe. I don't know what to believe. Still, I'm damn glad you're back. I guess I let myself get a little
spooked."

Rhys nodded again, giving the other man a wry grin. "Yeah, monsters under the bed and the whole shebang. I didn't
figure our demon would come to Albuquerque after me, but then again, he can probably go anywhere he wants to. I
worried, I have to admit that, mostly about you and Billy."

Liam's eyes widened for a moment. "Never thought of that, our monster or whatever it is traveling away from
around here, but you're probably right. What are we going to do? Do we start working separately so he can't get
both of us at the same time or do we stick together and try to figure out how to take him down?"

Rhys took a moment to frame his answer. What he was going to suggest could either strengthen their bond of
friendship or shatter it beyond repair. He had no way to guess ahead of time. Could Liam possibly be ready to hear
and accept what he was about to say? He'd just have to approach it carefully and try to gauge the other man's
response as he went along.

"I've had some dreams, too, and my sense is they're true, real. We did live before. At least one time was in the
British Isles a couple of millennia ago. We met, and maybe I saved your life. We became friends, more than
friends, much more..."

Liam's troubled gaze met his, locked in a steady stare. Rhys could read no shock or revulsion in that look, so he
went on.

"Somehow that bond gave us the strength to defeat this monster then. You called him the Soul-Eater, told me about
how he'd preyed on your people. Then he started to do the same thing with my tribe, while you were there with me.
Druid magic, warrior powers and the strength of our love--that's what we used to bring him down before. If
anything will work for us now, it'll be something close to the same. We just have to remember the spells, the herbs
and the ways to invoke the old gods. And we have to be together, totally and completely together. Can we do that?"

Liam answered not in words, but in action. He closed the distance between them and dropped to one knee in front
of Rhys where he sat in the wooden chair beside their small kitchen table. Liam rested one hand on Rhys' left knee
and with the other reached out to touch his face. His fingertips brushed Rhys' cheek and then his palm curved to cup
it.

"That's about all we haven't shared," he said finally. "Our lives are as twisted together as one of those Celtic knots.
If it's gonna be okay with you, it'll be okay with me--whatever we need to do. Hell, I've loved you since we were
kids. There were times I wanted to be closer, but I didn't know how to ask or what to do. I wasn't sure how you'd
react, so I never tried."

Rhys turned his head until his lips pressed into Liam's curving hand. "I've always loved you, too, in every way I

possibly could. I wanted so much more than just our friendship, but... We'll both be learning and exploring, but I
think it'll be all right."

He stood then and put his arm around Liam as the other man also rose. "For now, for tonight, let's just share a bed. I
mean to sleep, nothing more. I'm too tired to do anything else and you look pretty beat, too, but I think we'll both
sleep better if we know the other is close."

He was surprised how easily it went, how comfortable they were as they both undressed and crawled into the
queen-sized bed in Liam's room. Years ago, when they were both young and innocent, they'd slept together a few
times, but all too soon innocence faded and inhibitions overcame the bond, at least to some degree. Touching
became verboten, sissy and suspect. Rhys recognized suddenly how much he'd missed it. No, not missed, but
needed.

Tonight they settled quickly, constraints perhaps soothed by weariness and stress. They spooned together with
Liam's back to Rhys' front, just as they'd been in his recent dreams. Within moments, sleep began to blur his
thoughts as a sensation of complete comfort enveloped him.

* * * *

Rhys awoke in an itchy sweat. He kicked one foot free of the covers before he came fully awake. Why am I so
damned hot? It was still dark and his bedroom didn't have direct heat. Something was different, unusual. Then he
recognized he lay pressed against another body from shoulders to knees and that his stiff cock was buried between
the thighs of the other person. For an instant, shock jolted through him. Oh my gods, what am I doing?

Then answers came. It's just Liam. It's okay. I want this, need it. I even think he does. Understanding and
acceptance flashed through his thoughts and settled his anxiety. He remembered how they'd decided to share the bed
last night. Here they were. It wasn't really dark, not as dark as Rhys' room. Liam had taken to keeping a night light
on and, as the haze of sleep cleared, Rhys could see the pale blur of Liam's shoulder close to his face and then the
room in muted shades.

It felt strange because he hadn't slept the night with another person for years; in fact, probably not since he'd stayed
with Liam's family when his mother flew back to Charleston for his grandfather's funeral when Rhys was about
nine. That night Rhys had awakened early from a bad dream and crawled into the other twin bed with Liam for the
simple comfort of being close to someone. That had been the last time they'd slept together, the last bit of
innocence.

At that moment, Liam woke and rolled over, freeing Rhys' prick from the warm pressure between Liam's thighs, but
also putting them face-to-face...very close face to face. Liam's eyes snapped open as he registered the fact he was
not alone.

"Whoa, what the-- Oh, it's you."

