My cell phone rings a few weeks later, while Jorge and I are in the midst of servicing the Grady White's Yamaha engines. I put down my wrench and answer it.

"Peter? I've got good news," Arturo says.

"Chen's dead?" I ask.

"No, not yet. But he is on the move. My people managed to find out he was flying down here yesterday. They missed him at Miami International by only a few minutes. Our sources say he's hiding somewhere in South Miami now. It's just a matter of time before we locate him."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," Arturo says. "I have the surveillance films from the airport. Only one Asian got off that flight. Two others met him at the baggage claim. We know what all of them look like. I gave their pictures to our people and to our friends at Metro Dade police. The cops have a bulletin out on all of them. If any of them goes anywhere, does anything, either the police or one of our people should spot him."

"Good," I say, grinning, relieved that something's finally being done. "Call me when you know anything further."

I hang up and turn to Santos.

He stops lubricating one of the outboard's prop shafts, stares at me, grease streaked on his face, and studies my expression. "Good news?" he asks.

"Yes," I say. "If I were a drinking man I'd break out a bottle."

"So what do you do to celebrate?"

Turning my head toward the veranda, I stare at the cannon pointed seaward and remember my late-night celebration a few days before I left to find my bride. "Jorge," I say, "it occurs to me, we've never fired the cannon like I promised."

"No, Boss, we never have." He resumes greasing the shaft.

"It occurs to me that we should."

"Sounds good to me." He pauses, then says, "Why don't we do it late tomorrow afternoon? Afterward, I'll make Camé Diablo for you again."

I wonder why he's being so thoughtful. Still the man cooks food for me all the time. It's not so unusual a suggestion. So I smile and say, "Good idea."

That night Elizabeth surprises me by inviting me to her bed after our hunt. "Gently," she cautions me and we make love as lightly as two feathers rubbing together. Afterward, she sighs and pulls me close to her. Her stomach contorts as the child rolls and kicks within her.

She smiles. "Your son wants to come out," she says.

"So soon?" I ask.

"Silly, it's less than two weeks until June. Your son could come any time after that."

So soon, I think, picturing the looks of terror on Casey's and Jorge's faces when they realize their fate.

"Aren't you happy?" Elizabeth asks.

"Of course I am," I say.

"We'll have the house to ourselves again. No more humans to bother you. Just me, you, and our son." Elizabeth grins. "I can't wait. I'll get my old body back and we can begin to enjoy ourselves again."

I nod.

"I know in some ways I've been a disappointment to you, Peter. But I hope not too much." Elizabeth strokes me with her tail.

I look at her. Even swollen as she is, I find her beautiful. "You've never disappointed me," I say. "We were brought up differently. We've just had to learn about each other."

"Peter," she says, looking into my eyes, "do you remember, on the boat, when we talked about love?"

"Yes."

"I told you then I wasn't sure what love was."

I nod.

"I've been thinking a lot about it these past few months. The child's nearness has made me examine things. I'm sure now, Peter. I love you."

They are words I never expected to hear from her. Momentarily, I wonder if I've been disloyal to her, spending so much of my time with Santos and Casey, enjoying it as much as I have. But just being beside her, hearing her words, reaffirms her importance to me. "I love you too," I answer. We lie side by side, in that netherworld between consciousness and sleep, listening to the rhythm of each other's breaths. "Peter?" Elizabeth rouses me. I move enough for her to know I'm listening. "In the morning when you wake, would you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"The gold clover necklace that you gave me before we married is on the dresser top. I know it's silly. I know it doesn't fit me in this form but I'd like to wear it. Could you fasten it around my wrist so it won't fall off? Promise me?"

"I promise."

We drift toward sleep again and I remember my other promise, the one I made to Jorge Santos. "Santos and I will be firing one of the cannons tomorrow afternoon. I don't want the sound to surprise you."

"It won't, Peter," she says, snuggling against me. "Just be careful playing with your silly toys."

In the morning I wake and change to my human shape. Leaving my bride's side, I immediately look for the gold clover necklace. I carry it back to Elizabeth, kneel beside her and carefully wrap it, twice, around her right wrist, just above her taloned paw. It makes me smile that she wanted to wear it and I take my leave, kissing her on the snout, taking care not to wake her.

I pause before I leave the chamber, watch her sleep, let the love I feel for her well up inside me. Resisting the impulse to wake her and pledge my love aloud, I go out the door. Later, I think. There will be plenty of time for that.

Santos and Morton both seem somewhat subdued when I release them from their cells, as if their thoughts remain elsewhere. I think nothing of it, my mind on Elizabeth and the child. I don't permit myself to think of the humans' impending deaths. I decide to confront that when necessary.

In the late afternoon I go out to the veranda, survey the sky, nodding at the low gray clouds, the gusting wind-smiling at the roiled surface of the sea. No boats are anywhere in sight nor, in this weather, would I expect them to be.

Sure our activities will go unheard and unobserved, I open the arms room, then fetch Morton and Santos. The woman sits on the wall and watches while Santos and I roll the cannon back. I let him prepare and load the charge. We both stand by to let Casey light the fuse.

They both shout when the cannon fires, belching flame and smoke. I join in their hurrahs when the ball strikes, sending up a white plume of water a quarter-mile offshore. Jorge grins, and asks, "Again?"

"Why not?" I say and we take turns loading the ship killer, then firing it. I run Santos back to the arms room six times for more ammunition, all of us turning giddy, laughing as we load the cannon, our ears ringing, our faces smoke blackened.

"Peter," Elizabeth mindspeaks to me. "Don't you think it's time to stop? If you keep this up, some passing boat will surely notice and inform the authorities."

I think of all the bribe money the marine patrol takes and laugh. "As if they'd care," I tell her, sending Santos to the arms room one last time, thinking how tired he must be when he takes longer than usual to return and load the cannon.

After Casey lights the fuse and the cannon fires, I send Santos and Morton inside. I close and lock the arms room out of their sight. Then, still grinning from the pleasure of firing the big gun, I follow the two humans indoors.

I insist that Jorge prepare Elizabeth's steak first. When it's ready, I leave him and Casey in the great room to prepare our dinner while I bring my bride hers.

"Did you have a good time?" she asks as she sits up.

"Very good," I say, sitting in the hay next to her, placing her plate between us.

"I missed you."

Her confession surprises me. "I thought you liked to be left alone during the day."

"Until recently I have. But the baby's making me feel so many things now. I find I want you near me."

"Then I'll come down right after dinner," I say.

"Can't you just stay?" Elizabeth asks.

I shake my head. "Jorge's making Carne' Diablo especially for me tonight. I wouldn't want to disappoint him."

"You and your pet human." Elizabeth holds up her arm, and admires the necklace wrapped around it. She sighs. "If you think you have to go, then do so. Just be careful with that food. Remember what it did to you last time."