"One of the two has moved away," the spirit said. "She is heading toward the rear of the club."

"Can you follow her?" asked Kyle, trying to push his way, through the crowd without causing an incident.

"I believe so, but how daring do you wish me to be?"

"Could she be Linda Hayward?"

"Not unless she's disguised. This one is black."

"Follow her if you can."

"I will."

The red-tinted faces of the revelers signaled Kyle's proximity to the tube. He paused a moment and centered himself, boosting his own shielding, and perhaps most important, the masking that dampened his mystical aura. But if this woman, whoever she was, was as powerful as her own masked aura implied, he doubted his attempts to suppress his own would be very successful. He circled left, to come up behind her.

Her hair was the same color as the unnatural light, her flesh pale and waxen. The clothing she wore seemed to be real leather, dark and glossy, tight up along her long legs and then loose in the form of a vest across her back and shoulders. Her arms were bare, except for coppery bracelets on each wrist.

What slowed him, just for a moment, was the image on the back of her vest. It was the figure of an angel, definitely feminine and vengeful. One of the arms was extended upward, toward the sky, and wielded a bright sword. The other gestured downward across one hip, modestly hiding what the tattered rags of her clothing did not. The angel's face, rimmed by a halo of shining hair, was downturned, but her gaze looked outward-direct, provocative, and challenging.' The words "Desolation Angels" arched over the angel and across the woman's shoulder blades.

"Desolation Angels," Kyle told Seeks-the-Moon. "Emblazoned across her back."

"This one has the same thing," the spirit replied, "though I haven't been able to see her-slot!"

Now Kyle paused. "What?"

"She just went into the rest room," came Seeks-the-Moon's voice. "I don't dare follow her in. That would get me too close."

“Then wait her out," Kyle had already started walking toward the 0ther woman again. "Let's see what I can do with one."

"Is it Linda Hayward?"

"No." Kyle stepped up alongside her, suddenly wishing he had a drink in his hand. He looked out over the dance floor for a moment and then casually to his left.

The woman's hair hung loosely down and across one shoulder and this close he could see that it was actually red, but very light, almost blond. Her eyes were large and round, the color of emeralds, her mouth was small but expressive, the lips a color like blood. Her gaze shifted and she eyed him with amused disinterest He noticed a black choker around her neck. Set against it in gold was a single pale gem.

He smiled, let his gaze wander away and then back again to her. Her smile widened ever so slightly and her lips parted the barest distance. Then she closed her eyes and slowly leaned back against the red neon pillar.

Kyle tensed. Had he been looking at another magician, he'd have taken her actions as a sure sign she was astrally projecting, releasing her spirit to roam on the astral plane. But Seeks-the-Moon had said she was a "spirit like him. Not only could she not astrally project, having no true body from which to separate her spirit, but neither did she need any because she could see into both congruent realms without effort.

"Moon," he said quietly in his mind.

"Yes?"

"Can you see me from where you are?"

"Yes, I can."

"What's she doing?" Kyle asked, hazarding a glance at her. She hadn't moved.

"Nothing," said the spirit. "At least as far as I can tell."

"Ah," said Kyle.

"Worried?"

"Yes."

"You're closer," Seeks-the-Moon said. "You can tell more than I."

"I can't risk revealing myself."

Kyle looked at her again, but for all he could see, she was frozen there. A waitress moved nearer to him through the crowd. Deciding, he stepped in closer to her and carefully placed his hand on her bare upper arm. Her flesh, in stark contrast to the room, was cool.

Her eyes opened and she regarded him without expression.

Kyle managed a smile, pushing back an unfocused, growing unease. "Can I buy you a drink?" he said as smoothly as was possible while half-shouting over the din.

Her expression did not change. "Why?" She did not raise her voice, forcing him to partially read her lips.

"It's so warm in here. I thought maybe you were thirsty."

"I am," she said, and he was about to gesture for the waitress when her words and her strong hand on his wrist stopped him. "But I don't want a drink."

He paused, his body temperature dropping suddenly at her touch, then rising again. "What can I get you?"

She smiled. "Nothing tonight."

"Then can I-"

She let go of his wrist and began moving away. "Good night." She was walking toward the rear of the club.

"Moon!" Kyle said mentally, moving quickly to keep up with her, yet staying far enough back to duck for cover into the crowd if she turned suddenly.

"Yes?”

"She's; coming your way along the rail."

Ahead of him, Kyle could just make out the figure of the woman as she approached the ladies room and then went in.

"She went in," Kyle told Moon.

"Come and guard me. I'm going to try and get a look in there."

A moment later Seeks-the-Moon appeared alongside his master. "Just like the old days, yes?"

"Quiet" Kyle snapped. "I'm going to use a far-sight spell to have a look-see. They shouldn't be able to notice, regardless of how powerful they are."

"Presumably."

Kyle looked at him. "What do you mean, presumably?"

The spirit shrugged. "We don't know exactly what we're dealing with."

Kyle nodded. "Guard me." He stepped back against a support column. The casting wouldn't require the special concentration of using his astral senses, but he wanted to be careful.

The forces of magic swirled around him. He reached out with his mind and began shaping them, connecting them to his own aura, to those elements of himself that dealt with sight. He created a node of mystical energy, the new center-point for his vision, and projected it forward, past the crowd, past the closed door, and into the room.

It was large and bright. Mirrored counters lined half of each wall, strip-lights tacked to the wall above them casting a hard, sharp light over the women lined up there. All the spaces were taken, and even more women waited their turn near the overflowing trash bins. An attendant was standing by, but apparently chose to ignore the obvious illegal dealings going on in the first toilet stall. There were about two dozen stalls, all at the rear of the room. All were in use, with at least one woman awaiting entrance. There was no sign of either of the female spirits.

Cursing to himself, Kyle willed his sight forward as one of the stall doors opened and women changed places. He paused a moment, uncertain, and then lifted his point of view to quickly scan the interior of the stalls on the left side.

Neither of the two women were in any of the stalls. He shifted over to the side and did the same.

Not there, either.

Cursing again, Kyle cast modesty aside and carefully checked each stall's occupant at eye level before searching through the rest of the room again.

The two spirits simply were not there.

He dropped the spell.

"Gone?” asked Seeks-the-Moon.

"Yes."

"I feared as much. I was watching, but no spirits came out."

They must have ducked out through the rear wall. I think there's an alley back there. They wouldn't risk being seen moving through the crowd."

"So what do we do now?"

"Now," said Kyle, "we tell the Trumans that I'm getting worried."