Published by

Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Mourning Doves Copyright © 2009 by Angela Romano

Cover Art by Anne Cain annecain.art@gmail.com

Cover Design by Mara McKennen

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where
permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at:
4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-935192-88-6

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition
April, 2009

eBook edition available.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-935192-89-3
Dedicated to my family, who put up with my very
first stories, Mary Sues and all, and told me they
were the best things they’d ever read. Also to my
friends, Kevin and Nicola, and my boyfriend, Tom,
who are not only my most special people but my
human muses. Of course, I dedicate this to my four-
legged babies as well.

Oh, and you, Rachel. Ha ha, you know I love you,

girl.
 Mourning Doves 1

THEY all knew, really, before it even started. Liaison knew he was
destined to be killed by the weak little man who knew, in a dark place in
the back of his mind, that he was destined to be punished for his crimes.
Epsilon and Leander knew they would be bonded together through pain
and hate, through trust and respect as friends and partners and then
ripped apart and glued, unevenly and imperfectly, back together, stronger
and yet weaker than ever. Madison and Alex knew, at the start, that they
would find each other and hate each other, find each other and love each
other. And Wolf and Mercedes knew, somewhere, somehow, months
before it began, that their team would be rocked to its core.
Even knowing, they took their places on stage and prepared for what
was to come. Because they also knew, although not one of them would
admit it, that they had to. They were meant to. This was destiny, and this
would change everything.

THIS AREA IS RESTRICTED. PLEASE ENTER YOUR PERSONAL PASS CODE.

THANk YOU. PLEASE PLACE YOUR RIGHT HAND ON THE SENSOR AND HOLD
STILL.

WELCOME, EPSILON! PLEASE ENTER THE ID NUMBER OF THE FILES YOU

WOULD LIkE TO ACCESS.
2 Angela Romano

THE STAFF FILES ARE LOADING. PLEASE HOLD.

Operation complete.
Open file Leander Kale?
Processing....
Operation complete.

NAME: LEANDER KALE

AGE: EIGHTEEN
GENDER: MALE
NATIONALITY: UNkNOWN
SPECIES: FOX “kIN” (HUMANOID WITH EARS, TAIL, TEETH, CLAWS, AND
OCCASIONALLY FUR OF A CERTAIN ANIMAL. DESPITE MORE AND MORE
OCCURRENCES OF THIS, SCIENTISTS HAVE YET TO DISCOVER HOW THIS
MUTATION CAME TO BE. MORE INFORMATION AVAILABLE IN THE LIBRARY
FILES. LINk TO FILES CAN BE FOUND BELOW.)

HEIGHT: 5′8″
WEIGHT: 140 LBS.
HAIR: STRAWBERRY-BLOND
EARS: YES
TAIL: YES
 Mourning Doves 3

FUR: NO
EYES: GREEN
SCARS: BACk, CHEST, LEFT SHOULDER, AND RIGHT LEG
TATTOOS: A DRAGON ENCOMPASSING ENTIRE BODY
PIERCINGS: LEFT EAR, FOUR; RIGHT EAR, ONE
OTHER MARkS: N/A
NOTES: LEANDER WAS BROUGHT INTO TASK AT FIFTEEN WHEN HE STOLE
INFORMATION FROM THE TASK SYSTEM. TALENT DULY NOTED, HE WAS
DRAFTED INTO THE TEAM AS A SkILLED CON ARTIST AND HACkER.

KALE IS… UNUSUAL, DUE TO HIS LIFESTYLE BEFORE TASK. PARTNER

SHOULD BE CHOSEN CAREFULLY.

INFORMATION ON TASK CENTER AND SYSTEMS CAN BE FOUND IN SECURE

FILES. BRIEF HISTORY—TASK CENTER, (OR, ITS OFFICIAL NAME, kIN
RELATED CIRCUMSTANCES MANAGEMENT TEAM) WAS FORMED AFTER THE
FIRST OUTBREAk OF kIN AND HUMANS BORN DIFFERENTLY—THAT IS, WITH
ESP-RELATED ABILITIES. IT IS A TEAM OF SPECIALLY TRAINED MEN AND
WOMEN, HUMAN AND OTHERWISE, DESIGNED TO POLICE THE EVENTS AND
PEOPLE SURROUNDING THEM.

PERSONAL FILES ON KALE, LEANDER, HAVE BEEN ENCODED.

PERSONAL FILES ON KALE, LEANDER, HAVE BEEN ENCODED.

PARTNER: N/A EPSILON MADDOX

4 Angela Romano

OPEN FILE “EPSILON MADDOX”?

PROCESSING....
CANCELED.
OPEN LIBRARY FILES?
OPENING FILES....
PLEASE SELECT TOPIC OF CHOICE.
OPEN FILE “kIN INFORMATION”?
FILE OPENING.

Ten years ago the world was shocked by the appearance

of a child born with the ears and tail of a cat. The child
was found abandoned on the steps of a hospital in
Brooklyn, New York. Rather than being killed, the child
was sent to a lab for study.
The baby was highly evolved and had animal-like instincts
such as hissing when it felt threatened. The child also had
the ability to change shape into that of an actual cat.
Despite numerous tests, there was no answer for where
this child came from or what caused the odd mutation
that gave it its abilities.
Time gave us the answer quickly. Years past and over
time, more of these “mutants” were born. Many were
 Mourning Doves 5

like the first “kin,” animalistic with the ability to take on

another form. However, other mutations came out as well,
and not only in humans. The mutation soon became
apparent in animals as well, giving us creatures we know
today as kits, Bearrs, Wylfs, Equess, and so on. Many of
these mutated animals were domesticated as their more
common ancestors had been. More information available
under file search.
Today, society has adjusted to most of these mutations in
both humans and animals. They are generally thought of as
just another part of the human or animal species.

Further information needed or close files?

Please hold....
Files closed.
TASK information center is shutting down.
Thank you, Epsilon.
Log out?

“YOU read my file.”

“I just told you that, didn’t I?”
“You had no right.”
“It wasn’t like there was anything in there anyway.”
6 Angela Romano
“Because they knew snoops like you would abuse your power and go
sneaking around!” Leander’s eyes flashed at him as the young con
whirled his chair around and stood. “If you want to know something
about me, ask me!”
“You wouldn’t give me anything.” Leander’s teeth clenched at the
flash of bored amusement in Epsilon’s eyes. “I like knowing about
someone I’m to partner with.”
Leander stood in a swirl of red-blond hair, grabbing a tie off the table
near his partner and roommate. “Could be a reason why I don’t want you
to know,” he snarled.
Those cool eyes just kept regarding him, and Leander started when
Epsilon’s hand came down on his shoulder. “You want to get even?
Read my file then. I don’t care.”
“I don’t want to read your file!” Leander smacked his hand away,
gritting his teeth in frustration. Epsilon honestly didn’t see the harm in
what he’d done; he wanted information, he got information. That was
just the way the man was—the way he’d been brought up.
“What do you have to hide?” the older man half-barked. Leander’s
ears flattened against his head, and he snarled.
“I am your partner—”
Leander snorted and started to turn away. “Yeah, so that gives you
the right to play around in whatever you choose—”
“No, what gives me the right is the fact that I am a senior agent
here—”
“You can—”
“Boys.” The voice was mild and light, crisp with a British accent and
surprisingly deep for a female. They both stopped, turning as one to face
Madison Rivers, a beautiful, hard woman with thick red curls and
startling gray eyes, tall, leggy. She held a group of files under one arm,
and her lips twitched in amusement.
“Honestly, you two spend so much time at each other’s throats I’m
amazed it’s the enemy you wind up killing in the end.” Which was
perfect bullshit. She knew what kind of team Epsilon and Leander made.
 Mourning Doves 7
“Hello to you too, Madison.” Her lips tried to twitch upward, but the rest
of her face remained stern. It made the resulting smile look more like a
snarl of victory. “I’ve got a case for you boys.”
Leander flopped in a chair and let it tip back on two legs. Epsilon
moved forward to take the files, and then his brows shot up. He passed
the file over to Leander, who skimmed it. His ears flattened to his skull,
tail lashing.
“Ah, man, don’t tell me we’re dealing with an amateur Hunter.”
“What’s the matter, boys? Afraid to go up against a Hunter?”
Madison asked, and that vicious grin again, more a snarl than anything
else.
“Amateur,” Leander snapped, and Epsilon glanced at him out of the
corner of an eye. “She’s an amateur Hunter.”
“Amateur then. Hunter all the same.” Madison studied the young red-
blond, watching the Kin and his Partner. One ear was up again,
swiveling around toward her, but the other was locked, all attention on
Epsilon. The older man was still as stone, his blue, blue eyes steady on
his partner. They were utterly focused on each other.
“Well?” she asked, reaching a hand out as if to take the files back.
Leander’s ears flattened back again, and he snapped them shut.
“We’ll take the case,” Epsilon said, without moving from the chair.
“If you explain it.”
“Typical Hunter case, boys.” She shrugged, sitting back. “Lover
reported it in; says the girl’s been acting weird the past few nights.”
“So this guy’s girlfriend starts cheating on him, and he decides she’s
a Hunter?”
“This girl’s girlfriend starts acting weird, and she thought it was
strange enough to call paranormal investigators when she started getting
violent during intercourse—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Madison!” Leander flinched, ears back.
“Grow up, Leander Kale. It’s not as though you don’t make sex jokes
constantly.” Madison rolled her eyes. “And don’t tell me you’re
8 Angela Romano
homophobic now.”
“Jokes are one thing,” Leander said, his ears still back. “And believe
me, I have no problem with one girl gettin’ it on with—”
“Leander!” Epsilon snapped. “We’ll take it, Madison.”
“I’ll let Wolf know then,” she said, rising and reaching out as if to
take the files but instead starting to scratch behind one flattened-down
ear. Leander instantly relaxed, his furry appendages lifting upright and
his tail lashing. She smiled again, much more softly now, and then pulled
away.
Leander glanced over at Epsilon, a grin on his lips.
“You need to stop going through my files and more time learning
how to do that.”
“I don’t get paid to keep you happy.”
Epsilon took the files and headed out of the room. Leander paused
and then flipped off the door.
“Fuck you too, dude.”

LEANDER stretched, his back popping and joints adding to the

symphony as he finally sat back from the computer. His furry ears
swiveled listlessly about, his green eyes scanned the information he’d
entered in, and he yawned. He rubbed his eyes, pushing back from the
desk. It was unusual for him to be alone like this. Usually Epsilon was
barely two feet away from him, and it was nice to know that his partner
was there. But it was also nice to have a few moments alone to work out
the information on their target and just have time to relax without the
man at his shoulder.
They were safe in their own apartment, after all, and he was,
admittedly, too relaxed here. It was a place of safety, of shelter, and he
let his guard down too far here.
The apartment was funded by TASK, and, like all of the homes
provided and funded by them, a little special. It was a two-story
 Mourning Doves 9
townhouse with a large kitchen and living room, two bedrooms, two
bathrooms, and the guest bedroom used as an office slash workroom that
Leander was currently in. It was a tastefully if sparsely decorated
apartment, cream and brown in color, most of the furniture old-fashioned
in nature. Hints of both occupants could be seen in the apartment.
Books, rows and rows of research and nonfiction books on one
bookshelf, most of it on those like Leander and Epsilon, signs of
Epsilon’s seemingly never-ending desire for knowledge and
understanding. The wooden furniture was all him too: the couch, a
simple brown thing that could be extended into a bed, and the
overstuffed rocking chair in the corner. Despite everything, Epsilon liked
comfort as much as anyone.
Leander was there too, in the beanbag chair pile near one wall, in the
fiction and sci-fi books on the other shelves. Despite his existence,
Leander loved fantasy; it let him get away from reality. He was in the
knick-knacks and pictures that personalized the apartment and the bright
green rug on the floor near the beanbag chairs.
Their rooms were very different as well. Leander’s room was a royal
mess. Books, computer manuals, clothes, shoes, and such littered the
room, some of it organized, some of it pure chaos. Toys, knick-knacks,
pictures, and other things lay around too. It was a personalized, warm,
lived-in, and comfortable room.
Epsilon’s room wasn’t bare, exactly, but it was less homey and lived-
in. There were things on the shelves, but neat and organized. There were
fewer books in there, and again they were mostly nonfiction. The clothes
were in the closet and drawers, and the bed was neatly made, unlike
Leander’s own messy futon, and there were no toys or games scattered
about.
This room, the workroom slash office, was a combination of both
and a total absence of either of them. There were files and two
computers, one of which was a laptop, and folders upon stacks of folders
with either Epsilon’s neat hand or Leander’s playful scrawl scratching
down notes and information on cases. There was a large box in the
corner that Leander insisted on keeping, full of notes on cases they’d
solved: his own personal little victory badges.
10 Angela Romano
Leander rose, brushing a hand through his hair, and was preparing
for bed when his ears suddenly shot up and quivered. There was a sound
that wasn’t quite right outside, a sound that didn’t quite belong. He froze,
one ear twisting toward the door. He grabbed a gun that lay next to the
computer, checking it and cocking it. Then he stepped forward and flung
open the door.
Nothing. His ears tilted in one direction, and his eyes went the other,
listening and looking hard for the Wrong Thing he knew was out here.
He could smell it, sense it, a faintly wet dog smell that made the hair on
his arms stand up. He lowered the gun slowly, the tension easing out of
his shoulders.
Paranoid much without your big bad partner, Leander? He scolded
himself, ears pressing down so flat that they vanished in his hair. His tail
twitched, almost a spasm more than a wag, a sign of irritation and
tension. He turned with a low growl, prepared to go back inside.
It was about then that he got hit from the side.
He yelped in pain—literally a high-pitched, doglike sound—and
managed to skirt the blow just enough to keep his insides where they
belonged. As it stood, his poor shirt was shredded; his skin over the ribs
was ripped to bloody ribbons. Panting, he leapt back, staring in dismay.
“Ah, fuckin’ a, man!” He snarled, watching what lumbered out of the
darkness toward him.
A Bearr.
Bearrs were exactly what the names suggested: bears. But these
things had been mutated animals years back, and damn if they weren’t
unpleasant little fucks.
Bearrs stood easily twice as high as grizzlies ever had when on their
back legs, and when they dropped down to four—thankfully that’s all
they still had, four legs—they were still bigger than any bear was ever
meant to be. Their fur was thick and curly, more like a sheep’s wool than
the traditional bear fur. It ranged in color from silver to roan, and their
eyes were usually deep blue. They did not have ears like most bears,
small round nubs, but rather long, slender things more like Leander’s
own fox ears, and their teeth extended down past their lower jaws in two,
 Mourning Doves 11
long fangs, like a saber-toothed cat. Another set protruded from just
behind the first, smaller, but not by much.
They were decently smart, and they were mean. Hunters used these
things as attack dogs, sometimes mounts.
“Already?” Leander yipped and then wrestled the gun out as it took
another swipe at him.
Then he was running. He fired and spun, flying down the street.
Bullets wouldn’t take down a Bearr unless you emptied an entire gun
into them nonstop, up close, with something meaner than what Leander
was carrying.
But there was a chance, a slim chance, that he could get away.
He raced down the street, yelling at people to get out of the way. Not
that there was a need. The Bearr behind him had them in a panic to get
away.
He couldn’t change midstride. He needed a place to hide, to make the
change.
Behind him, the Bearr’s massive paw caught again, digging into his
back, inches from his spine. Leander screamed again, more canine than
human, the sound of a fox with its paw in a trap, and went sprawling.
He groaned as he struggled to push up from the pavement, blood
leaking down his back, down his ribs. The Bearr prowled closer, sensing
what it thought was an easy target.
Leander was panting softly, watching the Bearr stalk closer, and then
closed his eyes and struggled, growling, with the change. Fought to focus
through the pain… to change….
The Bearr roared and dove forward.
And the battered, bleeding Fox on the ground leapt forward and
buried its teeth in the animal’s throat. It roared again and fell back,
clawing at the tiny creature attached. The Fox let go and took off at a run
again.
The Bearr shook its head, coughed, and then lumbered after, snarling.
The Fox led the huge creature on a mad dash down the streets, but
12 Angela Romano
Leander was hurt and running without any sort of goal. Perhaps, were he
calmer, he would have been able to plan, but he only knew now to get
away.
Faintly, it came to him to run for TASK’s main center, but he knew it
was too far away. He’d have to put this nasty son of a bitch down
himself. He stopped, whirled, went for the throat again, scrambled
against coarse fur for purchase, dodged the animal’s huge paws. Fell off,
got smacked, screamed, came up fighting. Grabbed an ear, cried out as
his own was torn near to halfway off. Blood ran down his face, into his
eyes. Coughed, took another blow. Sank tiny teeth into a massive paw.
Got shaken off and thrown halfway across the sidewalk. Came back, less
steady, teeth into the Bearr’s muzzle. Hit the pavement again, and this
time couldn’t hold back the change. His body convulsed, arched up off
the ground as the man was a man again and blearily looked around to see
people racing by in a panic. A couple of them were on cell phones, but
aside from a team like himself and Epsilon, there was no one who could
take down a Bearr.
Losing it hadn’t worked, and discouraging it had only pissed it off.
Leander sat up and retched, gagging on pain. He fumbled at the useless
gun, shaking hands coming up, and he fired, emptied the whole damn
clip into the animal’s face. It snarled and reared back, clawing at itself,
making pained, desperate noises.
“How do you like it, motherfucker?” Leander snarled breathlessly.
He moved and doubled back, running for home.
The bullets hadn’t stopped the Bearr—he’d known they wouldn’t—
but it had given him enough time to gain ground. He got a good five-
minute head start before the thing came after him again, its bellows as
much pain now as rage. Leander grinned tightly to hear it and made it
back to the small home the partners shared, staggering inside.
Epsilon was already downstairs, a much bigger, nastier gun held
confidently in his hand, his incredibly blue eyes narrowed as Leander
burst in.
“What in the hell are you doing?”
“Getting my ass kicked!” Leander yipped back, staggering to the
table and leaning on it. His blood splattered onto the chair, onto the table,
 Mourning Doves 13
but Epsilon didn’t notice. Of course he didn’t, because the Bearr crashed
into the front door and took half the wall out with the impact.
Epsilon was shooting immediately, stance steady, gaze trained on the
threat.
Of course he didn’t notice, because there was no time, because he,
like Leander, was taught to eliminate the problem first and take stock
afterward. Normally, Leander was okay with this mind-set. Very okay, in
fact; peachy keen, great, fantastic, just fucking wonderful, and adhered to
it himself more times than not. Hesitation got you killed.
Hesitation got you mauled by a Bearr.
But now, Leander was sort of wishing that Epsilon would stop and
take stock, because he was feeling very not okay over here. Adrenaline
was wearing off, and he could feel his knees going.
He meant to slide down to the floor quietly, to sit there and wait
while Epsilon finished the Bearr off, maybe use his shirt to stop the
blood flow where he could reach, focus on staying awake, to maybe
fumble with his cell phone out and call for aid: Hi, yes, TASK Base, this
is Leander Kale. I’m bleeding to death on my living room floor, and my
partner is facing off against a pissed-off Bearr. Do you think we could
get an ambulance and some backup out here?
Nothing went quite as he’d planned, though, because nothing ever
went the way he planned. Instead, his legs gave out with a jolt that was
violent enough to yank him back from the bleary, half-conscious place
he’d been in, and he unconsciously grabbed the table. The entire thing
toppled over with him, in a magnificent, thunderous sound that couldn’t
even be described as a crash, really. Epsilon’s eyes darted to him, and he
snarled like a wild animal. The Bearr took the advantage to swipe,
nailing the other man across the side much the way it had Leander.
Epsilon flew into the staircase, not making so much as a sound when he
hit. He snapped back as lithely as a yo-yo, without even pausing, and
rippled.
Epsilon was another sort of Kin altogether. They were called Gene
Babies, or sometimes just Lab Rats, these children who had been created
with the mutated genes and taken from their mothers before birth, placed
into test tubes and made what scientist called Better.
14 Angela Romano
And in many ways, they were; that was the sick thing. Unlike
Leander, Epsilon showed no physical evidence of his mutation. Besides
the utter brilliance of his blue eyes, he could pass as any everyday person
on the street, and his eyes were just something unique to Epsilon. Not, as
far as they could tell, something because of experimentation. He was
also stronger and faster than Leander, just as Leander was stronger and
faster than normal humans. The change was easier for him, faster, took
less concentration, less force of will. He became exhausted less easily,
although he, like Leander, was always ravenous after the change. Even
for the Lab Rats, changing burned a lot of energy. A lot. Leander always
privately thought he could eat his own weight in cheesecake an hour
before he changed and still be starving when he changed back.
The best part and the biggest difference between Leander and
Epsilon was also the most obvious and the most dangerous. Leander’s
Fox looked like a perfectly ordinary fox, but Epsilon…. Well, Epsilon,
not so much. For one, the man wasn’t a Fox. He was a Wylf. Or he
would have been. But the difference between Epsilon’s changed form
and a wolf was the difference between a bear and a Bearr.
If left alone to mutate the way Leander had, he would have been a
nicely sized timber wolf by himself, because Epsilon wasn’t a small guy.
Leander’s Fox was on the smaller side, because Leander was. So
Epsilon’s timber wolf would have been in one of the larger size ranges.
Take that tendency to be larger and combine it with what they’d done
to him, and you had a Wylf that was larger than Leander was really
comfortable with. It stood easily waist-high on a six-foot-tall man, if not
slightly higher, and it was built like a miniature tank. Epsilon once
showed him a picture of an extent species of wolf called “Dire wolves”
and told him that it was the closest thing to what you could call his
changed form.
His coat was black, so impossibly black that he stood out in the
shadows. He was too dark to blend in properly. It was long too, like the
shaggy coat of a border collie, and Leander knew from experience that it
was soft and thick. Really thick. It made it hard to bite through—if one
was trying to bite through—to the skin below. All you got was a
mouthful of that slick, downy fur.
A ripping snarl jerked him out of his thoughts, and he looked up in
 Mourning Doves 15
time to see this monster lunge for the Bearr’s throat.
This was a totally different dance. The Bearr sensed a new target, a
change in difficulty. Sensed the threat, the danger. This was no mad,
panicked struggle for life… this was a cold tango. The Bearr was already
struggling, one massive leg dragging uselessly, semi-blind from
Leander’s shots to its face. Its swings were suddenly missing, its jaws
snapping on empty air where Epsilon had been moments before. Epsilon
was snarling and lunging in, out, silent, silent, ever deadly quiet.
This was the most dangerous thing about ones like Epsilon. Once
they had a target, much like Bearrs, they didn’t give it up, and they
didn’t let it get away. Epsilon would not stop until it was dead, or until
he was.
Wouldn’t stop. That terrified Leander more than his companion’s
huge, wolfish form.
Epsilon had swung around and was on the Bearr’s back, teeth sunk
into its neck. He ripped away, bringing chunks of flesh with him, and bit
in again, and now he made noise- ripping, savage growls. The Bearr rose
on his hind legs, snarling, frantic now to free himself, and slammed
Epsilon against a wall, once, twice. His yelps of pain were smothered in
the flesh in his jaws but were yelps nonetheless, and by the fourth slam,
he let go to scream in unadulterated agony.
Leander wanted to yell his name, to help, but he couldn’t coordinate
the effort. He struggled to push up, to rise, but nearly passed out.
The Bearr was shaking itself and staggering, making low, pained
cries and growling in bloodlust. It huffed and then turned its half-blind
eyes on Leander.
Epsilon was there as it turned to him, putting himself between
Leander and the Bearr. He was bristling and snarling, his huge bulk
protective and warning.
Leander’s vision blurred and misted, in and out.
The last thing he heard, before his willpower at last gave out, was
Epsilon bellow.
16 Angela Romano

