ALTERED                   Jim was never certain whether Aston
                          even saw his killer. Not that he was
Valerie Jones             waiting around to ask. He dropped the
                          gun and loped away. He didn't have
                          any fingerprints, and tracing the gun
                          would only lead to a stolen shipment
                          --- a dead end.

He switched the hand-computer on with a flick of his thumb and set to work dismantling the house security system. The heady scent of the lilac bushes beneath which he crouched filled his sensitive nose and made it twitch. Just don't sneeze, he reminded himself. Aston had a thing for lilacs... they ran rampant on his estate. You couldn't walk more than four feet in any direction without running into more of the accursed bushes. Just thinking about it made Jim's nose itch. He wondered how the dogs could stand it. Maybe their noses weren't as sensitive. His nose twitched again. It was a moot point, though, since the dogs were dead. That was the first thing he'd done, and the lilac smell was so strong their bodies probably wouldn't be found except by a visual search of the grounds. The security cameras were the scanning type, so they'd missed the whole show, and the infrareds couldn't tell him apart from the canines, though some diligent soul might notice the change in numbers as their bodies cooled. That was just a chance he had to accept. He scratched his still itching nose with light fingers, sniffling. They came away wet with the blood that still covered his face, and he licked each digit clean before he reached back into the gray box. He couldn't just say it was habit and instinct: he actually liked the taste of blood. Though if he thought about that for very long it would give him a case of the shivers.

Half an hour later, Jim paused and studied the grounds. Nothing moved save for an owl that swooped low over the lilacs in search of prey, though what it thought it could catch under the tall bushes he couldn't guess. The whisper of its wings parting the wind was a comfortable night sound, along with the crickets that had finally taken up their song around him. The guards down at the gate remained unaware, intent on their caffeine sticks and conversation. Jim couldn't quite make out the words from across the wide lawn, but he didn't care to. The soft click as he switched the keypad off silenced the crickets once more and their silence followed him like a wake as he removed the wire attachments, placed the computer back in his pouch, and crept toward the end of the house. The eighty-foot oak that grew there would grant him access to a third-story window. The giant tree had grown so close to the house that the branches were wearing grooves in the stone as they swayed in the wind. The house probably wouldn't be damaged if the tree came down on it, though, he mused. The crystal structure of the white stone had been developed for more than just beauty.

The window was latched from the inside, Jim noted, with a plain metal hook. Not a magnetic latch. He didn't think the house was that old, but maybe it was just an oddity, courtesy of the original owner. He tapped the pane gently.. The window was made of duraglass, which was actually a plastic, and a whole lot tougher than conventional safe glass. He'd brought tools to deal with either, since he hadn't been able to find out which one it was before hand. The duraglass melted nicely with the application of the right chemicals. Jim was glad for the stiff breeze that carried the acrid stench away from him. The smell was the price he paid for a low-temperature melt. If he were unlucky, however, that would be enough. He unlatched the window, then oiled the window tracks down with fluid from a small plastic tube. His claws bit deep into the bark as he braced himself and raised the window with barely a sound. Good thing, too. A girl slept in the white, fluffy bed that dominated the room. That would be Aston's daughter, he knew. Maybe she liked the noise of the oak tree, or, better yet, liked lilacs no better than he. Their saccharine perfume was not so overwhelming here. Well, she'd be able to uproot every single one of the hideous purple-splotched bushes if she chose soon enough, he thought as he stepped through the window. He stood balanced on the sill to survey the room. The girl was asleep, her breathing deep and even. She clutched an Altered Gladiators doll in her sleeping arms and Jim had the distinct impression that the glass eyes above the drooling snarl were staring directly at him. Nothing else stirred amid the soft piles of stuffed toys and strewn clothes. He bounded to the floor without a sound save the spongy crunch of the thick carpet under his paws. The long, dexterous fingers of his hands were folded under so that he was actually walking on his knuckles and, as he padded across the room, those hands were indistinguishable from paws.

Shadow silent, Jim slipped through the halls. Most of the forty-two room house was in darkness. That was good. Aston ought to be in his office still, which was on the second floor, north end. The floor plan flitted through his mind. There should be two guards wandering somewhere inside as well, but those didn't bother Jim unduly. He would hear them coming long before they heard him.

He stopped at the top of the stairs. This would be a good place for additional security, though the plans hadn't held any mention of another system. The staircase was isolated, walled on both sides with carved wood panelling. Rosarian's work, he thought, though art wasn't his specialty. The carved protuberances would provide good hiding places for laser sensors on both sides of the stairs. Jim pulled a small, illegal aerosol from his pouch and sprayed the air before him. A fine net of red laser beams dissected the empty space up to about waist height on a normal human, fading to invisibility as the mist settled. If they followed the same pattern all the way down the staircase, he'd be fine. He could leap them. Coming back up would be the problem. He checked once more for signs of weapons mounted into the walls, saw none. The ceiling looked clean, too. He stopped to listen, then backed up and took a running leap off the top of the staircase. His compact, four-legged body sailed easily through empty space, landing in the downstairs hallway with an unavoidable thump. Twohundred and twenty pounds could not land silently after that kind of jump.

Before he moved on, he stopped to sit back on his haunches. Reaching into the pouch strapped across his stomach, he pulled out a black plastic gun. The bulb of the silencer at the business end made it somewhat unwieldy, but he clamped it between his jaws and loped toward Aston's office. As he turned the corner, he heard footsteps in the distance behind him, moving slowly. The guards were being careful. He would have plenty of time.

Light leaked from beneath the door to Aston's office, warm and inviting. That door would hiss as it slid open, he knew, so he took the gun in his hand and settled onto his haunches once again. That was the only position from which he could shoot. Genetic curse, which was why he rarely depended on guns. But in this case it just made the most sense. He reached up and slapped the door pad, taking aim through the doorway as the door slid aside. Terrence Aston sat behind a wide redwood desk, his attention on the terminal screen built into the top. He looked up just as Jim fired, and Jim was never certain whether Aston even saw his killer. Not that he was waiting around to ask. He dropped the gun and loped away. He didn't have any fingerprints, and tracing the gun would only lead to a stolen shipment ...- a dead end.

There would be a second set of stairs further down the hall, he knew. Speed was his best protection, now. He found the other staircase and raced up it, triggering a blaring alarm that filled the house. The upstairs hall was empty, and he ran the length of it, not pausing as he streaked through the end bedroom and out the window. He registered the white face and staring eyes of the girl as he ran past. His head was filled with the smell of oak bark and the drifting scent of lilacs, the metal sounds of guns being readied, and the shouts of men. He ran headlong down the tree trunk, counting on his claws to hold him to its rough surface, and sprinted toward the fence at a point three hundred and four yards from the gate. He'd actually measured it during his preparations. The floodlights lit up just as he reached the electrified fence, illuminating the entire estate, and blinding him. He leapt anyway, depending on natural ability to carry him safely over.

The memory returned to Jim as a whole, filled with the scents and sounds of that night, as he stared at the woman across from him. The little girl was long gone, replaced by a firm, mature intelligence dressed impeccably in a floor length blue silk skirt, yellow silk blouse, and obi. The blouse might have been peach or even a creamy white, Jim thought absently. His vision was based on shades of light and dark, more than color.

