Taking deep breaths, she struggled for control.Just wondering.

Relax,sweetheart ,I only hear the thoughts forcibly directed my way. Usually. Though as tuned to you as I am ,who knows. I might hear all the lurid things you want to do with my body.

Olivia pushed the hair back from her face with an unsteady hand. Was he toying with her? Or telling the truth? Shit. Could she take a chance?

With a groan, she started counting backward from a thousand. Anything,anything, to keep him from reading her mind. Because if he did, if he learned her secrets, her life wasgame over.

Jag took off on all fours, his cat's senses straining to pick up the foul scent he remembered all too well from the cavern where the Mage had first released the three wraith Daemons from the enchanted Daemon blade. The smell had reminded him of rotting meat, only worse. Much worse. As if evil itself had an odor.

Recognizing that scent should be easy if he came across it again. Unfortunately, that might prove a mighty big "if." Harpers Ferry was a long way from that cavern. In all probability, all they'd stumbled upon was the work of a human serial killer. A problem for the humans to deal with, not the immortal cavalry.

He padded through grassy yards, staying close to the bushes, where he could hide his true appearance as much as possible from prying eyes.

Too bad he hadn't been able to talk Olivia into joining him. He'd have enjoyed her company. The woman had claws, nice sharp little claws that dug into him in all the right places. As hard as she tried to hide her attraction to him, she failed. It flashed in her eyes and rose from her skin in a lush scent that stroked his loins until he turned hard and throbbing and ready.

He loved sex, had loved sex since he first stumbled upon a pair of teenage humans rutting in the woods when he was fourteen. The female had seen him and smiled, watching him as she screamed her release. The next day, she'd come alone and indoctrinated him into the carnal world - a world forbidden young Therians. But he'd never been much for following rules.

That was nearly three and a half centuries ago, hundreds of sexual partners ago, yet never could he remember feeling the blazing-hot attraction he felt for Olivia. If he'd thought she'd obsessed him before he'd tasted her skin and felt her explosive response to the heat of his hands, it was nothing compared to now. He could hardly think of anything beyond touching her, tasting her. Beyond the need to feel her shatter with release.

Of course, he wanted to be inside her, too. That went without saying, except...that wasn't everything. It wasn't even half of it.

Usually when he felt desire for a woman, it was all about sex. About finding his own release. Why then did the thought of feeling Olivia's pleasure excite him almost more than the thought of finding his own?

He wanted her beneath him, on top of him.

Beside him.

On some oddball level he didn't understand, he wanted her company, her frosty gaze, her sharp heels and tongue. He loved trading barbs with her, loved watching her try to hide the attraction she felt for him.

Damn, he just loved being with her.

Which was completely fucked up. He was perfectly happy with his own company and always had been.

The scent of dog had him detouring across the street. Not that he couldn't hold his own against any creature, even as Mini Jag. But the less attention he drew to himself, the better, all the way around.

With a conscious effort, he pulled his mind from Olivia and concentrated on picking up the scent he searched for. A short while later, as he traipsed through a cemetery, that unique whiff of evil and decay hit him.

Daemon.

Found it,Red.

He threw the thought out there before he bothered to find her with his mind.

Red?

Dammit, where the hell was she? Had she accidentally wandered out of range? Or had she just gotten tired of driving around with the windows down?

Neither. If there was one thing he was sure of with that woman, it was that she didn't do anything accidentally. No, if Olivia left the half-mile radius he'd requested she remain within, she'd done so deliberately and for a damn good reason.

So, what the hell was it? Had she spied the Daemon and taken off after it without telling him? No. She was too good a soldier for that. So what was Little Red up to?

A middle-aged human couple strolling through the cemetery ahead caught sight of him. The woman gasped.

"Bryan, look at him! Isn't he the strangest cat you've ever seen? Here kitty, kitty, kitty."

Damn humans.Jag ran before they could trap him. The trail of Daemon scent led him into the woods on the other side, growing stronger as he ran. Little by little, the scent became mixed with another. Blood. Human blood.