SOFT beeping coaxed him, urged him awake, and pain followed swiftly.
The pain was muted and dull, and he knew through long experience that
he was feeling it through painkillers. He blinked awake, taking stock of
where he was. Hospital, obviously, lying on a bed with tubes in him and
monitors attached. Familiar situation, he thought wryly, lips twitching.
He came more alert slowly, and his smile grew when he saw
Madison by his bed, long legs crossed at the knee, a book in her hands.
She sat by the window, her red curls spilling down her back, in a T-shirt
and jeans. Not her typical wardrobe. She glanced up and lowered the
book when he moved. “Leander?” she asked, and he marveled at the tone
in her voice. Concern.
“Hey, Maddi,” he drawled, and his voice rasped from his throat in a
croak that startled him. “Slummin’ today?”
“Madison,” she corrected, but did she look awfully near tears? “And
I’ve been ‘slummin’’ for the past week.”
“You—what?” He blinked, trying to find what he’d missed in the
conversation.
“A week. That’s how long you’ve been out,” she said. “They said if
you weren’t Kin, you’d be in a coma or—” She stopped, cleared her
throat gently. “You’re supposed to be trained in how to fight these
things, Leander. What do you think you get paid for?”
He chuckled hoarsely and winced. His ribs felt like they’d been
crushed. “Is Epsilon… is he okay?”
Madison grimaced a little. “You know the man. We can’t find him,”
she admitted.
“You can’t find him?”
Madison scowled. “Don’t give me that incredulous tone, Leander.
You know him.”
Leander’s lips thinned, and he fought back a growl. He did, and
therefore he couldn’t really be pissed at anyone for their inability to
locate Epsilon. When the man was hurt, particular when it was bad, he
went to ground, and when he did that, you had to be a damned hound
 Mourning Doves 17
dog to get to him. Or a Fox.
But Leander had been down for the count, and no one else knew his
partner well enough to know where he’d go to lick his wounds and try to
heal.
“He could be dead right now!” he protested, despite his
understanding, trying to push up. Madison moved fast, pressing him
back down with a no-nonsense hand on his chest.
“I doubt that very much,” she said. “And you do too.”
Stupid, stubborn man…. Leander did growl this time, a soft,
rumbling snarl. “How did you find us?”
“Epsilon.” She said on a weary sigh. “After he killed that Bearr, he
called. He told us you were down and critical and that he’d done what he
could to stabilize you. He gave us your address and told us to bring a
cleanup crew.”
“How did he sound?”
“Excuse me?”
“How did he sound, Madison? And don’t lie to me.”
She paused and then shut her eyes. “Exhausted,” she said at last.
“Hurting and exhausted. We tried to keep him there, but he hung up.”
“I have t’ get him.”
“You can’t go anywhere,” she snapped, eyes hard and fixed on him.
“Leander, you just came back around after getting the shit kicked out of
you.”
“I’m okay. I’m Kin. We heal fast.”
“Epsilon is Kin too.”
“Damn it, Madison, it’s not the same!”
“You’re right; it’s not. But I’m not going to have two of my boys
hurt and missing out there.” A new voice drawled, a familiar one laced
with a rich Southern accent and gently deep. Leander pushed up again,
this time managing to shove Madison off him. Hurt or not, being Kin he
could still outdo a little human female without trying.
18 Angela Romano
Wolf Addison stood in the doorway of the hospital room, leaning on
the frame. His auburn hair was tied back in a loose tail, his green eyes
half-lidded. The man was young, too young for his station, most would
say, at twenty-nine years old. But Leander saw his age in his eyes, in the
weariness of them. He looked like a man who had fought too long and
too hard, seen too much too soon. Sometimes he looked so heart-
wrenchingly sad it took Leander’s breath away. He was Leander’s
superior and the head of TASK. The man behind the desk, though that
was certainly not all, he was a spokesperson, a pretty face, a leader, a
researcher, and he could kick serious ass if you threw him into a situation
where he needed to.
Wolf often said, with a lopsided, dimpled grin that made girls swoon,
that he would never ask his agents to do something he hadn’t. So don’t
bitch at me, he’d say, because I’ve already bitched at someone else, and
it didn’t change a thing.
Wolf’s grin wasn’t in place today. He was smiling to see Leander
awake, but it was a tired little smile.
“Your dimples are drooping,” Leander said, and Madison gave a
decidedly un-British, unladylike snort of amused surprise.
Wolf’s eyes darted from one to the other, and he pushed off the
frame. “Well, our resident wiseass is clearly fine,” he drawled and
accidentally “bumped” Leander passing by the bed. Pain flared, and
Leander hissed a string of curses that made Madison flush and cough
softly.
“Leander Kale.”
“He did that on—”
“Leander, there is a lady present.”
“Where?” he quipped, and this time Wolf didn’t even pretend it was
an accident.
“Ow! Son of a bitch, Wolf!”
Madison was laughing quietly, and the sound was relieved,
somehow. He had a feeling she hadn’t laughed much recently.
“Glad to have you back,” Wolf said, leaning now against the wall
 Mourning Doves 19
and regarding Leander. His eyes were a mild, rich green, deep and dark.
Pretty, exotic eyes, yet another feature women loved about him. Leander
would give the man that. His eyes were lovely. Madison complained, all
the time, that hers were not the true color of his, but a softer shade, closer
to hazel.
Pretty eyes, yes, but not the right kind of pretty. Not at all like
Epsilon’s eyes, which were the exact opposite of his tempered, almost
non-personality. His eyes were a jumping, electric, vivid, screaming
blue, almost white they were so light, a shade Leander had never seen
before. Leander wanted those too-blue eyes to be looking at him now,
not Wolf’s somber, leopard-in-a-forest eyes.
But one thing was exactly the same: Wolf had Epsilon’s unnerving,
unflappable stare. And it was trained on Leander now.
“Where would he go?”
“To ground. I don’t know, Wolf. I’d have to go home and start
tracking from there.”
“He has to have some places he would automatically head for.”
Leander shook his head. “You’re thinking of the den instinct, and
that’s smart; we all have it, yeah. When in danger, run for the burrow.
Hell, I did it. But the hounds found the den, and he’s not going to lead
them straight to another one. And he ain’t a normal Kin either. He’s a—”
The leader of TASK cut him off. “I’m aware of what he is.”
“I’m the only one that can find him,” Leander said, already fighting
to get off the bed and untangle himself. Then he stopped and looked over
at Wolf.
“Why was a Bearr there, anyway?”
“You know what case you just took, Leander.”
“Oh bull fucking shit. No way did the Hunters know we were after
’em so fast.”
Wolf looked down, and Leander got a sick feeling.
“Wolf?” Leander sat up, eyes searching his young leader’s face. He
already knew what had happened. He wanted to be wrong.
20 Angela Romano
The Southerner’s eyes flicked down. “We think there might be
someone taking bribes in TASK,” he said flatly, getting right down to it.
“And it’s much bigger than telling Hunters we’re after them.”
“Bigger?” Leander yelped as he yanked a tube from his wrist, ears
laying flat. Madison sighed in annoyance and came over to help.
Wolf looked up again, eyes mild. “Don’t ask, Leander. I can’t tell
you right now.”
“You can’t tell me? I’m lyin’ in a hospital bed—not the first one, I
know, but all the same—and my partner and friend is missing, possibly
dying, and you… damn it, Wolf!”
“If I could, I would!” Wolf barked, eyes flashing. “If I could,
Leander, I’d have gotten the son of a bitch already.” He stopped, eyes
closing.
Leander paused too, ears flicking upright. “I’m sorry,” he said
quietly, both lying flat back against his skull once more. Madison
coughed softly, pushing up off the bed.
“Leander, lay back down,” she said mildly, her eyes accepting no
argument, her voice hard. “You can go and find him when you’ve at
least rested some.”
“How much is ‘some’?” he asked, startled at how gruff and harsh his
own voice sounded. It happened, sometimes, when he was emotional or
hurt. A low, lilting growl entered his voice without his full permission.
Both Madison and Wolf were long since used to hearing it, though, and
neither flinched.
“At least a few hours,” Madison said, her tone never changing from
its take-no-bullshit manner. “You just woke up.”
Leander growled, but Madison raised a brow and Wolf started to
chuckle in a soft, coughing way that said he was smothering it.
“Down, puppy,” Madison drawled, and she reached out to stroke
behind his ears once more. He wanted to beat her away, but her touch
was too pleasant, and he closed his eyes. She smiled, which he couldn’t
see, and winked at Wolf.
Wolf chuckled softly, eyes dancing. One sure way to calm the man
 Mourning Doves 21
down was to pet his ears and know exactly how to do it. Madison was
one of the few with that knowledge.
Wolf jerked his head toward the door, and Madison followed after a
moment, leaving Leander peacefully napping, recovering.
Outside in the hall, Wolf was fumbling in his pockets with shaking
hands.
“No smoking in the hospital,” she said mildly, and his sharp green
eyes landed on her, narrowed.
“I know that, Madison,” he growled, his accent thicker, rich as
cream.
“If it upsets you that much, just tell him,” she murmured, her own
accent demure and mild in comparison.
“You know I can’t. I can’t do that, Madison.”
Madison went quiet, closing her eyes. “Do you really think Epsilon
would do something like this, Wolf?”
“No,” Wolf said, voice a bare breath. “Does it matter what I think?”
Madison’s eyes opened a crack. “As the head of TASK, I would hope
it does.”
“Bullshit,” he snarled.
Madison sighed. “If you need a cigarette that badly, we can talk
outside.”
“It’s not just the cigarette, and you know it.” He gave up with a grunt
and dropped to the floor. She moved quietly, crouching in front to push
back his hair.
“I know,” she murmured. “Epsilon’s been with us a long time,
Wolf.”
“I already told you I don’t think he’s the one.” Wolf straightened
against the wall, sighing.
“Then say that, Wolf.”
“I have! A hundred times, every fucking meeting we’ve had!”
22 Angela Romano
She sighed, running a hand over her eyes. “You need to relax.”
“I need a fucking smoke.” He groaned and then jumped as his cell
phone started to buzz. He was on his feet in an instant.
“Addison,” he said, voice crisp and alert again, no longer ragged or
on the edge of breaking. “I can’t—” He waved a hand at her in apology
and dismissal and moved outside.
Madison rose as well, concern and worry on her pretty face. Then she
masked it with ease and went back into Leander’s room, to sit and wait,
and to lie and pretend.

One Week Later

HE knew where to go. Of course he did; he knew Epsilon as well as

himself. It didn’t go both ways, but that was okay. Leander worked to
make himself hard to know, and someone like Epsilon, well…. Part of
understanding the man was understanding that he didn’t really try to get
to know anyone well beyond knowing the facts on them.
And he’d jumped between Leander and a Bearr. That wasn’t the first
time either.
Leander padded softly down the alleys, his tail arched and waving
proudly over his back. No one looked twice at a fox trotting down the
road, except one or two glances at the backpack the thing wore.
Despite his proud step and high head, he was scared, and he was still
hurting. He’d picked up Epsilon’s scent, but it was strong with blood,
and he kept fucking well losing it and having to go back because one
person’s blood smelled like anyone else’s and like other things too.
Growling, he backtracked for the fifth time before following the
scent down a side alley, ears now upright and quivering. His tail lashed
behind him, and he shifted back, staggering a moment before the pain
dulled to a throb.
 Mourning Doves 23
Now a slender young man stood, dressed in a shirt that was half-
black and half-striped, one sleeve long and one short, and long, tight
pants to match. His hoodie had the ace of spades on the back, half falling
off his shoulders. His soft blondish hair was tugged back, disappearing
under the black hoodie in soft waves; his green eyes were lined thickly
with black.
The file hadn’t done him justice, really. He was pretty to the point of
being delicate, with softly caramel skin and the palest hint of freckles.
His lips were soft and full, his face fine-boned and slender, almost elfin.
He wasn’t tall, but he was slender and leggy. As a child, this had given
him a coltish, awkward look; now it suited him well, made him elegant.
Once the nausea settled, he started off on two legs. Despite his
injury, he walked with a lazy grace, hand unconsciously moving to check
the gun around his waist, the other clutching the backpack he’d
previously been wearing like a harness. To his human self, it was tiny,
barely large enough to sling over one shoulder. But it held a first aid kit
and a few other necessities for this particular duty.
He didn’t need to worry about sniffing Epsilon out now; he could
follow the faint trail even in this form. Ears twitching, tail waving idly
along the ground, he followed the trail until it led to a warehouse, long
since abandoned.
“Oh, come on, man, the only thing more cliché than this is my calling
you on it,” he drawled, stepping inside. A low, rumbling growl from the
darkness made him step more cautiously.
“Easy, babe, it’s just me,” he murmured. “I know you’re hurtin’, but
it’s just me.”
The growl grew louder and then tapered off, and Epsilon stepped out.
He was struggling, limping, his right leg nearly useless, his right arm
dangling.
“Aw, man. Look at you, babe.” Leander stepped forward once more,
eyes gentle. “Come on, big boy; let’s get you to TASK.”
Epsilon took a deep breath and nodded once. The glow in his eyes
faded, and he looked human again, normal again.
“There’s my boy, all right,” Leander said, his ears gently flat against
24 Angela Romano
his skull. “I know it’s hard, that’s all right. Come on. Come on right back
to me. Here you are, here you go now.” He kept talking, low and soft. It
was better, that way, like talking to a wild animal. Epsilon’s eyes were
human and calm again, but there was something feral and hard there.
He collapsed hard when he got to Leander, muttering something.
“Man, why the fuck don’t you let people help you?” Leander asked.
“I let you help me.” The words were a muttered protest, weak and
low.
“Reluctantly.” Leander shifted, easing the man down gently. “Here,
let me fix you up some,” he said, working on fixing the smaller wounds
he was able to. Then he helped Epsilon rise again, supporting the man
with an arm over his shoulders. The pair limped outside, and Leander
wriggled a cell phone from his pack.
Wolf answered on the second ring, his voice clipped and harsh.
Leander flinched, recognizing the “stressed” voice.
“Got him,” he said. “I’ve got him, Wolf, and he’s strugglin’ pretty
hard.”
Wolf groaned softly, and Leander could just imagine him mussing
his hair. “How far away are you?”
Leander shifted Epsilon’s weight, wincing as the man staggered.
“I’m downtown, right offa 18th. Found ’im in an old warehouse in a
back alley.”
“Get him to the corner, and I’ll have a car come pick you up,” Wolf
said, and he sounded tired. “Badly hurt?”
“Nothing major, broken bone and superficial wounds. Exhausted, in
pain, but so long as nothing gets infected from his runnin’ off by hisself,
he should be fine.”
“Not infected,” Epsilon grunted. “I’ve been keeping the wounds
clean.”
“But not healed or gone t’ someone for help.” Leander groaned.
“Stubborn, stupid—”
Epsilon grunted something that may have been a laugh. Leander’s
 Mourning Doves 25
eyes flashed, and he shoved his companion affectionately, nearly sending
him off balance.
“You’re an ass, sir,” Leander growled, but Epsilon had given into
exhaustion and didn’t hear.
26 Angela Romano

WOLF was only in his late twenties, but sometimes he felt much older.
Times like now, when his head throbbed so badly he could barely see
and hadn’t eaten properly in nearly two days. He was pushed past
exhausted, well beyond the point of anger. He felt numb and detached,
an odd floating sensation. He knew if he stood up, there was a very good
chance he’d pitch right over again.
His phone was ringing. Bleary-eyed, he lifted his head, finger finding
the speaker button. “Addison here,” he said, trying to sound as he should.
“Addison, this is Mercedes Knight,” said a familiar, and by this time
dreaded, voice. “I’m calling—”
“I know why you’re calling,” Wolf managed. “Mercedes, I already
have people looking into the attack on Leander, and they can find no
proof that Epsilon had anything to do with—”
“But what about the proof pointing directly at him regarding that
incident right before Leander came aboard?”
“That was the entire reason he was paired with Leander in the first
place, and if I recall, you originally put the blame on Leander.”
“At the time, Leander wasn’t—”
“Oh, bullshit. You don’t trust him now any more than you did.”
“That language isn’t necessary.”
“That language is completely necessary. It’s four a.m., I haven’t
 Mourning Doves 27
eaten anything except for snack and junk food for over two days, I have
a migraine I can’t do shit about, and this is the dozenth time I’ve had to
defend not one but two of my best agents from people who know almost
nothing about TASK or Kin. Agents, I might add, who I have been
forced to defend at every turn, every time anything goes wrong.” His
outburst was not loud—Wolf was never loud—but more vehement than
he’d meant for it to come out.
The man on the other end was silent for a moment. “You’re right,”
he said at last, softly, and he sounded genuinely affectionate and
apologetic. “You’re right, Wolf. It’s not fair of me to push you like this.
Look: go home, get some rest. Eat. I’ll hold the suits off as long as I
can.”
Wolf sighed, running a hand through his hair, his eyes closed. “I
can’t. Look, we can’t do this over the phone, Mercedes—”
“Some FBI officials want to have a chat with you, but like I said, I
can hold them—”
“When?”
“Wolf, you—”
“Damn it, Mercedes, just tell me when I have to be there.”
Long pause. “A week.”
“You’re lying.”
“How do you know? Maybe I pushed it back a few days, maybe not.
You can’t deal with this logically or intelligently on no sleep and no
food. I may be a bloodthirsty son of a bitch, but you’re my friend, like it
or not, Wolf.”
Wolf groaned and closed his eyes, never able to stay angry at
Mercedes, even when he should be.
“Wolf?”
“I’m all right,” he said, running a hand over his face. “One week.”
“Good,” Mercedes replied, and Wolf could hear the other man sigh.
“Get Madison to drive you home.”
“I can drive myself.”
28 Angela Romano
“Wolf, you said it yourself. You’re past exhausted. I’d feel better if
you just got someone to pick you up.”
Wolf growled something unflattering under his breath, but Mercedes,
well used to being called worse and much less affectionately, ignored it.
“Apparently, you’re grumpy as well.”
“Fuck you.”
Mercedes laughed and hung up the phone. Wolf hung up his end and
then put his head back down on the desk. Mercedes wasn’t a bad guy, a
skilled go-between for TASK and other law-enforcement agencies and a
natural born mother hen; he was actually someone Wolf considered a
good friend and trustworthy companion. But Mercedes had difficulty
trusting Leander because of his background and Epsilon just because.
Wolf couldn’t entirely blame him on that one; Epsilon never made any
attempt to seem approachable or companionable.
He sighed and rose at last, and, sure enough, the world tipped, and he
staggered into the edge of his desk. He swore vividly, hand going to
protectively cradle his now-wounded leg, and the pain was just the
excuse his body needed. He lurched convulsively and heaved into the
trash can by his desk, bringing up almost nothing. His body continued to
bow and quiver with the force of his gagging despite the fact that there
was nothing to bring up, retching four, five times helplessly before he
fell back panting.
Maybe he did need that ride. He forced himself up again—it took a
couple tries—and made his way to Madison’s office down the hall. He
nearly passed it, focused as he was on simply making it to her office. Her
hand on his shoulder was the only way he knew he’d gotten close.
“Wolf? Problem?” she asked, moving around and cupping his face
with a hand. Her brow furrowed and nose wrinkled. “You’ve been sick
in there; I can damn well smell it. That’s it. You’re going home.”
“Mercedes asked you to take me,” he murmured. “Doesn’t think I
can drive.”
“That would be because you can’t,” she drawled, amusement
flickering over her expression. “I’m amazed you can walk. The strongest
thing I’ve got on me is Tylenol. I’d think you’d know better than to leave
 Mourning Doves 29
stronger medication at home.”
“I can’t take it here; it knocks me out,” he replied, not liking the
slurred tone of his own voice. He needed to sit.
“Well.” She huffed. “Let me get my things and I’ll take you.
Anything new on the Epsilon front?”
“The FBI wants to talk in a week,” he replied. “But other than that,
no.”
“But I thought the evidence didn’t point at Epsilon for the Bearr
attack.”
“Of course it didn’t,” he snarled, and then he flinched. “Sorry. No
evidence points at Epsilon for this particular situation, but they’re using
the questionable points that aimed right at him when the whole situation
with Leander came up.”
“They’re blaming him for that?”
“They’re blaming whoever they can for that, and sadly, those two are
the easiest targets.”
Wolf put his hands on his arms, his eyes closed. Madison’s face
pinched, and she puffed out her cheeks. “Hang in there, Wolf.”
He nodded once, but said nothing, and by the time she’d gotten him
out, he’d been ill in her trash can too. She’d rubbed his back and held his
hair for him.
She got him home without incident, helping him out of the car and
into bed. His medication was tucked safely away, but he managed to tell
her where to find it, and she dosed him. Then she checked his messages:
over ten, most from the media and the brats in other agencies, just
waiting for an opportunity to bring TASK down. But there were a couple
from Leander and Epsilon, thanking him for the pickup last week and
wanting to know if he wanted to get a drink or just come over for dinner.
That was Leander all over. He could befriend a rock. Madison knew if
Wolf was feeling better, he’d have accepted, tired or not.
Grinning, she noted the messages and was making some hot tea for
herself—she wasn’t planning on leaving Wolf alone in his state—when
the machine blinked another two messages.
30 Angela Romano
Weird. The phone hadn’t rung.
Frowning, she hit the button to play them and jumped back when
loud static assaulted her ears. She quickly turned the volume down on
the machine and was abruptly aware of a voice in that mess. She
replayed it and leaned close, listening hard.
Stay away, she realized the voice was saying, and her pulse raced.
Stop looking.
The message ended as quickly as it’d started.
The second was more of the same. Less static, but the voice was
oddly distorted, as if someone were using a gimmick to disguise it.
Probably are.
She saved both and then bit her lower lip. No one but Wolf really had
any reason to know about this, did they? Really?
No. No, they did not. Smiling in a content way, she went and made
her tea.

IT’S cold.
There’s fire, so he should be burning, but instead he’s freezing. He
can feel the flames licking at his skin, but they don’t hurt. They seem to
caress him instead. But he knows he should be afraid. Not for himself,
though.
He walks forward calmly, watching the fire dance around him to a
rhythm he can’t hear.
Then the boy stands before him. He is almost red-haired, not quite,
and his eyes are a very light green, holding laughter and age. He is
small, both around and up and down, and dark-skinned, thoroughly
tanned. Ears extend from his long hair, furry fox ears that are currently
pricked and twitching around to catch every sound. A tail wraps around
his legs, the end swinging in irritation.
He watches the boy, watches those green eyes focus on a spot past
his shoulder.
 Mourning Doves 31
He turns to see what this figure is looking at and gasps.
Another man is there, tied to a stake like an old-fashioned witch
burning. His head is down, resigned or exhausted, and his blue-black
hair hangs limply around his face. He’s tall, much taller than either
observer. He’s not tan, but his skin is naturally darker. Scars rip across
his skin. He lifts his head when both sets of eyes land on him, and opens
his own, revealing a startling white-blue color. Those eyes are
expressionless. The fire around them seems to avoid them, the fire only
reaching out to caress shyly, but with this tied-up figure, they lunge and
leap, eagerly trying to burn, to destroy. Sweat plasters his hair down,
glistens on his face.
“You know,” the boy behind him murmurs, and he spins back around
to look into those pale green eyes. “You know.”
He knows better than to expect straight answers by now.
“Do I?” he asks, and the figure nods, jerking his head to the left in a
“look” motion. So he looks and physically takes a step back.
A figure in the fire, also untouched. Cruel, hard eyes set in a pale
face, stringy graying blond hair. Tall, like the figure at the stake, taller
than or of a height to him, at least.
Familiar. So familiar.
The man with the eyes, hazel eyes, hazel made darker with madness
and meanness, steps forward. He reaches out, and the boy behind him
cries out sharply. Around them, the fire suddenly roars like an angry
beast, and it’s not cold anymore. He feels the heat suddenly, knows he
has to get away. The fire closes between the man and himself, and he
hears the snarl of rage. The boy that was behind him suddenly grabs
him. His touch isn’t felt.
“You know!” he repeats, desperate and hard. “You know!”
And he does. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he does.
The boy is crying.
The fire rages around them, keeping the figure at bay, at the same
time killing the raven-haired male somewhere behind them.
“Who are you two?” he asks, feeling the fire start to lick at his
32 Angela Romano
ankles. “Where?”
The boy is still crying.
“Where, damn it, where are you? I have to know where you are to
help!”
The boy opens his mouth.
“The fox in the wolf’s den,” he says, and his voice is already fading.
“The wolf and fox.”
Should have known better than to demand a straight fucking answer.