"Konichi wa Mr. Leary." The soft voice was very proper and melodious, completely at odds with the black eyes that bored directly into his. "I assume you know who I am?"

"Of course, Councillor," Jim answered, nodding. Though he had never put her picture together with that night at the Aston estate before. Twenty years was a long time, though the emergence of another Councillor Aston should have pricked his memory.

Julee Lin Aston continued to stare at him, lost in private thoughts. Jim figured he could probably guess what some of them were. No doubt she had never seen anyone Altered so extremely before. Not even the Gladiators on the viewer. They, at least, still resembled human beings despite the ridiculous musculature and occasional fur. That was the standard reaction. He glanced at his reflection in the darkened windows that fronted the restaurant. Black as night, he was barely visible against the dark street, save for the sheen of light that rippled across his fur. In form, he was nearly identical to the black panther of the Asian jungles. A bit larger, perhaps, with only his limber five-fingered hands and versatile brain to distinguish him from his feline cousins.

"You paid a large handful of yen to arrange this meeting, Councillor," Jim reminded her, annoyed. The words rumbled out of a throat that was not designed for language.

"Of course." She regained her composure and took a breath. Jim noted the effect that had on the thin fabric of her blouse with discreet interest. "I have a proposition for you." Jim's ears twitched, though his feline face betrayed nothing. Very few facial expressions were possible for him, which he had always considered an asset.

"There have been two attempts on my life, Mr. Leary," she continued without preamble. "Both occurred at my estate. Both were nearly successful."

Jim eyed her warily. It sounded like an accusation. Despite the fact that he had chosen this meeting place, he was far from confident. There were fifteen Councillors who governed Jap-Am, and Julee Aston was the first woman ever to hold that position in the colony's history. She was no push over.

He kept diligent track of the traffic through the small restaurant. Most of the faces at nearby tables were familiar because Jim had hired them. But that didn't mean much. A Councillor had vast resources. If she wanted him dead, and knew who to hire, he might as well get ready to meet the man in black. Anyone could be assassinated.

"So what do you want from me?" Jim asked.

Julee leaned forward. "I want to hire you, Mr. Leary. Your particular... talents... would make you exceptionally qualified to handle my personal security." She betrayed no emotion.

Jim felt his insides go cold. "I think you overestimate me, Councillor."

"I haven't," she assured him. "I'm willing to pay." She named a figure that was generous. Very generous. But not enough to be a mockery. When he said nothing, she continued in a sudden change of subject, "There were four attempts on my father's life at the estate. Two never made it into the house, and the third died in the downstairs hall. But the fourth... the fourth was exceptional." She sat back in her chair. "I need that kind of exceptional talent working for me." She sipped her drink, the glass catching the light and bursting into rainbow hued stars.

"My father died a long time ago, Mr. Leary," she continued after setting the glass down. "I'm interested in survival, not vengeance." She met Jim's gaze squarely, as if daring him to admit it.

"As I said before, I think you overestimate me," Jim replied.

"Then you're not interested?"

Unfortunately, Jim was. He needed the money, and offers that size didn't come by very often. But the very root of his temptation, he knew, was the simple fact that he held some respect for this Councillor. She had made herself the champion of the Altereds, against stiff opposition. But the fact that she knew it was him that night was highly unsettling.

Jim sighed. "All right. Count me in." He was surprised to see her smile, but it was somehow an enigmatic expression. "I'll come to the house tomorrow." He stood and prepared to jump down from his chair.

"Um- Mr. Leary? There's one more thing." Now she seemed almost embarrassed. "All of my employees swear an oath of allegiance."

Jim looked at her and shrugged. Why not? Oaths held power in a court, but, being who and what he was, he would be dead long before he ever saw the inside of a courthouse. Reaching across the table he laid his hand over hers and quickly repeated the necessary words. It was somehow both more and less than just a legal ceremony.

City towers scrolled by the car's darkened window as Julee kicked off her shoes with a sigh. She did not notice the steady rumble of the billowing air that held the hovercar aloft; she had ridden in hovercraft all her life. But she did hear the sound of Jim's fur against the leather seats as the tip of his tail twitched with inner disquiet.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes going to the windows and the view beyond, seeking an unnamed danger. They were on their way home from the latest in a long series of Council sessions where Julee continued to argue strenuously for the creation of a council seat to represent Altereds. She was making slow headway against Councillor Tanaki's purist thinking.

"Bad feeling." Jim did not look at her. His eyes continued to roam the streetsides visible through the bulletproof plastic of her private car. He could see the top of their driver's head over the back of his seat, and a portion of the snub-nosed automatic rifle mounted on the dash. Yeng was a good man, but not as familiar with the Councillor's car as Jim might have wished. Ned Chang, the regular driver had come in so sick that morning that Jim had ordered him back to bed, and Yeng was the best he could find to fill in. They were sandwiched between two armored cruisers, each carrying three guards, but that didn't provide more than basic security. The convoy followed the route Jim had chosen only the night before through San Louis' crowded riverfront district, and through the buildings he caught brief glimpses of the Mississippi off to his right.

Any information can be bought, Jim reminded himself, especially here in the capitol. He found himself searching his knowledge of the city, trying to guess where an attack might come from.

"Is this where you would have picked, if Tanaki had hired you to kill me?" Julee asked curiously.

Jim froze, blindsided by the blunt question. Most people were far more discreet when they discussed his profession. He managed to swallow his surprise, grateful once again that his face carried little expression.

He wasn't sure why he answered with the truth. "No. I'd probably hit the house." The "again" that belonged on the end of the sentence was left unvoiced. "You don't know for certain that it's Tanaki," he added as an afterthought.

"Of course I do," she snapped. "First he tried to bribe me to change my vote. Then he threatened me. Now he's trying to make good on his threats."

Jim had no chance to respond. His only indication of trouble was the squeal of old rubber tires on pavement as a sporty silver landcar sped down an access ramp and slewed across the lanes toward them. Jim grabbed Julee's shoulders and forced her down on the seat, below the level of the windows. He held her there as their car swerved violently. They felt the change as they crossed over the grass median, and dove into the midst of oncoming traffic on the other side of the highway. Proximity alarms blared all around them, then were drowned out by thunder as the silver landcar exploded. The force of the blast tipped their car over on its side, tumbling the two passengers in the rear compartment like rag dolls.

When Jim's vision cleared and the ringing in his ears dropped to a sufferable level, he raised his head to look around. The car had somehow ended right-side up. Black smoke billowed around it, searing his eyes and nose with acrid grit. He and Julee were wedged together in the floorboard. She held onto him with a deathgrip, fingers knotted painfully into his short fur. A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth where her lip had split, but her eyes were open.

Heart pounding, Jim urged her up onto the seat with a caution to stay down. Julee released him with a spasmodic jerk, then obeyed. A fleeting expression of revulsion crossed her face. Cold inside from more than fear, Jim climbed to his feet and peered through the broken window into the smoke. He could see figures moving beyond the heat shimmer but couldn't identify them. The sudden rattle of automatic gunfire decided him.