Red,where are you? I'm on the trail of the Daemon, and he's killing. Or killed.

The trail ended suddenly in a blaze of scent that nearly fried the insides of his cat's nose. His keen animal senses told him he was alone, so he upshifted to his full-sized jaguar. If he came upon the thing, there'd be a fight, and since his knives didn't stay with him any better than his clothes when he shifted, fangs and claws were his only weapons.

Where are you,you bastard?

Jag leaped for the nearest tree and began to climb, hoping to catch sight of the creature, but as he rose, the scent grew fainter. Not significantly so, but enough that he noticed. He stretched out on a thick branch about ten feet from the ground and looked around, sending his cat's heightened senses out in every direction.

And that's when he saw it. Not the Daemon, but a mound of dead leaves that looked out of place below. As if they'd been piled there intentionally. To hide something.

He leaped out of the tree, shifting back to his human form midleap, and landed on two feet. Kneeling beside the mound, he shoved the leaves away to reveal a dark blue tarp.

The smell of blood and carnage nearly obliterated the stench of Daemon, and he knew there would be no rescuing this victim.

He pulled the tarp back...and wished he hadn't.

Well,hell. Victims, plural. Body parts from at least half a dozen humans lay in the shallow grave. Heads, arms, parts of torsos, all of which had most of the flesh stripped from the bones.

Jesus.

He pulled the tarp back farther, and froze, his stomach cramping.

Not Cordelia.

But,goddess. As he stared at the half-destroyed face of a thirtyish woman, memory of another overlaid it - half a face where the flesh had tried one last time to regenerate over the charred remains of bone and blood, before her Therian body had finally given up.

Cordelia.

His head began to pound, cold sweat rolling down his temples as old horror shot through his gut. He stumbled back and fell to his knees, retching into the dirt, the memories stabbing him like red-hot steel.

When his stomach had emptied, he rose on shaky legs, arching his back, hands in his hair, until he forced the memories down. Then he returned to the mass grave.

Ten bucks said he'd found the humans who'd gone missing in this town the past few days.

That goddamn pain-feeding Daemon was history.

But as he lifted the tarp back over the bodies, he stilled, a thought slamming into him.

Everything they understood of wraith Daemons told them they were nonthinking creatures. Animals. Monsters. They literally fed on the pain and fear of others as a human or Therian might feed on marinated pork or ham steaks. They did not plot or plan. Or bury their victims in tarps and hide them in the woods beneath a pile of leaves.

But someone had done just that. Someone who didn't want the public...or the Ferals...to know the Daemon was here.

A thousand bucks said he knew who was behind this.

The Mage.

Chapter Six

Olivia drove out of Harpers Ferry, out of the reach of Jag's extraordinary senses, and headed west on the highway, hoping to find a diner or bar - anyplace where more than a few humans gathered. She had to be careful with humans. Early on, she'd learned trying to feed off fewer than four or five at once, even at low levels, could drain them fast.

She'd never actually killed one - at least not accidentally - that she knew of, but she'd dropped a few unconscious when she was young.

Large crowds were definitely best.

When she found the Wal-Mart, she smiled, then parked the Hummer and strolled into the store, opening herself to a free, careful feeding at last. The store was most crowded in the electronics department, so she headed there, wandering among the rows of DVDs and video games, skimming a fine layer of life force from every human she passed. A layer they'd never miss, not with so many to feed from. A layer they'd soon replenish.

Strong energy radiated off a small gathering of humans in the iPod aisle, two human males past their prime, their bellies swollen with excess, and two teenage girls who seemed none too pleased with the attention of the males.

"She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" the male with the Redskins cap said, eyeing the darker-haired girl.

The girls glanced over their shoulders at the pair, but continued what they were doing, looking over several items on the racks. Though uncomfortable with the boorish attention, they didn't appear to be genuinely worried.

Olivia wondered if they should be. She continued to feed lightly as she watched with an eye toward stepping in.

But the second boor noticed her, his eyes lighting.

"I'm partial to redheads," he said, hitching his pants up under his protruding belly.