To Rhys' surprise, Liam seemed to accept the situation even more easily than Rhys had himself. For a dozen
heartbeats, they stared into each other's eyes, mere inches apart. Then the distance seemed to shrink until it
vanished. Rhys blinked his eyes shut just before Liam's lips pressed against his. After that first contact there was no
time or attention left for thought, only sensations, compelling and overwhelming, intense and incredible. Rhys
surrendered to them. He could do nothing else.

Liam's lips shifted and molded to his, starting out very soft and gradually pressing harder. Then the tip of Liam's
tongue stroked along the seam of Rhys' lips until he let them part, granting entry into his mouth. For a time they
explored the sensitive inner surfaces of each other's mouths, edging along teeth and darting in and out in a
pantomime of the ultimate union.

Lifting both his hands, Liam clasped Rhys' head, fingertips threading into the crisp short hair behind his ears and
then circling to dip into the hollow at the base of his skull. They broke the kiss only to continue by tasting and
touching each other's faces, eyes and nose, throats and ears, exploring with the delicacy and care of a blind child.

With eyes tight shut, Rhys read with his lips, tongue and fingertips as he learned anew the face he thought he had

known the better part of his life. He sensed Liam was doing much the same. The touches tickled, titillated,
awakening a burn of arousal that was hotter than the midday sun in July.

From there they shifted to an exploration of bodies, chests and backs, bellies and limbs. Finally they each grasped
the other's cock, sliding along the length and feeling the heat build, the rushing blood engorge to a throbbing tension
and steely hardness.

All the while, neither had spoken beyond the first few words when Liam awoke. Now they reached the time to
pause, to hesitate, to be sure each was willing and able to take this final step. That required open eyes, complete
honesty, and words.

"Buddy, bro--my other self." All of Rhys' passionate emotion came out in that first broken phrase.

Liam opened, then widened his eyes, and finally nodded.

Rhys looked deep into Liam's blue eyes, open and steady, gazing back at him. He still clasped the other man's prick
but in a gentle hold, one from which Liam could easily pull away if he chose to. Liam's rapid but steady heartbeat
echoed in small twitches of his shaft that seemed to reverberate along Rhys' nerves.

"Are you sure? Can we do this? Do we want to do this?"

Liam smiled. "Hell, yes. Maybe we have to, but I want to as well. I gotta make a confession, though. I've done this a
time or two before when we were in college and once in Iraq. I wanted to be with you, but I didn't think you felt that
way about me. I couldn't jeopardize our friendship for lust, no matter how much I wanted it."

"Oh, gods..." Rhys almost choked on the words. "You never even hinted, and all that time I was dying. Like when
you were dating Sandra our junior year, when I tore the muscle in my thigh and had to quit the basketball team and
you'd be off traveling with them. In Iraq, you always teamed up with Deanna and Joe. Damn it, man, why did we
waste so much time?"

Liam grabbed his shoulders and shook him as if to snap him out of his distress. "Quit. It's going to be all right. We'll
make it up. Starting right now, we'll make it up."

He took charge then, rolling Rhys onto his back and coming up astraddle Rhys' legs at mid-thigh. "Have you ever
done this before, with someone else?"

Rhys gave a single jerky nod. "Couple of times, but it didn't feel right. I wanted you, not some substitute."

With a steady hand, Liam grasped Rhys' cock and began to stroke it, long, smooth, steady movements that sent shock
waves crashing through Rhys' body. After a few moments, he bent down and slid his mouth over the head, gradually
taking more and more, swirling his tongue along the underside and taunting every nerve.

When Liam began to suck strongly, Rhys felt like his whole essence was going to be drawn out of him. He was
losing himself as surely as to the Soul-Eater, only this was so sweet, so fierce, so close to paradise. Before he had
time to get ready, he came in a volcanic eruption that burst from him before he could stop himself. Liam waited
until the last spurt to lift his head and draw away. Then Liam ran his tongue across his shiny lips and smiled again,
a Cheshire cat smirk, triumphant yet tender.

Rhys had to wait a moment, let his heart drop to a normal pace and his lungs refill a few times before he could
speak. "Can I do that for you?"

Liam nodded. "If you want to. That's a good place to begin. You can stop when I start to come if you want to. It can
be hard at first, that spurt and the sticky-slick-salty taste and texture, even the idea of it. Some people have a
problem with that."

Rhys shook his head. "No. It won't bother me because it's you, a part of you."

They changed places. At first Rhys felt hesitant, not sure how hard to grasp, how fast to move, and then a little later

how to be sure his teeth didn't scrape sensitive flesh as he began to bob his head and increase the suction.

"You're doing fine, just right," Liam reassured him. "You're not going to hurt me, not going to do anything wrong."

Rhys, mouth filled with Liam's thickness, could only nod, mumble an affirmative sound. He was not prepared when
Liam grasped his head in both hands and dug tense fingers into Rhys' scalp seconds before he came, ejaculating in
an explosive surge with a final thrust into Rhys' mouth. Despite the suddenness, Rhys didn't gag or flinch. He waited
until the last as Liam had done for him and treasured every second of the act.