"Can you run?" he asked Julee.

She nodded uncertainly. "I think so."

"Good, then stay low and don't stop until I tell you to. Head for that building." He pointed to a tower whose side could be seen rising above the smoke. "I'll follow you." He studied the tower a moment more, wondering if that was where the landcar had been controlled from. If it hadn't been a kamikaze hit. Which it might easily have been, with a Councillor as the target.

At his command, Julee took off across the highway, doing a credible sprint in her stocking clad feet. Jim followed at her heels, nipping at her thigh to urge her on as bullets scored the pavement beside them. He got an impression of wrecked and burning cars, with several men using them as cover from which to snipe at each other. He could not guess who was alive and who was dead from among the Councillor's staff, nor how many of their attackers might remain.

They reached the edge of the highway and Jim guided his charge down among the smaller streets that ran between the buildings. The sooner they lost themselves, the sooner they would lose the men that pursued them, Jim thought, though he knew the area well. He had seen two figures following them, for certain.

Julee's breath was coming in ragged gasps. She had barely slowed, but he knew that she would have to stop soon. They turned onto a new street and Jim spied what he had been looking for. Cracked cement stairs led down below street level, into a basement that had been the foundation of a building that was built before the Japanese conquest. A new building had been raised on the site, on top of the old basement. It would give them a shortcut over to the next street, and perhaps confuse their pursuers. The basement was dark, but Jim's eyes used light far more efficiently than a normal human. He guided Julee through the fallen supports and tumbled bricks with nudges and an occasional growled word. They emerged on the street, apparently without company. Jim turned them back toward the river. There were some high-class restaurants in that direction. The Councillor's face would get them in, he reasoned, and the establishment security would keep them safe until her people could pick them up.

They reached the Tea Room just as their pursuers found them again. But it was too late. Julee spoke a quick word to the maitre'd and they were in. Jim watched the men on the street fade away and sighed in relief. He was shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his system, but forced his body to move normally.

Every eye followed them as they made their way to a table near the back of the restaurant. It was in unspoken accord that they took a table against the wall. Jim felt the stares boring into him. They were covert stares, for this crowd was too polite to stare openly, but Jim felt the stigma just as sharply. He was different. They looked at him and saw an animal, not a man.

Waiters brought saki, and a cloth to wipe the blood from Julee's mouth. Conversations began to pick up around them. Jim tried to ignore the eyes as he sipped his saki. The maitre'd had already made the call to Julee's estate so they had nothing to do but wait. They did so in silence.

Julee looked up with a small start as Jim and another man entered the office.

"Have you found something?" she asked.

Jim hopped up into the chair that was pulled up against the far side of the desk. He carried a rolled sheaf of papers gently in his mouth, which he dropped onto the chair seat before answering. "Maybe. Dan, tell her what you found out."

Dan Erickson was a tall, sandy-haired man with a permanently mournful expression. His dislike for his boss was apparent in every line of his body, but he was loyal to the Councillor, so he made the effort to ignore it.

"The car was driven by a Mr. Rani Nataru, age 42. He has been a member of Councillor Tanaki's house staff for eighteen years."

Julee's eyebrows rose. "That's not something?"

Jim tipped his head to the side in a gesture equivalent to a shrug. "Not really."

"Tanaki is claiming that Nataru was acting completely on his own." Dan added. "And he has some evidence...- a tape of a conversation that took place in Tanaki's suite at the Capitol building. There's no way to know if it was a setup, of course, but I'd guess so. Either that, or he got lucky."

Julee tapped a fingernail against the glossy wood of the desk. "Well, no help there. Are you still tracing the car?" The question was directed at Jim.

"And the explosives," he answered, "but that'll take a few days, at least."

Julee nodded. "I understand. Thank you, gentlemen."

At a pointed glance from Jim, Dan scowled and left. Jim picked up the sheaf of papers and laid them out flat on the desk. The logo at the top indicated that they were printouts from one of the less reputable news services.

"I thought you might want to see this." His tone was studiously neutral.

"See what?" Julee picked up the papers and read the headline: "Councillor Aston and Altered Lover Exposed." Beneath the caption was a picture of the two of them at the Tea Room.

"Wonderful. More fuel to add to Tanaki's fire." Julee tossed the sheets back onto the desk with a wordless expression of disgust and leaned back in her chair. "Now he's going to use this to try to convince the Council that I'm...-" She broke off, uncertain how to finish.

"A pervert?" Jim supplied.

"No!" Julee straightened abruptly. "That's not what I meant."

"But it is what you were thinking." Bitterness pooled in the pit of his stomach. "Admit it, Councillor."

Julee said nothing, her lips pressed together in a thin white line, but her eyes snapped dangerously. The tips of Jim's long canines showed white against his black fur as he met the Councillor's stare. Eventually, she looked away.

"Let me know when you learn something new, Mr. Leary." Julee's voice was faint and her eyes distant when she looked back at him.

Jim jumped down from the chair and padded to the door. As it slid aside, he paused and turned.

"Goodnight, Councillor." The subtle mockery in his words echoed old memories and hollow promises. He had lived with them all his life. No matter what people said, they always hated down deep, always feared.

He turned again and left before Julee had a chance to reply.

Jim perched on the edge of the massive work table, silent and unmoving. He had come in his usual way (which changed every time), and waited patiently for the man across the room to notice him. Had he possessed facial expression, a small, mischievous smile would have played about his lips.

The man finally located the part he was looking for amid the neat trays that lined the far wall and turned, only to do a violent doubletake and nearly drop the intricate metal thing he was holding.

"Leary! Don' do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack, man."

"`Lo Snake." Jim held out a lightly clenched fist, claws retracted, and Snake tapped his knuckles with a similar fist, grinning. That grin was a sight to see, Jim thought with a private chuckle. Snake only had two teeth...- long curved fangs that hung out of his mouth. Those, and the colored scales that covered his body in geometric patterns, gave Snake his name.

"You ain't been `round much lately," Snake said. The words were a bit slurred because of the overhanging teeth, but understandable enough. Poison sacks on either side of Snake's neck pulsed rhythmically. That was one reason Snake didn't get much trouble. The other was his size. Even Jim would hesitate before taking him on. The man was built like a tree. Jim guessed that his ancestors must have been Negroid: his face had that general cast, though it was almost lost amid the strangeness. Snake was among the most highly Altered, like Jim himself.

"Been busy." Jim walked across the table, picking his way with dainty steps through the clutter, to examine the mass of plastic and wires that Snake was working on. His nose was assailed by the tangy scents of cold-bonding glue, plastic, and carbon composite, and the musty smell of plastique. He found a clear space and sat down. From the pouch at his waist he drew a burned, melted tangle and held it out to Snake.

"This your work?"

Snake took the mess and poked at it, holding it under the magnifying lamp that hung drunkenly over his workspace.

"Yeah, it's mine. How'd ya know?"

Jim shrugged. "Fancy detonator. You and Coleman are the only ones that do that kind of stuff locally."

Snake tossed the burnt detonator onto the table. "So what about it?"

