“Stand firm, man,” said JC. “You still have work to do. Scan me. See if you can identify the source of the Light that saved me.”

“You don’t want much,” grumbled Happy. He considered JC thoughtfully for a long moment. “Hmmm . . .”

“What does that mean?” said JC. “Hmmm . . . what?”

“It would appear,” Happy said carefully, “that in the hour of your greatest need, something very high up in the pecking order of the Good reached down from the afterworlds and touched you, briefly, with its power.”

“Then why are you looking so concerned?” said Kim, drifting forward to stand beside JC. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It’s never a good thing when the Outer Forces start taking a direct interest in you,” Happy said grimly. “Unless you want to end up as a conscript foot-soldier in their never-ending war between Light and Dark, Law and Chaos, Good and Evil.”

“Well,” said JC, after a moment, “who knows? Maybe I’m officer material.”

And that was when Natasha Chang and Erik Grossman burst onto the platform, guns blazing. Once again, it was only Happy’s last-moment apprehension of danger that allowed the Institute agents to survive. Natasha’s mental shields were powerful enough to hide both her and Erik’s approach, but the presence of such a strong mental shield was enough to alert Happy’s well-nourished sense of paranoia. He yelled a warning and was actually diving for cover even as Natasha and Erik made their entrance through the archway. JC and Melody were off and moving even as the first bullets were fired.

Kim stayed where she was, lacking both Institute training and self-preservation instincts. She looked confusedly about as bullets punched harmlessly through her ghostly form. Melody threw herself behind a vending machine, produced her machine-pistol from somewhere about her person, and returned fire. Natasha ducked back into the archway and kept up a steady barrage on the vending machine, which jumped and shuddered as bullets slammed into its steel side.

Happy peered out from behind a row of metal seats and hit Erik with a powerful mental probe, freezing him in place. Natasha spotted her partner’s plight immediately but ignored it, concentrating all her mental powers on Melody, to make her miss. Puffs of plaster flew through the air as Melody’s bullets pock-marked the archway, but not one of them came anywhere near Natasha. Emboldened, she stepped forward and drew a bead on Melody. And that was when JC stepped out of the shadows, whipped off his sunglasses, and fixed the startled Natasha with his gaze. She froze in place, the gun slipping from her nerveless fingers. And then she sank abruptly to her knees, crying out and covering her eyes with both hands. Unable to face what she’d seen in JC’s new eyes.

“What have you done to yourself?” Natasha said sickly. “You’re not human any more!”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to judge,” said JC.

Natasha and Erik were made to sit with their backs to the wall, hands clasped together on top of their heads. Neither of them gave any trouble. Between Happy’s telepathy and JC’s eyes, they felt seriously outgunned. They both looked dazed, and a little disturbed, at how easily they’d been taken down. Natasha wouldn’t so much as look in JC’s direction even after he put his sunglasses back on. He stood over the Project agents, frowning thoughtfully. Happy and Melody stood on either side of him, doing their best to look dangerous. Melody was the most successful at that because she still held her machine-pistol at the ready.

“Talk to me,” JC said coldly. “No use playing dumb. I know who you are; I’ve read your files at the Institute. Natasha Chang and Erik Grossman, field agents for the Crowley Project. So what are you doing here?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” said Erik, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“Happy,” said JC, “see what you can dig out of them. No need to be gentle about it.”

“Way ahead of you,” said Happy. “I can’t see much; the Project’s installed really good shields. Still, this pair isn’t exactly A team material; they operate on our level, more or less.” He smiled nastily at Natasha. “Don’t think you can keep me out forever, though. I already know things about you. You’re a soul eater, you nasty little cow. And your fat friend tortures animals. For fun.”

“For science!” said Erik. But he still wouldn’t look up.

“What are you doing down here?” said JC. “What’s your mission? Talk to me; or I’ll take my shades off again.”

“This is all the Project’s fault, isn’t it?” snapped Happy. “One of your Workings gone wrong! Your higher-ups let something nasty into our world, and you were sent down here to clean up the mess and wipe off the fingerprints.”

“No!” said Natasha. She looked up at Happy, avoiding JC. “We’re not here for the haunting; we’re here for you. Vivienne MacAbre put a death mark on all three of you for being too good at your job. We don’t like competition. Your deaths were supposed to send a message to the Institute. No-one told us what was really going on down here, or we wouldn’t have come. We’re no more fit to deal with a mess of this magnitude than you are.”

“If you didn’t know what was going on down here,” Happy said craftily, “then you can’t be sure the Project isn’t behind it, can you? Hah! Got you there!”

“If the Project is in any way involved, it would have been decided at a much higher level than we have access to,” Erik said tiredly. “All field agents are mushrooms, you know that, kept in the dark and fed shit on a regular basis. How do you know this isn’t the result of some major cock-up by your higher-ups?”

“Because we don’t do things like that,” said Melody.

“Yeah, right,” said Erik.

Happy looked at JC. “Sounds like they were dropped in the deep end, unarmed and unprepared, just like us. If you believe them, which I prefer not to, on general principles.” He glared at Natasha. “And don’t you think I’ve forgotten what you did to me, bitch. What you made me do. I can still taste blood in my mouth and feel loose teeth with my tongue. I should smack you a good one right in the mouth, so you can see what it feels like. Except that I’m a better man than that. I am. I really am. Oh the hell I am . . .”

He punched her in the mouth. Her head swung round under the impact. Happy stood over her, breathing hard. And then Natasha turned her face back and sneered at him.

“Is that it? You punch like a junkie.”

Happy went to hit her again. JC grabbed his arm, stopping him. Happy glared at JC, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

“Why not, JC? Give me one good reason.”

“Because we’re supposed to be better than that.”

Happy pulled his arm free. JC didn’t try to hold on to him. Happy sniffed. “You might be, JC. I’m still working on it.”

“You don’t know what they did to him, JC,” said Melody. “What they did to us when you weren’t there to protect us. That little toad used a taser on me. Over and over again. And laughed while he did it.” Melody’s machine-pistol moved closer to Erik’s head, as though pulling Melody’s hand behind it. “You have no idea how much it hurt, JC. My gut muscles still ache. You don’t know how helpless and violated he made me feel while he hurt me. Do we really need both of them alive, JC?”

“Yes,” he said. “If you feel the need to do something, you can search them both for weapons. Feel free to be exceedingly thorough.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Melody.

She stuck the barrel of her pistol under Natasha’s chin and made her stand up. Then she made Natasha turn around and lean forward against the wall, with all her weight on her hands. Melody searched Natasha from head to toe, with a carefully impersonal roughness. She found a whole bunch of hidden pockets and concealed pouches, and soon a small pile of assorted weapons and devices had formed at Natasha’s feet. Melody checked her over twice, to be sure, then stood back and allowed Natasha to turn around. The Project agent looked at the pile on the ground and smiled disarmingly.