He shook his head in wonder. "I never really understood why 'cocksucker' was considered such an insult. Now I
know it's not one. It's one of the most caring and connecting things one man can do for another."

After that, Rhys stretched out beside Liam for a while, both of them resting, relishing the enhanced sense of union,
the new facets growing in their bond. Nothing had ever felt any more right, any more essential or anywhere nearly
half as real.

Chapter 6

"There's more," Rhys said finally. "I dreamed it, about the fucking. In my dream, it was the most amazing thing I'd
ever felt. I want you to do that. I don't think I could yet, but I will, in time. You've done that, too, haven't you?"

Liam hesitated a long moment. "Yeah, I've done that, too. Been both the fucker and the fuckee. Not sure which I
liked best. I guess I tend to be the top most of the time, but I can bottom, too. I have a feeling surrendering to you
would seem like a privilege. We'll figure out what's right, comfortable and best for us in time. There's no hurry.
We're on the path now, across the first chasm and it's just going to get better."

"I need for you to have me that way," Rhys insisted. "I dreamed it and I know it's necessary, part of building the
final layers of our bond. Back then, you told me how the warriors in your old tribe paired off and took care of each
other, the partnerships they made. I think you left a lover, a partner when the soul-eater carried you away. You
missed that person, but then you took me to fill his place. We need to get there again, soon, even now."

Still Liam hesitated. "It's not like the first time for a woman, but it can hurt. I couldn't bear to hurt you. You need
time to get used to it, to build up to it. Play around and use fingers, maybe a toy and finally the real thing. We don't
have that much time right now." He pushed up on one elbow and squinted at the clock on the nightstand. "Looks like
about five forty-five. You're supposed to be driving back from Albuquerque today, but I'm due on shift this morning
in less than two hours."

"Tonight then, we have to do it tonight."

Liam hugged him fiercely. "All right. You've got a deal. Tonight."

* * * *

For Rhys, the day dragged. He felt raw and incomplete, and as if a critical task remained unfinished, one he needed
to put a wrap to as soon as he could. After Liam headed off to work, Rhys turned on his computer and went
searching for everything he could find with a half-dozen key words: druids, demons, soul-eater--not much there,
exorcism, and a few more. He didn't find everything he knew he needed to learn or remember, but what he did find
helped and got some memories flowing. He still wasn't completely sure he'd actually lived before, but right now it
was the only explanation that made sense.

He was surprised how many sites were devoted to Celtic pagan beliefs, neo-druids and similar topics. Not many
seemed to offer a way for a mortal human, or even a couple of them, vanquish a completely inhuman and impossible
monster, though. In that he recognized he was on his own. Liam could give him energy and support, but Liam had
not been the Druid, had only brought his warrior skills, his forthright devotion and some degree of belief to the
challenge. Channeling the power and the magic was Rhys' job. And this time he had not gone through the years of
training from early boyhood to adult, had not sat at the feet of masters and mages who had held vast knowledge now
long forgotten.

For a few minutes he lowered his head into his hands, shoulders hunched, as he tried to fight off the cloud of dread
that hung over him, darkening like an approaching storm. Questions assailed him. Would the ancient Druid power
work here in a new world, in a place that had never known those beliefs? Could he draw from this soil and these
trees the energies he would need? There was no way to be sure, no way to test it ahead of time.

Finally, he sat up again, stiffened his spine and dragged up all the stubborn Celtic determination he could muster.
"I'll make it work. I damn well better make it work." He said the words aloud, an affirmation and a vow.

After what seemed like at least thirty-six hours, Liam finally got home. Rhys heard the old Jeep come down the

road with its leaky muffler roar and pull into the car port. He made himself wait, sitting at the computer desk in his
room until he heard the squeaky back door open and bang shut.

"Hey, Rhys, where are you?"

Only then did he get up and walk out to the main part of the house, affecting as much nonchalance as he could. "Oh,
you're home. Good day at the office, dear?"

The sarcasm seemed to be lost on Liam. "We're invited to Billy's for supper. Nonie's making fry bread and stew.
She's using venison instead of mutton, too."

Ordinarily, Rhys would have been thrilled, but this time it was going to delay the event he'd been squirming over
all day. Still, it looked like they'd have to go or do some heavy duty explaining. Billy and Nonie knew how both of
them loved fry bread and even the traditional Navajo stew, if it was hot enough to keep the grease liquid. With
venison that wouldn't be a problem. Mule deer was delicious lean meat. They'd all managed to do a little hunting
while on their patrols during deer season back in October, but only Billy had actually bagged a deer.

"Okay," he said. "What time?"