“ANY luck?”
Epsilon’s voice jerked Leander out of his work, making his ears pin
flat. He turned the swivel chair, watching his partner take a seat
backward in another chair. He sighed. “I found where our Hunter’s lover
is hiding out, and ’pparently there was a tracker on the Bearr,” he said,
choosing his words carefully. Wolf had said not to tell Epsilon about the
suspected mole. No one should know. It felt strange, keeping this
important bit of information from his partner, but Wolf had promised to
rip his ears off if he so much as hinted to Epsilon what was going on.
Yeah, that made Leander’s hackles go up. But whatever.
“A tracker?” Epsilon echoed, eyebrows arched.
“Mm. But evidence says it weren’t the lover that put it on the Bearr.
Our tests confirm it was a male.”
“I still say we find the girl and have a talk.”
“Already planned on it.” Leander smirked. “I’ve got her address and
contacted her by phone.”
Epsilon nodded. “That all?”
“For now? Yeah, ’cept for what’s in the files.” He motioned. “And
that’s mostly all personal info on th’ girl and shit.” He shrugged.
“Background info that’s sorta helpful,” he added. “But that’s pretty much
it.”
 Mourning Doves 33
“Two weeks and that’s all you come up with?”
“You’ve been lying in a hospital, Epsilon, not very much help.”
Epsilon snorted. “Call the girl, Leander.”
“You want to go today?”
“Now.”
“Now? Epsilon—”
“Call her.” Epsilon rose, swinging off the chair. “And get your
things. No changing unless you have to. It’s a last-minute resort. I will
cut off your ears.”
“I know, I know,” Leander retorted, sticking his tongue out. People
kept threatening his poor ears. He rubbed said ears unconsciously and
made a face. But Epsilon was already moving upstairs and was
oblivious. Leander snarled, growling under his breath. He grabbed the
phone and punched in her phone number.
“What if she’s not home?”
“Then she gets a surprise!”
“Typical,” Leander muttered as the phone was finally picked up.
“Hello?” The now-familiar, soft voice was on the other end of the
line.
“Hello, Alex, this is Leander Kale from TASK.”
“I remember.” The smile was evident in her young voice. She’d liked
him, but then, Leander was likable.
“I called about a week ago. My partner was down for the count in the
hospital, and we couldn’t really get together.”
“I remember that too.” She sounded vaguely amused. “I’m assuming
your partner is up and on his feet again.”
“Yeah, actually, and he wants to speak with you now that he’s up and
around.”
“It’s only been a week.”
He sighed into the phone. “I’m aware.”
34 Angela Romano
“How did your partner get out of the hospital in a week?”
Leander gnawed his lower lip softly and tried not to groan. “He heals
very well.”
She was quiet for a long time. Then she laughed, a low, smoky sound
that sent shivers up his spine. A pleasant laugh, indeed.
“I have no problem with Kin, Mr. Kale.”
He flinched. “It’s Leander.”
“I have no problem with Kin, Leander.”
Well, that’s good to know before you set eyes on me.
“He’s a little more than just simple—”
“He’s a Gene Baby? That’s fine too, you know. Look, I called an
agency dealing with… people that aren’t exactly normal… and I
expected to get someone a little less than normal themselves. Or more,
depending on how you look at it. Isn’t that a quote from something?”
Leander laughed, watching Epsilon trot back down the stairs. “Glad
to hear it,” he said. “We’ll be at your house in an hour or so. Let us grab
some breakfast first. Probably the golden arches, actually. Not
Piccadilly’s, but there it is. Want somethin’?”
“Sure,” she replied, and he could hear her smirk in her voice. “I’ll
pay you back.”
“Don’t worry ’bout it,” he said, waving off Epsilon’s growling
irritation. “We’re on our way.”
He hung up and grabbed a backpack from the floor. Inside, he stuffed
a first aid kit, water bottles, a cell phone, and a small switchblade that
was neatly hidden in the thing’s lining. He set it on the table and grabbed
his jacket, a punk thing that was red with black and white patches, a very
long vee collar that attached, via several chains, to a choker. One sleeve
was detachable, also held on with chains, and the other was split up one
side. It cut to the knees in front and down to the ankles in back, an eye-
catching spectacle that Epsilon often scorned. He attached a holster to his
forearm and slipped the little derringer inside. Much more accurate and
lethal than its Old West predecessors, the tiny .45 was still deadly in
close quarters. A shoulder holster got strapped on too, with his baby
 Mourning Doves 35
slipped in, a big, ugly gun called the Taurus Raging Bull. The gun was
the weapon Leander had wanted when the Bearr had come after them,
the one he’d not been able to get at. It was a stocky .454 Casull and
nearly jarred even Leander’s teeth to the root every time it was fired, but
it was accurate and had stopping power that was unbelievable. It had
been used to put down animals as big as African elephants.
Epsilon’s weapons were sleek and elegant; Leander’s were big and
blocky. Both were efficient, both were deadly.
He slipped on the combat boots he typically wore and watched as
Epsilon came back into view in his more traditional black trench coat
and more normal-in-appearance boots; his held a nasty little surprise,
though. With a tap of his heel, a blade would jump forward from each.
He knew without having to look that Epsilon also wore a shoulder
holster like his own. It held a gun not much larger than Leander’s own
derringer, a Beretta 21 Bobcat. He knew, too, that a leg holster was
under that long black trench, holding something more along the lines of a
sniper’s rifle. In fact, it was a sniper’s rifle, a VSS Vintorez. Also
beneath the trench, a pair of butterfly swords lurked.
Changing was a last-resort-only kind of thing for moments when
your mini-arsenal didn’t do the job.
Epsilon grabbed the little emergency backpack, tolerating it since
Leander wanted it, and headed out. A moment later, Leander heard the
familiar, powerful roar of the Mafia Car, the sleek black Cadillac he’d
purchased from a junk shop and repaired. Now, he’d found out only
about a year ago, the thing was worth several thousand dollars. That
thing was his baby, though, and he’d never sell. He followed his partner
out, sliding into the passenger’s side. He was barely in before Epsilon
was moving.
“Shit, man, the girl ain’t going anywhere!” he yelped as his poor girl
whined in protest. Epsilon smirked over at him. “We’ve wasted too
much time already. Your car’s not made of porcelain, Leander.”
Leander snarled and lay his ears flat, arms crossing over his chest
and tail lashing, making a soft sound every time it hit the leather of the
seat, his eyes out the window in a glare.
Epsilon let out a low, soft chuckle and turned back to the road… and
36 Angela Romano
then suddenly swore and hit the brakes hard, swerving sharply.
Leander yelped again, crying out in soft pain as the belt caught. Old
wounds, still healing a bit, protested loudly, and beside him he was
aware of Epsilon snarling with pain, doubled over the steering wheel.
“What the fuck, Epsilon?”
“Kid in the fucking road,” he gasped out tightly, throwing open the
door. “We hit….”
“Shit!” Leander climbed out too, alarmed. Epsilon staggered, came
around, and stopped, his nostrils flaring.
Leander smelled it too and sent his partner a look.
Hunter.
“Get back in the car,” Epsilon said, voice low and dangerous. “Get
back in the car now.”
Hunters were not impossible to take on. But they were tough, and if
you tangled with one, you did with others. There had never been a kid. It
was a Hunter disguised as one; not something new. They were fantastic
at using cover and disguise like that.
Leander pinned his ears back, both he and Epsilon scenting the air
without conscious thought as they climbed back into the vehicle. Just as
Leander moved to pull the door shut, the Hunter came up to his window.
It looked, indeed, like a child, but not one who had just gotten hit by
a car. Its eyes were cold and inhuman. It was smiling manically at him,
and when it did, it bared its fangs at him and giggled.
“Drive!” he roared, and Epsilon’s foot slammed into the gas pedal.
Leander’s claws flashed, raked out against the Hunter’s pale, pale skin.
Blood spilled, and it yanked back with a scream of anger that was lost as
the car pulled forward almost violently.
It took off after them, running as fast as the car could move,
effortlessly. Its claws sank into the metal of the car, and Leander hissed.
“Get your damn paws off my girl!” He snapped the wrist holster, leaning
out the window to fire directly into the Hunter’s face.
Hunters were things that had once been people. But they were
 Mourning Doves 37
injected with a drug that made them stronger and faster, with better
senses and a lack of pain sense. This one displayed that now, barely
flinching as the rounds cut into its flesh and ripped it away.
It did lose its grip, though, and hit the ground behind the car.
Leander’s ears pricked, and he grinned his victory.
He sat back, putting the gun away. “That thing’s going to be up and
recovered soon.”
“Injured it can’t keep up.”
“It has reinforcements, Epsilon.”
The other Kin grinned suddenly, a dark, humorless expression.
“Afraid of a little Hunter Baby, Leander?” he asked, and it was made all
the worse by that emotionless tone. There was no drawling mockery.
“Oh, shut up, will you?”
They spun around a corner, and Leander reclined back in the seat,
closing his eyes. “We need to grab McDonald’s.”
“We’re being pursued by Hunters, and you want food?”
“We’re not being ‘pursued’; there was one and it’s that way.” He
jerked a thumb behind them.
“‘It has reinforcements’, Leander.”
“Wiseass,” Leander snarled, and Epsilon grinned at him.
The car whipped around the corner, pulling through a side street back
onto the main road.
“Anything still comin’ behind us?”
Leander gathered the gun again, leaning out of the car and scenting.
He was nearly thrown out of the car when Epsilon braked, but he caught
himself abruptly.
“Fuck, Epsilon!”
“Shut up.” Epsilon gritted his teeth. “Are they following us?”
Leander snarled and laid his ears.
“Leander!”
38 Angela Romano
The younger Kin bared his fangs but put his ears back up, eyes
closed as he focused.
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I can’t smell anything.”
Epsilon nodded. “Then McDonald’s it is.” And now he was drawling.
It was strange to hear in that cold voice. He accelerated again, and once
again Leander was nearly pitched out.
“Will you stop that?” Leander dropped back into his seat, buckling
himself in. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” Epsilon reminded, smirking
and slowing to a more moderate speed.
Leander smiled but went silent, looking in the rearview. Doesn’t he
wonder how the Hunters already know we’re after one of their own? He
doesn’t know about the leak, so why isn’t he curious?
He glanced over at the impassive face of his partner, his ears softly
back in his hair and worry on his young face. It was nearly impossible to
read Epsilon. Even Wolf had problems with it. He’d only been Leander’s
partner for roughly a year now, not a very long stretch of time, though
he’d been part of TASK for nearly ten. Leander had been in TASK for
only five years and had been a solo agent four of those, mostly because
so few others could deal with him.
He and Epsilon had just, oddly, clicked. They had been through some
major bullshit together before they were ever partnered, standing
shoulder to shoulder through it all, and Wolf had seen one hell of a
potential team.
Leander’s ears disappeared further into his thick hair. Why doesn’t he
want Epsilon to know? Why me and not him? Why me, when I was the
one who was known to be the lawbreaker? Why can’t he tell the man
who’s been here ten years?
Epsilon brought the car into the parking lot of the mundane, familiar
fast-food chain, pulling the big, beautiful car to a stop as if nothing were
out of the ordinary. And for the first time in five years, Leander was
scared.
 Mourning Doves 39

SHE was surprised when they actually turned up with food.

“Man of my word,” Leander had drawled when she barked a laugh at
seeing the bags in his hand. “We figured we could lunch at your place,
doll.” He winked, and she was giggling. He could tell she was surprised,
both by the fact that his charm had an effect on her and by his
appearance. Maybe she was okay with Kin, but she obviously hadn’t
been around them much up close. She wanted to touch his ears, he could
tell. Most females did, for one reason or another, and he was usually
happy to let them. He liked having his ears rubbed.
She didn’t ask, though, having more tact than that. Instead, the
attractive woman with gray eyes and brown hair smiled and apologized
for the appearance of her house and attire. She was painting, she
explained, redecorating. Indeed, her shirt was a torn and paint-splattered
affair several sizes too long for her and slightly too wide, and her jeans,
while they fit (and nicely) were just as spattered and ripped. Her fox-
brown curls were tugged back in a snug bun with a few strands
rebelliously jumping free, and her freckled cheeks were also streaked
with colors and sweat. She was tiny but proportional from bust to legs, a
cute and mischievous-looking little thing rather than sexy or beautiful.
“You already know me,” Leander said with a smile. “Leander Kale.
This is the partner I was telling you about. Alexandria Price, Epsilon
Maddox. Epsilon, Alex. Commence polite greetings, and I do mean be
polite, Epsilon.”
Alexandria laughed richly, hand over her mouth, and extended her
free one to Epsilon. Leander’s partner didn’t take it right away, glaring
for a moment at Leander before gently gripping the woman’s hand.
“A pleasure to meet both of you in person at last,” she said, her
giggles softening. “Like I said, the place is a mess, but make yourselves
comfortable.”
They followed her in, and she got them tea and sliced fruit from the
kitchen. “I’m glad to see you’re out of the hospital, Mr. Maddox,” she
said, and she sounded sincere. Leander raised his eyebrows slightly at
the honest concern in her tone. “Leander told me you’d gotten pretty
badly hurt.”
40 Angela Romano
Epsilon glanced at his partner with a slightly arched brow of his own.
“I’m as well as can be expected, thank you,” he replied in a low, demure
murmur. She studied him for a moment, her steady steel-colored eyes
locked on his face and her lips tilted in an odd little smile. Leander
watched her watch him, his ears swiveling and working back and forth.
She looked at Epsilon the same way he did.
Finally she lowered her glass and spoke. “I guess you boys want to
get this over with the same as I do,” she said. “So what do you want to
know I’ve not already told the others?”
“Much of the same and a few fresh questions, I’m sure,” Leander
replied. “For starters, tell me about your girlfriend.”
Alex’s face went soft and fond in memory. “Sasha. That was her
name, but then, you already know that. Sasha Autumn. She and I’d been
dating for about nine years. She… um… hah… I loved her, and she…
well.” She laughed softly, eyes half-lidded. “I like to think it was
mutual.”
Leander glanced down into his cup of tea. He’d not stopped to
consider that this had once been Alex’s lover, that she would be in pain,
with her lover gone.
“Sasha—Sasha began acting weird about a month ago,” the girl
began quietly. She set her cup down. “Distant, I guess you could say.
She’s always been dependent. Her parents didn’t like that she was
lesbian. They—her father was a political figure, and he couldn’t have a
less than perfect family, y’know? I mean, we all see what happens when
a political man lets on that someone in his family is gay. We’ve seen the
public reactions. Causes controversy, and her father didn’t want that.
They… um… they kicked her out. She became clingy after that. So when
she started seeming like this bitchy power lesbian, I knew something was
weird. She never hid what she was and fought to be accepted for what
she was, but up until a month ago, she’d never forced it on anyone or
made any scenes.”
She ran her finger along the cup, her eyes dark and thoughtful.
Finally she lifted her gaze once more, meeting Leander’s eyes and
holding them.
“Then she started to, like I said, turn into a power lesbian bitch. She
 Mourning Doves 41
stopped talking to me, stopped letting me in. And for the longest time,
we didn’t have sex.” She didn’t even blush. “Then when she wanted to
again, it was… different. Sasha was always a really gentle partner, a
little naïve, I guess. She never took the upper hand in our relationship,
and not just in bed. But suddenly she was almost vicious. She put…
marks on me. And I’m not talking hickeys. I bled. And the day she
started to lap it up—” She stopped and shuddered, her eyes shutting
tightly.
Epsilon and Leander shared a brief glance, and Leander sat forward,
placing a hand on her shoulder. She jerked, startled, and then looked up
at him. Her eyes searched his face, and she smiled a bit. She covered his
hand with her own, her grip warm and her hand tiny on his.
“So she began this odd behavior,” Epsilon said after a few moments
of quiet. “What made you jump to the idea of her being a Hunter in
training?”
Alex flinched at the word and took a deep breath. “She came home
one day, hurt. Badly hurt. I—” She took another, hard breath. “I asked
her what happened, tried to get her to the hospital. She refused. I pushed
the subject, and she… she turned around and hissed.”
Leander’s ears went flat. He and Epsilon both did things like that,
once in a while, like the involuntary growl in his voice when he was hurt
or upset.
Hunters had the same tick, the same involuntary base reactions. With
the drugs in their systems, they often succumbed to base instincts. The
violence and aggression was also part of the Hunter’s nature, getting
worse as time passed. The more they warped their systems, the more
they fell victim to the effects.
“Did she scratch you?” Epsilon asked, urgently and abruptly. If she
had, there was a chance that Sasha had used her nails to inject the drug
into Alex’s bloodstream. It was a common Hunter trick; they would
crush the drug in its raw form to a fine powder and dampen the underside
of nails or hold it in their mouths. Then they would attack a partner or
target, or seduce them, and then via a scratch or love bite, manage to get
the stuff into the intended victim. It gave the person’s system a taste and
a shock. It would either make another Hunter or it would kill them.
42 Angela Romano
Zombie-esque, Leander often tended to say.
“Scratch? No. No, she didn’t ever—”
“You said she bled you, during intercourse,” Epsilon went on, not
letting her finish. He slammed out his questions like machine-gun fire.
“Did you ever feel odd after that?”
“Odd?”
“Mood swings, hot and cold fluctuations, hallucinations, shivers,
nausea, fainting, shortness of breath.”
She shook her head even as Leander waved a hand to stop Epsilon’s
list. “Okay, Doctor Maddox, I think she gets the point.”
Epsilon shot him a look, and if he’d had ears, Leander expected they
would have been flat.
“No, nothing like any of that,” she said, chuckling a little. “Just fear
and confusion.” Her voice went lower with the admission, and her eyes
darted down. Leander’s eyes went flat, and he gave Epsilon a glance.
“Great bedside manner there, doc.”
Epsilon bared his teeth this time in animalistic threat, a show of
dominance. Alex’s breath sucked in with surprise at the flash of fangs, at
the instinctual growl it drew from Leander. Her reaction made him pull it
back in, his ears flicking upright.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Old habits and all.”
She took in a breath. “She would do that too. That growling thing,
and she went for my throat all the time.”
“Submission,” Leander said. “She wants you to submit to her.”
“Yeah, well. She took off after about another week,” the woman said
with a shrug. “And then I called you when some strange thing started to
spring up around here.” She bit her lower lip gently. “I wasn’t, I mean, I
didn’t want to think about her being a Hunter or anything more than just
human, but—”
“But there wasn’t much other explanation,” Leander said, knowing
how upset and confused she must have been.
 Mourning Doves 43
“No,” she said. “And really, that’s all there is for me to tell.”
“Have you been in contact with her recently?” Epsilon asked, making
Leander glance up in surprise at the question.
“No,” Alex said. “No, of course I haven’t. Why?”
But Leander knew abruptly. He was trying to figure out how the
Hunters were already onto them. He, unlike Leander, didn’t know about
the leak in TASK.
Fuck. This was starting to muddy up the water.
“There’s been odd activity among the Hunters,” Leander admitted
softly, looking down.
“As if they already know we’re after them.”
“Of course they do. They’re smart.”
“Not that—”
But the screaming from outside stopped their conversation short.
Leander’s gun was in his hand before he even realized it, and he was
at the window. Beside him, peering out the opposite window, was his
partner, his own weapon out and ready.
“Leander,” Epsilon said. “Get Alex out the back and to the car.”
“But—”
“Shut up and for once in your life don’t argue with me. Get her to the
car.”
“I’m not leaving you on your own again!” I don’t want you out of my
sight. Not now.
The gun suddenly swung around, leveling on Leander instead of the
window. The boy’s tail arched in surprise, and his ears flattened.
“Epsilon—”
“Can’t you smell that?”
Leander paused, his confused feeling of betrayal leaking away to
curious interest. He closed his eyes and scented deeply. And he suddenly
bristled and snarled. He’d thought they’d lost the Hunter, but he could
44 Angela Romano
smell it. And it had brought friends.
“Sasha,” he said, and then he let out a string of curse words so
violent that Alex sent him an amused glance. Epsilon was used to this
language by now and ignored it.
“Get her out, Leander.”
“Alex, sweetie, you gotta come with me,” he drawled, grabbing her
arm as Epsilon worked the window open a crack. The assassin’s gun the
man carried edged out of it. “Slow count of fifty,” he said, not looking
away from the window.
“I’m coming back in for you if you don’t show.”
Epsilon’s growl was low and dangerous. “You will get the girl
away.”
“She c’n wait in the motherfuckin’ ca—” Leander yelped and
grabbed Alex, yanking her flat against a wall as the sudden barrage of
gunfire sounded in the air.
He didn’t need telling again. Keeping low, all senses alert, he
dragged Alex out the back door and around the corner. Epsilon kept the
attention of the Hunters while they ran, and Leander soon had them both
tucked in the restored car and sitting tight.
“Nice car,” she commented, raising a brow. He ignored her, closing
his eyes and leaning his head back.
One, two, three, four, five. Why don’t I hear gunfire anymore? Six.
Seven. Eight. Nine. Slow down, slow down. Ten. If Wolf doesn’t want
Epsilon to know, does that mean he thinks Epsilon is the mole? Eleven.
Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. No. Wolf loves Epsilon. He’s like, teacher’s
pet. But—
Alex screamed.
Leander snapped alert, gun up and aimed. He put a bullet between
the eyes of the Hunter on Alex’s side of the car before it could do
anything. The big round knocked the bitch back.
“Roll up your fucking window!”
“Why was it down in the first place?!”
 Mourning Doves 45
“I was flashing police officers. Who gives a fuck? Close it!”
“Fuck you!”
“You’re the wrong sex!”
Leander barked a laugh, and then he realized he’d lost count.
Fuck. Fuck!
He’d just have to guesstimate and hope that it didn’t end up killing
Epsilon.
He picked up from where he’d lost track, and thankfully Epsilon
appeared on forty-two. He seemed to be unhurt and made it into the car
much the same way. He slid into the backseat, slamming the door.
“TASK,” he snapped.
Leander nodded and pulled away in that direction, Epsilon’s gun
halfway to the window the entire drive.
46 Angela Romano

WOLF had to be a name. And there were only so many “Wolf” listings
in the phone book. Not a single one offered him anything to go on. He
wasn’t sure if “Fox” was a name or not, but he couldn’t find listings for
it anyway.
He’d asked the Little One to try and find something out through less
conventional channels. He hadn’t come back yet, and that was to be
expected.
The visions were worse.
Painful.
Normally if he ignored them, the visions eventually went away.
These were getting worse with each passing night, and now sometimes
when he was awake too.
The man, the man who felt so wrong, gnawed at the corner of his
mind.
Liaison had made some bad acquaintances in his life. He knew that,
and he’d done what he could to sever the connection with those people.
But why would he know this man, this man who so clearly
represented a huge threat? Why did he feel so….
Wrong. He gave Liaison chills, and few enough people could do that.
While the Little One checked for leads in person, he tried over the
Internet. His skills as a hacker hadn’t even started to get rusty, and he
 Mourning Doves 47
was thankful for that.
The dreams had, at the very least, become slightly more specific. He
was starting to get the idea that the two men in his dream—the man tied
to a stake and the man with the sorrowful eyes—were detectives or
bounty hunters of some kind. Being tied to the stake meant that the
raven-haired man was some kind of scapegoat or martyr. The witch
hunt/witch trials metaphor wasn’t lost on the young man. The fire was a
similar metaphor. The Kin with the pleading eyes may have been his
lover, maybe just partner, but they were close. He always pleaded for the
life of the other man, never for himself. The flames ate at him too, but he
ignored them. He could not get to the tied man; the one in the middle
who gave the young seer chills stopped him. He stopped the seer from
getting any closer too, and he wondered with a shudder what would
happen if he tried to force the issue.
What would happen if he let the man grab him, the way he so clearly
wanted?

BY the time Wolf was able to be up and active again, Madison had long
since taken off. He smiled as he read the little note she’d left him next to
a sandwich and a glass of milk. Typical. She was a conundrum, that
woman, one who would offer you the coldest of glares with a gun
leveled at your skull and kill without hesitation, but who would mother
hen and comfort in the most subtle, even shy, of ways.
He managed half the sandwich; and the milk eased what upset
remained in his stomach. He then checked his messages: one from
Madison herself, telling him not to take any calls and remain in his
house, taking it easy, for the next week. She did say that she knew he’d
go crazy without anything to do, though, and that on his computer were a
few cases for him to page through to try to work on.
He went to the computer and sat down, paging idly through the files.
He had difficulty focusing on the cases, though, with his brain locked on
the situation his two best agents were currently in.
If they didn’t find who was tipping off the Hunters, then Epsilon
48 Angela Romano
would have the blame placed firmly on his shoulders and be pulled off
TASK. And once pulled off TASK, what happened to him? To Leander?
Epsilon was the only partner they’d managed to find that fit Leander.
Epsilon was the only reason why Leander was as sane and put together
as he was. Before Epsilon… before Epsilon, Leander had teetered
dangerously on the edge of insanity.
He remembered finding the young hacker who had broken into
TASK’s systems. A too-thin, jumpy, skinny young Kin who was terrified
of crowds and spent most of his free time huddled in dark corners.
He paged through another file, idly noting in the back of his mind
that the phone’s answering machine had picked up.
Odd. I didn’t hear the phone ring.
He ignored the hair that rose on the back of his neck, reaching for the
milk again.
Static. He paused with the glass halfway to his lips, eyebrow arched.
The phone cut off, and he finished his sip. More likely than not
Leander, with a misbehaving cell phone.
But it came again, twenty minutes later. Static.
Wolf rose and went to the phone, lifting it to his ear. “Addison,” he
said, and he tried to ignore the way he almost didn’t say it. The way he
was almost afraid to give his name.
“Stay away,” said a voice that jolted him, shocked him with how
familiar it was.
“Who—”
“Back off the case,” the voice said, and then the phone clicked, and
Wolf stared at the phone in confused shock.
He knew that voice.
He knew that caller.
Somewhere. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could put a face
to it, but it was blurry and faint.
His lip was between his lower teeth before he could stop it. He
 Mourning Doves 49
quickly let it go, composed himself. Physical displays of insecurity were
not something Wolf allowed himself, not ever. He had to be sure and
confident in every step he took and every decision he made.
Even when he wasn’t.
He put the phone back slowly, deleting the one message there. He sat
back down slowly, trying to put a name to that voice. He knew almost
everyone who was on or had been on the TASK force. He’d headed it for
the majority of his life and had a nearly photographic memory. He
remembered every name and face that had come and gone that he’d ever
met, or at least he believed he did.
And he knew he’d spoken to this person, somewhere, once upon a
time.
The phone rang this time.
He glanced up; let it go to voice mail.
“Addison? C’mon, man, I know you’re home.”
Wolf let his breath out, only just now aware of how tense he’d been.
Leander’s voice. A familiar voice, if nothing else, though it was tense.
Leander’s street drawl was thicker than normal. That happened only
when the Kin was too hurt, exhausted, upset, or angry to keep it as toned
down as it usually stayed.
“Addison. Wolf. Fuckin’ hell, pick up y’r motherfuckin’ phone.”
Wolf jolted out of his thoughts, diving for the receiver and lifting it.
“Leander, sorry. I’m here.”
“Thank fuck, man, it’s about time.”
“What’s up?”
“We got Alex, uh, Alexandria Price, in the car with us. We went t’
get some info from her an’ wound up pulling a pair of Hunters with us.
One’s the girl’s lover. We’re headed f’r TASK right now. One Hunter’s
dead, missin’ half ’is skull, but th’ lover’s still alive an’ maybe right on
my ass.”
“Leander, slow down. I can’t understand you.”
50 Angela Romano
“Fuck, man, don’t make me repeat it.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll let Madison know you’re on the way with
possible trouble.”
“Right.”
“Injuries?”
“Nothin’ serious, so far as I know.”
“All right.” Wolf took a deep breath. “Be careful, all of you.”
“Always am.” Leander suddenly hung up.
Wolf was used to that. He dialed Madison almost before the dial tone
was back. She answered on the next-to-last ring.
“Wolf?” She’d been asleep, not unusual. Madison was not often
awake before one or two in the afternoon.
“Get down to the TASK building,” he said. “Leander and Epsilon are
being hunted.”
“Shit,” she muttered, sounding worn.
“Pretty much.” He smiled despite himself. “They have the latest
target’s girlfriend with them.”
“Shit,” Madison growled now, her accent making the word that much
more vehement sounding. “I’m on my way.”
“Watch your back, Madison.”
“Of course.”
She’d hung up before he could ask about the voice on the phone or
whether he’d gotten any similar messages. With a growled snarl of
frustration, he dropped his own receiver and went out for his car. So
much for taking it easy.

