"Secrets." He sighed and drank. "I suppose Chrysalis at last found the secret that killed her."

"Yes." Sara stared rigidly at the far wall. Gave a shake, and placed her hand on his arm. It lay there heavy and lifeless. "I know how much this must hurt you. You two were very close."

He removed her hand, squeezed it, and sat it aside. "I don't know if I would go that far."

The hand crept back, fingers tightening suddenly on the big muscle in his thigh. She began to rub him. Tach rolled a nervous eve in her direction. Sweat had broken along her hairline, and her lips were compressed into a thin line. She sensed his scrutiny, and smiled at him, eyelids half lowered, pouted her lips. Tachyon drained his glass. His leg muscle was beginning to cramp under her furious assault.

"Another?" He waved the glass. Throaty, husky. "Oh, yes. Please."

They sat drinking in silence. Tachyon felt his guts cramping. "I wonder-JESUS!"

He hit the edge of the bed, slid off onto the floor, brandy sloshing across his crotch. Thrust his little finger into his ear, and wiped out the moisture left by the sudden thrust of Sara's tongue. It had felt like someone driving a Q-tip dipped in icy Vaseline into his ear.

She hung over the bed staring down at him with feverbright eyes. Gasped out, "I want you! I want you!"

It was like getting hit with a rake. Bony knees, elbows, pelvis digging into his chest, groin, thighs as she flung herself upon him. They thrashed for a few moments, Sara dropping inexpert kisses onto whatever part of his anatomy she could hit. Tachyon threw her off, and tottered to the far side of the bed.

"What in the hell are you doing?" Tears of shame and rage filled his eyes.

"I want to make love with you."

"If this is some kind of joke, it is in pretty goddamn bad taste! Or actually, it's in perfect taste if you go in for cruel Takisian humor."

"What are you driveling about?" she screamed, raking back her hair.

"I'm impotent! Impotent! IMPOTENT!" "Still?" Honest amazement filled the word.

It shredded his last vestige of control. "Yes, fuck you! Now get out! Just get the hell out of here!"

Blotchy red patches flamed in her cheeks. Sara flung herself on his chest, hands clasped frenziedly behind his neck. "No, please, I cant leave you. I'm next, don't you see? Only you can keep me safe!"

"Are you out of your mind? Keep you safe from what?"

"Hartmann! HARTMANN! He killed Andi, he killed Chrysalis, and now he's going to kill me!"

"I'm not going to listen to any more of this."

"He's a monster. Inhuman. Evil."

"A year ago you were fucking your brains out with him." Her breath came in harsh pants. "He made me."

"Now I've heard everything. You are crazy." Tach threw himself through the sitting room, dragging Sara like a recalcitrant foal. Flung open the door. "Out, out, out, out."

She ran from him, and threw herself onto the bed. Curled up with a pillow clutched to her chest. "No, no, you can't make me. I won't leave. You've got to help me," she wailed as he bundled her into his arms, and staggered back to the door. "Read me! Go into my mind!" she hissed, clinging to his lapels. "I wouldn't touch that cesspool that you call a mind." Fire flared as her nails raked across his face.

"I'm already sorry."

Tach slammed the door, brushed distastefully at his coat, and crossed to the bar. Seized the cognac and drank directly from the bottle. Spewed as the heat became too much for his throat. He drew a hand across his face, and yelped as the liquor entered the cuts left by her nails.

Help me.

You don't want to believe. When I'm dead you'll be sorry!

The bottle exploded against the far wall. "I'M TIRED OF FEELING

Spector combed his hair up and went at the ends with the scissors. Lank brown strands fell into the dirty sink. The job was near barber standards. He'd cut hair on the side when working his way through school, and had gotten pretty good at it. He picked up the cracked hand mirror and checked the neckline in the back.

"Not bad, my man," he said to himself. He scooped up a fingerful of skin lotion, and rubbed it onto his reddened upper lip. Without the mustache and long hair he looked years younger, not much different from his old college self. Only the pained eyes were forever changed. With his hair washed and blown dry he'd be unrecognizable to anyone who'd met him since he became Demise. Except Tachyon. He'd know regardless.

The thought of the little alien knocked him from his normal sullen mood into a gnawing rage. Making the hit, that would hurt Tachyon. He nodded to the mirror and walked into the living room. The decor was nicer than his apartment in Jokertown. The walls were gray-green; the furnishings were mahogany or other dark woods. He even picked up occasionalIy. He'd made the move back to Teaneck after the Sleeper had roughed him up. Considering the hell that had broken loose not long after, it had been a good idea.

He flopped into the black futon and reached for the TV remote control. His flight wasn't until ten the next day. There would be plenty of time to pack in the morning. He punched up WABC. The set crackled to life and Ted Koppel came into view.

"… little was known about this woman with transparent skin who chose to create her own kingdom in the center of New York City's Jokertown." Koppel's brows were knit together even more tightly than usual. "While police are saying little about the apparent murder, it was seemingly a very brutal affair. There is the possibility that an ace with abnormal strength was involved. Before giving you what limited background we have on this woman named Chrysalis, here's what Angela Ellis, captain of the jokertown precinct, had to say earlier today."

The video cut to a drab press area. A short woman with dark hair and green eyes stood in front of a nest of microphones. She coughed, then paused, and placed her hands palms down on the podium. "The woman popularly known as Chrysalis was found dead at her place of business this morning. Should the medical examiner determine that a homicide has occurred, this office will of course conduct a thorough investigation. We have no further information to give at this time." Voices of questioning reporters immediately rose into a roar. Ellis raised one hand. "That's it. We'll keep you informed as facts become available."

Spector reached for the bottle of whiskey he always kept by the futon. He twisted off the cap and took several swallows. "Shit." He'd never cared one way or the other for the bitch, but something about her being dead made him uneasy. There was blood and death in the air already, and while that ordinarily made him feel right at home he had a gut feeling that he was really going to be putting it on the line to make this hit. That was too bad, though. The money from the Shadow Fists was almost gone, and he needed another big score. This had dropped into his lap and he wasn't going to blow it.

Several more slugs of whiskey and Koppel's familiar monotone relaxed him. He drifted off to sleep wondering what the weather was like in Atlanta.

Tachyon hunched at the bar, ankles wrapped about the rungs of the high chrome stool. The light reflecting off the hanging wine glasses hurt his aching head, but he couldn't find the energy to look away.

Mirrors. The mirrors of the Funhouse shattering as the kidnappers had come for Angelface. A skull face reflected in a hundred different angles as he entered Chrysalis's boudoir on the upper floor of the Crystal Palace. The invisible lips painted a pale pink, the swirl of glitter across one transparent cheek, the blue eyes floating eerily in their bony sockets.