"About six, and that's not long. I'm late, I know. Gomez nabbed me to discuss this case. He's really got his Jockeys
in a knot over it. The patrol found a couple of new bodies down in the Big Bend area last night and he'd just got the
word. These were shredded again, a couple of federales on our side of the line. What they were doing I don't even
want to speculate, but they won't be doing it any more."

"Shit. We've got to get our plans firmed up and see if we can't get rid of this sucker for good. Well, after tonight,
that comes first, has to come first. We have to... Oh, you know. All right. Let's go over to Billy's and chow down."

Rhys managed to keep his impatience and nerves under control and ended up enjoying the meal. Before and after
eating they talked with Billy about everything besides the case. Rhys and Liam liked Nonie, too. She'd gone to
school at Window Rock with them, a grade behind. Because she was half-Anglo, she'd tended to be an outsider like
they were and tagged after them like a pesky little sister until she convinced Billy she was the only girl for him.

When they finally left and started walking down the street toward home, Rhys had to admit the evening had been
pleasant. It would even probably make the next phase easier than it might have been had he sat home on pins and
needles while they went through the motions of their normal evening routine. He said as much to Liam once he got
his thoughts straight.

Liam chuckled. "I didn't wrangle the invite, but when it came, I did hope you'd be willing to go along with it. Yeah,
like I told you last night, this isn't something to rush. We may be under the gun with the soul-eater, but it's not that
urgent, and we both know it's not the only reason. We'll get there. I guarantee it. When it's time, we'll go that final
step." He reached across then and squeezed Rhys' hand, an unexpected and yet powerful gesture.

For half a block, they walked with hands clasped. When a set of headlights rounded the corner and illuminated
them, Rhys pulled free. He wasn't ashamed of their new closeness, but wasn't sure it was time to tell the world yet.

Once inside, Liam got them each a beer. They had two each before they headed for the bedroom, Rhys' room this
time. Liam halted him just inside the doorway. "Come here. I've been thinking about kissing you all day."

Rhys walked into the circle of Liam's arms. It felt like coming home. They were close enough to the same height that
their faces were level, ready for that meeting of mouths in a hungry, eager union. On Liam's lips he could taste the
beer, a faint trace of fry bread and stew and a unique flavor that was pure Liam.

Any anxieties he'd endured through the day melted away in an instant. "Let's get out of these clothes. I want to feel
you, all of you."

Liam grinned. "Great minds and parallel thoughts." He released Rhys and stepped back, fingers immediately
working his belt.

They both stripped in record time and fell onto the bed, already reaching for one another. Skin to skin, chest to
chest, finally cocks touching, questing and hardening as they shifted to press close and closer still.

"If I could I'd crawl inside your skin," Rhys gasped out, "that might be close enough."

"I know. I feel the same way. We'll get as close as we can, I promise you that."

With a sudden twist, Liam drew back and, in a heartbeat, he'd pushed Rhys over onto his stomach. Strong, confident
hands kneaded Rhys buttocks, stroked up and down his back and massaged the tense muscles of his thighs. "Relax.
Just feel and enjoy."

Rhys did. Within minutes, he felt limp and boneless, melting into the familiar support of his bed, relaxed and yet
more aware of another's touch than he had ever been before. When Liam moved, drew back and slid off the bed,
Rhys made a muffled sound of protest, his face half-buried in the pillow. "Erumph. Don't go."

"I'll be right back. Need to get something."

Liam was back in a few seconds. Rhys felt the bed shift as the other man settled on it again. Then the hands went
back to work, this time slicked with a slippery moisture that made them glide over his skin creating completely
different sensations. When Liam slid one finger down the crack of Rhys' ass, it felt odd but pleasant. After a couple
of strokes, that finger circled around his tight hole and tickled the outer rim. Before Rhys could react to those new
impressions, it slipped inside, probing, stretching and spreading the slippery lotion. Soon a second and then a third
finger joined the first. The feeling was strange, not quite painful, but intense, exciting and enticing.

"You okay?"

Rhys found it hard to pull himself together enough to reply, "Umm, yeah, better than okay. It's different, intense,
weird, but good..."

Then Liam shifted to kneel with a leg on either side of Rhys' hips, dropping forward to lie along Rhys' back,
holding a lot of his weight with his arms and bent legs, but letting his body press down, covering Rhys like a
blanket. Rhys could feel Liam's nipples, small, hard buttons pushing through the mat of red-gold curls on Liam's
chest. Then he felt Liam's prick, questing down between his thighs and rubbing along the crack of his ass.

Rhys found himself pushing up against that probing touch, seeking, needing and wanting the final step. "Yeah, oh,
yeah. Come on. Now. Just do it. Fuck me."

"Are you sure?" Liam's voice sounded hoarse now, taut with a new urgency. "I want it to be good, no pain. Are you
sure you're ready?"

"That slippery stuff will do it. You'll slide in slick as grease on ice."

Liam laughed. "I wish I had your confidence, but okay. Gods know, I want it." He lifted off Rhys' back then, leaving
Rhys feeling chilled and almost bereft.