MADISON was only about twenty minutes from the TASK center and
had been there nearly an hour when her boys showed up at last. Leander
had pulled recklessly in and jumped out nearly before they’d hit full
 Mourning Doves 51
stop, making Epsilon lean over to keep them from crashing. The young
Kin ran around to the back and tugged open the door, pulling out the girl,
who was, apparently, now a target.
Madison’s lips twitched as she emerged, looking frightened but calm.
Pretty. Cute little snip of a thing, isn’t she?
The tall redhead strode out, and Leander spun, shoving her at
Madison. “Take her inside and get her locked in. I think her girlfriend
wants her.”
Not unusual, for a former relation to want their loved one changed
too. So that they could Hunt together.
“Come on,” she told the girl who was now, inadvertently, in her
arms. “These two big, bad men can handle things from here.”
“They’ve been doing pretty well so far,” the girl replied with a weak
smile, and Madison returned it. “You must be Madison.”
“And you must be—”
“Alex. Just Alex. It’s less stuffy sounding.”
Madison laughed. “Pleasure, Alex.”
“Or it would be, in a better situation,” Alex corrected as they slipped
through TASK’s big front doors and upstairs.
The TASK building was entirely unlike what such a building would
be expected to look like. TASK did not worry about anonymity. They
had found years before that, at least for what they did, not existing was
not a workable option. Everyone knew Kin existed, and everyone
eventually understood that for things like Kin and anything like them,
special factions were needed. You couldn’t expect a normal cop to
handle a Kin, particularly not if the unlucky cop in question got to face
off against something or someone like Epsilon.
Or if one was having a really bad day, a Bearr.
You couldn’t expect cops to handle Hunters either, or those who
were Different. Not Kin, not in any form, they were people who had
abilities. Mostly these types stayed out of sight and kept low, but every
now and again you’d have a rouge Different pop up robbing a bank with
52 Angela Romano
telekinesis or something like that.
So people knew TASK existed, making the hardest bit of their
worries looking good for the public. So TASK had a big security gate,
monitors, sensors, dogs, and electric fencing around the outside of a ten-
story building that was almost utterly windowless. Typical and
predictable look of a place like TASK. It was the inside that was
different.
Alex openly gawked as they walked into the lobby of TASK, past the
receptionist’s desk and the huge fish tank that held large, exotic
examples of the species, toward an escalator that took her up to the
second floor. There things looked more like she’d expected and less like
a waiting room. But Madison hurried her past the rows of closed doors
and covered carts to elevators that took them up still more stories to the
very top of the building. Here were the bedrooms.
Rows upon rows of more doors, but these stood open—some of
them, anyway—and they were all clearly apartment-like in nature. The
whole floor was, in fact, and Madison said the one below it was too. The
only working floors of TASK were the first four. The rest were rooms.
Madison, Wolf, Epsilon, and Leander did not live there, though all
were more than welcome to, but many of the employees did, and
sometimes there was call to stay overnight here. For those situations, all
four of them had spare rooms that were hardly ever used.
“We’ll be using them for a bit now, it seems,” Madison said with a
small laugh as she explained. “TASK is the safest place for us right now,
and I expect Wolf will appear any moment, though I told him to relax.”
“TASK….” Alex had pulled away, much to Madison’s
disappointment. “What does that stand for?”
Here Madison laughed, the sound rich and truly amused. “Nothing,”
she said.
“But it’s an acronym, right? It has to stand for something.”
“Wrong.” Madison smiled, unlocking one of the many doors. “TASK
isn’t an acronym for anything. It actually came about thanks to a rather
snaky comment made from a government official, and it just sort of
stuck. Our official title is actually Kin Related Circumstances
 Mourning Doves 53
Management Team.” She snorted. “Much less appealing, isn’t it? Say it
letter by letter, and it sounds like a radio station. All at once and it’s
nearly Kermit the Frog.”
Alex was gawking at her. “What comment was made that was so
bad?”
Madison’s expression faded, hardened. “TASK wasn’t always looked
at kindly, Alex,” she said, pushing the door open. “Here. You’re going to
be staying here for a few days, so make yourself comfortable,” she said,
trying not to think about that time, about the first few days TASK had
been formed. They’d taken the name as a show of defiance, of internal
strength. After TASK had become an accepted part of the system, they
could have dropped the name.
But they had kept it.
Alex peered curiously around the room, studying it with her quiet
gaze. Comfortable but sparse, the room held a bed and a bookshelf, a
computer and a window seat with pillows, and a dresser in a corner.
There was a bathroom attached.
“I don’t know how long you’ll be stuck here,” Madison said. “So feel
free to play. I’ll have Leander get your clothes from your house when it’s
safe.”
Alex wrapped her arms around herself. “Will it ever be? Until Sasha
is dead?”
“Sasha… that was your girlfriend?”
Alex nodded.
Madison shrugged. “Do you want the truth, or do you want me to
make you feel better?”
Alex looked up at her, eyes widening with surprise. There was no
hurt there, or anger, just surprise and a little bemusement.
“Both,” she said, and it was nearly a challenge.
Madison smirked. “Well, if I’m making you feel better, then of
course it’ll be safe. She’ll give up eventually, get bored or distracted,
she’ll leave you alone in favor of Hunting. Sooner or later, she’ll be
caught and locked away.” Now a low, humorless laugh. “The truth? No.
54 Angela Romano
You won’t be safe until she’s dead. And she can’t be locked away. No
Hunter can. They have to be killed, end of story. And she won’t be
content until she’s turned you too.”
“Oh.” Alex paled, and now Madison could see it hit her, the full
force of the situation. “Oh,” she repeated, and her legs buckled. Madison
caught her and pressed the younger woman’s face into her shoulder as
the tears came in a hard, racking stream.

HUNTERS were wise enough to avoid actually attacking the TASK

base—even one like Sasha, who wanted her girlfriend back. It gave the
group time to gather itself, to breathe. Wolf had, indeed, appeared a mere
hour after the four had arrived. He looked frazzled and harried, but he
was there and held his typical confident arrogance as best he could.
Leander and Epsilon changed and prowled the premises, but found
nothing out of the ordinary, and the next day proper measures of
heightened security were taken. Most of those around the headquarters
were trained in how to handle Hunters, even if they weren’t as good as
the actual agents. There were a few Kin guards, but mostly they were
human, armed with enough firepower to take down half a town.
What they lacked in training, Epsilon thought with a dissatisfied
grunt, they made up for in blasting power.
He turned from the window, glancing over at Leander who was
reclining on the bed, reading quietly. One of the few times his younger
partner was ever quiet, in fact.
He forgave Leander his downtime, knowing the other Kin was worn
out. Hell, even he was worn out. They’d gotten through two attacks
within a matter of weeks, and it was painfully clear something was
stressing Wolf to his limits. He’d been down for the count just a few
days ago, and the sudden need to rush out had taken effect on him. He
was sitting at the kitchen area just a floor down, head on his arms.
Madison was in the working area of TASK, but what she was doing
Epsilon didn’t know. He knew it had something to do with what had
Wolf stressed out. Leander knew; Epsilon wasn’t stupid by any means,
 Mourning Doves 55
and he knew when his partner was wrestling with a secret or problem.
But he wouldn’t ask. Leander would either say something or he
wouldn’t; it wasn’t in Epsilon’s nature to simply ask. If he really needed
to find out, he would. Leander had already discovered that the hard way.
The girl in the room next door had recovered with admirable speed
and was currently setting the room up to her liking, in typical female
fashion. Madison had been helping, before she went down a few floors,
their soft laughter and talking making the entire area seem… normal.
He’d been here nearly his entire life, so that this room, this place, felt
like home. The sound of the woman had only enhanced that feeling, so
that his stomach churned with bittersweet aching. Laughter was
surprisingly common in this building, and Madison’s, while not the most
common, was familiar and comforting. It relaxed him, that and the sound
of the other agents going about their daily life.
He tapped the top of his companion’s book, causing those brilliant
green eyes to flick up at him, along with those ears. “Going downstairs.”
One ear flicked backward, the other twitching toward him. “Why?”
“I want to know why the Hunters knew we’d taken that case so
quickly. And how they knew we were going for Alex.”
There it was again, that flash of something in Leander’s eyes. Both
ears lay flat, a classic sign of distress.
What about that statement made his partner so upset?
“Hey, we still have t’ deal with Sasha, remember?” Leander asked.
“Otherwise Alex’s going to be stuck here for who knows how long?”
“I don’t think Madison minds,” he said, and Leander’s ears came up
again as he laughed. Epsilon hated to admit it, but the sound lightened
his heart. His partner’s laughter always did that. It was, partly, why they
made such a perfect team. Leander dragged Epsilon kicking and
screaming out of his silent moods, and Epsilon balanced out Leander’s—
um—hyperactivity.
“No, I don’t think she does.” Leander set the book aside. “But all the
same, Sasha has to be put down.”
Epsilon shook his head. “There’s more to this,” he said, watching the
56 Angela Romano
other man’s reactions carefully. “Wolf is acting strangely. Haven’t you
noticed?”
“I….” Leander looked away, ears disappearing in his hair.
Epsilon raised a brow. “And so are you.”
Leander jerked, looking over his shoulder with a sheepish
expression. Epsilon studied him with a wry expression but said no more,
simply moving for the door.
“Epsilon!”
The man froze, half turning toward the smaller Kin.
“Epsilon, don’t, not right now. They’re already stressed out.”
What on earth do you know, little fox?
He cocked a brow again, but let the doorknob go.
“And you expect us to go hunting for Sasha, just like that.”
“She’s our problem; she’s the entire reason why we took this case.
She is this case.”
There’s more to this.
But Epsilon nodded quietly. “Then we go kill Sasha.”
He said it simply and bluntly, but then, that was Epsilon’s way.
Death was not anything new to him, even before he’d been here. In the
labs—
No.
He wouldn’t think about that place. Never again.
Leander was watching him so carefully. He pretended not to notice,
returning to the window.
They would kill the Hunter.
Then he would find out what was going on here. Really.
 Mourning Doves 57

IT had been far too long since he was out here, and he couldn’t help but
feel uncomfortable at how comfortable it was. As if he’d never left in the
first place. The Little Ones danced around and beside him, but he
couldn’t share their light-hearted good nature. Not now.
But he knew where he had to go to find that man, to find who he was.
The place he’d thought he’d left behind years ago.
His feet took him to the building without any real thought necessary
behind it. He knew the way with cold certainty. He paused, taking a deep
breath. Here, he would become all he’d fought so hard not to be. But he
plastered on a smirk and ran with it. Let this man think what he would.
He pushed open the warehouse door—
—and instantly found himself fighting off a skinny, wiry cross-
dressed man whose voice made his ears ring but his lips twist up in a
fond, familiar grin.
“Riley. Riley, get off of me!” he laughed out, pulling away. His smile
faded as he looked at the man. “Oh, kid, you look horrible.”
“Thanks,” Riley drawled, but he was smiling. He was pretty, a good
cross-dresser, one who would have made a beautiful woman, would have
been a beautiful man too.
But he was pale and thin with exhausted dark eyes and the looks of
one who’s lived too hard.
58 Angela Romano
“What are you doing back here, man?” the littler man asked. He was
Hispanic, but with striking hazel-gold eyes, and those eyes regarded him
now with wary fear. “I thought you got out.”
“I did.” He lowered his voice, and motioned for Riley to do the same.
“I did get out, but I need information.”
“Information?” The younger man’s eyebrows arched upward. “What
kind of—”
“Don’t ask me that,” he told the boy. “Just go back to your room and
stay there.”
“Stop treating me like a tagalong kid—”
“To me, you are,” he reminded, his own violet eyes searching the
boy’s. “I’m an old man, remember?”
Riley snorted but pulled away, recognizing the sign, the hint that this
was something between the over-twenty-year-olds of the group. Riley
was no young child, but this… he wanted to keep the kid out of this, if he
could.
“I need to find Montgomery.”
Riley blinked. “I don’t think he’s around much anymore.”
“No?” Strangely violet eyes met and held Riley’s. “I have it from a
pretty reliable source that he’s still here sometimes.”
“He is. Just not as often. And he’s most cautious too. And there’s
something… wrong.” Riley shrugged.
“Something wrong?”
“You’ll see if he’s around today.” Riley shrugged again and gave
him a kiss on the cheek. “Good to see you again, man, but listen. Get the
fuck out of here again as fast as you can.”
He had every intention of doing just that.

MADISON found herself falling rather unsettlingly into a comfortable

camaraderie with the girl on the bed behind her. She had, being the only
 Mourning Doves 59
other female around of high enough ranking, found herself playing
babysitter. While she’d been irritated by it at first, she now was pleased
to be in the girl’s company when she had the chance.
Her laughter faded to soft giggles, and she glanced over her shoulder
to where Alex was seated, cross-legged.
“Thank you for bringing me breakfast, Madison,” Alex said, hand
over her mouth. “Do you think I’ll be here long?”
“The moment Leander and Epsilon handle the Hunters—”
“You mean Sasha, right? None of the other Hunters want me for
anything.” She sounded remarkably calm, as she had through most of
this.
“You’re handling this well,” Madison said, glancing sharply at the
other girl, who blushed.
“I don’t get frazzled easily. And I mean, it’s not like Hunters are a
secret or anything.” She shrugged. “Sasha made her choices, and the
drug did to her what all drugs do when used. It fucked her up.”
Madison pulled the drapes on the window. “You loved her, though.”
“And I grieved for her, Madison.” Alex bit her lower lip. “You seem
like the type that would understand.”
Madison looked down at her hands. “With all due respect, Alex,
you’ve known me a day. You have no idea what kind of person I am.”
“Strong.” The answer was fired back with barely a hesitation.
Madison glanced over at her, eyebrows in her hairline. “Maybe so,
but not cold.”
“I beg to differ,” Alex said quietly, unflinching.
“Then I suppose it’s a very good thing your opinion doesn’t matter in
the slightest.” Madison turned. “Alex, perhaps you should remember
your posi—”
She very nearly yelped. It was only the fact that she was not entirely
adverse to what was happening and the fact that it was very quick that
prevented her from doing so.
60 Angela Romano
Alex’s lips met hers in a soft, warm kiss.
“Wow,” Alex said, meeting Madison’s eyes. “I was wrong, it seems.
Not cold at all.” And she left the room.
“Well.” Madison touched her lips with a smile, but it was faint at
best. There was something very odd about Alex. Something that worried
Madison.

WHILE Madison was being kissed, Epsilon and Leander were being
stalked. They were very aware of that fact, but they let the Hunter think
they didn’t know.
Leander leaned against the building they’d trailed Sasha to, watching
her prowl inside, literally inches from him; only the closed window kept
her from smelling him, he was sure.
Epsilon, on the wall opposite him, had his butterfly swords in his
hand. Blasting away a Hunter was one thing; close-up fights were
another entirely.
And this would not prove to be a blast-and-go. Leander had the
sinking feeling.
He lifted a hand, five fingers spread. One at a time, slowly, he
dropped them.
When the fifth fell, he spun out from the wall, his gun’s deep snarl
breaking the silence around them. The glass of the window shattered,
and the Hunter inside let out a scream of rage.
Many things happened at once, then.
The first was that Leander was reminded that one did not stand in
front of Epsilon in a fight. Friendly fire wasn’t something he’d do on
purpose, exactly, but he was never one to avoid hitting you if you were
in the way.
And Leander was in the way.
With a yelp of dismay, he dodged the blade of the sword that came
an inch from beheading him and also cut short the Hunter’s attempt to
 Mourning Doves 61
bite him. Her teeth sank into the blade instead, and she snarled. She
yanked, and Epsilon swore vividly as her strength sent him plowing into
Leander, the pair tumbling over each other through the window. Glass
cut and bit, but Leander felt no serious wounds.
“Epsilon!”
“I kept her from biting you, didn’t I?” He grunted, climbing off and
shaking his head like a dog. Leander stood a moment later, pulling his
gun from its shoulder holster. Epsilon was lazily twirling his swords. He
was scenting the air too. Leander, for his part, listened hard. Hunters
couldn’t move as quietly as Kin.
He heard her move a second before he saw her, and then Sasha was
on him.
He brought the gun up defensively and fired into her stomach. The
shot blew through her body, making her lurch, and then he kicked
upward.
“The fuck off me, bitch!” he growled, rolling to his feet. Epsilon had
taken off, his footsteps echoing to Leander’s sensitive ears. He could
also hear a second set.
Another one?
He turned his attention back to his own side of this fight, and even
with all his attention on the Hunter’s motions, he was still halfway to
unprepared when she landed on his back. Her claws sank into his flesh,
and he swore vividly, again when he felt them rip flesh as she leapt off.
“Motherfucking son of a bitch!” he snarled, bringing the gun up.
“Die already, you roach!”
She grinned at him, blood leaking from her mouth. The hole he’d
blown in her would have put any normal human down, but it only slowed
her. She lifted a hand, his blood dripping off her nails.
She grinned, and his blood ran cold.
No, his blood was literally cold. He felt as if he’d jumped into an icy
shower.
Shit. Oh, just shit, this is so bad.
62 Angela Romano
He leveled the gun on her again as he heard Epsilon crash down the
stairs, heard him cry out in pain. There was another crash, though, and a
male scream. Epsilon had taken the second Hunter with him. The sound
of splintering bone and wood made his stomach churn.
He fired. The bullet hit her between the eyes, and now she went
down. Epsilon was at his side instantly, and when Leander looked at
him, he wished he hadn’t. Epsilon’s side was a mass of glass shards,
though Leander hadn’t heard anything break, and he was cradling his
side in a way that suggested cracked or broken ribs.
“Any of that blood yours?” Epsilon asked, his voice gruff and
shaking with pain. Leander shied from his touch, his now-tainted blood
staining his shirt. Favorite fucking shirt too.
At least he wasn’t wearing the coat.
“All,” he gasped out, lowering the gun. “Epsilon….”
Epsilon set his jaw grimly. “Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“You gonna make the ride back?”
“I don’t—” And then the pain hit.
Epsilon abandoned caution and reason, grabbing him as he doubled
over. Epsilon’s grip on him was steadying as he fought back wave after
wave of cold, frigid pain. “Leander, you’re not breathing. Breathe.”
Epsilon’s voice came near his ear. “You have to breathe.”
Leander nodded, gasped a breath. Epsilon had to remind him again a
moment later. The taller man was leading him out of the house, but after
a moment stopped and simply picked him up. Leander was distantly
aware that his companion was running.
He was settled into the car, gasping as heat began to spread from his
chest, negating the ice in his veins. He knew what the next step would
be, and he whimpered, curling into a tight ball on the chair.
“Hold on,” he heard Epsilon say, his voice grim, and his free hand
reaching out to clutch Leander’s shoulder briefly. “Hang on with me,
Leander.”
 Mourning Doves 63
What he meant was fight. Fight to keep the seizures at bay. Fight to
keep from losing his mind. Fight to keep the nausea down. Fight to keep
the screams of agony locked behind a tight throat. Fight to keep
breathing.
Leander fought.
He leaned back in the seat, head pressed to the headrest, panting even
as Epsilon reminded him not to. He knew, somehow, that Epsilon was
driving too fast, that the man had to pull over once to be violently ill,
cradling his ribs and crying out. He wanted to help, but he couldn’t seem
to move.
He was barely aware of it when Epsilon pulled up to TASK, hauled
him up again, ignoring broken ribs and an injured arm. When he saw
Wolf appear at the door, Madison a step behind, he knew he was safe.
He knew he could let go.
And so he did.

“HE’S got so much of that drug in his system, I’m surprised he’s not
dead,” Wolf informed them, stepping out of the medic room and closing
the door softly. He regarded his audience: Stubborn, stupid Epsilon, who
should never be branded anything like a traitor, with his arm bandaged
tightly and ribs bound, refusing medication; Madison, who had been
distracted all day, now suddenly focused and alert, her face its usual
impassive mask but her eyes burning with concern; Alex, to his surprise,
was there too, sitting next to the older woman, biting her lower lip and
looking painfully guilty, sorrowful too, when they told her Sasha was
dead; and leaning against the wall, a man taller even than Wolf with hair
that had gone completely gray by the time he was twenty hanging in a
loose tail around mid-back, his calm, empathetic eyes an earthy brown.
Mercedes.
The man had come a day after Leander and Epsilon’s return, come
because Wolf wasn’t returning phone calls, and he’d been concerned.
Concern had been the least of things he needed to feel, it seemed.
64 Angela Romano
He’d arrived to find Epsilon on the warpath and Leander half-dead in
their medical area, a strange woman who clung to Madison like a burr
and his two team captains worn and stressed to the point of breaking.
It was a good thing, he thought, that he’d come. They needed
someone who was more level-headed, less attached to the situation.
Someone who was detached and less emotionally tied into the scenario.
Mercedes pushed off the wall now, moving over next to Wolf.
“And?”
They all looked at him. If Wolf had been anything besides what he
was, it would have been worrying indeed, all those hard stares.
“Wolf? And?”
“His body is naturally rejecting the drug,” Wolf said, and he watched
both Epsilon and Madison wilt in relief. “He won’t be a Hunter. I don’t
think it’s physically possible for a Kin to be a Hunter. His body’s
naturally fighting against the effects and pretty soon will neutralize the
drug. But it’s going to be painful and difficult for him.”
“At least Sasha is dead,” Alex said softly, her eyes downcast.
Mercedes closed his eyes. “Not as much, actually.”
“What?” Epsilon’s gaze shot up. “I saw Leander put a bullet between
her eyes, and that was the least of her wounds.”
“Hunters are hard to take down; you know that,” Mercedes snapped.
With Epsilon, you had to assert your dominance, your alpha quality,
within the first five minutes. You do not scare me, and I will not take
your bullshit.
Epsilon eyed him and then curled a lip, but inclined his head a bit.
Mercedes thought this was more in respect for Wolf than himself.
“So with a headshot, she’s not dead.”
“It’s possible,” Wolf said quietly, looking down. Not for the first
time, Mercedes was struck by his beauty. “And if Mercedes says that
she’s alive, I believe him.”
And his utter loyalty.
“Then someone needs to make sure she stays dead,” Epsilon snarled.
 Mourning Doves 65
“You can’t fight a Hunter on your own—”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my partner is laying on a cot in
agony.” Epsilon rounded on Wolf. “So I suppose I have to.”
“We can get you a temporary partner,” Mercedes tried softly,
stepping forward. Epsilon spun, in a crouch.
“There’s a reason why Leander and I were only able to be paired
with each other,” he snarled. “We don’t play well with others.”
“Epsilon,” Wolf tried, voice low, soothing, but the genetically made
Kin had already started to back away, bristling.
Mercedes took a breath, fought for control. Getting angry back at
someone like Epsilon only made things escalate wildly. “Epsilon, Sasha
is not the cause of this—”
“There is something more going on here, all right,” Epsilon snarled,
abruptly whirling again. “And you can play all the games you like for as
long as you choose to play them. I don’t want any part of them, so either
you tell us why you’re acting like we’ve got the plague, Leander and I,
that is, but that Hunter is the reason why Leander is in there as he is. And
I will kill her for that.”
“Epsilon—”
“I will kill her for that!” Epsilon yelled, for the first time Wolf knew
of. The sound made Alex shrink back. Madison put a reassuring hand on
her arm and then yanked back as if burned.
Wolf didn’t even flinch. Beside him, Mercedes only closed his eyes,
as if pained.
Wolf, it seemed, wasn’t the only painfully loyal person in the room.
The door shut with a slam, and then Leander’s screams began.
66 Angela Romano

