"Or theirs," offered Roulette.

Tachyon snapped his head back to face Snake-face, the sudden gesture forestalling the blow. "I don't know about this ephemeral book. You say it was given to me. No one has given me a book this day. I have spent the past six hours in this lady's company. Did anyone give me a book?"

"No. "

"You've got it." The tongue once more played across the alien's face and down his chest. "I tasted it on her, and if I have to take the nigger apart to get it, I will." A blunt forefinger tipped with a fantastically thick and sharp nail drove into her shoulder, and Roulette stifled a cry. What was coming was going to be a lot worse than a finger jabbing into a numb, aching shoulder, and she'd better be prepared.

"All right, I'll be reasonable. The book isn't here. I put it in a safe place.",

"And you're going to take usss there."

"Yes, but you have to let her go."

"No, I think ssshe'll come along."

"Then, no book."

"Then, I redesign her face." The doorbell rang.

There was a sudden shifting of their captors. Guns touched reassuringly, Tommy starting for the door then dropping back, Snaky jumping for Tachyon, but the alien had also seen the possibilities, and sang out, "Yes, one moment please."

"Fuck you, I ought to break your ssscrawnv neck," hissed the joker, his hand closing around the doctor's throat. "Better let him answer the door instead," whispered Roulette since Tachyon's face was suffusing with blood, and he didn't seem capable of answering for himself. "Otherwise they'll know something's wrong, and come back with help."

"We'll wait it out. It may be the paperboy, or the Mormonssss."

But it was neither. A man's voice, deep, bass, cultured, but bearing a thread of strain and agitation, called, "Tach? I must speak with you. Is everything all right?"

"Tell him yesss."

"Yesss," Tachyon obligingly mimicked, then coughed trying to ease the soreness in his throat.

"Who isss thisss man?"

"Hiram Worchester."

"Okay, you can answer the door, but get rid of him fasst."

"Better clean his face," Roulette offered in the same flat tone she'd maintained since the beginning of this nightmare. She was both pleased and bemused by her control. Inwardly she was a shrieking mess.

"Do it."

A handkerchief was thrust at her, while Tommy untied her. Within seconds the tips of her fingers began to burn as the blood flowed back into her hands.'

"Tach?"

"Coming," he replied as Roulette dipped the cloth into the vase on the coffee table and quickly began wiping away the worst of the gore from his face.

"The right side's not too bad," she whispered. "But don't let him see that shiner." The left eye was so badly damaged that it had swollen completely shut.

"I'll be careful," he said in a carefully neutral tone, but his right eye seemed feverishly bright, the gaze intent. She again felt that cloud kiss about the edges of her mind. And she understood, or least hoped or thought she understood. This might be their chance. She gave his hand a quick squeeze and was rewarded by a flash of that sweet smile, somewhat marred now by the split and swollen lip.

Two of their captors took up a position on the wall beside the door, one behind and slightly to the left of Tachyon, gun pressed into the alien's kidneys. Tommy laid a hand on Roulette's right shoulder. The reptilian joker indicated the kitchen with a jerk of the head, and wasp flitted away. The droning of his wings lessened in intensity. Tachyon barely cracked the door, peeped out.

"Hiram."

"What on earth took you so long?"

"I'm entertaining." A subtle stress on the final word. "You unplugged your phone. We've been trying to get in touch with you for hours."

The joker laid a hand over Tachyon's, trying to force the door shut, but Tachyon threw himself backward, pulling it open. The alien went sprawling, and the portly and impeccably dressed Hiram came willy-nilly into the room.

"Hey," said a second man as he stepped through the door, then snapped his mouth shut as a gun was thrust into his side. Snake-face quietly closed the door.

"Good God, Tachyon, what is all this?"

"What does it look like, Hiram'?" He scrambled to his feet, and sent a sour look about the room.

Two of the Chinese moved in, and briskly searched the newcomers.

"They're clean."

"What do we do now?" whined Tommy. "Ssshut up."

The smaller man gave a golliwog's grin, thrust a hand into his pocket, and pointed with his forefinger. "Okay! Everybody freeze, I've got you covered."

Even Tachyon looked disgusted, and someone said, "Fuck off, asshole, I just frisked you down."

The man shrugged, removed his hand, studied the finger for a long moment, then pointed it at the joker and said "Pop!" Snake-face vanished.

Two of the Chinese clutched their heads, and collapsed with a sigh. "Hiram, look out!" bellowed Tachyon.

The big man hesitated for an instant, then belly-flopped between sofa and coffee table as Tommy let go with his. 45 right next to Roulette's ear. There was an earsplitting boom, and the delicate bowl on the coffee table shattered, sending a cascade of water and blossoms across Hiram's back, and leaving a single gardenia perched forlornly on the curve of his ample rump. At Tachyon's yell Hiram's companion stepped backward, opened the door, and vanished into the hall. The Chinese immediately behind the alien raised his gun, then formed a snoring puddle on the floor.

Tachyon pivoted to face Tommy. It was a face-off, Tachyon's power versus the jerk of a finger on a trigger. Which would be faster? Roulette seized the empty chair beside her, and slammed it into Tommy's shins. He howled, dropped the gun, and went for her, arms outstretched like a drunk trying to embrace an elusive lover. Roulette danced back, poking at him with the chair.

There was a buzz like a thousand angry bees, and Wasp came blitzing out of the kitchen. Hiram, heaving off the floor like a breaching whale, tightened his fist, and the joker slammed into the floor, wings folding like an origami figure. Tommy grasped a leg of the chair, and for an instant they played tug-of-war as Roulette tried to keep a grip on her inadequate defense. His free hand groped at his back, and he pulled free a knife. Roulette abandoned her defense of the chair, and ran, screaming. He caught her by the hair, and swung her across his body. She never knew whether he meant to use her as a hostage, or to kill her out-of hand, for suddenly his face went slack, and he let out a loud "Goof." The arm across her chest felt like a steel girder, and they both collapsed in a heap.

She struggled free though it felt like he weighed several tons. This was more than her overset nerves could stand. The screams that had been tearing at her throat subsided into hysterical laughter, and degenerated from there into hiccuping sobs.

"Hush, hush." Gentle hands stroked her hair, wiped away the tears, held her close. "You're quite safe now. It's all over." She laid her head on Tachyon's shoulder, and drew a shaky breath.

"What the devil is going on here?" Hiram exploded in aggrieved accents.

Tachyon righted a chair, eased Roulette into it. "Hiram, my deepest thanks, yours was a timely arrival."

"Who are these men?"

"Damned if I know. They wanted a book." Worchester's brown eyes goggled, and he stared suspiciously at his friend as if suspecting inebriation.

Hiram's companion thrust his head around the door. "Should we call the police?"

Tachyon stepped to meet him, extended a hand. "My thanks to you as well, but what did you do to…?" He made a helpless gesture at the space that a few seconds before had contained Snake-face.

The man in the brown suit shrugged. "I'm a projecting teleport. Point my fingers, and pop, they're gone."