"I need you to move some, slide down and let your legs drop off the end of the bed."

Rhys obeyed, driven by a rising urgency that knew no hesitation. He had wanted this for his whole life; needed it
now like water and air and sunlight.

He pushed himself up to lift his body clear of the mattress to bring his ass to the level of Liam's erect cock as he
stood at the foot of the bed.

Liam grasped Rhys' hips, held him steady and then hesitated a moment. The grasp released, and Rhys realized Liam
had stopped to roll on a condom before he dragged his cock up and down between Rhys' cheeks a couple more
times. Finally, the tip settled against the ring of his emptiness, paused for two breaths and then began to push its
way in.

Rhys had never felt such an overwhelming sensory barrage. Last night when Liam had gone down on him, it had
been intense and powerful, but this had twice the impact. Bending from the hips, he leaned forward onto the bed,
resting on outstretched arms. He fisted handfuls of the bedspread and braced himself against the accelerating thrusts
as Liam could not hold back any longer. It hurt, but in the most exquisite and thrilling way. Inner muscles clenched
and released, as Liam's plunging pushed against sensitive inner surfaces and pressed on Rhys' prostate. He felt the
sudden spurt when Liam came and the pressure began to ease. When his legs would no longer support him, he sank
back onto the bed as Liam drew free.

For a timeless duration, he imagined he could sense every move the other man made, even the sensations Liam felt
as he erupted and then withdrew, the shuddering aftermath of his climax and release.

Awe and amazement flooded him. It worked. We're almost one being in two bodies now. Thanks be to all the
gods. I wish we'd dared act on our feelings a long time ago. After that thought, he almost lost consciousness as the
tidal wave of emotion and sensation washed over him and away, leaving him briefly drained and exhausted. When
awareness returned, he found himself half on the bed, clasped tightly in Liam's arms. The other man gazed at him
with a worried frown.

"Man, you scared me. It was like you weren't there for a few minutes. I was afraid I'd hurt you. My God, don't ever
do that again!"

Rhys smiled. "I'm okay. It was amazing, frightful and wonderful and the afterwards...for a while it was as if I was
in your brain and body, feeling everything we both felt. But it's worked; we've created that connection again. We're
one being in two bodies, or we can be whenever we reach for each other that way, with mind and spirit."

"Do you want to try it with me?"

Rhys shook his head. "Not yet. I'm too wasted right now. Soon though, when the time is right. We'll know. I think
what we both need now is to sleep. I want to sleep in your arms this time."

They dragged the covers down enough to crawl under them, curling close at once. Before Rhys could relive the last
hour and fix every second of it in his mind, sleep claimed him. He'd intended to start planning their attack on the
soul-eater, but there would be time for that later.

* * * *

Liam came awake, instantly aware of Rhys' body still nestled close to his. It felt so damn good, so right. Why were
we both so timid? Old taboos, I guess. I know I was afraid I'd lose him, us, everything.

Rhys woke at almost the same instant. He smiled. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too. Say, I had the weirdest dream, but I think it might be important. It was about when we
confronted the soul-eater the first time."

Rhys nodded, still smiling. "Me, too, and I'll bet they're almost the same, just differing with you seeing it through
your eyes and me seeing it through mine."

Liam grinned, then sobered quickly. "That means we're connected, really connected now, doesn't it?"

Rhys shrugged. "I think so. It sure felt that way to me last night, and if our dreams were the same, I'd say this kind of
nails it. I think we're going to be ready for the finale before long. You tell me your dream first."

Liam did. Rhys kept nodding, now and then adding a few words. It was clear they'd both dreamed of the same
incident and both recalled the dream with preternatural clarity. Rhys sat up and reached for a notebook on his
nightstand. He began to jot down notes, things they both recalled and brought to light as they shared their dreams.

When Rhys set the notebook aside, Liam reached over and hugged him. Even after the night when they were never
beyond touching close, he needed that contact.

Rhys' eyes were alight with enthusiasm. "This is going to help. A whole lot. I'll do some more research, but I think
most of what we need is going to be right here." He pressed a hand to his own head and then touched Liam's. "And
here."

After a brief hesitation, he placed a hand over each of their hearts.

Chapter 7

Six days later

"Do you think we're ready?" Rhys looked at Liam, needing the reassurance his partner believed they could do this.

Liam shrugged. "Will we ever be? I just don't want anyone else to die. Our monster may not be here solely because
of us, but it wants us. With that dead drug kingpin as part of the mix now, it just wants to kill. Anybody. Everybody,
especially Americans, law enforcement people on both sides and maybe relatives of any Mexicans who opposed
him. The soul-eater lurking inside the ghost, or whatever it is, is feeding off the victims. He gets stronger with each
one, so he doesn't care. He'll give Alamodovar free rein so long as he can suck up the life energies of each person
they kill. But he wants us, both of us, together. He said so."