MONTY could be damned invisible when he wanted. Before, it was a

quality Liaison had admired about the man.
Now, he just wanted to shoot him. He needed answers, and the more
visions he had, the more certain he was that the man in them was this
man. The person who so terrified him in the visions.
The thing about that was this:
Monty was not a frightening person. Monty was, in fact, one of the
least frightening things Liaison had ever wandered across. Monty was a
rat-like, weasel-like man who sold illegal drugs to pathetic whores, one
of which he’d been, and was usually pretty harmless.
Okay, yes, true, there was something eerie about him, a lingering
feeling of danger. But nothing had ever happened to support that feeling,
and Liaison had always assumed it was just the creep factor.
He’d left the warehouse after a quick goodbye kiss to Riley and a
good-luck murmur, taking the links and clues he’d finally picked up on.
But so far, every link, every clue, had only led to another dead end.
Now he sat on a dock near the bay, swinging his legs bare inches
above the water. His frustration was obvious to any passerby, but all said
passersby were wise enough to avoid him rather than pry into what could
be wrong.
He tossed a rock into the water, watching it sink through the clear
 Mourning Doves 67
depths, and then rose, brushing off his rear and legs. His clear violet eyes
scanned the horizon as he gnawed his lower lip, short black hair tossing
in the breeze coming off the water.
Where now? Where the fuck did he go from here?
He strode to the edge of the dock, bending down to peer under a bush
where he knew Little One hid.
“Hello,” he said gently, putting his anger and frustration aside. Little
One peered up at him with her big green eyes and then stepped forward
at his gentle beckoning.
The pretty white cat slid under his hand with a low purr, and when he
touched her, he saw.
Not Monty, but a warehouse much like the one he’d inhabited. He
focused hard, brow furrowed as the typical headache came on.
No, not exactly like the same one. More like a warehouse turned into
a home, and, outside of it…. His breath caught, and he jerked away from
Little One without meaning to.
The cat purred softly and shot him a look as quizzical as a cat ever
could, rubbing against his legs and coming up to blink at him.
He bent and stroked her once more.
Same building, and same man slowly easing around the outside of it.
Tall and rangy, with a shock of raven hair and eyes as crystal blue and
strong as a tidal wave. Dark skin and jeans, with knee-high boots and a
black trench swishing along above the ground. High, stark cheekbones,
strong, stubborn jaw, elegant movement, intense expression, and
familiar.
This was the man tied up in the dream.
He resisted the urge to reach out to the man, resisted the compulsion
to forget he was only seeing the memory of the situation. He watched the
man pull blades out from under his long coat, wicked-looking things that
he wielded with ease. He was vaguely surprised to see them after seeing
the dream in which he’d looked so helpless. Clearly, this predatory man
was not helpless.
He approached the building with stalking, steady movements, blades
68 Angela Romano
held ready but still. He reversed one abruptly and used the hilt of it to
break the lock on a door. Only one powerful blow was needed. He
kicked the door open, swords held out at the ready. Little One followed
him and watched as he prowled the inside of the building. He was
sniffing the air, Liaison realized, with his eyebrows up. Sniffing like a
wild animal and growling deeply under his breath. The swords got
slipped away, and he moved silently up to the second level of the
building, and there the vision ended, as Little One didn’t follow him.
He pulled away from the cat and watched her chase something
behind a few garbage cans. He raked a hand through his hair, his eyes
closed tightly.
From the man’s behavior, Liaison was guessing he was Kin. Not Kin
like the boy in his dreams, begging him for help, but genetically
modified.
That narrowed it down, anyway. He took a deep breath and set off.
He’d been doing this too long to get caught now.
It had always come easily for him, playing both sides of this game.
“Monty” was a man who he would hate at first sight, a cowardly,
sniveling, fearful, weak little man with no backbone. A man exactly the
opposite of how everyone he knew thought he was.
No one, to his surprise, had ever put Monty together with
Montgomery Edwards.
No one, to his surprise, had ever associated the tall, handsome agent
with the small, slimy drug dealer.
Of course, maybe that wasn’t that big a surprise.
Lately, though, things had been going bad. The Hunters knew exactly
who their biggest supplier was, and they knew exactly what would
happen to him if he was ever exposed as having the drug that enhanced
humans to Hunter status. TASK—TASK, a pointless acronym for a
pointless organization—would have him strung up and flogged.
They didn’t see that the drugs weren’t hurting anyone, not really.
Yeah, if you took too much it fucked you up pretty bad, but wasn’t that
true with anything? Moderation, right?
 Mourning Doves 69
TASK wanted all Hunters wiped out, wanted the drug off the market.
Monty suspected that was, under all the self-righteous yelling, because
TASK officials wanted to be the big dogs around. Hunters were a threat.
He believed that was why TASK wanted them gone, wanted to hunt
them all down. Screw all the “protecting humanity” bullshit.
Anyway, he didn’t need much incentive to continue providing their
goods. But even the best-behaved dog wears a collar, and the Hunter
bastards were about as trusting as the TASK officials themselves. One
thing the two sides had in common, amusingly.
Monty’s collar had been tightening slowly over the past few months.
They were threatening him with blackmail, now, to get more out of him.
More than the drugs. They wanted information from him. They wanted
to know what TASK was doing and how much they knew.
Even without the blackmail, Monty would have had little enough
problems giving them what they wanted. After all, he had no love for
TASK or his station there.
But he couldn’t let them give him up.
And now it was all too easy to find a scapegoat. Now that the pretty
little Kin had joined them, had become partners with Epsilon. And
Epsilon had always been a rather perfect scapegoat anyway, considering
his past.
It had been so simple to blame the death of ten of his fellow agents
on the man.
Almost two years ago now, that had been right as Leander had been
paired with him. The two had gotten dangerously close to Monty’s
double life, and something had needed to be done. He’d made a deal
with the Hunters to get them to attack and kill TASK members close to
Epsilon.
He’d, of course, planted evidence that made it look like the man had
snapped and attacked them.
Easy enough, knowing how unstable Kin could be, particularly those
of Epsilon’s ilk.
So he’d had the person to blame and Leander to sweeten the deal.
Leander was just mistrusted, when he first came aboard, known to be
70 Angela Romano
erratic and a little insane, hard to deal with, raw, unpredictable, and
really fucking smart.
An enigma and an uncertain factor, Leander was all too easy to pin.
They managed to clear themselves eventually, but it had already tainted
their reputation. So it was almost too easy to put them back into the
position of being possibly untrustworthy.
And Monty, of course, was an upstanding agent of many years,
longer even than Epsilon. Four years longer than Epsilon. TASK had
been around for what, twenty? Forty? Who the fuck knew, anymore? He
had years on the younger man, and that was what mattered very often.
And now Wolf was very near cracking, Mercedes was struggling to
keep his TASK force together, Madison was so involved in her own
problems that the more significant ones seemed somehow less important,
and even Leander was starting to look sideways at his partner.
It was working better than he’d even planned.
Except for this, now.
Except for Liaison, who was too fucking smart, like Leander.
Ironic similarity both in names and personalities there.
Liaison had started looking for him about a week ago with a sudden,
almost violent fever.
At first, he hadn’t really thought much of it. After all, he’d been a
bad, bad druggie himself, so much so Monty almost felt sorry for the kid.
He’d never hit on the drug that the Hunters used but had done just about
everything else; kid had played around with drugs that were never meant
to be mixed. He’d been a whore, Monty remembered, a skinny, scrawny
kid with an abusive boyfriend and strong psychic abilities. No wonder
the kid mixed drugs and drank like he did.
But he knew Liaison was clean. Knew Liaison had been clean for
years, in fact; he’d seen the kid go through withdrawal, seen him dump
his boyfriend and beat the living shit out of his pimp, seen him get off
the streets. Seen him in the throes of agony a vision brought on without
anything to dull it.
He liked Liaison, always had. Strong man, good man. He admired the
 Mourning Doves 71
kid for getting out of the situation he’d been in. But that did not mean
Monty trusted him. Or that he would give up what he had for whatever it
was Liaison wanted.
Unless Liaison had fallen back into the dank of his youth, there was
no reason for him to be seeking Monty out.
None.
And as much as Monty cared for Liaison, he did not trust the boy,
and if what he was doing put Monty in danger—he’d just have to end
this threat before it got out of hand.
72 Angela Romano

MADISON’S heart broke, watching him.

He was in so much pain, struggling so hard. He was conscious,
which may have been the hardest part of all. And he tried to remain
cheerful and upbeat, but his cheerful, playful voice was breathless and
strained, and he’d break off in the middle of sentences and writhe in
pain, panting frantically as his body fought off the drug.
Wolf stayed with him constantly. Mercedes couldn’t even drag him
out to eat. He ate next to the bed while Leander tried to keep down food
of his own, but more often both sets of food went ignored.
When he was alert and aware, he fought to be as normal and “okay”
as he could. When he was out of it, he continually begged for Epsilon
and sobbed in pain as Wolf held and rocked him.
It was hard on all of the older agents, from Wolf to Mercedes. Their
only female member tried to find Epsilon, but he had buried himself
deep hunting for Sasha, and Wolf was getting annoyed. Leander’s quiet
pleas for his partner broke the man’s heart, and he felt that Epsilon
should be there, should be helping Leander get through this rather than
going on a vendetta mission.
Wolf was curled up at the headboard now, his fingers stroking mildly
through Leander’s hair, stroking gently over his ears. The Kin was
shaking and whimpering with each exhale, and when Madison entered,
he jerked and looked hopefully to the door. When he saw it was her, he
tried a smile, ears struggling to prick.
 Mourning Doves 73
“Lunch lady,” he gasped out in a teasing voice.
“Nice to know I’m reduced to that,” she drawled. “It makes me feel
so good.” She lowered the tray gently onto the table. Wolf reached out
and began to coax some soup down the little Kin.
“Any word from Epsilon?”
Madison bit her lip softly, not wanting to bring it up in front of
Leander. But too late now, so, “I’m afraid there’s been none.”
“We been over this. Y’ won’t find ’im ’til ’e wants you to,” Leander
rasped, voice thick with his slur. “An’ ’e won’t contact y’ ’til ’es got
’er—ow,” he whispered and abruptly buried his face in Wolf’s shirt.
“Ow.”
Wolf began to rub his back without any real thought. The action was
reflex now.
“I think you should stick with Alex,” he told Madison, running a
finger along the boy’s silky ear. “Mercedes is on Epsilon’s tail, and I’ve
got Leander pretty well handled.”
Madison chewed her lower lip once more but nodded. “Yes, Sasha
may very well still be after her,” she replied. “She’s slightly worried
about it.”
Wolf studied Madison carefully. “You were spending a great amount
of time with her,” he said. “When she first came.”
“So?”
“So it seems like you’re avoiding her now.”
Madison crossed her arms and set her jaw. “I don’t really think that’s
any of your business, Wolf.”
“It is if it starts affecting your work.” He closed his eyes a moment.
“Madison, you’re my friend—”
“Alex is nothing, Wolf,” Madison said, her eyes locked calmly on his
own. “She’s someone under our protection; no more.”
Wolf continued to stroke Leander’s back slowly, his eyes downcast.
“If that was true,” he said, with a little smirk, “you wouldn’t have felt the
need to say so.”
74 Angela Romano
Madison’s face went stony, her eyes staying locked on Wolf’s face.
She reached out, stroking Leander’s ears mildly, and her face softened
just that much.
“I’m going to Alex’s room. I’ll be staying there,” she said after a
moment. “To make sure she’s all right. Tell me if Epsilon comes home.”

EPSILON knew he was being followed from the moment he set foot into
the alley. He paused at the door of the warehouse where the fight had
taken place, paused with his hand on his swords, and closed his eyes,
feeling for danger.
Genetically altered Kin could do many things natural Kin couldn’t,
and one of those things was to focus on and sharpen a sense, such as
scent, without Changing. These were usually more powerful Kin than
even Epsilon, and that was rather saying something. Epsilon could
heighten all his senses without making the change, and he was working
on narrowing it down, but it was difficult. He also knew other Kin that
could change physical aspects of themselves, but that was a purely
aesthetic pleasure, and Epsilon wasn’t the type to indulge in too much of
aesthetic anything.
He’d come back for more reasons than he’d let on, he mused as he
drew his swords smoothly, focusing on the feeling of being watched
intently.
Partly, yes, because he wanted to make sure Sasha was dead. Of
course he did, and if she wasn’t, he admitted only to himself, he wanted
to kill her. She’d hurt Leander, and no one did that on Epsilon’s watch
and got away with it.
But partly because something wasn’t ringing true here, wasn’t
clicking the way it should. There was more than one thing wrong here,
but for now he’d handle what he could.
A Hunter should be dead after a shot like that. If there were a reason
to think she might not be, then there was something very new and very
unprecedented going on with the Hunters, and Mercedes knew what it
was.
 Mourning Doves 75
Epsilon didn’t like Mercedes knowing things he didn’t, particularly
not important things.
But he didn’t say a word of these thoughts to anyone, not even to
Leander.
Odd. The pair had known each other just over a year, no more, yet
Epsilon felt so strongly bonded and pulled to the younger man that
keeping this from him almost hurt.
What hurt worse was that he knew it wasn’t entirely mutual. Oh,
Leander felt that bond, that pull, yes, but he kept things from Epsilon that
Epsilon felt he had a right to know. And he didn’t have complete trust in
Epsilon either. Whatever was going on here, Leander’s constant glances
at Epsilon had shown him that much. The man refused to say anything
about it, but he had a feeling that was more because Wolf had asked him
not to more than anything else.
There were a rare few people that Epsilon considered friend or
companion. And there was damn little he kept from those people. But not
one of those people knew why he was truly here. None of them knew
that he was aware of just how bad things had to be for Mercedes to
suspect what he did.
Mercedes himself was not necessarily a friend. Wolf respected him,
trusted him, and so Epsilon did as well. Wolf was the only person
Epsilon trusted utterly and completely. If he said Mercedes was an ally,
then he was. But Mercedes didn’t like or trust Epsilon or Leander, and it
was mutual.
He jerked out of his thoughts as the watcher’s scent came to him. A
cat. He’d been paranoid over a cat. He chuckled and broke into the
warehouse.
The place was empty, and he couldn’t pick up the traces of death.
That unnerved and threw him; he should be able to smell the death of the
Hunter he’d yanked down the stairs with him, at least. He could smell
blood, Leander’s, his own, Sasha’s, and the blood of that man, all
mingling together in one sweetly tangy camphene. Part of him, the
animal part, reared its head and growled with deep, excited anticipation.
It liked the blood smell.
76 Angela Romano
It was for that reason as much as any other that the rest of Epsilon
shrank in disgust from the exotic tang in the air. He covered his nose,
though it didn’t help much.
He went upstairs, carefully choosing his footing. He moved silently,
eyes half-closed as he focused hard on more important aspects of his
body, primarily sniffing the air. His vision was grayed out anyway,
thanks to his partial change, like a wolf, he was unable to see colors. He
couldn’t see well either, right now. But now he could smell death.
He followed it to the area where the main fight had taken place, to
the broken stairs. The body of the male Hunter was there, broken and
twisted unnaturally.
Epsilon cut his head off anyway, just to be safe. The stink of the
Hunter’s blood suddenly overwhelmed him, covering any other smell,
and that animal part of him bubbled forth with a savage, wet snarl. He bit
back on it hard and ended it, wiping his sword on the Hunter’s pants.
He moved onward to where Sasha’s body should be. The death smell
had been faint and did not grow stronger as he approached, and, not to
his surprise, Sasha’s body wasn’t there.
“Fuck.”
“Well, you haven’t been doing much of that, have you?”
He spun around at the first light touch of foot to floor, but still almost
too slow. She came at him with teeth bared. He brought his sword up fast
and hard, and she bit into it rather than him. He yelped with the
reverberation of the impact, nearly dropping his weapon, but collected
himself and brought the other sword up instead. She released his weapon
and ducked, rolling away from him and coming up again.
“Will you just stay dead, bitch?” he snarled and brought the swords
around. Whatever Leander thought of him, however far he was or was
not trusted, he would kill this person who’d harmed one of the few
people he loved. He would kill her and bring his enemy back to the pack,
proud and victorious.
The animal snarled and opened its mouth wide, hot with excitement.
And Epsilon let it come.
 Mourning Doves 77

ALEX was scared, although she’d never show it. Well, beyond what she
already had, of course, embarrassingly enough breaking into tears in
front of the pretty redheaded woman. Madison, her name was, and she
was not hugely fond of Alex. Partly because Alex was being bitchy quite
on purpose, and mostly, Alex thought, because Alex had kissed her. She
wasn’t entirely sure what had brought that on, even when she’d done it.
Alex wasn’t much of an emotional person. Honestly, she’d been
through enough bullshit in her life to learn how to take most things, bad
and good, in stride. But she’d been upset and frightened, and Madison
had been lovely and so very close, and had given Alex the perfect
opening, anyway, so there. And she hadn’t pulled away, not at first. In
fact, at first, she’d kissed back.
Then she’d come awake and jerked away violently. She’d been
avoiding since. Until now.
Alex looked up in surprise at the gentle rap on her door and set her
brush down on the sink. “Come in,” she called, and the door cracked
open just enough to admit Madison.
Alex was, to say the very least, surprised. And pleased. Oh yes, Alex
was very pleased indeed, and more so to see Madison in little more than
an overlarge T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It was sexy in its utter
sexy-less-ness.
Seeing Madison in anything other than a crisp suit, for that matter,
was pretty damn cool.
78 Angela Romano
“Hi,” Alex managed, self-conscious as she realized that she was
dressed much the same—sans the pants. Alex was really very pants-less.
Madison seemed to see it at the same time, and if she’d been less
than she was, she may have even blushed. As it was, she averted her
eyes.
“Alex,” Madison said in that soft, gently accented voice. “I—Wolf
has Leander well under control, and it was suggested I stay with you, at
least for a bit, to make certain of your safety.”
“That all?” Alex asked, just as quietly, head tilted. “Just here to be
my guard dog then?”
“Should there be more?”
Alex shrugged and decided she liked being half-naked in front of
Madison. It got a reaction, and so little seemed to.
“Do I need to get you a basket, or are you going to sleep at the foot
of my bed?”
Madison raised a delicate brow, and a smile wanted to be on her lips.
“I’ve a feeling you’re not a pleasant bedmate. The basket would be
acceptable.”
Oh, ow.
Alex flinched inwardly and then moved to the closet, pulling down a
blanket and pillow.
“Next best thing okay?” she drawled, turning and giving a purposeful
little bounce. Madison didn’t look impressed.
“That’s fine,” Madison replied curtly, glancing around the room. “I’ll
be using the shower, if that’s all right.”
“Your shower,” Alex replied honestly, smirking a little. “I mean,
technically, it is.”
Madison sighed. It was impossibly hard not to be drawn to Alex,
with her quirky sense of humor and boyish attitude. She was an aloof and
cool person, but a warm and playful one too, who seemed to want
nothing more than Madison’s friendship. Or… more. She seemed to
want more.
 Mourning Doves 79
Madison fought down the blush.
She’d always been perfectly accepting of her own sexuality, but there
was a line she always drew in her own head. Yes, she was very bisexual,
and no, she would never actually have a relationship. And a relationship
with any client, particularly one like Alex, was a complete no-go. Ever.
“Yes,” she said at last, trying not to look at the semi-dressed woman.
“I suppose it is.”
Alex gave her a half-smile, showing one little dimple. “I’ll make
your nest,” she teased, and when Madison got out of the shower, she
couldn’t help but throw back her head and laugh.
Alex was lounging on the bed, reading, and beside her, the blanket
and pillow had been arranged in a laundry basket, with a cup of water
next to it.

MERCEDES didn’t like being confused, and it seemed like that was his
emotional state for the past month.
Leander Kale had come to them only recently, a street brat with a big
mouth and a big attitude. The young Kin had the dress of a punk hooker,
the drawling slur of an uneducated louse, the fast temper and emotional
unbalance of a woman on PMS, and the intelligence of a man who had
graduated from Harvard. He was clever and sly, a great liar and better
manipulator, more than a little crazy, and world-wise to the point of
cynicism.
He’d hacked into TASK’s files to entertain himself, no other reason,
and had nearly gotten away clean too.
Sadly for him, Epsilon was just as smart. Epsilon had been alerted to
something not right with the system and busted Leander in almost as
short a time as Leander had broken in.
Epsilon caught Leander, and then Leander, it seemed, had caught
Epsilon. Because when Epsilon had gone through that, Leander had
stood beside him and refused to believe that he had done the things they
accused him of doing, the horrible things Mercedes had accused him of
80 Angela Romano
doing.
Mercedes hadn’t done that because he had anything against Epsilon.
The evidence had pointed in a direction, and Mercedes, as he had always
done, unquestioningly followed where it led. And it led, at the time,
straight to Epsilon. At the time, Leander hadn’t officially been the man’s
partner. That hadn’t happened for another two-ish years, really. But Wolf
had seen the potential, and, as much as he hated to admit it, so had
Mercedes. As things had been resolved and it became very clear that
Epsilon was not the man to blame, Wolf had paired them up officially,
and they’d been such ever since.
But the real culprit had never become clear on that case, and so, to
some, Epsilon had never been cleared of suspicion. And Leander, well,
poor Leander seemed to be the scapegoat at every turn. His past hurt his
present, and he knew it. He normally didn’t let it bother him or let it get
to him. Sometimes that was difficult or impossible, and Mercedes hated
to admit he was a big part of why.
Wolf had several valid points regarding this pair, and Mercedes had,
weeks before, started to reconsider his position with those two. They had
proven themselves time and again. And as proven, Wolf was starting to
be seriously affected by the behavior of nearly everyone else regarding
the two. He was getting exhausted just defending them, and, claiming to
be Wolf’s friend, he had no right to do that.
But damn if these two didn’t seem to keep ending up smack bang in
the middle of all the drama bullshit. And if one wound up caught in the
middle, they both wound up there. Because they stupidly, stubbornly
clung to each other, even when they hated each other.
And here they were yet again, once more in the middle of what
seemed to be an ever-increasing attempt at placing the blame of a
situation gone so very wrong on the head of Leander and Epsilon.
Wolf slipped out of the room Leander was being kept in, closing the
door softly.
“Let’s get this over with, can we?” he asked, searching his pockets
for a cigarette. Mercedes touched his shoulder gently, and his seeking
paused.
 Mourning Doves 81
“Relax,” Mercedes said. “With Leander down for the count and
Epsilon warbling in between sanity and not so much, the big wigs’ll take
it a little easier on you.”
“They will not, and lying to me doesn’t help.” Wolf ran a hand over
his face. “I need a drink.”
“You need to cut back on your vices.” Amusement, tender concern
rang in Mercedes’ voice. “Wolf, come on, the sooner we do this the
sooner you can get back to Leander.”
“It shouldn’t be me getting back to him.”
Mercedes sighed. “Yes, but that conversation goes nowhere very
quickly. Come on. Just get a shower, and we’ll grab coffee or something,
whatever you need.”
Wolf sighed. “At least stay with him while I clean up? I’ll meet you
back here in a few minutes.”
Mercedes could remember a time when Wolf wouldn’t have
considered letting him stay with Leander alone. Particularly not when the
boy was injured. He wondered what, if anything, it meant that now Wolf
extended the plea without hesitation.
“I’ve got him covered, Wolf.” Mercedes placed a hand on the man’s
shoulder. Wolf sighed, nodding gratefully, and moved from Leander’s
sick room to his own.
Mercedes slid into the sick room, inspecting it for a moment. This
was possibly the biggest room in TASK, with two beds, a large picture
window with pillows everywhere around it, a tiny bathroom with a small
shower, two tall bookshelves, chairs strewn about, and of course,
medical supplies. It was strange, seeing Leander so quiet on one of the
two beds. He was a sprawler, a restless sleeper, and to see him still was
unnerving. He approached and touched a darkly tanned hand to
Leander’s forehead, stroking back the strawberry-colored curls there.
Everything about Leander seemed soft: his skin was light, his hair was
light, his eyes, his freckles. His feminine face, his slim build, it all
combined to make him so delicate in appearance.
He looked even more so, small and pale like he was.
To his surprise, those pale green eyes fluttered open, and Leander
82 Angela Romano
blinked blearily at him.
“Hi,” Mercedes said quietly, and Leander’s brow furrowed, lips
working a moment. Then he swallowed and shrugged a little with an
attempted smile. Mercedes realized with a lurch in his chest that Leander
didn’t reply because he couldn’t. His voice was gone from screaming.
“Easy,” he soothed. “Wolf’s just getting a cleanup and heading out to
take care of some business with me. We’ll be back in a few hours.
Madison’s going to be with you, okay? You going to be all right?”
Leander shrugged again a little and then nodded.
“Hurt any less than before?”
Leander nodded again, lifting a hand to hold his fingers less than an
inch apart.
“Because you’ve been drugged. You’re going to be an addict by the
time you get out,” he teased, and Leander managed a silent laugh, eyes
closing again.
“We finally found a way to shut you up,” Mercedes said, and
Leander smacked at his hand weakly, cracking his eyes open once more.
He stuck his tongue out, and Mercedes smiled to see the spunk that
Leander had was not totally absent.
“You just take it easy,” Mercedes said. “Need water?”
Please. Leander’s lips formed the words even as he blushed and gave
a bashful smile. Mercedes felt like an idiot. Of course he needed water.
“All right. Let’s sit you up,” he said gently, grabbing the water bottle
from the bedside table and working an arm carefully under Leander’s
neck and shoulders. Instantly, tension formed in Leander’s body, and his
eyes closed tightly, brow tucking down. His lips parted to pant hard
breaths. Moving hurt, apparently, and Mercedes nearly lowered him
back down out of sheer guilt. But soon he had Leander up, leaning
against Mercedes’ front. He gently eased the bottle to Leander’s lips and
let him drink until he coughed and turned his head. Mercedes rubbed his
back a few moments until he felt Leander relax. Then he gently lowered
the man back to the bed, running his fingers along his brow.
“Better?”
 Mourning Doves 83
A slow, sleepy nod. The painkillers were still in his system,
apparently.
“Go on back to sleep, Leander,” he urged gently, taking a seat in one
of the chairs near the bed.
Leander’s hand touched his elbow, and Mercedes glanced at it in
surprise. “Hey, take it easy, Leander. It’s all right,” he soothed, knowing
exactly what Leander wanted when those large green eyes came to land
on him again.
“He’ll come. I promise, Leander. We’ll get him back.”