Jim laid several colorful bills down next to it. "Who'd you make it for?"

Snake fingered the bills. Then he snorted and picked them up. "Some suit."

"Did he give you a name?"

"Course not. Paid in cash, though. No credit transfer."

"What did he look like?" Jim picked up the detonator and put it back in his carry pouch.

Snake shrugged. "Pretty tall. Lots of americana in'm. Brown hair, black eyes."

"Is he the one that made the pickup?"

"Na. Little Japanese guy."

Jim dug back into his pouch and brought out a picture of Nataru. "This him?"

Snake glanced at it and nodded. "That's him."

Jim shifted positions with care, trying to ease the ache in his hips. He was lying prone on the metal bar that supported one of a row of lights that illuminated Julee Aston on the stage below him. It was the best vantage point he could find in the small auditorium, allowing him to keep the Councillor in view at all times, as well as see into both wings and out into the audience. But it was a precarious perch.

The Councillor was speaking to a group of students at Washington University and Jim was nervous. Public addresses were scheduled months in advance, and gave an assassin plenty of time to prepare. Not that it mattered, really. Tanaki's people could only have had twelve hours notice, at most, for that last attempt, and they'd nearly succeeded. The timing on that one still bothered him, though in the month since, he had not been able to find anything concrete with which to back his instincts.

Julee's voice interrupted his thoughts and he focused on her for a moment. The powerful lights brought out blue highlights from her raven hair and made the silk of her dress shimmer.

"How long, ladies and gentlemen, will we make the children pay for the sins of the parents?" she asked the audience. "How long will we condemn the Altered to be less than citizens? Are they inferior to us? No, they are not. They have minds and feelings just like yours or mine.

"Are they different?" She paused, considering. "Yes, they're different. But is that bad? I'm sure your grandmothers will tell you that they're cursed by the gods, or some such nonsense. That's what my grandmother used to tell me. But you and I know better.

"We know that the Altereds that we see today are the unfortunate descendants of men and women who perverted nature. They tried to be gods, playing with things they had no right to alter. But that was two-hundred years ago. And the DNA codes that those careless men and women broke, we still cannot mend.

"Is that the fault of the children? They did not choose to be what they are. No." Her voice died to a bare murmur, so that everyone in the auditorium strained to hear.

"It is our fault, ladies and gentlemen. Ours. It was people just like you and I that allowed the Alterations to happen."

Jim shook his head and tried to regain his bearings. He made a quick sweep of the auditorium and stage, amazed at how entranced he had been by the Councillor's words. But they were words he desperately wanted to hear. He was almost willing not to care whether she truly meant what she said, just to hear it. Almost. A cold, cynical voice deep inside reminded him of her reaction when they had been pressed against each other on the floor of her car.

"Got a possibility, boss." The voice was fed to Jim by a tiny microphone clipped to the edge of one triangular ear. That was Tony. Of all of the Councillor's employees, Tony was the only one who really didn't seem to care that Jim walked on four legs and had fur. But Tony's eyes were a pale shade of lavender, without irises. He understood the stigma.

"Where?" Another microphone was attached to a collar around Jim's neck. His eyes scanned the auditorium below him.

"Out in the hall right now. Heading backstage. He's a tall man, mid thirties, wearing a brown leather jacket with fur trim."

"Thanks Tony. Seal off the backstage area." The last was a command directed to all of the Councillor's guards who were linked to him via radio. "Bull, Erickson, cut him off."

Jim watched the two men move forward to intercept the visitor who was not yet visible to Jim because of a curtained wall that hung in the way. The man rounded the corner at a casual stroll and stopped when he saw the Councillor's guards. Alarms went off in Jim's head. The man below him was named Derek Van der Voehnn. He was a walking funeral. Jim had only met him once, years before, when they'd both been hired for the same hit by different parties.

The alarm bells kept ringing. This wasn't Van der Voehnn's style. He was a sharpshooter. He'd never walk backstage for a close up. And he'd certainly never let himself be stopped by a couple of bodyguards.

Jim whipped around, searching frantically for Julee. She still stood at the podium, oblivious to all but her audience. Jim's motion sensitive eyes searched the room. The audience watched her in rapt silence as she drew the speech to a close, save for one small shadowed figure in the second row that rose to its feet and raised a hand to shoulder height, arm outstretched. Jim didn't wait to see the gun...- he leapt from his perch, crashing into the Councillor and carrying her to the ground behind the podium. The gunshot was thunderous in the still quiet room.

Pandemonium broke out as Jim yelled instructions through the microphone at his throat.

Julee groaned and shook her head dizzily as Jim staggered to his feet and peered around the edge of the podium. The assassin had her back turned (Jim was almost certain it was a woman), and was pushing her way through the panicked crowd toward the doors at the back of the auditorium. She hadn't gotten very far yet. Jim launched himself at the retreating form, claws gouging the polished wood floor of the stage as he scrabbled for purchase. Alerted to his approach somehow, the woman turned just as he leapt off the edge of the stage. Her eyes widened and she squeezed off an instinctive shot before he plowed into her. They tumbled to the floor in a tangle of limbs, taking several others down with them in the press of bodies. Jim knocked the gun out of her hand with a swipe of a paw, leaving bloody welts. She yelped in pain, but didn't try to fight when she felt the prick of the other set of claws at her throat.

"How do you feel?" Julee asked as the house physician finished the last stitch. The bullet had sliced through the top of Jim's shoulder, leaving a bloody, but not serious, gash. He was lying on the velour couch in Julee's office, chin on paw, with the nap of the fabric tickling his nose.

"As good as I look, no doubt," he answered. "You?" A fair-sized bruise was beginning to spread across her cheek. She grinned and winced as the gesture stretched abused tissues.

"About the same." She cradled her left arm protectively. She would be sore for a long time, though she hadn't done any real damage. "We had to turn the assassin over to the police. The Council demanded it."

"Meaning Tanaki."

"Who else?"

The doctor interrupted to give Jim some final instructions and a sheet of pain tabs. Silence fell behind him as he left the room.

Jim sighed and allowed his eyes to sag shut. "What about Van der Voehnn?"

"Who?" She was startled.

Jim lifted his head and turned to look at her. "The man backstage."

At her blank look he said, "Is Dan still around? I need to talk to him."

"I'll see." Julee climbed stiffly to her feet and left the room. She glanced over her shoulder at Jim as she did, a puzzled expression on her face.

Jim dozed until the door hissed open and Dan Erickson walked in, with Julee on his heels. "The Councillor said you wanted to see me."

"Yeah." Jim shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "What happened to Van der Voehnn?"

Dan looked over at Julee, who did not return the gaze. "We let him go."

"You what?"

"We didn't have any reason to keep him. He said he was looking for you." His tone was vaguely accusing.

Jim digested that in surprise, and some alarm. "Strange time for him to come looking," he growled. Dan shrugged.

"All right. That's what I wanted to know." Jim laid his head back down, too tired to fight the other man's obstinacy. After a moment, Dan took the hint and left.

Julee resumed her seat on the floor next to the couch. "Who's Van der Voehnn?"

"An assassin. One of the best."

