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“Who’s on rotation over there? Is Gideon back yet?”
    “He just folded in to see his sister. Colonel Seriffe remained in North Africa with Thorne.”
    She nodded as though Jeannie could see her. “Okay, thanks. Let HQ know I’m on my way.”
    “Madame Supremeness?”
    “Yes?”
    “Are you okay?”
    For reasons Endelle could not explain, the compassion in Jeannie’s voice chapped her hide. “What the fuck do you care if I’m okay or not! I rule this dimension, in case you forgot.”
    But Jeannie chuckled; she’d been around awhile. “That’s better. For a moment there, I thought you’d lost your edge.”
    “I am an edge.” A goddamn fucking righteous edge and like hell she was going to let Chustaffus or any other Third Earth asshole take her world.
    ~ ~ ~
    Luken stared down at beautiful red hair cut precisely by one of Scottsdale Two’s pricier salons. Havily bent over a filing cabinet, searching through a bunch of folders and his heart as always felt caught in a vise.
    He loved Havily Morgan, now Havily Amargi. She’d married the bastard, her breh, Marcus.
    He couldn’t help but be a little bitter. He’d loved Havily long before Marcus returned from Mortal Earth to reenlist as a Warrior of the Blood. And even though Havily had never given Luken one true word of encouragement, hope had simply never died.
    She’d been the rising moon to him and the setting sun, every season under heaven, every rise of mountain, every fall of tide. Her skin was like cream, her light green eyes the joy of his existence, and every time she smiled his heart broke a little more.
    He still begrudged Marcus his windfall. Marcus had absented himself from battling as a What-bee for two hundred years, while Luken had been the faithful one. He’d stuck it out on Second Earth, battling death vampires at the Borderlands night after night, rarely having any time off. The Borderlands were natural gateways to other dimensions, in this case, Mortal Earth. Death vampires tried to use the Borderlands to get to a plentiful supply of vulnerable human blood. Both the Warriors of the Blood and the Militia Warriors worked hard to keep death vampires from escaping down to Mortal Earth.
    Luken knew his duty and he loved fulfilling his obligations.
    But why the hell had the Creator rewarded Marcus with an angel like Hav?
    Havily rose from the filing cabinet, her arms loaded with manila folders. “Can you believe we still have so many files left? I’m processing stuff from fifty years ago. Although, I have to say some of it is fascinating. Did you know there was an uprising in Angola Two in 1964?”
    “One of Greaves’s less exalted schemes.” He chuckled softly. Greaves no longer resided on Second Earth. According to Endelle, he was going through an extremely difficult rehabilitation process that Beatrice of Fourth had developed. Apparently, even psychopaths could be cured.
    Luken repressed a need to curse the decision to let Greaves go. But Endelle must have had her reasons, and like any Warrior of the Blood, he bowed to her will.
    Luken drew close and leaned an elbow on the tall, four-drawer cabinet. Havily moved the files to her desk, but returned to chat with him.
    She was still young by Second Earth standards having ascended from Vancouver Island Mortal Earth about the turn of the prior century. She leaned her hips against her desk. “Listen, Luken, I hate to bring this up … ”
    “Then don’t.” His heart began to race. He didn’t want her to say the words, but he knew what she was thinking.
    She glanced at the glass windows of her office that led to the hallway behind him. A number of the executives in Endelle’s administrative HQ worked down the hall and more than one had no doubt witnessed him entering her office. His feelings for her weren’t even a little bit of a secret, so his appearance often set the gossip rolling once again.
    She lowered her voice. “You know I like you coming here, right?”
    “I do.”
    “And