WOLF stepped from the shower, roughly toweling his long auburn hair,
another wrapped around his lower body. His body was scarred and
battle-rough, his skin dark and tough with the life he led. But his face
and eyes were gentle and mild, and his body was strong and as
powerfully built as it’d ever been.
He slid into a long-sleeved blue shirt and a pair of black slacks,
pulling his thick auburn curls into a ponytail and tugging on a black
jacket. He dressed quickly, eager to get back to Leander, and then forced
himself to calm and slow down. Rushing wouldn’t get this meeting over
any faster, and he wasn’t in any hurry to do this.
In all the chaos, he’d forgotten his meeting-in-a-week, and now here
it was, suddenly, one week later.
And they were waiting.
Snarling in irritation, he headed back out, rapping sharply on
Leander’s door. Mercedes opened it a moment later and then slipped out.
“He just got back to sleep,” Mercedes said, in a low whisper. “Shh.”
Wolf half-smiled in fondness at the sudden protectiveness Mercedes
seemed to be displaying, so unlike him, really. “We getting coffee before
this thing goes down?”
“Of course.” Mercedes gave him the lopsided grin that girls swooned
over. “Starbucks, on me. Come on; you need caffeine.”
84 Angela Romano
Wolf followed Mercedes from the TASK building out to his car, a
black Mustang with red interior. He often teased Mercedes about the car,
but in reality, it was… nice. Nicer, anyway, than Wolf’s car; but,
ignoring that, Wolf loved his baby.
They climbed into the car, and Wolf felt a sudden, deep unease as
they pulled away from the building. His hand tightened briefly on the
belt, but when Mercedes glanced over to ask him what was wrong, he
lied and said “Nothing.”
Mercedes knew his friend was withholding, but he lied too and said
nothing.
And in the end, they both wished they’d said something, because if
they had, maybe a young man would still be alive.
But if you’d asked Liaison, if he were still around to ask, he’d have
said it wouldn’t have mattered much anyway. He’d have told you the
simple truth: Walking into Monty’s new lair that day, he knew beyond
any doubt that he would die.
And with quiet acceptance, he stepped forward and met his fate.
When they came back to TASK, they saw the familiar black cars that
marked the TASK officials’ presence. Wolf took a deep, bracing breath
and stepped out, followed by his less-tense friend. They reentered the
building, nodding to the first of the officials they passed in the hall. They
got no answering acknowledgment, but then, hadn’t really expected one.
They followed the tide of black-suited officials down to the main
offices, where a laptop sat on the table and a projection screen hung
down one wall. The room was dark, and faces mostly obscured. This was
how it always was when the higher-ups in TASK were forced down to
the level of normal people. Identities were kept as private as possible on
the rare occasion when those men were seen at all.
Aside from one man’s. The man they would face on that laptop in
just a matter of minutes. The men all took seats around the table with
Wolf at the head and Mercedes at his side.
Silence reigned for a long time, and then someone reached over and
gently tapped the laptop’s mouse. The laptop sprang to life, and after a
moment, a dark-skinned male with steely gray eyes and graying black
 Mourning Doves 85
hair appeared on the screen. If possible, the silence grew deeper.
“Hello, gentlemen, and thank you all for being here so… promptly.”
The pause was significant, and Wolf ducked his head a bit, grateful for
the darkness. Mercedes was, he knew, looking at him with empathy he
didn’t want.
“I believe we all know why we’re here, today: the same reason why
we’ve had to meet often in the past. Matters concerning one Leander
Kale and Epsilon Maddox.” The man on the screen went on, not really
looking at any one of them. Wolf lifted his gaze at last, his natural
instinct to protect his men overcoming his own self-consciousness.
“Mr. Leshaun, I believe it was already determined that nothing
pointed to neither Leander nor Epsilon as a potential suspect in—”
“You’re very correct, Addison. Nothing as of yet points to your boys
as suspects in this particular case.” The man’s voice rose and arched.
“But this is not the first time they’ve come under suspicion.”
“Why should it matter if they’re not guilty of the accusations?”
“Because they are continuously falling into situations like this,
Wolf,” the man explained with strained patience. “The constant
situations they find themselves in arouse curiosity.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘wrong place, wrong time’?” Wolf
snapped, and then he flinched when it seemed every head in the room
snapped up to glare him down. One didn’t speak to Mr. LeShaun that
way.
The man on the screen waited until Wolf had sat under the weight of
his own outburst long enough and then spoke again.
“As it is, I am tired of being forced to second-guess my own agents
constantly. So, I am, for a time, suspending your authority over those
two.”
Now Mercedes looked up, his brow furrowed.
“But if Wolf is removed from heading TASK, then—”
“That is not what I said,” the man reprimanded calmly. “Wolf is not
being ‘removed’ from anything. Despite the chaos your team often
causes, Addison, you are a fine choice to head an organization such as
86 Angela Romano
TASK. However, you are also understandably biased. We need a less
involved, neutral party.”
“Neutral? Can there be such a thing when it comes to TASK?”
“I believe that I have located a few men who are capable of
remaining so while also following your command up until such point I
tell them not to.”
And didn’t that just sound wonderful? Wolf closed his eyes.
“Can I ask who it is you’ve chosen?”
“I would hope you do so,” came the amused drawl back.
“Considering this is your team at stake.”
Wolf flinched from the second reprimand in half the time and was
distantly aware of Mercedes’ touch on his arm.
“I have chosen Montgomery Edwards to be your… you can call it
‘second’, for a brief period. Until you can prove to me that Epsilon—and
Leander, for that matter—are of no threat to my organization or my
men.”
To Mercedes’ side, a man rose, slowly. He was small, nearly the size
of Leander, and in the darkened room it was nearly impossible to see his
face. His hair fell around his shoulders, lank and limp, but the set of his
shoulders was confident and firm.
Montgomery Edwards. I know that name.
Wolf studied the standing man hard, trying to make out his features.
Something about the name made alarm bells ring distantly in the back of
his mind.
Mercedes was watching him, not the man who had stood, and even in
the gloom, Wolf could see his expression. Concern. Worry. Mercedes
felt the unease and discomfort this man had about him too.
Wolf rose himself, carefully, lifting a hand. But when Montgomery
extended a hand to him, and he took it, his breath sucked in harshly.
“A pleasure to work with you, Mr. Addison,” the man said, and the
voice was so similar to that hissing threat on his machine. So similar that
it made his hackles raise.
 Mourning Doves 87
Montgomery slowly let go of his hand, giving him a confused look,
or what Wolf assumed was confusion. It was still difficult to see him in
that dim lighting.
“Wolf?” He jumped as the voice from the laptop made him jump
slightly, startled.
“Thank you for rejoining us, Addison. I wasn’t aware the attraction
between yourself and Mr. Edwards was so… strong.”
Mercedes scowled, jaw set, but ducked his head and kept it private.
Not a wise choice, to scowl at the man who headed TASK above
everyone else. The man who had formed the group in the first place.
“My apologies, Mr. LeShaun.”
Montgomery sat down too, and Wolf subtly wiped his hand off on
his pants. He could still feel his skin crawl, though, even after he’d done
so.
88 Angela Romano

LIAISON had his contacts on the street, and then he had the Little Ones,
and between the two, he’d found exactly where he needed to go.
Why Monty was the man featured in his dreams or why he was so
frightened of him, he didn’t understand. He’d never in his life been
afraid of Monty. But there was something lurking in the pit of his
stomach now, something deep and dark. It roiled and threatened to make
him vomit, so intense was it, and he knew beyond a doubt what would
happen this day.
He knelt by one of his Little Ones, stroking its soft fur gently.
“This is as far as you can follow me, darling,” he told it softly, and it
mewed at him as he pressed his lip to the soft head. The animal slunk
away after a moment, and he stepped into the small apartment, making
his way down the hall to the appropriate room. Not that it was hard. This
was a dilapidated building, at best, and most of the rooms were empty or
worse. A few didn’t have doors attached and the insides of them were
hollowed out like a bug half-devoured by something.
He carefully ascended the stairs, not trusting the elevators for longer
than it took to glance at them. His long legs ate up the distance easily, a
lazy amble deceptively hiding his nerves. He rapped on the door, but
there was no answer. He tried again, then knelt and simply picked the
lock. It was almost painfully easy; a cheap, crappy lock on a door that
was nearly falling down.
He let himself into Monty’s room. It was pretty sparse, a cot rather
 Mourning Doves 89
than a bed, a set of drawers, some clothes scattered about, a lamp,
magazines, porn, and a small TV. He gritted his teeth and then
approached, with a raised brow, a phone in the corner. There was
something strange about it, something not right.
He knelt, reaching for the phone on the floor. His hand brushed over
the sleek black plastic, shy and butterfly light.
He didn’t want to touch it.
He didn’t want to touch it.
He didn’t….
He didn’t….
His fingers closed around it.
A wash of memory that wasn’t his own swept him away, choking
and gasping for air. His back arched, and his eyes rolled back in his
head, violent and jerking rather than the gentle, sweeping vision touching
his Little Ones brought on.
A rush of Monty’s life, except for it wasn’t Monty. It was a man who
stood straight and held himself with confidence and arrogance, a man
who held his puppets in the palm of his hand and watched them dance.
The man-who-was-not-Monty made threatening calls on the phone, hid
drugs under his bed. He watched fast-forward style as people came into
the room. They argued with the man-who-was-not-Monty; they fought.
They left the room again, and time passed, more calls, more arguing with
those men.
And then a hand came down on his shoulder and yanked him fiercely
out of the vision.
Liaison screamed, and blood streamed out of his eyes, his nose, his
ears, his mouth. In front of his eyes, in seizure-inducing flashes of light,
he saw the man tied to the stake, his blue, blue eyes boring straight into
his.
“Live,” the man said, and his voice echoed, boomed. “Live. Just a
few days more. Live. You know. Live. Live.”
And Liaison gritted his teeth and hung on with all his strength,
because he knew.
90 Angela Romano

THE first thing that Epsilon noticed was that Wolf did not greet him at
the door.
He was relatively unhurt. Lacerations, his old wounds throbbing with
pain, maybe a badly sprained or broken ankle, blood fucking pouring
from his skull, but head wounds bleed like a bitch, always. Already he
could feel his wounds slowly mending, trying to heal.
Sasha’s blood covered his clothes, his hands, his arms, his face. He’d
tried not to get any in his mouth, but he wasn’t sure he hadn’t.
He’d find out soon enough.
He staggered to the apartment he shared with Leander, a half-
destroyed apartment. Almost in a daze, he moved past the wreckage and
upstairs. He showered and roughly bandaged his own wounds, then
pulled on a button-up black shirt and jeans. His ankle wasn’t broken.
Bruised deeply and harshly, but as far as he could tell, that was the extent
of it.
He returned to TASK the next day. And the first thing he noticed was
that Wolf didn’t greet him at the door.
He limped inside, past the receptionist, upstairs to the main area of
the TASK force base. A man stopped him at the elevators. Something
about the man lurking there put his hackles straight up, made the animal
in him snarl with dislike. He slammed down on that part of him. The
animal had had more than enough time to play.
He was a small man, roughly on par with Leander in size. His hair
was auburn, hanging lank and limp around his face in an unattractive but
clean manner. His face was gaunt and thin, his body rather much the
same. His hands were small and calloused, skin dark and scarred.
Epsilon’s eyes narrowed with faint memory. He knew this person.
He slowed until he’d come to a full stop, unconsciously assuming
alpha position. The other man didn’t react, but to watch him with calm,
frighteningly cold eyes.
 Mourning Doves 91
The look in those eyes spooked him. Not much was able to do that,
not to Epsilon, who had killed and would kill again.
But those eyes were….
He shivered, and the animal in him shrank back, showing its teeth.
“Epsilon Maddox?” the man asked, and his voice grated on Epsilon’s
nerves, set his teeth on edge.
“Yes,” he said cautiously, pulling back from the extended hand.
“Montgomery Edwards,” the man said, ignoring the way Epsilon
ignored his hand. “I’m going to be Wolf’s second-in-command for a
while.”
“Why? What happened to him?”
“Nothing, exactly,” the man replied, hands going into his pockets.
“Perhaps you should speak with him.”
“Is Leander hanging in there?”
The man sobered, if it was possible. “The pain is very intense. Your
friend seemed to be recovering, and then… he’s taken a severe turn for
the worse.”
Epsilon closed his eyes and glanced away, guilt surging through his
body. He should have been there, should have been beside Leander.
He stepped on the elevator, around the man very carefully. Some part
of him didn’t want to get any closer to this man than he had to. The man
watched until the elevator doors closed, and then, to his relief, Epsilon
was out of sight.
He rode up to the top floor and was met by Wolf, who scanned him
for serious injury in the span of four, maybe five breaths. He decided
Epsilon was mostly unhurt, and then suddenly Epsilon found himself
grabbed by the shirt and slammed backward. His back met with the wall
harshly, and he choked a cry as his ribs jarred.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
“You know where I’ve been,” he replied calmly, struggling for air. “I
brought Sasha down.”
92 Angela Romano
“Yeah, well, while you played soldier, Leander is dying.” Wolf let
him go with a final slam.
“The man downstairs said he was recovering.”
“He was, Epsilon, until this afternoon.” Wolf took a deep breath,
running a hand over his face. “And now I just don’t know,” he said,
voice sad. “This whole time, the only person he’s wanted is you. Do you
know what it’s like to listen to him beg for you and not be able to find
you anywhere?” Wolf snarled. “Pain can kill just as much as an injury
can, and that man in there is fighting for his life. And the one person who
can give him strength was missing.” Wolf met his eyes once more.
“Epsilon, you two had—have—the most amazing, fragile bond. I think
you damaged it pretty badly.”
Epsilon took the speech in silence. He deserved it and worse, and he
knew it. He stroked down the front of his shirt, looking up to meet
Wolf’s eyes.
“What’s going on here, Wolf?”
The head of TASK looked down and sighed. “We’ll discuss it later.”
“What’s there to discuss?”
Wolf shied away from Epsilon’s touch. “For now, you need to go to
Leander,” he said, lifting his gaze once more. “Once he’s stronger and
you’ve healed a little yourself, we’ll talk.”
“Is he going to be a problem? That ‘Montgomery Edwards’ person
downstairs?”
“Probably.” Wolf snorted. “Leander’s room is four doors down on
the right.”
Epsilon nodded and moved down the hall to the appropriate room,
rapping softly before pushing the door open.
Leander was writhing on the bed, tossing, panting, straining. His
whimpering breaths filled the room. Madison was beside him, Alex
beside her, wiping a cloth over his forehead. The girl gave a startled cry
to see him back, but Madison didn’t react.
His breath sucked in, and he heard himself hiss Leander’s name
before he even realized he was doing it, moving across the room in two
 Mourning Doves 93
powerful strides. He was at the bed in moments, dropping down onto it
and reaching out hesitantly to run a hand over Leander’s face.
Leander’s soft green eyes opened and struggled to focus, lips parting
as he gasped in a breath. “Ep… silon?” he managed softly, then: “About
damn time, man.”
He laughed softly and reached out again. His hand froze in midair as
Leander flinched back away. It was an instinctive movement, and then
his wrist was caught in Madison’s firm, small grip.
He had about two seconds to look up before he was yanked to his
feet and, all Kin strength aside, couldn’t have fought if he wanted to.
“Madison!” Leander tried, and Alex covered her mouth with a hand,
but Madison had already leaned over Leander’s prone form and slapped
Epsilon hard across the cheek. Her blow split his lip, her nails raking
across his cheek to tear the skin.
He stayed like that for a moment, eyes closed. Distantly, he heard
Leander protesting, Alex whimpering with fear. He turned back around,
gently touching his lower lip.
“Got that out of your system now?”
Her face was pale, her lips thin. “No.” She gritted her teeth. “But for
now, it’ll have to do.”
“Madison, please.” Leander’s voice was soft and weak. He didn’t
sound angry or affronted. Just tired and hurting.
Epsilon felt a small chill of fear as he remembered Wolf’s words.
The thought of losing the only person who trusted him completely—who
he could trust completely—of ruining that fragile link between them
made his chest ache.
“Madison,” Alex said softly, touching her arm. “Let’s leave them
alone for a moment.”
Madison turned and then nodded, calmly wiping her hand on the
sheet. “Wolf and I want to speak to you later,” she told Epsilon, her
voice cool and distant.
The two women left, and Epsilon settled at the foot of the bed,
resting a hand gently on Leander’s leg. Silence fell, but it was not their
94 Angela Romano
typical, comfortable silence; it was tense, filled with Leander’s soft
grunts as he shifted and tried to find a position that eased his pain.
Epsilon wanted to reach out and help, to sooth away the ache, but he
was… he no longer had the right.
“Did you get her?” Leander’s voice broke the silence, making him
startle.
“I—” Epsilon stopped at the worst part of this situation, the part that
made the animal in him snarl with frustration and rage. “I put her down,
but she got away from me in the end.”
Leander groaned softly as he tried to push up on one elbow. “You let
her get away?”
“I didn’t let her do anything!” Epsilon snapped back, bristling. The
animal in him bared its teeth and snarled before he could stop it.
Leander’s ears flattened on his skull, but then his entire arm shook
violently, and he was dumped with a yip of pain onto his back. He
yipped again, curling into a pill-bug position.
“Leander?” Epsilon slid up to his side, and all pretense of space
between them evaporated. He gripped Leander’s hand and cradled his
partner’s shoulders and head, rocking gently, free hand soothing over
Leander’s ears. They waited until the fit had passed, and then Leander
relaxed into Epsilon’s hold, eyes closed and trying to relax.
“How’d she get away?” he asked after a moment, breathless.
“She was half-finished from your fight with her before, but
something’s—something’s different about the Hunters, Leander. She
wasn’t nearly as finished as she should have been. She went through a
window when I got her on the run.”
“She’s not stupid. She wasn’t going to sit down an’ let you kill her,”
Leander whispered, eyes not opened.
“Maybe, but I have a feeling that burning her or chopping her into
pieces is just about the only way to keep her down,” Epsilon replied,
leaning back on the headboard. “I nearly took her head off her neck
before she finally found her way out.”
“So yet again, Sasha ain’t dead.”
 Mourning Doves 95
“Unless she bleeds to death out there. I followed the scent of her
blood until the trail dead-ended on me at a lake.”
“So she either drowned or got across.”
“Once you heal, we can go back and see if we can pick up her trail.”
“It’ll probably be cold by then,” Leander replied.
“You think it will take you that long to recover? Leander—”
“Epsilon.” Leander grunted, tried to push away, failed, and tried
again. This time he got free of Epsilon’s hold. “Epsilon, this isn’t just an
injury.”
“You’ll heal.”
Leander’s face went blank and cold. “Yeah. I guess I will.”
“Leander, I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me to be. I’m
aware of how badly I messed that up. But Sasha was the most pressing
matter.”
“Don’t worry. I get it, Epsilon. I’m used t’ it.”
“Used to—Leander, don’t blow this out of proportion.”
Leander rolled over again, his eyes dark with anger. The argument
was cut off forcefully, though, when pain creased his face, and he
groaned, rolling away again.
The heaviness of something lost settled hard in Epsilon’s stomach.
But now wasn’t the time to call it out, and he leaned back and closed his
eyes. Whatever had broken and whatever was still whole didn’t matter
right now. All that mattered was holding Leander until he was better.
As it turned out, he held him until he fell asleep.
Then Wolf slipped back into the room and hissed his name. Slowly,
he freed himself from the tangle that was Leander’s body, and rose. Wolf
and Madison were waiting for him in the hall, and he could see Alex
moving back toward the room she shared with Madison.
“What?” he asked, closing the door softly behind him and following
the pair into the empty room next to it. Wolf shut that door too, and then
Epsilon started to get a little nervous. Wolf was tense, and he could smell
96 Angela Romano
the man’s mingling of emotions. Despite the fact that Wolf was
outwardly calm, Wolf was always outwardly calm, and it was impossible
to tell, unless you knew him well, what he was feeling. Even if Epsilon
hadn’t been able to sense the tangle of emotion, he’d have been able to
read it in Wolf’s eyes, in the way his hands couldn’t be still. He kept
looking at Madison, and he was shifting restlessly and constantly.
“Wolf? Madison?”
“Epsilon.” Wolf ran a hand through his hair, his eyes closing.
“Epsilon, listen to me and promise not to interrupt, all right?”
“I don’t make promises I don’t know I can keep,” Epsilon said in all
honesty. “But I’ll try if you need me to.”
“We do,” Madison replied. “Epsilon, you may have noticed the…
oddity of the behavior of certain TASK members, as you are not an idiot.
Particularly Leander. Epsilon, there’s a leak in TASK, a mole, of sorts.
And—” She paused. “And you have come under serious scrutiny.”
Epsilon was quiet for a long moment. “I’m not, to be honest, very
surprised,” he drawled after a moment. “Just once more in a long string
of taking blame.”
Wolf flinched and looked down. Madison placed a hand on his for
just a heartbeat’s length. It was not a lover’s touch. Madison and Wolf
had been through too much together not to be powerfully connected. The
touch was a reassurance, an offer of strength.
“Montgomery Edwards has been assigned the position of a second-
in-command to me for the length of time it takes to prove that you’re
innocent or not,” he added grudgingly, not looking up.
“Or until we find the real mole.”
“Or until then, yes.” Wolf sighed once again. “Did you get Sasha?”
This time, at least, the animal didn’t rage in impotent frustration.
“Almost. I about took her head off, but she got away on me.”
“So she is badly hurt.”
“There’s a chance she bled out,” he said. “Why?”
“Because I need to know if we still need to keep an eye on Alex.”
 Mourning Doves 97
“I would, for a few more weeks anyway. Leander and I will get to
work on finding our leak,” Epsilon said, taking a deep breath, taking
things in stride. You had to when you worked for an organization like
TASK. When you were something like Epsilon.
“I’ll go back to her room then,” Madison said, and she actually
blushed a little when Wolf sent her a sideways look. For a moment
amusement broke through the tension in the air. Epsilon’s brow arched a
little. He’d sensed the attraction between Alex and Madison from
moment one, and apparently things were progressing nicely.
Cute.
“You and Leander need to come back to my apartment with me,
when you can,” Wolf replied, letting him go with the flow of things,
pretending like he hadn’t just suggested Epsilon could be a traitor. “I’ve
gotten some odd phone calls.”
Epsilon nodded. “It’ll be our first stop. Wolf?”
The man had been moving toward the door, but now he stopped and
turned partway, so that one shoulder and part of his face was visible to
Epsilon.
“Don’t hide things like this from me again,” Epsilon warned, his
voice low and dangerous. “I don’t care who suspects what of me. Fuck
knows it’s happened before. Don’t keep things from me. And don’t tell
Leander and expect him to keep it hidden.”
“He didn’t—”
“No, he didn’t say a word.” Epsilon took a deep breath. “And that’s
what upsets me.”

BACK in the bedroom, Alex tugged her hair back into a ponytail and
then leaned over her sink to brush her teeth, her mind tossing around the
little information she was aware of. Her heart was racing, her fear
pouring through her veins.
This whole thing wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. She’d just wanted a
98 Angela Romano
nice, quiet life with her girlfriend, with no excitement, no strangeness.
Just a nice, peaceful life.
And now here she was with a girlfriend who wouldn’t die, sitting in a
government building surrounded by men and women with ears and tails,
falling in love with a beautiful redheaded woman who was everything
Sasha hadn’t been, hiding for her life.
And she was enjoying it.
There was a gentle, familiar rap at the door, and she opened it,
admitting said beautiful woman.
“Hey,” Alex greeted with a small smile. Madison looked worn out.
Alex knew there was something going on with TASK, some kind of leak
or something, but she wasn’t clear on the details and had a feeling she
probably would never be. Madison and the others had been rather open
and forthcoming with information and such, but there was a line that had
to be drawn. Alex understood that, of course. She was not part of TASK
and therefore an “outsider.”
Madison shut the door softly, pulling her coat off and hanging it in
the closet. “How are you doing?” she asked, turning back.
“I’m… all right,” Alex said, sitting on the bed. “Look, Madison,
about earlier, a few weeks ago—”
“Don’t.” Madison held up a hand, eyes closed. “You were upset and
emotional, and I pushed buttons I suppose I shouldn’t have.”
Alex ran a hand over the bedspread, eyes focused downward.
“Maybe. Look, you got a place to eat around here?” she asked. She knew
how dangerously close she was coming to asking Madison out on a date,
and she’d meant to.
It felt wrong and awkward, flirting and teasing with someone like
Madison when Sasha was still there, but at the same time, it didn’t.
Sasha and Alex had, yes, been committed to each other, but with what
had happened, it was as good as a breakup, right?
Hell, when your girlfriend goes nuts on super-drugs and turns into
psycho-bitch stalker from hell, is there a socially acceptable waiting
period before you start hitting on the sexy lady with the hair like wine
who wanted to kill her?
 Mourning Doves 99
Madison turned. “This is the TASK headquarters, not a waiting
room.”
“In other words, no cafeteria?”
“If there were, I’m sure the food would be terrible anyway.”
Madison’s lips twitched in something that wanted to be a smile. Alex
returned it with the genuine article.
“You wanna… I mean, you hungry?” Alex asked, rising off the bed.
“Not really, but I’m sure you’re not safe going out there alone right
now,” Madison replied.
All right. Okay. If that’s how you feel better about this. We can do it
this way.
Alex walked over to the closet, placing a hand on Madison’s
shoulder. “Well, I need food, and I don’t plan on ordering in.”
Madison didn’t remove the hand from her shoulder. “Alex, dear, are
you trying to get me to go on a date with you?”
Alex blinked in surprise at the straightforward question. Her lips
curved up in a coy smile, and she ran her fingers through the small hairs
at the base of Madison’s neck. The other woman looked at her, cautious,
curious.
“No. If I was asking you on a date, I’d’ve said, ‘Hey, Madison, let’s
go have some fun.’”
“Oh.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were disappointed, Ms.
Madison.”
Madison shrugged off her hand, wry amusement twisting her face.
“You seem incredibly certain I’m even lesbian.”
“Well, you didn’t slap me after that kiss.” Alex smirked. “So either
you’re really very curious, or—”
Madison raised a brow. “Wonderful deduction skills, Mr. Holmes.”
“Ms.,” Alex giggled out, hand over her mouth. “And everyone
always forgets about poor Watson.”
100 Angela Romano
Madison chuckled a little, pulling her coat back out of the closet.
Alex reached in as well and pulled her own jacket from the closet.
“Hey, Madison,” Alex said, shrugging the jacket on and smiling over
at the other woman. Alex took a breath and took a chance.
“Let’s go have some fun.”
 Mourning Doves 101