"Oh." She did not sound terribly alarmed.

"You should be more concerned, Councillor. He's very good." Jim raised his head to look directly into her eyes. But whatever expression was there remained closely guarded. He snorted in private disgust and dug one of the bright red pain tabs out of its plastic bubble. The pill wouldn't take effect for another ten minutes, but that was all right. He could wait a little longer. He laid his head back down and closed his eyes. He hurt too much to think.

"Hey, boss. Wake up." Tony's round face swam into view as Jim blinked and moaned. He was a mass of pain, and the bright morning sun streaming through the windows did not help his temperament.

"What is it?" He rolled onto his stomach, rubbing at the sleep that matted the inner corners of his eyes.

"The Councillor said it'd be all right to wake you. I think I've got a line on the guy that paid for the explosives."

Jim sat up with interest. "Go on."

Tony produced a photo and handed it to Jim. "Name's Eddie Blake. He's done freelance for Tanaki before."

Jim took the picture and studied it. "I'll see what my friend thinks."

Unfortunately, Snake wasn't home. Jim grumbled to himself, shoulder already aching from the long walk. But he wasn't willing to give away the lab's location to Julee's staff, so he took to the afternoon shadows, limping and muttering. There was one other thing he wanted to check out.

Carylon's was almost empty at that time of day, seeming stale and somehow sterile without the mass of flesh that rippled and gyrated across the floor during the hours of darkness. The band was onstage, practicing, and Jim winced at the squeal of electronic pipes.

Jim nodded to the guy behind the bar and headed backstage. He was a familiar sight at Carylon's, though not as much so recently. He padded past cracked cement walls and felt the chill of the floor through the soft pads on his feet. The air smelled of old smoke and old sweat, alcohol and urine, and beneath it all, the scent of human sensuality that only Jim's sensitive nose could pick up. It was a familiar smell, comforting simply because he had known it all his life. Here, he knew the rules, and knew his place.

He scratched lightly on Carylon's door, taking care not to mar the plastic. She called for him to enter and he did. She sat crosslegged on the bed, shimmering material cascading around her and an intense look of concentration on her delicate face as she repaired the tear in one of her costumes. The club was hers, but she had made herself poor to buy it. Jim wasn't certain whether he thought that was a wise move or not.

"Well, you haven't been around much lately." She set the pile of fabric aside, clearing a space for him.

"I need to ask a favor." He leapt up beside her. The small welcoming smile died, and he wondered if things had gone bad for her.

"What kind?"

"I need to arrange a meet. Here, preferably."

"Everybody walks away?" Her gaze was skeptical.

"It's not a hit." He knew better than that. The one time he'd tried to use her club, he'd paid dearly for it, friends or no.

Carylon thought a moment, then shrugged. "Okay."

Jim leaned across her to punch a button on the phone. He entered a number and spoke briefly to the man who answered.

"How long `til you get an answer?" Carylon dragged long, painted fingernails along the line of his jaw as he cut the connection. Jim looked into her hazel eyes once before closing his eyes and submitting, almost involuntarily, to the caress. He still didn't know why she liked him, except that she seemed to have a thing for Altereds. He never asked. And, most of the time, it didn't matter, anyway.

Derek Van der Voehnn wove his way deftly through the writhing crowd towards the small side table Jim had claimed. Jim had been honestly surprised when he agreed to the meeting, and now had the disturbing feeling that he didn't quite know everything that was going on.

Van der Voehnn dropped gracelessly into an empty chair and folded his fingers together on the table before him. He seemed, to Jim, to be built entirely of angles, with skin thrown over his frame only as an afterthought. But his eyes were keen and belied the air of gangly adolescence that surrounded him.

He was grinning. "I'll bet you want to know what I was doing at Councillor Aston's speech, right?"

Jim nodded. "That'd be a good place to start." He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, not knowing how Van der Voehnn would interpret it. This wasn't the tack he'd expected the man to take. It made him nervous.

"It was a coincidence, you know. That I was there when the hit went down. I really was looking for you. You're a hard man to find, sometimes." His tongue tripped over the word "man," as if he considered for a moment using a different one.

Jim tried to ignore it. "I'm listening."

Van der Voehnn's lips quirked in a smile. He seemed genuinely entertained by Jim's skepticism. "Well, this one's a freebie, since I got the better end of the deal the last time." Van der Voehnn had gotten the hit, and the money, and Jim had nearly gotten killed because of the confusion. It wasn't a memory Jim cherished. But now he was definitely interested.

Van der Voehnn must have read it in him. His smile widened, then disappeared. "I just thought you might like to know that Councillor Aston tried to hire me for a job about six months ago." That would put it approximately two and a half months before Jim had started working for her.

"Who was the mark?"

"You, of course." He grinned again, enjoying Jim's sudden shock. "I turned it down. Too much work for the money. I don't know if she made the offer to anyone else, but the answer would've been the same, probably. At least for the professionals. Since you're spending so much time with the lady, I figured you deserved a warning."

"Yeah, thanks." Jim felt like he'd just been hit with a baseball bat. Stunned and disoriented. "You didn't exactly rush to tell me this," he added, as soon as he recovered his wits.

Van der Voehnn shrugged. "Didn't know you were working for Aston until a few weeks ago. And I didn't really want to let the Councillor know that I'd talked to you. Could be bad for my health, y'know? I just picked a bad time." He stood, though perhaps unfolded might be a better word, Jim thought, and left without another word. The abrupt departure was the perfect ending to the disturbing conversation, chilling Jim to the bone.

"Are you planning to ignore me again today, Mr. Leary?" Julee's voice was sharp, annoyed.

Jim glanced at her and growled. It had not been a good few days. Snake had identified the man who had purchased the explosives as Eddie Blake, the freelancer that worked for Tanaki. That was no surprise, really. Now Jim was left with the task of confronting Blake, except that he didn't quite know how to go about it. Somewhere, there was a traitor on the Councillor's staff, but he didn't know where to look, didn't know who he could trust. And to top it off, the Councillor herself had suddenly become an enemy, at least in his eyes. All of which left him in a very sour mood. Part of him wanted to simply cut his losses and leave before he got himself killed, but he found that he couldn't, because he had sworn an oath of allegiance and couldn't betray it until he knew for sure.

Well, at least he could do something about Blake, though it wasn't a particularly inspired idea. Ignoring the black eyes that remained on him, he unfolded the portable phone in his hands and punched a number. Dan Erickson answered.

"Go ahead and pick up Blake," Jim told him.

"Right." Dan cut the connection. He was hardly friendly, Jim mused, but his original hostility had faded. It was an unaccustomed relief.

Dan and two others brought Eddie Blake to the estate in less than an hour. They had kept surveillance on him since they'd learned his name, but Jim hadn't wanted to rush into anything unless Blake tried to leave suddenly. Letting him roam free hadn't helped, to Jim's disappointment. The man had kept mostly to himself, except to make a nightly foray into the crowded jumble of people and lights that filled the bars along the streets of the Dug. He had even spent part of an evening at Carylon's.

