Recovering my breath, I decided to follow his lead, laughed, and then brushed the hair from my face to see two startled males standing in front of a large desk, staring down at us with a mix of outrage and shock.

“Who the hell are you? Who let you in here?” A thin, dark-haired male stared down at us, his narrow face pinched and red and very familiar

Hank untangled himself from me and helped me stand. My hand was in his when I recognized the accent of the male who’d spoken and immediately realized why he looked so familiar. Otorius, Representative of the Charbydon Political Party here in Atlanta. What the hell was a Charbydon noble doing in a strictly Elysian place of business? And it wasn’t every day you came across a noble—there were so few of them. The significance didn’t escape me as I feigned an embarrassed smile while rearranging my gown.

“Sorry, fellas,” Hank said, wrapping an arm around my waist and squeezing. “Just, you know, looking for a quiet spot with my lady.”

I stifled a groan. He was enjoying this charade way too much.

I turned my attention to the other one in the room and guessed from the cut of his suit and the confidence in his bearing that he was also a noble. In ancient times, we called them gods. They preferred the term Overlords, but I refused to call them that, arrogant bastards. They had the same enormous ego of the Adonai, making me wonder if the “First Ones” myth was true, if somewhere deep in the off-worlders’ ancient history the Elysian Adonai and the Charbydon nobles came from the same stock. Say that now, to either side, and you’d get your heart served to you on a silver platter.

The unidentified noble was leaning his hip on the desk, hands shoved into the pockets of black slacks, regarding me with open interest.

Calmly, I met his stare. A slight grin played on his mouth. Easy, absolute confidence surrounded him, and there was a sultry charisma that clung to him. Jet-black hair framed a face with hard angles, and eyebrows that reminded me of a crow’s wings in flight. He cocked one of those eyebrows at me, and I tried not to notice that my stomach did a gentle, surprising pull. Immediately, I suspected an allure charm.

“How did you get through the main entrance?” Otorius asked.

I played the submissive woman and let Hank explain the scenario we’d concocted. We were met with some serious suspicion. But Hank just cocked a grin and said, “Guess we got lucky, right, babe?”

“Right.”

Then the chair behind the desk turned around.

My heart stopped.

If Hank’s arm hadn’t been around me, I would’ve fallen.

The being who sat behind it came from my worst nightmare. The one I’d had every night since my death.

It was the dark one in the field who’d picked the flesh from my bones. He was here. And he was real.

Fear clawed at my mind, and my mouth went bone dry. I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t catch my breath. Every hair on my arms and legs stood straight.

My heart started again, hammering way too fast. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, so I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision, knowing I couldn’t be looking at the same male who’d invaded my dreams. But somehow it was. I might not have seen his face clearly in my nightmare, but I knew it was him. Somehow I knew.

His stare was on me from the moment he turned around and his eyes pierced me with horror, with every childhood dread and image of evil, all wrapped up in a face that spoke of calm, efficient brutality. A diabolical face.

I swayed. My fingernails dug into Hank’s arm. From the corner of my eye I saw him glance down questioningly.

“Who are you?” I choked out, trying desperately to hold on to reality and not give in to the weakness in my knees and the roll of my stomach.

His lips split slowly into a smile that didn’t move to his flat black eyes. “Come now, Charlie. You don’t remember?”

That smile cut a swath of terror straight to my soul. I had the distinct sense that I was falling as blackness claimed my vision.

“Charlie?” My partner’s voice filtered through the haze, sounding like the distant echo of a bank teller at a drive-through window. But that couldn’t be right, because I felt his warm hand around my upper arm.

Sludge filled my mind.

“Damn it, wake up,” Hank ground out, shaking me a little.

“Does she need a doctor?” another voice asked. Had to be the cute one.

In The Bath House. Upstairs. Veritas. Oh, God! I was still here with them! I sat up, gasping.

Hank knelt back, his face scrunched with concern. “You all right?”

I swallowed the giant-sized lump in my throat and nodded, standing with his help and then straightening my gown with trembling hands.

The monster still sat behind the desk, eyeing me with avid speculation. He was middle-aged and aging gracefully, which, for a Charbydon noble, should put him somewhere around four or five thousand years old. His white hair was swept back from his face. The widow’s peak over his forehead made him look sinister and accentuated his patrician nose, causing it to appear more hooked than it really was. The white of his dress shirt set off dark olive skin, and with slanted black eyes and a cruel mouth, he looked like malice in a stylish gray suit.

I knew this being, but I didn’t know him. And I began to wonder if some of my dream stemmed from my time in the hospital. How did he know my name? Did he visit me in the hospital? I just couldn’t remember.

I backed from the room, grabbing Hank’s arm and mumbling something about how we should get back. My smile was tight, but I kept my shoulders back and my chin up. Being weak in a room full of men wasn’t my idea of a good time. And right now I was seriously vulnerable and confused.

The good-looking noble slid a questioning glance to the monster behind the desk. But he shook his head slightly. They were letting us go.

Hank supported most of my weight as we backed out of the room and into the hallway. As soon as we were out of earshot, he asked, “Charlie, what happened?”

“Out of here,” I gasped. “Let’s just get out of here.”

I stumbled down the hall, gaining speed and strength. By the time we made it to the locked door, I was breathing hard, but feeling a whole lot better by putting some distance between me and my nightmare.

Hank punched in the key code and we hurried down the winding stairs. He hadn’t let go of my hand, afraid I’d fall, or worse, faint again. But I leaned on him less and less. Once we hit the mosaic tile on the first floor, he dropped my hand, and we continued to the locker room at a fast walk.

“You recognize the other two?” I asked, knowing he knew Otorius’s face as well as I did.

“No.” He gave me an odd glance. “But the one behind the desk … Seemed like you knew him. He sure as hell knew you.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. The ITF database might help with identifying them.”

We broke apart, Hank heading to the left and me veering to the right. Once I was in the locker room, I retrieved the key from the nymph and then took my things into an empty stall. The gown came off quickly and fell in a heap in the corner of the stall. The urge to get out of there was so fierce; my hands still shook as I jerked on my clothes and slipped my arms through my weapon harness. Only then did a relieved sigh break the silence and calm my nerves. Never had I felt so grateful and more relaxed than when I slid my firearms into their holsters.

Now, I was prepared. Now, I had leverage. This was my magic.

Hank waited for me by the door. Together, we left The Bath House and headed up Helios Alley toward the parking lot, neither one of us speaking.

The nightlife had peaked. It was way beyond the witching hour and groups of inebriated pub crawlers blocked our way. We veered around a few Georgia Tech students making their way across the street. All I wanted was to get as far away from Veritas and the man behind the desk as I could. If it wasn’t for Hank next to me, I would have run.