LEANDER’S world had been tilted on its axis, and combined with the
pain raging through his system, he felt like he was about to implode.
He curled into a tighter ball, whimpering his agony softly, his ears
vanished into his hair, and his tail tucked like a kicked dog.
The pain had let go a little since Epsilon had come back.
No matter what else he thought of Epsilon right now, no matter how
angry he wanted to be, he couldn’t deny that the moment Epsilon had
walked into the room and held him, the pain had started to become
bearable.
They had always had a connection, a bond, that was almost physical,
and it hurt that he felt that he couldn’t trust Epsilon. He’d only known
the man—really known him, not just worked with him—for about a year,
and there was nothing you could really understand about a fellow person
in a year. Two years, now, actually, hadn’t it been?
So much he didn’t know about Epsilon. So much that was hiding
from him, revealed only in sobbing dreams and begging pleas in his
sleep for someone who was hurting him to stop, please stop, please,
leave me alone.
So unlike the Epsilon he knew.
Most people didn’t know anything about Gene Babies, in fact. They
were created by the government in a series of ever-darkening
experiments on unwanted and uncared-for people, the scum and the
102 Angela Romano
criminals, in an attempt to make everything Better, and the whole
shebang was broken apart when the atrocities and horrors committed
against the people trapped in that hellhole were revealed. But no one
ever made a huge fuss over it, and Gene Babies were just generally
accepted as another part of the strange and growing society that was
taking over humanity. With Kin and the ones who were Different, with
organizations like TASK being open and well-known and things like
Bearrs wandering the woods, people had come to accept that these sorts
of things were here to stay. Get used to it or don’t, but they weren’t
going away.
People never considered what those used for the genetic experiments
must have gone through, and when he heard that soft, heartbreaking
plea—please, it hurts, please—he wanted nothing more than to hold
Epsilon and soothe away the things done to him.
The longer he’d known Epsilon, the more intense that feeling
became, the deeper their bond grew. There had always been an
unflinching trust between them, an understanding. Through everything,
they’d never second-guessed each other.
And then Wolf’s reluctance to let him share the suspicion with
Epsilon, which suggested that maybe Wolf had entertained the thought
that Epsilon was the person responsible. And for the first time, Leander
had entertained doubts about his partner, whom he trusted so much but
knew almost not at all. Even when Epsilon did things like read through
Leander’s file to find out things about his past, it didn’t wound that sense
of trust. That was just Epsilon, and he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone.
It had scared him, that doubt; confused him.
Epsilon picked up on it, of course, sensed the change in their
relationship. Of course he did. Leander was pitifully bad at hiding it.
And then Leander had been in such pain, such burning agony, and
he’d screamed and screamed and wanted to die because it hurt so badly,
and when he’d reached for Epsilon there had been no Epsilon there. And
in his pain and terror, it had seemed the ultimate betrayal. With all the
time he’d spent wanting to comfort and support Epsilon, and then
Epsilon hadn’t been there.
And then Sasha was still alive.
 Mourning Doves 103
Leander rolled over again, groaning deeply as another wave of pain
took him. It was receding, yes, but not gone. And it got worse at times,
better at others.
The door cracked open, and his ears pricked up as he struggled to sit
up a little. Epsilon himself entered, carrying a tray and pushing the door
open with his back. The other Kin kicked the door shut again.
“You need to eat.”
“Not hungry,” Leander murmured, and the instant he spoke, the
tension seemed to snap into the air. He felt it, the change between them.
If Epsilon had ears, they would have flattened. He felt it too, and hated it.
“I didn’t ask you if you were hungry. I said you need to eat.”
Epsilon set the tray down, separating his own food and taking a seat
backward in a chair.
“Epsilon, I can’t right now.”
“You can’t get better if you don’t nourish your body. Don’t make me
put a tube in you, Leander.”
If this was Epsilon showing concern, he needed work at it.
“I can’t,” he tried, falling back again and closing his eyes. “Fuck,
Epsilon, I hurt.”
There was a pause, then Epsilon swung his long legs off the chair and
sat behind Leander’s head, gently helping him sit up. The tray was set on
Leander’s lap, and Epsilon paused, letting his partner adjust to the new
position, letting the pain fade. He wrapped his arms around Leander’s
thin waist and gripped the bowl the man’s soup was in.
“Just relax,” came his mild voice, near Leander’s ear. “Just relax and
take it easy.”
He lifted the soup gently, pressing it to Leander’s mouth. Leander set
his teeth against it and turned his head. Epsilon’s own jaw set.
“Look, I know you’re angry, but you can’t starve yourself.”
“It hurts. I can’t keep it down, Epsilon—”
“Leander, either let me help and work with me, or I will stick a tube
104 Angela Romano
in you.”
Leander bristled in anger and struggled to push him away, but
Epsilon just tightened his grip until Leander cried out, then cried out
again as the pressure increased.
“Ow, fuck, okay, Epsilon, all right!”
Epsilon let him go swiftly; he hadn’t meant to hurt Leander, not
seriously. He let go his grip slowly, and Leander slumped back into him,
panting softly.
“You’re an asshole, asshole.” Leander gasped softly, eyes closed.
“Better this than sticking it down you.”
He lifted the soup once more and eased it between Leander’s lips. He
eased the liquid into Leander’s mouth, and, to his surprise, he felt
Epsilon’s big, calloused hand rubbing slowly, gently, up and down his
back. He hadn’t expected the soft encouragement, and he worked to
swallow the offered soup.
He hurt as much inside as he did out, and the heat scalded, making
him writhe in something that was more discomfort and less pain, really.
Epsilon hushed him mildly, pulling the bowl away to let Leander catch
his breath.
“Little sips,” Epsilon said quietly, and he eased the cup back up. In
this way, they fought their way through the entire thing, and Leander
slumped in exhaustion.
“Water?” It was a mild, almost neutral question, and Leander nodded
weakly. A moment’s more rest, Epsilon helped him drink, and then
Epsilon eased him back against the blankets, rising and taking the tray
with him. He resumed his seat in the chair and began to work on his own
food. Only then did Leander see the half-healed wounds, the way he
favored his side, which should have healed by now. Apparently he kept
re-aggravating it, which, knowing Epsilon, was not surprising.
Leander sighed and sank deeper into his pillows and blankets, eyes
closed. Epsilon had looked up from his food and was studying Leander
once more. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes that was
uncomfortable. He was thinking hard and possibly considering the
sudden tension in their bond.
 Mourning Doves 105
“Leander.”
Leander put his face into the blanket, hiding in his pillow. He didn’t
want to discuss this, not now, in so much pain he could barely think.
“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” he murmured. “Not now,
Epsilon, please.”
“I just need one question answered,” Epsilon said very quietly, and
Leander twisted to look at him.
“Do you think I’m the traitor?”
The pause was too long for either of them to enjoy.
“No, Epsilon. I don’t think you would ever do that sort of thing.”
“You said ‘would’, not ‘could’.”
“That’s because I know what you’re capable of.” Leander shifted,
trying to get comfortable on the bed.
“And you think I could turn traitor.”
“I think—oh, ow. Ow. I can’t—fuck—” Leander doubled over, only
distantly aware of the cry that ripped from his throat. “I can’t do this
right now.”
“Leander—” Epsilon was cut off as Leander gave a low, deep whine
of pain and reached out blindly, helplessly.
And this time, Epsilon was there and took his hand tightly in both of
his own.

LIAISON hurt. His entire body throbbed like a giant toothache, and he
couldn’t focus on anything. Every time he tried, his stomach churned and
he tried to vomit, but couldn’t bring anything up.
He was badly dehydrated, he knew, and hadn’t eaten properly since
Monty had come back and found him.
He tugged at his bonds, grimacing as the ropes bit into his arms.
Well, that was a smart idea.
106 Angela Romano
The effort it took to exert even that slight attempt at freedom left him
panting, chest heaving. He felt weak and exhausted, and he’d not felt that
way for a long time.
He was in a bed—a mattress on the floor, actually—and naked,
which made him decidedly uncomfortable. His lean, dark body was
covered in scars and tattoos, his mane of hair sliding in a matted, tangled
mess down his chest and back. Once, that hair had been long and
beautiful. Once, men and women alike had loved his hair.
He looked up tiredly as the door opened, and Monty himself came in,
stripping his jacket. He’d come straight from work, obviously, and his
gaze was intense and focused inward. He looked up abruptly and then
moved over to the bed where Liaison was tied.
“You know,” he said, sitting next to the mattress and running a hand
over Liaison’s brow. “You really should have just minded your own
business.”
“You know I couldn’t,” he rasped, turning his head away from the
touch. “What you’re doing is wrong, Monty.”
“I’m not going to argue morals with you,” Monty replied. “Hungry?”
Starving. Liaison turned his head away quietly.
“Liaison, I asked if you were hungry.” Monty was fondling a piece of
cloth and extended it slowly to the young seer in front of him.
“I’d rather starve to death,” Liaison spat, and Monty jerked as if
stung and gritted his teeth.
“I don’t have to make this deal with you, Liaison. I could just make
you tell me what you know.”
“You could make me see it. I won’t tell you anything.”
“Liaison, you’re proud and a bit stupid,” Monty drawled, fondling
the material. “You’re so weak and worn out after a vision that I could
force you to tell me whatever I needed to know.”
Liaison’s jaw set, and he looked away again, eyes closing. He
stiffened when Monty laid a hand on his chest and the strip of material
was placed in his right hand, gently. He fisted it, refusing to accept the
material, but Monty squeezed the pressure point on his wrist until his
 Mourning Doves 107
hand was forced to open.
Liaison jolted and bucked, fighting hard against the vision that
wanted to take him.
“Stop it,” Monty chided from somewhere in another world. “Fighting
it is pointless, Liaison.”
Liaison tossed his head, his vision blurring and blacking out on the
edges. He didn’t want it, he didn’t want to see, not anything that would
help Monty. But his body didn’t have any choice about which visions it
was privy to and which it wasn’t. It kicked in as it knew it should, and
trying to hold it back was almost impossible. He could hear himself, to
his own shame and horror, keening like some wild animal.
Monty’s hand ran over his face, gently, deceptively gentle, through
his hair. “Let it go, Liaison. Just relax and let it go.”
“Leave me the fuck alone!” Liaison gasped out, and he ripped against
his bonds, against Monty’s touch, holding the scrap of cloth there. “Get
off of me!”
Monty’s grip only tightened, and with a final cry of frustration, the
vision took Liaison.
“Well?” Monty asked when he came out of it, a panting, half-sobbing
mess.
Despite his exhaustion and his pain, there was a victorious grin on
his lips, grim and humorless, when he turned to face Monty.
“They know it’s you,” he sobbed out, head arched back into the
pillow, writhing in his pain. “They know, you cowardly son of a bitch.”
Monty’s brow furrowed, and his teeth were bared in a snarl. His hand
snapped across Liaison’s jaw, whipping his head to the left. “How?”
“Because I’m going to tell them,” Liaison said, spitting blood and
grinning again. “I’m going to tell them, and you’re going to die. You
never should have let me See, Monty. Montgomery. You made a
mistake.”
“And you should never let your ace out of the hole,” Monty snarled
back, grabbing his chin harshly. “Bad choice.”
108 Angela Romano
“You can’t change it,” Liaison said, still grim, still intense. “You’re
coming to your end.”
Liaison no longer fought against his exhaustion. He needed to rest.
Rest and gather his strength for what was to come. He closed his eyes
and let Monty’s threats and rage wash over him as the exhaustion carried
him into sleep.

“CAREFUL. Just take it easy; you’re still healing.” Wolf’s voice was
soft and warm as he unlocked his apartment front door to admit himself
and his two companions. Leander was moving stiffly, slowly, but he was
himself once again, or getting there, anyway. Epsilon, over the past few
weeks, was almost completely well also, with only a slight tenderness on
his right leg. It might never go away fully, but the limp was slight and
would never get worse.
Leander was sniffing the air the moment he stepped into the
apartment, an instinctive reaction that didn’t get him a lot of information.
He smelled Wolf, of course, and Madison; he smelled the booze that
Wolf often drank too much of and cigarette smoke; and he smelled
Epsilon next to him and his own scent from when he’d been in here in
the past.
Wolf’s apartment was smaller than Leander’s and Epsilon’s, of
course; it was an apartment that was meant for one person and always
had been. There was something helplessly lonely in that, Leander had
always thought; in an apartment that was never meant to hold more than
one person. It wasn’t a small apartment, by any means. There was a
moderately large living room and a half kitchen, a bedroom and a guest
bedroom, one bath. Much like with Leander and Epsilon’s, the guest
room was more of an office than anything, but unlike with theirs, there
was a bed in there too, and a little bedside table. If it needed to house a
person, it very much could. His apartment had a cold feel to it, partly
because he never seemed fully unpacked, as if he expected to pick up
and move at any time. In reality, this was because Wolf was a
procrastinator, not because he honestly expected to have to move at any
time. It looked much worse than it was.
 Mourning Doves 109
“Well, everything smells normal,” he reported, a little uncertainly.
“Let’s hear those messages you say someone left you, Wolf.”
Wolf moved over to the machine, letting the threatening messages
play. Epsilon and Leander knew the voice too, and Leander’s ears twitch
manically as he tried to place it. Epsilon’s ears, if he’d had them, would
have been twitching too, Wolf suspected.
“I can try and clean it up,” Epsilon said at last. “Match the vocal
patterns and so on. I’m surprised you haven’t already done that.”
Wolf sighed. “I haven’t had a lot of extra time.”
“You’ve had plenty of extra time. You’ve just not thought of it,”
Epsilon returned with an arched brow. He gently lifted the tape from the
machine and tucked it into the little emergency pack that went
everywhere with Leander. Thank goodness that Wolf had an older
machine rather than a more modern version. He would have had a hell of
a time of it, trying to get the messages off that.
Leander shrugged the backpack off, dropping it onto the table to let
Wolf put the tape in it, and he moved into the kitchen with familiarity.
“Don’t break anything in there, Leander!” was Wolf’s only
admonishment, seemingly upset at this invasion of his home. “You want
a drink, Epsilon?”
The other man was pawing with what seemed to be idle curiosity
through Leander’s backpack.
“A drink or a drink?”
“Which do you want?”
“Do you mean ‘want’ or ‘need’?”
Wolf laughed, and Epsilon pulled back from the backpack.
“Either,” Wolf said.
“Then I need a drink,” he admitted with a wry half-smile. Wolf
returned it and nodded. It took a long time to earn that from Epsilon, that
semi-openness. It made Wolf somewhat proud that he had it.
He thought that perhaps he and Leander were the only two that ever
saw Epsilon smile, including Madison and the rest of TASK.
110 Angela Romano
He was also one of the few privy to Epsilon’s sense of humor, dry as
it was.
“I certainly have it available. I’m guessing Leander wants something,
as well.”
“Leander always wants something,” Epsilon replied mildly, that little
half-smile still in place.
“Either one of you on pain pills?”
“Do you think it matters?” Epsilon’s grin turned wolfish.
“I’d rather not have you two keel over from mixing drugs and
alcohol in my apartment, thanks.” But Wolf continued to lead the way
into the kitchen, where Leander was already making a rum and coke for
himself, making Wolf roll his eyes.
“You couldn’t just grab a beer, could you?” he drawled, doing so for
himself and Epsilon as well.
“Hey, you had it available.” Leander sipped his drink and then
cocked his head. He shifted to lean on the counter, and Wolf saw the
weapon at his shoulder for just a second. The powerful, powerful weapon
that should have taken Sasha down in one blow.
He got a little chill. That gun should have ended it right there, and if
not then Epsilon’s swords should have beheaded her easily.
There was something not right here.
Leander caught him staring and unconsciously pulled that outrageous
jacket back up in an unconscious movement that made his brow lift.
Leander had never been shy about his weapons before.
Epsilon propped himself up on the counter next to Leander, and
Leander leaned against the man’s dangling legs, his ponytail tickling
Epsilon’s knees.
“If I can get a voice match, I don’t see how difficult this’ll be,”
Leander drawled, after a moment.
“You’re assuming you’ll be able to get everyone’s voice patterns,
which isn’t easy. And the higher-ups in TASK won’t submit to any sort
of—” Epsilon said.
 Mourning Doves 111
“You’re suggesting that the higher-ups in TASK could be at the core
of this?” Wolf’s eyebrows arched skyward. “I’d keep my voice down, if
I were you.”
Epsilon shrugged, swishing the beer around in the bottle, studying it
quietly. “If you think they haven’t been involved in some of the incidents
in TASK before, then you’re naïve,” he drawled at last.
Leander nodded. “I’m not saying it’s a conspiracy or whatever, but—
they’re people, Wolf, an’ people do shitty things,” he said quietly, head
tilted back.
People did shitty things, indeed. Leander and Epsilon knew that
better than most.
Wolf knew very little about Epsilon’s past, but a rather great deal
about Leander’s. The Kin had been dropped in a dumpster as a child and
grown up on the streets, doing anything and everything he could to
survive. He’d seen the scars from the life the man had led, seen them on
his body and in his eyes.
Leander was defensive and sharp, despite his warm and open
demeanor. A get them before they get me sort of person, he trusted few
people and offered himself to less. Wolf saw the damage Epsilon had
done to the bond between Leander and himself, and it was still there,
weeks after Leander was out of the hospital. It would stay that way, Wolf
thought grimly, and hopefully dissipate when enough time had passed. It
broke his heart to see the sudden cool distance between the two
previously close friends.
Not that it had utterly destroyed them; that much was clear, too. It
took more than a fractured trust to break them completely apart. The
bond they held, two people badly hurt by the rest of the world, was too
intense.
With time, they would heal. Or at least Wolf hoped so. He knew that
if Leander kept his distance this way, or worse, grew farther away,
Epsilon would lose himself and probably fade away.
Wolf sat down at the kitchen table, fiddling with his own bottle.
“And if we can’t match the voice?”
“…. Then frankly, Wolf, I don’t know what step two is, here,”
112 Angela Romano
Epsilon said. “We don’t have much else to go on.”
Leander set his glass down, biting his lower lip. “We’d have t’ find
more information on the actual leak itself, an’ no one up top is gonna let
us close t’ that,” he pointed out darkly. “Not Epsilon an’ I.”
“But maybe me, if we need to.”
“Since you’re supportin’ us, I don’t know if they’ll let you close,
either,” Leander said slowly, biting his lower lip. “But you got a better
chance than us.”
Wolf nodded and sipped at his drink again. “Maybe Mercedes could
get a look at those files, and if we get really desperate we can send
Madison in without permission.”
“There’s something about Montgomery I don’t like.” Epsilon’s quiet
statement broke through their argument in his mild voice. “Something
that makes—” He stopped, and for the first time in a long time, Wolf saw
him look uncertain, almost frightened. His tongue darted out to wet his
lips, and his eyes went to the bottle in his hand.
Leander glanced over and started to reach out, and then aborted the
movement and met his eyes instead. Wolf lowered the bottle. Epsilon
became very inarticulate when he got upset or lost his footing—yet
another aspect of his personality very few people were aware of. He
spent so much time being cold and aloof, confident and cocksure, that
people didn’t realize how different he could be.
Leander didn’t touch him, but he went still and very alert, paying full
attention to his partner, giving him strength with his simple presence,
with his quiet focus. Pushing would only make it worse.
“Epsilon? What?” There was something in his voice, something low
and urgent. He needed to hear what it was Epsilon was trying to get out.
“Something that makes a part of me—react,” Epsilon managed at
last, eyes still downward.
“React how?” Wolf asked softly, his own attention focused on
Epsilon now.
“Something in me feels… like….”
“His scent,” Leander interrupted softly, never switching his gaze
 Mourning Doves 113
from Epsilon. “He smells—”
“Wrong.” Epsilon finished for him.
Leander nodded. “Wolf, inside every Kin there’s a part of us that’s
very animalistic in nature,” he said. “I mean, natural Kin, it’s not so bad.
Gene Babies….” He sent an apologetic glance toward Epsilon. “They got
a little bit of a harder time with it. The animal tendencies aren’t natural,
weren’t part of ’em t’ start with, so when they show their teeth it’s like
it’s hard t’ control sometimes. And it’s more sensitive t’ outside
influences.”
“Something about him makes it react,” Epsilon picked up, sounding
sure again.
“Well.” Wolf murmured. “I don’t have that little gift, but there’s
something about him that puts my hackles up, as well,” he admitted.
“Something about his voice.” He sighed. “But keep it quiet, for now. If it
comes down to Montgomery versus us, the others will listen to him, and
you know it.”
“Let me run the voice tests,” Leander said. “And see if anyone in the
bullpen matches.”
“Or anyone we have the vocal patterns for or can get.” Wolf nodded.
“If no go, contact me, and I’ll send in Madison.”
Leander nodded and sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. He
pushed off the counter and finished the drink in a few long swallows,
grimacing slightly. Epsilon did not finish his drink; he set the half-empty
beer on the counter. “I’ll follow Montgomery to the best of my ability.”
He said after a moment. “See what I can find out about him.”
Wolf pushed his own bottle away. “I’ll see what information on this
leak I can get to through Mercedes,” he drawled. “Probably not enough,
but we’ll see.”
The two men said their goodbyes to him and headed out of the
apartment again, leaving Wolf alone. He dumped out the rest of
Epsilon’s beer and his own into the sink and was suddenly swamped by
the overpowering loneliness and his own exhaustion once more.
Why couldn’t things be easy once in a while?
114 Angela Romano

MADISON, Alex found, was a very different person when not in her
work environment and stressed out of her mind. It took a few glasses of
alcohol and a lot of bad, bad jokes to get her to relax enough to talk, but
once she did, Alex found herself thoroughly enjoying Madison’s
company.
The bar they’d gone to was a fairly nice one: clean, moderately lit.
There was a place for dancing that was darker with colored spotlights, of
course, and the bar itself was also more dimly lit. But no place in the bar
seemed dingy dark, and there was actual food and tables placed around
the dance area. Once such table is where Madison and Alex sat, sipping
wine and talking quietly over the remains of their meal.
Alex had found that Madison was only thirty-four years old, five
years older than Alex herself. She found that she’d never had an actual
girlfriend before, though she had had a few one-night stands with other
women, and that Leander, Epsilon, Wolf, and Mercedes meant the world
to this woman. She discovered that Madison’s hair was, in fact, naturally
red.
She discovered that after a few drinks, Madison was much less shy
about inviting Alex to find out for herself just how natural the color was.
Alex had blushed and choked on her drink. Madison glanced over at
her calmly over her own drink. “I never took you for shy, Alex.”
“I’m not shy. I just never—”
 Mourning Doves 115
“Expected that?” Madison lowered the glass and her lips curled in a
secret, impish smile. “Few do when it comes to me. Now, you’ve
honestly drilled me for more information than an interrogator. I should
think it’s my turn, don’t you?”
Alex lowered her own glass, grinning. “By all means, be my guest.”
“Well, I expected more resistance than that.”
“Madison, this is not my first drink of the night. Take advantage of
my lack of resistance; it won’t happen very often.”
“I doubt that. You seem like a rather open person. Aside from our
original meeting.”
Alex shrugged. “I’m not a quiet person, no,” she agreed amiably
enough. “Open? I don’t know, really. Friendly doesn’t mean book. Not
usually.”
Madison nodded. “Not usually, no, but you’re easy to read, Alex.”
“Unless what I’m showing you is only what I mean for you to see.”
Madison went quiet and nodded again. “I doubt you have any reason
to do something like that. And you don’t seem to be the type of person
who hides so deeply.”
“All due respect, as I believe you told me, you don’t know me,
Madison.”
“No, I don’t know you. And maybe you are hiding something.”
Madison conceded. “Do you have something to hide? Something,
maybe, that has something to do with Sasha? Or with this case?”
Alex let her breath out hard. “No, I…. Madison, I’m just playing
word games, here.” She placed her hands flat on the table. “I don’t mean
to turn this into some type of head game. I just want to have a few drinks
with you. And talk. And dance, and have some fun, and forget about
things for a while.”
“I can’t afford to forget about things.”
“Madison, it’s not healthy to work twenty-four seven,” Alex drawled.
“Everyone needs to let go for a little bit.” She grinned. “Come dance
with me.”
116 Angela Romano
“Alex—”
“Madison. My girlfriend is an unkillable monster, I’m being kept in a
building meant to hunt down and kill criminals like her, surrounded by
Kin, genetically created Kin, who knows what else, and I’m in almost
constant danger.” She grinned. “And now I’m sitting across from a
beautiful woman who just happens to share my interest in the same
gender in a nice bar, listening to music I love, and wanting to dance. And
I think I deserve to. I need to forget for a while.” She rose, pushing her
chair back. “Come and dance with me!”
“I don’t—”
“Oh, come on, Madison!” She grabbed Madison’s wrist and tugged.
“Please?”
Perhaps it was the drink, perhaps it was just her affection for Alex,
but laughing, Madison allowed Alex to drag her out of the seat and onto
the floor. Awkwardly at first, but soon Madison had fallen into the
rhythm of the music and was moving against Alex’s body in a familiar, if
timid, pattern. Alex wrapped her arms around Madison’s waist and
pressed them slowly against the small of her back, pulling her close.
“Relax. We’re all right, Madison, I promise.” She giggled. “We’re
not waltzing, here. Move in.” She lifted her head, resting her chin on
Madison’s chest lightly as the music changed to a slower song.
“Alex—”
“If anyone has a problem, they can cause a fuss. Let them.” She
sighed and shifted, her cheek pressing into Madison’s breasts. “You
really are beautiful.”
“Alex—”
“Madison.” Alex pulled away with a playful grin. “Hush.”
“Alex!”
“What?”
Madison reached out to tuck a hand under Alex’s soft chin.
“You’re painfully stupid, dear Alex.”
And she leaned her forehead against Alex’s, letting them sway gently
 Mourning Doves 117
together, choosing to forget all they could in favor of losing themselves
in their first date.