Blake was an addict. The glaze of Silverdust was in his eyes, and his clothes reeked from the smoke. Jim observed from behind a pane of one-way glass while Dan and a man named Chow Fong tossed questions and threats at the hapless Blake. It wasn't a very productive session: Yes, he'd contacted Snake, no, he didn't know who the blast was meant for until after the fact. Tanaki had hired him in person and paid in cash, like always. No, he didn't know if there was another hit planned... nobody had contacted him for anything.

Eventually, Jim turned him loose. He was fairly certain the man was too much of a coward to have hidden anything important from them. Then he spent a long time pacing the length of the estate's formal living room, past the empty fireplace, while he thought.

The woman shooter had turned up dead, not three hours after the police put her in a cell at the Justiary. Tony had brought him the news while they were questioning Blake. He cursed again the politics that had kept them from being able to talk to her, and himself, for not pushing her before the police arrived.

Julee Aston entered the room with a muted swish of her long skirt over the plush, cream-colored carpeting. She held a glass of brandy in either hand as she came over and settled into a corner of the long couch, her skirt a splash of bright color against its paleness. The coffee table in front of her was carved from some black stone, with a single gray flaw staggering artfully across the polished surface. She set Oone of the brandies on the table's edge nearest the place where Jim paced. It clinked loudly in the otherwise silent room. The other she sipped with the bowl cupped in both hands. Jim paused in his pacing, watching her. With her toes tucked up under her on the couch seat and her long hair spilling about her shoulders, she had an oddly childish air, and he remembered the wide, terrified eyes that had followed him through the darkness of her bedroom that night so long ago.

"So what did I do to make you so angry?" she asked him, her gaze boring steadily and calmly into his above the rim of her glass. Again he was struck by how little of that child remained in her eyes.

"Does it matter?" The tip of his tail twitched spasmodically from side to side.

"Of course it does." She set her glass down and folded her arms across her stomach. "The next time someone tries to kill me, I don't want you hesitating because I did something that angered you." A small, wry smile accompanied her words.

Jim sat down where he was and curled his tail around his body. The tip of that tail, which he could not control, thumped against the floor in time to his thoughts.

"You tried to hire Van der Voehnn to kill me."

Surprise flickered across her face for a moment, then she sighed. "I was afraid you were going to find out about that." She reached out and took another sip of brandy.

"Is there an active contract?"

"No," she answered without looking up from her glass.

Jim wasn't certain why he believed her, but he did. He didn't often get suckered by beautiful women, and hoped that he wasn't making that mistake now. Julee Aston was far to dangerous to misjudge.

After a prolonged silence, Julee spoke. "I hated you for a very long time," she said softly. Her eyes touched his briefly, then shied away. "No one believed me when I told them about you, and for a while I wondered if maybe I hadn't made it all up, or dreamed it, maybe."

"When I reached majority and gained control of the estate, I decided that I had to find out." A cynical expression touched her small features. "You should be flattered. I spent a lot of money trying to find you. But I didn't have any luck. Not for years."

She fell silent once again, and Jim wisely said nothing. He wasn't certain what he could say.

Julee drained the last of her drink. "I did finally find proof that you existed, just about the time Tanaki made the first attempt on my life. At first, all I wanted was to make sure you died. That's when I talked to Mr. Van der Voehnn. When he refused, I gotÉscared. I wondered if Tanaki might hire you." Jim found himself staring into the dark pools of her eyes and saw fear twisting beneath their calm surface. "I knew you could do it. So I figured I'd hire you first."

"Why didn't you have me, or Van der Voehnn, for that matter, hit Tanaki?" Jim was acutely aware of just how openly he was speaking. If there were a microphone in the room, he was dead. But he felt compelled to say the words anyway.

Julee's eyes flared wide with surprise, as if she had never considered it. And she probably hadn't, Jim reflected sourly, at least not seriously. She didn't hate Tanaki... she only wanted to defeat him in the political arena. Their enmity was purely business.

Jim read the truth in her expression and shook his head in disgust. "You've got a screwed set of standards, lady." He watched anger darken her face. "What I did to your father is exactly what Tanaki is trying to do to you now. There's not a bit of difference."

"No." She was biting her lip, trying to control the rampage of her emotions. "It's not the same."

"Why not?" Jim knew he was hurting her, driving the nails of truth into her heart without regard for the wounds they would inflict. But his own anger spurred him. He wanted to hear the words... the real, underlying truth.

He came forward and leapt up on the couch. "Why not?" He flung the question at her again, at the face she had turned away from him. "What makes me different from Tanaki?"

"He... he was my father," she whispered.

"And your own life isn't as dear to you as his was?" Jim's gravelly voice was scathing.

A sob broke through the mask of her face, and she covered it with her hands, trembling. She had finally seen the truth of why she hated Jim so passionately, and even the real reason that she was compelled to assuage that subconscious guilt by championing the Altereds in Council. Bitter tears leaked from between her fingers.

"Get away from me," she ordered in a broken whisper. When he did not move, she looked up at him, her eyes full of agonized fury. "Get away from me!" Her voice still did not rise above a hoarse whisper.

"Why? So you can forget all about me and go on living your lie? You have no idea what it really means to be Altered." Jim already knew that the victory he had won was an empty one: he could feel the bitter echoes in his own heart. But the weight of the years, the pain and anger, were boiling out of him, and he could not stop himself.

Julee turned away from him, but he knew that she listened as he described, in every ugly detail, what it meant to be Altered. The memories he had tried so long to bury rose up again: staggering through the streets in the rain, a starved, freezing kitten whose mother had thrown him out when he was barely four months old because she could no longer bear the sight of the child she had borne. Instinct had kept him alive until his human brain could develop... the hunter's instinct that let him catch roaches and beetles, and a keen nose that found the edible bits in the garbage that sat, stinking, in the alleyways. He remembered being driven away with kicks and curses from every place he had tried to take shelter in, either because they thought he was an animal or because he frightened the customers away. He remembered the government child custody house he was put in for a while. The stern nurses had given him decent food and a warm place to sleep, and even taught him the basics of reading and writing before the fear and loathing behind their eyes drove him out into the streets once again. He remembered being caught and beaten by the neighborhood gangs while he was still too small for his teeth and claws to be much defense, and he remembered turning tricks for the truly perverse, in exchange for a meal and a place to sleep for the night.

When he had grown old enough, and strong enough, to hold his own on the street, he had found it sweetly satisfying to repay the gangs, the barmen and their bouncers, and anyone else who tried to hurt him, with teeth and claws. When the first offer had come to pay him to do what he was already doing, he hadn't thought twice about it. Eventually the money had gotten him off the street, given him comfort, women, even an education of sorts. He did not regret it.

When he finished speaking, Julee was staring at the fingers clasped together in her lap, struggling to deny the truth of what he said. She had winced at every description of brutality he had thrown at her, but had not interrupted. Jim felt exhausted, drained. He had never exposed so much of himself to anyone and wondered why, of all people, he had done so to this one. It frightened him in a way he could not describe.

Eventually Julee looked up at him. A wan smile peeked from beneath her tears. "We should form a club. Call it the Mutual Hate Society."

Surprised, Jim smiled back. He wasn't sure why, but he found the joke humorous.