Olivia said nothing, just held his gaze as she slid one of her knives out of the sheath hidden beneath her jacket, twirled it around her finger in a quick arc, then made it disappear again.

The man's eyes widened, and he blanched, taking a step backward.

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"Let's go, Earl."

"What? Why?"

But the other one grabbed his arm and took off around the end of the aisle.

"Jerks," one of the girls said under her breath when they'd gone.

Olivia had to agree. As she moved away, the girls' voices carried to her, excited talk of iPods and birthdays and prom.

She found herself smiling, their pleasure infectious, but her smile quickly faded.

Humans knew so little of what really went on in their world.

She prayed to the goddess the Ferals and other immortals could keep it that way. If Satanan and his Daemon hordes ever managed to get free, life as the humans knew it would be over. As they'd done five thousand years ago, the higher, thinking, Daemons would once more begin to round up humans by the thousands, mostly children, torturing and terrorizing as they fed on their pain and fear. Panic and misery would quickly rule the world.

Olivia continued to walk and feed for a few minutes more, until she felt full and strong, then headed for the doors. As she strolled into the sunshine, she wondered how long before she turned hungry again. She'd gone almost twenty-four hours without feeding this time. Would she be able to go longer next time? Or less? Almost certainly, she'd have to escape Jag again sometime tomorrow. When the time came, she'd have to come up with another excuse.

She headed for the Hummer, anxious to get back to Harpers Ferry before Jag realized she was gone. Ahead, she saw the two boorish males hitting on yet another female in the parking lot.

One adjusted his hat while the other tugged up his pants. Then suddenly, as one, they went perfectly still, their arms dropping limp at their sides.

Olivia's eyes narrowed, her instincts ringing a warning alarm. As she passed the trio, she glanced at the attractive auburn-haired woman, then looked quickly away, her heart beginning to race. The woman's green eyes had been ringed in copper.

Mage eyes.

Which meant the enthrallment of those men was real.

Why? What would a Mage possibly want with humans, and two such poor examples of the species, at that?

Keeping her stride casual and even, she continued to the Hummer, watching out of the corner of her eye as the three climbed into the red pickup truck they'd been standing in front of. The men moved like automatons.

Olivia climbed into the Hummer, then pretended to study herself in the rearview mirror as she watched the truck drive off at a calm, sedate pace.

She started the bright yellow vehicle and followed, wishing like hell she was in something a little less eye-catching. Clearly Jag's work rarely called for clandestine pursuit. If only she could contact him to tell him she was following a Mage and her victims.

But she was out of range, and on her own. For the time being, they both were.

She followed the truck back toward Harpers Ferry, but lost it as it turned left between too small a gap in oncoming traffic for her to follow. And by the time another gap presented itself, her quarry was nowhere to be seen.

Olivia?

The sound of Jag's voice in her head sent her pulse into a small, odd skitter.

I'm here.

Where in the hell have you been?

Thank goodness she had a decent excuse.I saw something suspicious and followed. A Mage witch enthralled two human males. I tried to follow their truck ,but I lost them.

Shit.

What would a Mage want with humans,Jag?

I'm afraid I know. Get back here and pick me up, and I'll fill you in. We've stumbled onto more than a wraith Daemon on the loose,Red. This is going to get ugly.

When the Mage were involved, it always did.

"Where do you put all that? It's bigger than you are."

Olivia took another bite of the footlong sub piled high with everything she could fit on the sandwich as she met Jag's disbelieving look with a shrug.

"I have a healthy appetite." And she had no way to know when she'd get another chance to feed her way.

Jag had bought three footlongs for himself and she'd have liked to have bought herself a second, but he really would have gotten suspicious.

They sat across from one another in the back booth of a deli down the road from Harpers Ferry, in Charles Town. Jag had been afraid to eat in town, not knowing how many Mage were about or whether any might recognize him as a Feral. He'd taken to wearing the green military-style canvas jacket he apparently kept in the back of the Hummer to cover his armband. They needed to figure out what the Mage were doing before the Mage realized they were here.