Rhys thought a moment before he responded. "I know. I keep remembering more about the past all the time, how it
was then. And then Monday, when you were at the firing range and I went on solitary patrol, he made sure to remind
me how he'll get us both. He seems very confident, and I expect he's stronger now than he was before, back in
Cymru, I mean Wales.

"Still, even if we didn't completely get rid of him the first time, we banished him for two thousand years. That
wasn't too bad. I think--I hope to hell we can do it again, or even more, send him back to chaos where he belongs."

Pacing the room, Liam showed his agitation in every movement. "I don't like running scared or looking over my
shoulder. I don't like the idea of splitting up so he can't get us. Yeah, he can't or maybe won't take us if we aren't
together, but we can't get him unless we are. Catch twenty-two again. When we both had the same dream, to me that
was a sign. Between us, I think we've figured out everything we need to do."

"I hope so. I bloody well hope so. Okay, tonight's the night then."

They'd kept the patrol truck over night, supposedly to get an early start the next day on checking the latest leads on
the mystery killer. It was going to be a very early start, not long after dark.

Only Billy knew their plan. He was going to follow along and wait at a preordained spot. If they made it out alive,
he'd meet them there. If they didn't come back in twenty-four hours, Billy would summon a team to search for
them--or what was left of them, if anything. Damned flimsy safety net, but what difference did it make? As Liam
said, neither of them wanted to spend life watching their back trails.

They didn't take long to gather everything. The two AK-47s and their regular hand guns--as if bullets, even a hail of
them, would serve much purpose. Body armor and riot gear might offer some protection. Who knew? Water, a med
kit, and the bag of herbs and talismans Rhys collected based on the remnants of Druid lore he'd regained. The spells
and songs were in his head, repeated until he'd almost burned them into his brain--words of power and the secret
names of gods each to be invoked at the right moment.

They both had a charm against the tchindi from Billy, small leather medicine bags that they hung like dog tags on
thongs around their necks. They had not asked what the bags contained. Billy said they held strong medicine his
great uncle had used and which had been properly blessed. That was good enough for Rhys and Liam.

"Let's go." Rhys led the way out of the house, but Liam drove this time. Rhys was already starting to concentrate on
the powerful summoning spell he'd use if the soul-eater did not seek them out once they were up in the mountains.
He was still not sure what the creature was--an unholy collection of warped spirits encased in a shifting, shape-

changing mist and borne by poisonous hatred and evil beyond comprehension. Somehow, the monster subverted
even the "good" life energies of innocent victims, twisting them to build his supernatural power. He thought of it as
an energy vampire, sucking not blood but the very life force out of those it killed.

To the superstitious early Celts he and Liam-Finbar had been, it was the soul-eater, first stirring up trouble between
tribes and sucking away the energies of those who died in battle and, when that was not enough, finding more direct
ways to kill and refill his stores. They had survived and banished the monster once. Was trying for a second time
too much to ask?

As Liam eased the pickup along a narrow, rough and twisting two-track road, Rhys searched out every god and
spirit he'd ever heard of, sorted them by the powers or influences they allegedly possessed and chose those he
thought could help the most. More and more of the Druid memories were returning, crowding into his mind so
quickly he could barely deal with them.

Will it be enough? Can we do this? We've got to. Failure is not an option. To become more fuel for this
abomination would surely be a fate worse than death. He swallowed the sour burn in his throat and pushed his
doubts aside.

Shifting focus, he glanced across at Liam. His friend. His brother. His lover. The dash lights cast a weird pattern
over Liam's face, yet Rhys could read determination and unflagging courage there. He could not ask for anyone
better to stand by him tonight. Warrior courage and strength, Druid lore and power, and above all the invisible
bond of total love between them, love stronger than time, death and the sum of ancient fears. Together they would
do this.

Liam parked at the end of the road. Wordlessly they got out and geared up. They already had a goal in mind, a
cluster of about a dozen ponderosa pines, roughly a mile above the end of the road. There was one big, old, twisted
tree, surely the ancestor of the rest. Its trunk was scored by lightning and wracked by cold and wind, the top broken
out by an unusually heavy snow or severe windstorm, yet still it stood, unbowed and rooted solidly in the rocky
soil. There they'd make their stand if they got that far.

The night lay around them, silent and ominous, as they trudged up the winding trail. A vague whisper of breeze
occasionally stirred the air with the faintest of sighs, but nothing else seemed to move. Overhead, a thin veil of
clouds dimmed the waxing crescent moon and hid all but the brightest stars. They plodded on, heavily loaded, not
speaking, as if the silence were an entity they must not disturb.

It seemed a miracle or an omen that they reached the trees, found the big one and settled against it, their backs to the
rough bark and facing about ninety degrees apart.

"Ready?" Rhys asked the question in a voice barely audible.

"Yes." Liam's answer came in the same manner.