They remained that way for several minutes, wrapped in the silence of the late hour. Jim could hear the tread of the security guards elsewhere in the house as they made their rounds, and the sigh of the wind in the trees outside the window. The breeze that came to him was filled with the smells of damp earth and of the rain that would fall later that night. He noticed consciously for the first time that there were no lilacs.

Julee rose in a whisper of silk. She was almost to the arched doorway that led to the stairs before she turned. "Goodnight, Jim Leary."

He could not read the expression in her voice. "Goodnight," he answered.

She left then, and Jim followed her with his ears as she made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. A few moments later he, too, left to seek his bed.

"Three days left until the vote." Julee closed up the keyboard on her desk and folded her arms over it. "Do you think Tanaki will still try something?"

Jim shrugged. "Probably. The odds are getting long that you'll survive another attempt. Four is pretty impressive already."

"Thank you so much for the analysis, Mr. Expert. I really didn't want to hear that."

Jim grinned at her, showing a row of sharp teeth. The sarcasm had been playful rather than biting. In unspoken accord they did not mention their midnight conversation, but somehow it had shattered the formality of their relationship. Not that they were taking long walks in the garden together, or even working on a first name basis, but something had changed. Jim wasn't quite certain whether he liked it.

"I was trying to point out why I don't like the idea of you leaving the estate," he said.

"I know. But this meeting is too important to miss. An equal trade agreement with Hyundai/Hwang would open some big doors for us back in Japan. Tanaki surely wouldn't try to hit me there... it's bad form."

Jim sighed, defeated. "Well, the security's as tight as I can make it."

"Good." The portable phone Jim habitually carried with him rang before she could add anything else. Jim unfolded it and listened to the frantic voice on the other end.

"Sit tight and I'll meet you there," he said and closed the phone down.

Julee lifted an eyebrow curiously.

"Either Eddie Blake is having a really bad trip, or he's scared enough to want to sell us some information," Jim said as he jumped down from his chair. "He didn't know anything a week ago, so maybe he's learned something important. He's convinced Tanaki tried to off him.

"I'm going to meet him. It shouldn't take long to find out if he's running a game. So don't leave the estate until I get back."

She nodded and threw him a mock salute. "Take care."

He found Blake exactly where he said he'd be, holed up in a smelly dive of a motel down in the Central West End. Blake had an old 12-gauge shotgun across his knees, and to Jim he looked very frightened, and very straight. Jim had spent twenty minutes watching the building, the room, and the man. If there was a trap, he couldn't spot it.

"So what's the word?" he asked Blake while he surveyed the room from his momentary perch on the window sill.

Blake tightened his grip on the shotgun. "Here's the deal: you give me a plane ticket out of the colony, a little spending money, and enough protection to keep me alive to enjoy it, and I give you the name of the guy that's selling your Councillor out to Tanaki." His gaze darted nervously about the room.

Jim considered him. "How do I know you've got the right name?"

Despair flickered in Blake's eyes. "C'mon, man! They killed Isabella. She was one of Tanaki's regulars and she knew a lot about what he was doing. Maybe she even helped recruit this guy." Isabella was the woman who had shot at Julee Aston during her lecture.

"So why not you? That was almost two weeks ago."

"Man, `cause I didn't know anything!" Blake was squirming like a restless child. "That's the way it's always been. Tanaki pays good, tells me what to do, and I don't ask questions. I don't wanna know. But this time, I went up to the big house to pick up the rest of my money for another job... it didn't have anything to do with Councillor Aston... and I got there at the same time this guy did. It took me a minute to figure out who he was. I've seen him on the viewer a few times when the Councillor was on. So then I split. I figured if Tanaki'd kill Isabella, he'd sure kill me if he thought I knew about the guy."

Jim thought it over. The story was plausible, and even convincing. "All right," he finally said. "I'm willing to buy. Who is it?"

Blake shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Not until I'm someplace safe."

"Will the Aston estate do? It'll take a while to arrange a flight and your money." Jim was beginning to wish Blake was as dumb as he looked.

Blake nodded, and they left through the window and down the fire escape. Jim didn't want to take any chances while the hairs on his neck were bristling with unknown danger.

They reached the estate without incident. Jim took Blake to the basement and locked him into one of the holding cells that had been built there. No one saw Blake, as Jim had intended.

"I can't exactly let you roam about the estate," he explained to Blake when they reached the cell. "This isn't the nicest of accommodations, but it will keep you safe and out of trouble until I get back."

Blake submitted with the air of a doomed man. He had pretty much sold himself, and knew it.

"Now I want a name." Jim had kept his part of the bargain, and Blake was not in much of a position to argue.

"I don't actually know his name. He drives the Councillor's car. Short little guy that's got no hair."

Jim clamped his jaw shut on his surprise. Ned? But as he thought about it, it made sense. Ned had access to the gate key, and the first assassin had come in through the gate. Security had found the gate shorted, but that could be arranged from inside as well as out, and after the fact as easily as before. And Ned had been sick the morning that the car bomb had nearly taken them out. Jim himself had sent the man home, as he did anyone who was not operating at their peak. It had never occurred to him that the symptoms could have been faked.

With a rush of adrenaline, he realized that the Councillor's car had not been in it's spot when he had brought Blake in. He wasn't sure what time it was, but knew it couldn't be too late. He growled deep in his throat, unconsciously voicing his anger. The woman had left despite his orders! And Ned was driving her.

Jim locked Blake into his cell and then sprinted up the stairs, cursing as the half-healed wound in his shoulder lanced him with pain. He yelled for his staff as soon as he was out of the basement and explained the situation in a few terse sentences when they came at a run. They were in a car and heading out through the gate within two minutes, which pleased Jim in an unoccupied corner of his mind. The helo crew was also alerted, but it would be a few minutes more before they could get airborne.

Jim caught up the phone and dialed the Councillor's private number. The phone rang twice, then Julee's voice came to him from the other end, "Hello?"

"Hello, Councillor," Jim replied. "This is a friendly conversation. Smile and nod, and pretend you're talking to one of your ladyfriends."

"What's going on?" Her voice was light, but her sudden concern was clear beneath the false joviality.

"Is the divider up? Can Ned hear you?"

"No, he can't. What's going on?" She was more insistent this time.

"Laugh. Your ladyfriend just told you a joke." On the other end, he could hear her obey. "Now," he continued, "tell me where you are."

A pause. "Fifth and Old 70. Am I in trouble?"

"Yes. Where are your escorts?"

"My car blew out its hoverfan. One of the cars stayed with it and we transferred to the other one. I didn't want to be late."

Jim sucked in his breath. It couldn't have been an accident, could it? He was barely aware of the deep gouges his claws were ripping in the seat as he flexed them in response to the tension that gripped him.

"Who's in the car with you, and where are they?" The armored escorts had two compartments: one in the front that also extended up into a small turret from which a gunner could fire, and a rear compartment buried in the belly.

"Ned's up in front with Dan and Xiao. I'm in the back. What is going on? Wait a minute. We're stopping."

Jim's heart leapt up into his throat. "Where, Councillor? Where are you?"

