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Not until six months ago, when Andy and her Sibyl fighting group had finally put down the Rakshasa cats once and for all.
    I might have lost track of most of the basics, but I guess I still know what I want .
    That surprised him.
    He didn’t know what to do with surprises he couldn’t shoot, cuff, or interrogate.
    He let himself turn enough to study the island fading behind him, especially the area that seemed to shimmer and vanish from awareness.
    Andy Myles might have a lot more surprises in store for him.
    It wasn’t just lace underwear or the cute freckles, the red curls or the Southern accent. Her eyes, dark brown and green depths, the color so blended he couldn’t say which dominated—those eyes were gorgeous, but they weren’t what intrigued him, either. She could handle a SIG like a third limb, fire an underwater dart pistol with a SEAL’s accuracy, and cut a grown man to bloody shreds with a few sharp words and a look more brutal than a barbed-wire noose. He admired all of that, but still, there was something else about Andy. Something … more. He couldn’t put it into words yet, even for himself, but he was determined to get a grip on how she affected him.
    Jack forced his attention away from Kérkira and stared at the Greek mainland instead. Under normal circumstances, the Sibyls in New York City would have transported him and Saul directly to their destination at Motherhouse Kérkira—but Jack had figured his odds of getting close enough to Andy to actually speak to her were better if he used the element of surprise. She had never really liked him.
    Okay, that was an understatement.
    In their few previous interactions, Andy had made one thing very clear: she hated his guts and she’d love to find an excuse to drown him. She’d tried a few times and damn near succeeded—not that he hadn’t deserved it—but all in all, he and Saul had opted for the safer option of moving through the earth’s ancient energy channels to nearby Motherhouse Greece.
    Underwear. Sweet God. How was I supposed to anticipate lace and ink stains?
    Was it even possible to plan for scenarios involving that woman?
    Jack massaged the back of his neck and tried to erase the image of Andy on the beach, but he already knew that hot little picture had been seared into his memory forever. It would be a long trek back up the slopes of Mount Olympus to the crystalline palace the air Sibyls called home, but at least he would be making it with no broken bones or punctured lungs.
    Maybe Saul was right.
    With Andy’s temper in the equation, that was definitely progress.
       From the communications platform in Motherhouse Greece, Jack and Saul moved through the earth’s ancient energy channels directly back to OCU headquarters in a townhouse on the Upper East Side, above the Reservoir. Just like that, the late Greek afternoon became a fresh New York City morning, thanks to the time difference.
    Built in the 1800s, the cavernous five-story brick townhouse had been donated by a couple of officers, who were also half demon, to give Sibyls, the NYPD, and all of their demon allies a safe place to stay, meet, and organize away from public scrutiny. Jack had a room in the townhouse, though he was considering getting his own place.
    He took a sharp breath full of smoke and pine-scented cleanser as he thanked the fire Sibyl who managed their transport, then climbed down from the townhouse communications platform on the third floor. Saul coughed when he stepped through the big piece of projective glass that linked the townhouse with Motherhouse Greece. Several other projective mirrors hung around the round wooden table, misty and inactive but waiting to be opened if needed. Jack had almost gotten used to the weird portals, but he always gave them a quick check to make sure nothing was about to burst from far away to up close and eat off his head at the neck.
    Saul stepped off the platform and made flirty eyes at the fire Sibyl as she danced