Rhys shut his eyes in concentration and began the summoning spell. He took out the first packet of mixed herbs and
tossed a pinch of the powder in each direction. The words he chanted softly were ancient Cymric, older than even
his dimmest memories, old when he had lived them. Their power sizzled along his nerves and raised the hair on the
back of his neck.

"I'm here." The words came without sound and thus no sense of a direction. How could soundless speech carry such
cold, implacable and deadly force?

From that instant on, shifting horrific illusions swirled and flowed around them as their enemy circled and feinted,
throwing against them a whole arsenal of blackest magic. The hill ran with blood. The scents of death and
destruction, sulfur, brimstone, and burning flesh enveloped them, clogging their noses and making their stomachs
rebel. They lifted the rifles and fired a few random shots at apparitions that came and went--a bear, a wolf, a huge
boar, a dragonish creature that was part snake, part cougar, and part demon.

Then it flickered into a tall, voluptuous woman, incredibly beautiful and seductive, although Rhys could see the evil
beneath the illusion, so foul it sickened him. Even though she did not attract him, something in him could not help

responding to the lewd and suggestive ways she moved, fanning desire with thoughts of erotic pleasures. Rhys
refused to be distracted and it appeared Liam did the same.

Then it seemed as if the soul-eater began to tire of the games. He was not winning. His illusions did not move them.
They stood solid against the unyielding tree, drawing its rooted strength and stability into their bodies by the
Druidic tree-kinship Rhys had shared with Liam. Trees were sacred, linked to the earth and the sky, joining the
three realms of creation. As long as they touched that tree, they could draw upon its incredible strength.

Rhys began to chant again, new and different words this time, spoken in a flowing singsong that rose and fell in
waves like the ocean. He called upon the powers of water and fire, of earth and sky and sea. The scene shifted. He
stood at the edge of a different grove, wearing not camouflage fatigues, but a calf-length robe of raw wool. He held
not an automatic rifle, but a staff of rowan wood, crowned by a shimmering crystal bound in place with silver wire.

Finbar-Liam stood beside him clad in the warrior's short, coarsely woven tunic, his legs spread wide in a braced
pose. The riot shield he had held had become a circle of alder covered in foil-thin bronze and etched with sacred
symbols. His rifle morphed into a spear, a stout alder shaft with a point of bronze, washed over with silver, honed
to razor sharpness.

The tree at their back now seemed an oak, a huge, venerable oak whose branches covered an area as large as a
small village. Their feet planted, deep-rooted into the duff of old leaves and acorns, binding them to the very earth
as they faced the demon-born creature as they had before--how many times? Rhys was not sure.

He heard Liam's voice join with his, speaking English words instead of Cymric or Gaelic, but speaking with
confidence and force. "I call on thee, all the gods of my people. I call on thee, my ancestors and on the fathers and
sons of Coronado and of Geronimo, of Phillip St. George Cook and the first white men who settled here. I call on
the spirits of this place, those known to the folk whose land this was in days of yore. Stand with me and defeat this
force of evil."

For a moment, Rhys slipped back into the present. He smiled at Liam's incantation and summoning. It was not Druid
and it was not the power words Rhys had tried quickly to teach him, but it was powerful, real and right. Yes,
brother. Call on them all!

Rhys felt the first cold touch then, not a hand or even a tendril, but a loop or link of chilling power that tried to
attach itself to him and sought to begin drawing his energies away. He pressed his back more firmly into the bark
and drew an invisible mantle of protection up and over himself. You cannot have me. You cannot tear me away
from this tree.

He heard Liam yell, a sharp cry of pain and fright. He could not look away from the black ovoid that hovered near
his own face, pinned by the two glowing coals of hell-fire scarlet that blazed from it, but he sent strength and
yelled, "Stand fast. My love is with you. Cut away at those groping tendrils. Let it feel the silver of your spear."

The black faded for a moment, sliding sideways as it wavered in shape and solidity. Rhys gasped in a deep breath
of air briefly free of tainted odors. He held his staff erect before him and watched the crystal come alive with a
star-bright blaze. With his left hand, he fumbled out the second packet of herbs and threw the contents directly at the
shifting darkness confronting him. Then he began the most powerful chant of all, the one he'd brought out of his most
recent dream.

Its sounds were harsh and sharp, the pattern a steady rhythm like a heartbeat, the heartbeat of the earth, like a
powwow drum, a throbbing force that seemed to take on a life of its own. The syllables came guttural and clashing,
sounds that were less than words and yet more powerful. He paused to draw another desperate breath and in that
instant of silence, the ground shifted beneath his feet. Briefly he swayed, losing contact with the tree. For a second,
fear choked his throat and shoved the chant back down into his chest.

Liam's clasp on his arm drew him back, almost slammed him into the unyielding wood and bark. "Stay here! Hang
on. You can do it." A current of love and warmth flowed back into him to reverse the drawing cold and sense of
loss weakening him that had begun the few seconds he was not in contact with the tree.