Another pause as she peered out through the viewing slits. "We're still on Old 70. We must have crossed the bridge: there's nothing here but ruins." There was a note of fear in her voice.

"Put the phone down but don't hang up. Put it on the floor. We'll be there as soon as we can." Then, "Old 70 across the river," he told the driver of his own car.

"Hurry," was all Julee said. Then, distantly, Jim heard the door grate open and a man's voice order her out of the car.

Jim could see the bridge ahead of them, and the blasted landscape of East Louis on the far side. During the war, a targeting mistake had flattened the ghetto of East Louis while leaving San Louis and her military airport virtually unscathed. The drumming of a helo's blades reached Jim above the thunder of the racing hovercar, and he hoped it was theirs.

They arrived in an inevitable cloud of dust and ashes kicked up from beneath the hovercar's skirt, diving out of the car as bullets shattered the windshield and tore holes in the upholstery. It wasn't armored, Jim reminded himself as he tried to pierce the swirling dust. The car began to settle with a whine, and the dust settled with it, as the two men with Jim returned fire.

Ned had taken cover behind the armored escort and was keeping them pinned with devastating accuracy. The shell of a building rose behind him, covering his back. Jim had doubts about how long their own car could continue to shield them as the withering fire slowly shredded it. Ned would have to run out of ammunition before they could do much to him. They weren't about to hit him... he was using the door of the cockpit as a shield and firing through the hinge slit.

Julee Aston was nowhere to be seen. Jim peered around the edge of the open door behind which he crouched, then jerked back as bullets whizzed past his ears, painfully loud.

A new rattle of gunfire, deeper than the tinny sounds of hand weapons, joined the cacophony. The helo was descending, and Jim could see the fire that spit from her guns. The heavy slugs hammered the side of the armored car, rocking it. Ned turned to face this new threat and raised his weapon.

Jim didn't think he'd ever get a better opportunity. The rough ground gave him excellent traction as he bounded across the space that separated the two vehicles and up onto the body of the armored car. The strength and speed that made his ancestors one of the most feared predators in Asia made Jim a dark blur as he leapt from the roof of the car and crashed into Ned Chang. He took him from the side, throwing his greater weight into a twist that brought Ned down beneath him. His claws sank into the man's back and the sweet taste of blood filled his mouth as he clamped powerful jaws around his neck and squeezed.

A flicker of motion at the corner of his eye brought his head around with a snap. Julee Aston stared at him in a mixture of shock and horror from beneath the car where she had taken refuge when the firefight began. Her eyes were huge against the pale skin of her face. It was the child's face, exactly as he had seen it twenty years before.

They remained that way for several moments, staring into each others' eyes. The understanding that passed between them ran too deep for words. Then Julee broke the contact and looked around.

"Is it safe to come out?" She asked. The gunfire had stilled, and only the sound of the hovering helo filled the air.

Jim nodded. Uncertain, he offered her his hand despite the blood that covered it. After a moment, she took it, and let him pull her out from underneath the car.

Four days later, Jim found himself once more sitting across from Julee Aston in the familiar environs of her study. A man occupied a third chair. He was, Jim had to admit, one of the most handsome men he had ever seen, with the perfect features of a Greek god. His hair fell in waves of burnt gold to his shoulders, and he had the lean, muscular build of a swimmer, easily visible through the loose, sleeveless shirt that he wore. Like the rest of his clothing, the shirt was carefully tailored, and expensive. Everything about him spoke of money and of quality. The only unusual thing about him were the thick folds of brightly colored skin that fell the length of his body from his shoulders and arms. When he raised his arms, they expanded into a beautiful mosaic of butterfly markings, like a spread cape, that stretched from ankles to wrists. And yes, he had answered Jim's question, he could glide formidable distances, provided the winds weren't too rough.

His name was Parker Eddings. And he was now a member of the Council, occupying the newly created Altered seat. Julee's motion had passed by a narrow margin the day before.

Jim was thoroughly curious why she had asked him here.

After the introductions were made, Julee turned to him. "Councillor Eddings asked me to arrange this meeting, so I will leave it to him to say whatever he has planned."

Eddings smiled at the light jab. Then he turned to Jim. "I understand that your employment with Councillor Aston will soon be ending."

Jim nodded, "Yes." Out of the corner of his eye he watched Julee for a reaction, but was disappointed. She had not said anything when he had told her the first time, either.

"Then I would like to offer you a position on my own staff." He held up a hand. "And not just as a bodyguard. You know what it is to be Altered without the advantages I have always enjoyed. I need someone with that perspective if I'm going to do anything truly useful for our people."

He was an incredible orator, this new Councillor, Jim thought. For a moment he was tempted, drawn by the power of the man's personality. Then he shook his head.

"I can't, Councillor."

Eddings watched him for several moments, as if debating whether or not to try to convince him. Eventually he smiled, resigned.

"I was afraid that might be your answer. I hope you'll reconsider." He laid a small card on the desk near Jim. "That has my private number, in case you do."

Jim picked up the card, nodded.

After a few minutes of idle talk with Julee, Councillor Eddings took his leave. To Jim's surprise, he offered him a hand as he was leaving, and Jim could tell that he had not thought twice about the gesture. It was the first time in Jim's memory. He glanced at the man's card again after the door had closed and wondered if he might not take his offer after all.

The stillness in the room brought Jim out of his thoughts. Julee Aston sat behind her desk, chin cupped in her hands, staring at him. It was not a hostile gaze, but Jim could not decipher it beyond that. Surprised to find his heart beating fast, Jim waited for her to break the silence. When she did, it was not with anything he had hoped she'd say.

"I am formally releasing you from your oath, Jim Leary, as of this time. Your employment by the Aston Estate is thereby terminated, without prejudice." The words were formal, as they were required to be, in order to be binding under law.

Jim nodded and said nothing. He didn't know what he could say, or even if he wanted to say anything.

Julee leaned back in her chair. "So this is goodbye?" There was a note of sadness in her voice.

"I guess it is, Councillor."

A ghost of a smile illuminated her features. "Well, it's been an adventure, to use an old cliche."

Jim found himself smiling as well. Then he sobered. "Take care, Councillor." Tucking Eddings card away in his waist pouch, he jumped to the floor and walked toward the door.

"Leary, wait." Julee's voice stopped him before he had taken three steps. He paused and turned.

"This is for you." She came around the desk and handed him a small cream colored envelope. He accepted it curiously.

"Open it later," she added when he turned it over to examine the seal.

"All right," he shrugged, and added it to the contents of his pouch. Then, without further ado, he turned and padded quietly from the room. Julee watched him go, face expressionless.

When he opened the cream colored envelope, Jim found inside a reservation ticket for two for dinner at the Tea Room. It was dated nearly a year in the future, on the first anniversary of the creation of a Council seat for Altereds. Jim grinned to himself and wondered if either of them would show.

Valerie Jones is an engineer, although not currently working in her field, which is the aerospace industry. She loves flying, cats, horses, gardening and computer games. She's been hooked on science fiction ever since her mother read her to sleep with the Dragonriders of Pern novels. She lives in Lawerence, Kansas with her husband and sixteen month old son.