Rebeckah introduced me to our tablemates. I forgot most of their names the instant she said them. I nodded politely all the same. It wasn't like me to be so distracted – my police training made me an expert at keeping names and faces sorted – but my attention focused on an intense looking soldier. He was frowning suspiciously into his coffee cup, his head tilted to the side. He was powerfully built, but the line of his neck was as graceful as any dancer's. The short hairs of his military cut only served to heighten the effect.

"Raphael," Rebeckah repeated, "meet Deidre."

Our eyes met. The noise of a subway car – the sound seemed to rush toward me, bringing with it a strong wind.

"Dee?" It was Rebeckah. She stood next to me, her hand soft my shoulder.

"Sorry," I mumbled, leaning into her to steady myself. "I've been having trouble with visual feedback lately," I lied.

Concerned eyes slid away from mine. Feedback was a common problem of those who had their LINK connection severed. The subject was too close to home for LINK-hackers, who could face a sentence of disconnection if caught. I took the opportunity their discomfort provided to take another look at Raphael.

With a sheepish grin on his face, he lifted a hand in a brief wave. The look on his face seemed to say, "You caught me."

I snorted a laugh and shook my head. He slid over, offering me a seat. Rebeckah helped me into it and sat down beside me. Once I settled, I whispered to Raphael, "You people are everywhere. Can't I get away from your kind?"

He turned his head to inspect me with the same intensity as he had inspected his coffee cup earlier. Then, he smiled. "My mistake. I thought you were one of 'our kind.' "

"What?" I exploded, my voice a little louder than I intended. Everyone put their spoons down and stared at me. Rebeckah frowned, her eyebrows crinkled with concern.

"Dee," she asked, "you okay?"

"Sorry. I'm a little on edge. I guess I could use that drink you promised."

"I'll get it," Raphael offered. "Apple juice okay?"

"No, wait..." I'd wanted Rebeckah to get it so he and I could have a chance to talk, but Raphael bolted out of his seat and was halfway to the bar before I could stop him. I frowned at his retreating form. I didn't even get a chance to tell him I preferred something stronger – like coffee.

"You guys know each other." The way Rebeckah spoke, the phrase was more of a statement than a question.

"Not really." I looked her in the eye, hoping she'd see the truth.

"Hmph," Rebeckah said. "Well, Raphael has that effect on people. When we first met, I thought I'd known him. I spent months wracking my brain, trying to remember if we'd ever served together in Israel..." Rebeckah looked as if she were about to say more, when a soldier approached. "Yes?"

"A word, Commander?"

Rebeckah nodded, standing up to move a short distance from the table. "Excuse me."

l lookea away, not wanting to intrude on ner ousmess. My eyes strayed back to the table full of strangers.

"You're an American Catholic, then?" A bearded man to my left asked politely. Ringlets of brown hair fell down either side of his face.

"Oh." I forgot what I must look like to them. "This is borrowed. I ..." I couldn't think of a simple way to explain how I ended up in Eion's vestments, so I just said, "My brother is a Roman Catholic priest."

"I see." He smiled, sensing my discomfort with the situation. "Well, any friend of Rebeckah's is a friend of mine."

"She's not just any friend. That's Deidre McMannus. You guys remember all the stink when the Pope was killed last year," a woman said at the end of the table. Underneath a leather vest, she wore a black muscle shirt with a picture of a rodent chewing on coaxial cable. Tattooed barbed wire and fiber-optic lines wound like Celtic knotwork around her biceps. The uniform of a LINK-hacker, if I've ever seen one.

"She's that Deidre McMannus," the wire-wizard continued with a touch of awe in her voice. Her eyes snaked over to mine cautiously.

I gave a weak smile. I couldn't get away from my reputation anywhere, it seemed. "Yep, that's me."

"Ironic choice in clothing, then, eh?" Raphael said with a wink, as he returned to the table. He shoved a plastic glass of apple juice in front of me.

"I was in a rush." I cupped my hands around the sweating clear plastic – though it wasn't what I'd wanted, at least the juice was icy cold. I took a long, refreshing swallow.

"I hear you've never been much of a slave to fashion, anyway." The hacker at the end of the table gave a hearty laugh. "Hanes, bikini cut? I would have thought you a boxer shorts type."

I blushed. Mouse, the stinker, had actually posted the information about my underwear. "Well, uh, they're cheap."

The people around tne table laughed, and not unkindly. I found myself smiling warmly.

Raphael touched my elbow. "We should talk." His breath tickled my ear.

"I don't want to know you, Raphael," I said firmly. I stared into the remains of the apple juice. A yellowed reflection of my stern expression glowered back at me. "I don't want to know any of you."

"Too late for that," Raphael said, taking a sip from his coffee mug. I could smell the rich aroma. I stared furiously at my juice.

"It's not like there are hundreds of us running around," he continued. "If you've met even one other – you're already in the thick of things. In the center of the storm, as it were."

"Story of my life," I muttered. My breath rippled the surface of the juice, fracturing the image of my face into abstraction. "Only this time, I'm going to walk away."

"You don't seem the type." Raphael's voice was low and sincere. With a shrug, he added, "But, it's your choice."

" 'Choice,' why is it always about 'choice' for you people?" I slammed the plastic cup down with such ferocity that juice sloshed onto my hand. "It's like you're obsessed with freewill."

Raphael arched an eyebrow, and his mouth drew into a thin line. His eyes scanned the table, but the others seemed engrossed in their own conversations. Turning back to me, he shrugged. "We don't get out much."

"There's an understatement." I laughed through my fingers, as I sucked the spilled liquid from my palm.

Turning back to his coffee mug, Raphael took a long sip. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, but his face betrayed no emotion. Sliding his gaze back to mine, he asked, "May I ask who you met?"

I stifled the urge to say no because I wanted to see how he reacted when I dropped the names. I started at what I presumed he felt to be the bottom of the list, and worked my way up. "Morningstar, Jibril, and Michael."

Raphael set his cup down gently, and his brows drew together. He ran a callused thumb along the rim of the mug. Corded muscles jumped on his powerful forearms as he crossed his arms and balanced his elbows on the edge of the table. Steepled fingers lightly bounced against his lip, the only sign that what I'd said disturbed him. Finally, Raphael spread his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. "You really are in the center of things."

I laughed. Unbidden, my mind flashed to an image of Michael naked. I remembered his smooth, cool skin under my fingers and the smell of his sweat. The dream-image of the thundering of six wings of a monstrous seraphim broke my pleasant reverie. Shaking my head, I grumbled, "I'd really rather be somewhere else."

"I'm sure you're where you're supposed to be," Raphael said gently.

"I'm not sure of anything anymore," I countered. Rebeckah touched my shoulder, interrupting my train of thought.

"I've got some news, Dee. Come with me."

She pivoted on her heels and began heading out of the suite before I could even acknowledge her command. As I stood up to follow, I leaned close to Raphael and whispered: "We'll talk again."