Somehow, Liam then picked up the chant, not the exact words, but the rhythm and the steady, forceful echo of it. He

just grunted or mumbled one word over and over--a word Rhys could not quite grasp, but one that added sound to
became a sustaining raft under Rhys' actual speech.

The last few phrases came in clear Cymric words. Rhys spoke them distinctly and then repeated the same meaning
in Spanish and in English. "Go and be ever gone! You do not belong here. You are not wanted here. The gods, the
powers and the spirits stand united against you. Go back to chaos and darkness and be reformed. Release the evil,
poison and hatred to run away like water and go to peace. You will not come again into this world. I banish you in
the name of all that is clean, good and sacred. Be gone!"

They shouted the last two words together and then repeated them a final time. The blackness gradually spread and
thinned. The two red coals dimmed and blinked out. The scents, sounds and mists of illusion vanished abruptly and
the blackness dispersed completely, fading into the normal dusky shade of night. It was gone.

Rhys let out his held breath in a ragged sigh. Liam did the same. As one, they turned and clasped one another in a
fierce embrace. Rhys was shaking with cold and weariness. Liam clutched him, wrapping strong, steady arms
around his body and pressing him back against the tree.

"Lean there. Take some more energy. We still have to walk back down the mountain. I'd carry you, but I don't think I
can." Even if Liam's body felt steady, his voice was not. He almost stammered, a tremor clear in his words. "Rest,
draw back some strength. Gods, Rhys, you've got to be okay now. You did it. We did it. The thing is gone. By all
that's holy, it's gone."

He half-sobbed now, still holding Rhys tightly. He leaned on Rhys at the same time he tried to support him. They
both slumped against the tree, then slid down slowly with the rough bark grating on them, catching on their clothes
until they sat at the base still resting against the comforting solid support. Somehow, it felt warm, almost as if it
molded around their exhausted bodies.

Rhys had no idea how long they stayed there, clinging to each other and drawing sustenance from the tree they had
chosen as their sacred link to all creation. Without that tree, he knew they could not have succeeded. Right now,
they would be dead and empty, their energies added to those that fueled the soul-eater. He offered a wordless
prayer of thanks to the powers he had called upon. Without Liam, he could not have triumphed either. It took both of
them to channel the forces of creation to nullify the anti-creative powers of hatred and rage.

In the end, it was love that won, as it always should.

He reached out to thread his fingers into Liam's sweat-plastered hair and turned his friend's head to bring their
faces together. His mouth found Liam's and their lips melded into a binding, bonding kiss that was a silent vow of
timeless love, of union and a connection that would outlast eternity.

"From this day on," he whispered, "once again we're a unit, a whole. The shadows... we've gone beyond the
shadows. Even if miles may sometimes separate us, we'll never really be apart."

"Aye," Liam agreed, his spirit still partly immersed in the past. "It is so. It's always been so and always will be."

Deirdre O'Dare

Deirdre O'Dare, who also writes milder (roughly PG-13 rated) romance as Gwynn Morgan, has loved reading and
writing since early childhood. Writing came naturally to Deirdre/Gwynn, who scribed her first simple verse at age
eight. An avid reader, she devoured hundreds of books while growing up and later as an adult. Somewhere along
the way she found romance and then romance with more explicit and detailed love scenes. "Ah ha," said she, "I
think I have found my niche!" In the last decade after leaving her "day job" as a civilian employee of the U. S.
Army, she finally settled into romantic fiction writing as a second career. Deirdre has a growing number of shorts
and novellas, all published by Amber Heat.

With Irish and Welsh ancestry on both sides of her family, Deirdre has always been enthralled by the history and
customs of the Celtic peoples as they have come down to us. The Mother Goddess idea particularly resonates with
her as well as the notion that physical expressions of love between consenting couples are both a divine gift and a
sacred duty to honor the Mother. Deirdre admits her favorite heroes are cops, cowboys and Celts.

* * * *

Don't miss Fire On Ice, by Deirdre O'Dare,

available at AmberAllure.com!

Bard Welstaad is a model Uni-Fleet officer. He's not sure what his unit is to accomplish, marching up an icy
peninsula in the frozen hell of Gelada, but without his 4CO, Gordon Farrell, he knows he can not keep the unit
together fighting off Snow Wasps and the savage deadly cold. 4ot until tragedy strikes does Bard acknowledge
the big sergeant means much more to him than simply being his right-hand man.

Gordon Farrell idolizes his captain as representing everything he reveres. His hero-worship of Bard has
already turned into hidden passion, but until now, he has fought the impulse to act upon his feelings. The threat
of imminent death as he fights to save Bard's life, however, finally forces him to admit the strength of his
desires.

With death stalking at their heels, the men can only hope to live long enough to share more than a single
incredible night. Yet fate seems to conspire against them at every turn. Still, they cling to the frail hope that
somehow their love will find a way to survive...

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