EPSILON could feel it again, that feeling of being watched. It made his
hackles arch, even though he knew by now the scent of the cat that had
been watching him before. Still, it was strange by itself that the same cat
would be watching him, and he wondered if he were dealing with
another Kin. It didn’t have the smell of a Kin, but you could never be too
careful. Epsilon turned down a back alley, his claws scraping on the
cement softly as he began to sniff down the cat.
Then Montgomery appeared from the building he’d slipped inside
ten minutes ago, and his attention was drawn back to the man.
Following him had been a very good, if very annoying, idea.
The man had the strangest habits and schedule Epsilon had ever been
privy to. Not that he’d been privy to a great number of people’s internal
workings, but the point remained the same.
The man, who was supposed to be working as Wolf’s second-in-
command, was oddly absent at TASK, and they’d all noticed it.
Mercedes had told them that it was because Montgomery was supposed
to be rather unnoticeable, but all the same, his absences struck them all
as odd at different times. They saw him, at times, in the shadows or
lurking in the background, but more often, he was nowhere in sight.
And that wasn’t suspicious at all, was it?
So Epsilon had, as he said, taken up following Montgomery. At first,
it had seemed pointless, watching the man go from apartment to store to
TASK to library, all normal, ordinary places to go. Then he started
making trips to places like this: these back alleys, seemingly empty
warehouses, places someone like Montgomery had no place being.
Epsilon had taken to shifting for these places, simply for anonymity.
Well, as much anonymity could be afforded him as a giant-ass black
wolf. But while he wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, he at least was faceless
and therefore nameless, and he was fairly sure that Montgomery had
never seen his Changed form.
118 Angela Romano
Of course, fairly sure left more than enough chance for error. That
thought was not a pleasant one.
He padded softly away from the cat smell, following Montgomery
back down the road, keeping a careful distance. The man had come out
of the building carrying a backpack and take-out Chinese. He picked up
the scent of the food from his distance, the old, stale scent that said the
food was not for Montgomery.
So who, oh who, could it be for?
Montgomery was walking again, so Epsilon found the shadows and
followed.
Montgomery wasn’t stupid, though, and didn’t travel on foot. He
climbed into his Cadillac and peeled off. Epsilon snarled in frustration
and raced after it. He kept up, for a little while, long limbs allowing him
to nearly pace it, but after about ten blocks he started to wear, and at
twenty he was panting harshly and had to stop.
Fuck!
He turned and began to head back for TASK, too tired to change
back just yet.
He stayed a wolf until he felt the strength to return to human form
and did, then staggered and nearly collapsed. He felt in his pockets for
the cell phone he kept and dialed Leander’s number.
“Epsilon? Hey. ’Sup? You all right?”
“Tired,” he admitted. “Montgomery lost me in his car.”
“You tried to keep up with the car?”
“I did keep up with the car, for ten blocks,” he replied, still fighting
to get his breath back. “Lost him off of 29th.”
“Are you kidding me? Epsilon, that’s nearly an hour from where you
started! Your paws must be—”
“My feet are sore, yes, but not bleeding.”
“Do you need a pickup?”
“Yes,” he admitted, a little grudgingly. He didn’t think he could walk
 Mourning Doves 119
home.
“No problem. Lemme close down some programmers, and I’ll be
there in about ten minutes.”
“See you.” Epsilon snapped his phone closed and pushed off the
wall. His feet really did hurt, more than he would admit, and he needed
to find a place to sit.
He found a bar and took a seat near the window to wait for Leander
to paper, and that’s when he saw it.
The cat that had followed him into the warehouse before. The animal
sat by the door now, watching him with intelligent, curious eyes. There
was something about that cat that had him so on edge, but not in the
same way Montgomery did.
He rose, grimacing, and moved forward toward the cat, which wound
its way through the crowds toward him. He kept an eye on it through the
ground, nearly losing it at least once. But soon he found it again, and
then behind it, another cat. Curiosity made his brows arch up, and he
extended a hand to the cats.
“Hello there,” he greeted, as the pair meandered up to him. It purred
and rubbed against his hand, and the other came up more shyly, flirting
around his fingertips. It was timid and shy, and reminded him fondly of
Leander—wanting affection but too shy to ask for it. After a moment, his
fingers finally brushed the soft fur of the animal.
And then he picked up the scent of the blood. He jerked his fingers
away sharply, his brow furrowing. He couldn’t see a wound, and the cat
didn’t act hurt. But the tangy scent of old blood was there.
Another, deeper scenting of it, and it proved to be human, not feline,
in nature. He reached out to grab the animal, but it darted away swiftly,
and its companion followed it. They were gone before he could gather
his wits enough to follow, but he saw the direction they’d gone.
The same way Montgomery had. They had run the same direction.
He rose, meaning to follow them, but they had slipped into an alley,
and there were too many smells to pick out the specific cat scents here.
Even the coppery tang was lost to the city smells. Leander rolled up
moments later, anyway, and Epsilon climbed into the car.
120 Angela Romano
“Want me t’ head in the direction he went?” Leander asked, as his
partner slid into the front seat.
“No. He’ll notice a car—particularly one like this.”
“Epsilon, I’m good at tailing people and not being seen.”
“Leander, he’s part of TASK too. He’s as good as or better than you,
as a senior agent—”
“Technically, aren’t you a senior agent too?”
Silence fell.
“Technically, yes. However, because of my past, I’m not permitted
access to the internal workings of TASK. You won’t be, either, even
when you hit the number of years here you need to. If.”
“You mean they don’t trust you as far as they can fling you.”
“Or you.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t been there ten years, Epsilon.” The words
came out hard and biting, more forceful, more accusing than he meant
them to. Silence fell in the car, and then Epsilon sighed.
“No, you haven’t, but I assure you once you are—if you are—it
won’t make a difference.”
And here it came, out on the table.
Leander pounded a hand on the steering wheel gently as they pulled
up to a red light. “I’d like t’ think it would.”
“It won’t. Once you’ve been branded hard enough to be placed in
their little black book, there is no getting out, Leander.”
Leander wasn’t sure what made him choose his reply. Maybe he
wanted to see Epsilon flinch, wanted reminding that his partner wasn’t
some ice sculpture, wanted to see that vulnerability and aching sadness
that was only visible some nights, in nightmares. Maybe he was just
pissed.
“I’m mostly in it because of you.”
Epsilon, though, didn’t react, didn’t even look at him. “Yes, that’s
true; you sided with me throughout the period of time I was accused of
 Mourning Doves 121
murder, and because of it you had your hand stamped. It won’t ever go
away, and you will always be looked at sideways. Those who don’t
know you will mistrust and second-guess you, and you can only hope
that those that do know you won’t do the same thing.”
Oh. Right through the heart.
Leander did flinch, hands tightening on the wheel. “That’s not fair,
Epsilon.”
“No?”
“No. It’s not. I barely know you. We’ve been partnered for all of just
over a damn year.”
“Odd, then, isn’t it, that I feel as if I’ve known you for much longer.”
“Yeah, that’s why you go ’round reading files.”
“It was not anything to do with you personally.”
“Are you trying t’ say I hurt your fucking feelings?” The car
suddenly lurched to a halt by the side of the road, the engine rumbling to
a stop. “Don’t hand me that!”
Epsilon looked over at him, his blue eyes steady and level. “I’m not
quite saying that, no,” he replied mildly enough. “I am saying that I’d
like to know what it is that made you believe you can’t trust me the way
you used to.”
Leander opened his mouth for an angry retort and then stopped. “I
don’t really know,” he heard himself say instead, his voice soft and
distant, as if heard through a wool blockade. “Not at first, anyway. I
think it was Wolf. Normally, when we’re in shit, he tells us. Both of us,
at the same time. I—he didn’t want me t’ say anything’ t’ you, so I think
some part of me started thinking why would he not want me to, and
then…” He shrugged. “I think I thought Wolf maybe believed it a little.”
Epsilon didn’t look hurt or stricken. In fact, Leander thought, he
looked far too understanding and calm.
Leander felt absolutely sick.
“I mean, he doesn’t, of course,” he said, and it felt like the words
came out too fast, even forced. “None of us think that—”
122 Angela Romano
“You do.”
Leander felt like his little car had just slammed into the back of a
semi. He almost physically lurched with the shock of Epsilon’s words.
“Huh?”
“You do.” Epsilon was staring out the window, as if they were still
moving and scenery was passing them by at fifty-five miles per hour.
“When I asked you if you believe I could be the leak in TASK, you said
you didn’t think I would, but you very much believed I could.”
“And I do believe you could,” Leander said, throwing his hands up.
“Hell, so could I! We’re both capable agents an’ really fuckin’ skilled
actors. We could both play both sides of the coin and better’n whoever’s
doin’ it now! Let’s face it, Epsilon; they’ve got reasons for thinkin’ it’s
you—or me.”
“They have plenty of reason. They are not you.”
“Well, that was the reason, at first. Then….” He stopped, looking
away. “Then you weren’t there.”
“What?”
“You weren’t there, when I was….” He stopped again, shrugging.
“And I needed you. And then you came back, and Sasha was still alive.
It—I don’t know, it just—”
Epsilon sighed, interrupting Leander. “Leander, you stay with me as
long as you trust me, as long as you want to. If the day comes when you
really—when you truly believe that you can’t trust me again—you leave.
And I’ll….” He stopped again, and his voice dropped to a low, low
caliber. “I’ll regret it and miss you. I don’t have many friends, Leander,
and I count you very high among them. I hope I don’t lose that.”
“Epsilon.”
There was no reply, and Leander turned the car back on and headed
back toward TASK. The rest of the ride was in silence, but the strained
trust that everyone thought would last for years suddenly felt less so, and
by the time they were back, it was once again a comfortable and
companionable quiet, and there was no longer anything wrong between
the friends.
 Mourning Doves 123

“A CAT?” Mercedes’ voice was skeptical and yet accepting. “You’re

more suspicious because of a cat than anything else that’s happened
recently?”
He was in Wolf’s apartment once more, along with Madison and
Alex, Wolf himself, Epsilon and Leander. It was late Tuesday afternoon,
maybe two hours after Epsilon’s pickup.
“There was something unusual about the animals,” he went on
slowly, eyes on the table they were all seated at.
“And you said there was the scent of blood,” Leander said. “In the
cat’s fur?”
“The smell was on the cat, yes,” Epsilon said. “I can get there again,
and if I’m right, I think the cats will be back, as well.”
“Normal cats, not Kin?” Leander couldn’t keep the skeptical tone out
of his voice, but there was something fully resolved between them, too,
some easing of the tension between them that was clear to everyone in
the room. Something was back to normal, or as normal as possible.
Something had eased between Alex and Madison too, and there was
a lazy possessiveness in the way the older woman sat behind Alex, in the
way her hand rested on Alex’s knee.
“I’ll go with you this time,” Leander suggested. “I’m smaller. I can
maybe follow the cats where you can’t.”
124 Angela Romano
“Any luck with the voice matches?” Wolf asked, and Leander shook
his head. “Nothing.”
“All right, then. Madison, what we discussed earlier—”
“Mercedes and I both are fully capable of doing whatever you need
us to,” Madison assured with a little smirk. “Both legal and otherwise.”
“Let’s keep it to ‘legal’ as much as possible,” Mercedes drawled.
“I’m not overly eager to deal with the political issues that come with
otherwise.”
“And as for Sasha,” Wolf went on, nodding his head slightly toward
Alex, “I think it’s all right for you to go back to your apartment, if she’s
as badly hurt as I think she is.”
Alex grinned a little at the news, pleased that she got to go home.
Madison touched her shoulder lightly. “If you want, I’ll stay with you a
few days, just to be certain that Sasha is indeed no longer a threat,” she
offered, and Alex’s grin softened.
“I’d really like that,” she agreed, and Leander smothered a laugh
behind a hand. Madison glared mildly over his way, and he gave her an
innocent look.
“I think Leander and Epsilon should return home, as well,” Mercedes
put in after a moment. “That is, if their home’s recovered.”
“It’s pretty well cleaned up.” Leander spoke up with a lopsided grin.
“Good. I agree with Mercedes. I think we should all head back to our
respective homes,” Wolf said. “Leander, Epsilon, be careful.”
“Always are,” Leander teased, looping an arm over Epsilon’s neck.
Epsilon snarled and shrugged him off, but it was good-natured and
laconic, and Wolf felt the last of his tension drain out of him upon seeing
it. “C’mon, handsome, let’s get home. Gotta say, I miss it. Bit tired of
staying in TASK. Hell, bit tired of staying in an infirmary.” He rolled his
shoulders, clearly still sore and stiff, but not nearly as much as he had
been. He was recovering, if slowly.
Epsilon nodded and rose, pulling Leander to his feet. “We’ve got a
job of cleaning it back up too. And seeing what survived that attack.”
“At least we’ve not had to deal with any more Bearrs,” Madison
 Mourning Doves 125
pointed out dryly. “Yet. Or any other mutated creatures, for that matter.”
“Yet,” Mercedes put in again, with a smirk. “And that’s assuming
Epsilon’s cats are just normal cats.”
“They don’t smell any differently,” Epsilon said. “That’s the most I
can really tell you.”
“They acted different, then?” Alex piped up, soft and shy, from
behind Madison.
“In a way, yes,” Epsilon confirmed. “They didn’t seem much more
intelligent than normal cats, really, but they seemed like they understood
something, like some outside influence had given them a deeper, um,
understanding.” He shrugged at his less than perfectly articulate
wording.
Leander tugged at his tail, and then swished it idly around his legs.
“Well, let’s get our apartment taken care of and let Madison and
Mercedes do what they do best. Then we’ll see about following Lassie
one and two.”
Epsilon agreed, and the pair slipped out of the building.
“Mercedes and I’ll get on trying to find the files on this situation for
you,” Madison said, snatching her jacket and attaching to Mercedes’
arm. “Alex, actually, I’d feel better if—if you’re okay with it—you go to
my apartment. Get some things from yours and meet me there. Sasha
doesn’t know where that is, and even if she found you, it’s got better
security. And my apartment has some special touches added to it.”
Alex bit her lip, wrapping her arms over her chest. Wolf felt bad for
her; poor girl had been thrown headfirst into the situation and since then
her world had been rocking on its axis. She’d had barely any time to
adjust or get her bearings, and Wolf knew how that felt.
“Alex?” He prompted gently, and she blinked.
“Huh? Oh.” She grinned a little, somewhat sheepish. “I—sure,
Madison, just let me grab some things from my place.”
“I’ll come with you,” Wolf said. “Just in case we have an incident.”
Alex brightened at the thought of not having to handle this alone, and
nodded. “All right; that’d be cool,” she said.
126 Angela Romano
“Good, then.” Wolf rose as well, grabbing his jacket and strapping
his weapon to his hip, the familiar weight of the Glock .45 comforting,
even in his own home. “All right, let’s make this fast, Alex,” he
suggested. They loaded her up in her car, and they drove downtown to
her apartment.
She didn’t live in the worst part of town, Wolf was pleased to note,
and her apartment was decent enough. But Madison was right: her own
apartment, on a much better side of town and nearer to TASK’s
headquarters, had better security as a general whole. And Madison
hadn’t lied when she said she’d gotten her own apartment set up a little
special. If any cop ever set foot in there, he’d probably be frothing to
take her to jail until she flashed her ID and that sweetly cruel grin.
Wolf’s apartment was similarly designed. In fact, he was surprised
that Epsilon and Leander’s shared apartment was not, and, when he
asked, also surprised that Mercedes didn’t have his apartment set up
either.
“I don’t need to,” he’d drawled when Wolf had questioned him, and
from the look on his face, Wolf hadn’t wanted to ask more. Hadn’t
needed to, really.
She got them up to her apartment, dropping her coat on the back of a
chair. “You want a drink or anything?” She asked. “I have soda, water—”
“I’m fine.” Wolf moved to her window and peered out at the city life
below. “Speaking of, how are you holding up?”
Alex was starting to pack up, and she paused at his question. “I’m
okay,” she said at last, hesitantly, but honestly, resuming packing. “I
mean, it’s overwhelming, but not as bad as it was.”
“Yourself and Madison seem… comfortable with one another.”
She grinned and blushed. “I hope you don’t mind—”
“Alex, it’s not my business. Or my place to mind,” he drawled,
pulling back from the window and raising a brow at her. Alex shrugged,
still grinning impishly.
“Are Epsilon and Leander—”
He chuckled. “No. No, they’re just very close friends,” he said,
 Mourning Doves 127
sinking onto her chair. “So Madison is your—”
Alex grinned a little. “Yeah. I mean, we’ve not done anything yet,
but we’ve danced. Drank. I hope for more. I hope for a lot more. Soon.
Does that make me… awful?”
Wolf snorted. “Why, because Sasha’s still alive? Alex, I think you
can be afforded some leniency in the relationship department, there.”
Alex shrugged. “That’s part of it—”
“Madison is a big girl, Alex. If she thinks she can handle your case
and be in a relationship with you, then why are you complaining?”
“I’m not! I’m just… a little nervous.”
“Understandable,” Wolf said calmly, nodding. “But you were
nervous getting into a relationship with Sasha too, right?”
“Well, yeah, of course I was. But for different reasons.”
“But all the same.”
She shrugged, zipping her duffel shut. “But all the same, yes.”
“So, nerves are nerves. See what happens, Alex. Enjoy it while you
have it. If it lasts, wonderful. If not, Madison’s not the type to hate you
for a failed relationship. You both had fun and a fling and it ended, and
that doesn’t have to mean ended badly.”
Alex let out a breath, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Sounds
like you’ve had some experience.”
Wolf’s turn to flush, and he did so, turning away from her.
“Mercedes and I used to be more than friends,” he explained, without
hesitation.
Alex nodded. “I thought I got the vibe. Why’d you end it?”
“Like I said, it just… it didn’t work. His position in TASK and my
relation with Epsilon and Leander put a rift there. We make better
friends. And we are friends.”
Alex raised a brow. “He still checks you out.”
“That’s because I’m still incredibly fucking hot.”
128 Angela Romano
“And very modest on top of it. How sweet.”
Wolf laughed, grabbing the duffel for her. “Come on. Let’s get you
over to Madison’s apartment,” he said, extending a hand to her. She took
it and leaned into him comfortably.
“I think I could get used to you all,” she said with a grin. “Much
easier than I thought I would.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Of course, that means I just feel more comfortable playing cupid
with you and Mercedes—”
“Alex!”

THAT night brought the climax of everything far sooner than anyone
expected it to come.
Leander lay in bed, his mind ringing with Epsilon’s soft, heartfelt
words, so rarely heard, his friend and companion in the room across the
hall, snoring softly. Epsilon would deny until he turned blue that he
snored, but he did.
The younger Kin rolled over, studying the wall. Epsilon was scared,
he realized, terrified of losing him. He’d never even considered that.
Once again, it fell back on the past he knew so little of, and he wondered
how many people Epsilon had lost in that testing facility, how many he’d
lost over his years in TASK, fighting.
He’d hurt the other man deeply, and even though things seemed to be
okay again, he could still feel that hurt.
He rolled over again, pushing back his thick hair, then sat up and
swung his legs over the bed. Leander, too, had very few friends, and
Epsilon was the closest out of them. Leander felt like a real piece of shit,
and it wasn’t letting him sleep.
It was only because he was unable to sleep, though, that he happened
to notice the cat outside.
He stiffened, ears upright and quivering. The cat glanced up and saw
 Mourning Doves 129
him, and he saw its mouth open in a meow.
Calling me? His tail lashed irritably, and one ear flicked backward,
listening for Epsilon. He was still sleeping peacefully. He opened the
window, and the cat meowed again, rubbing along the wall.
Leander bit his lip, torn for only a span of several heartbeats. He
knew exactly what he was considering doing could bring down upon his
head. He knew how stupid it was.
He should wake up Epsilon. He should wake him up and tell him
about the cats, get his backpack and his weapons. Should get on proper
clothes and let Epsilon call Wolf and tell him something was odd. He
should tell him that he smelled the same blood smell on the cat’s fur that
Epsilon had talked about.
Then he was a fox, and he was going out the window.

WHILE Leander was sliding out his bedroom window, Mercedes was
calling Wolf, informing him that he’d gotten the information they
needed.
Mercedes showed up at Wolf’s door with the small stack of files at
nearly midnight, wearing a grim expression.
“If anyone finds out I got these, I’ll probably be in jail for the rest of
my natural life,” he’d greeted, slipping inside. “Madison tried to get
them—um, by going through the proper channels—but she was shot
down before she even got the full request out of her mouth.”
“Figures,” Wolf spat in irritation.
“You can’t blame them, not with Epsilon and Leander’s reputation.”
Wolf gritted his teeth. “They’re not—”
“Oh, hush, I know. But let’s face it, Wolf, they have perfectly good
reasons for being wary. I had perfectly good reasons. Don’t give me that
look.”
“I’m not giving anyone a look.”
130 Angela Romano
“You are so, Wolf.” Mercedes turned. He was dark, all dark: black
jacket, dark jeans, black long-sleeved shirt, his silver hair a striking and
stark standout against his shadowy clothing.
And, much as Mercedes had noted Wolf’s beauty once again weeks
before, Wolf couldn’t help but have his breath taken away by his older
companion’s striking appearance. Mercedes had always been a beautiful
man, and age was treating him well.
Wolf flinched away from those thoughts, closing his eyes.
“I’m sorry if it bothers me that the man who’s supposed to be my
friend doubts me, despite what I’ve gone through to prove myself—”
“It’s not you, Wolf. We’ve had this conversation.”
“Yeah, yeah, we have.”
“Oh, come on, I thought we’d talked this to death. Wolf, my position
in TASK demands that I take perceived threats seriously. And honestly,
can you blame me for looking cross-eyed at your boys? Especially at the
first?”
“Mercedes, I never said I couldn’t. But time and time again they
prove themselves to you, and time and time again you continue to pin
blame on them every time something goes wrong.”
“It’s not me, Wolf, not just me—”
“And every time you second-guess them you’re second-guessing
me—”
“What the hell even brought this on?”
“Alex and I were talking this morning, that’s all. Are you even
listening to me?”
“No, Wolf, I am not listening to you, because we have already gone
over and over this.”
Wolf stopped, his jaw setting, pain creasing his forehead.
“Wolf? Are we going to discuss business or what?”
“Thank you, Mercedes. I’ll make sure no one finds out you two did
this.”
 Mourning Doves 131
“Madison made a back door and covered her tracks pretty well. I
think we’re okay.”
“Good.” Wolf turned back around, setting the files on his desk. “She
and Alex are home safely?”
“Of course. I made sure they got there.”
“Mercedes.” Wolf started then bit down on his words. “I… I’ll see
you in the morning.”
Mercedes nodded, suddenly aware of the tension between them. “In
the morning, then,” he said gently, his voice soft. “Good night, Wolf.”
“Night.” He turned back to the files, sitting down at his desk and
pointedly paging through them. He didn’t look up, not when Mercedes
lingered, not when he started to reach out but aborted the motion, not
when he tried to speak, not when he murmured a soft goodbye, and most
certainly not when the door opened and quietly clicked shut. He focused
intently on the files, even though he didn’t read a single thing there. He
couldn’t.

IT should have been awkward, staying at Madison’s house at night. She

should have felt stiff and strange, but instead, she was comfortable and
relaxed. She helped Madison make dinner and then clean up, and the two
passed the time with no mention of Sasha, in comfortable silence or
amiable chatting about themselves. Neither was adverse to sharing
information, and they soon realized how much they had in common. It
helped, and it fed the fire that was already inside both of them. After
dinner, they sat together on the couch, Alex reclining against Madison
comfortably, the TV playing softly. Madison was stroking her fingers
idly through Alex’s hair in a gentle, steady pattern, her own eyes
drooping with tiredness. Alex’s hand was gently resting on Madison’s
leg, playing with the fabric of her pants.
“Thanks for dancing with me last night,” Alex said at last, over the
soft, low volume of the TV. Madison shrugged a little.
“It was nice, I have to say. It’s been too long since I’ve done
132 Angela Romano
anything like that.” She offered a shy, gentle smile.
“We’ll have to—I mean, if you want to, I’d like to—do something
like that again.” She was looking fixedly at the TV, her gaze distant and
mild. There was a too-long silence, and she was about to apologize for
her big, stupid mouth, when Madison made a soft humming noise of
agreement.
“There was only one thing wrong with it,” she said, and Alex turned
back to face her.
“What?” She asked. Madison’s hand slipped, to her surprise, under
her chin, and tipped her face up.
“I didn’t get a good-night kiss,” she murmured, and Alex’s breath
was snatched from her as, abruptly and for the second time in her life,
she was kissing Madison soundly. It was different, this time, with
Madison in charge—a slow, sensual kiss, explorative and gentle. It was
forceful, without doubt, and demanding, but not rushed and very mild,
letting Alex do as she pleased.
What she pleased was to open her mouth to Madison, letting the
older woman explore the sensitive area to her heart’s content. The
warmth and heat was a rush to her brain, making her moan softly.
Well. I guess all pretensions are dropped.
Then the phone rang.
Aw, hell.
Madison muted the TV and swiveled her head toward it, letting the
machine catch it.
Alex grabbed the front of her shirt. “Ignore,” she growled, dragging
her down to start for another kiss, but Madison pulled away.
“No. Listen.”
The voice, to her surprise, was Epsilon’s.
“Madison? You need to answer your phone. Leander’s gone. I—he
left all his things, but there’s no sign of a struggle. His guns are still here,
though, and I don’t know why he’d have left without them.” A pause. “If
you’re asleep, I’m going back down to where I lost Montgomery; it’s the
 Mourning Doves 133
direction his scent leads in. If we’re not back in the morning….” Another
pause. “At least you’ll know where we’re supposed to be.” He sighed.
“Madison, don’t come alone.”
Madison was already scrambling over the couch, landing gracefully
on her feet and making a mad grab for the phone. “Epsilon? I’m here.
Don’t hang up!”
Alex sat on her knees, watching her relax when she realized she’d
gotten there in time.
Madison’s conversation was fast and clipped, and she hung up
immediately after and called Wolf. She then had to hang up and let Wolf
call her, because he was trying to call at the same time. She paced until
the phone rang once more, and then snatched it up.
“Wolf?”
“Madison. I’m guessing Epsilon called you?”
“About Leander? Yes, he did. I told him we were coming after him,
but he said he wasn’t waiting.”
“Of course he’s not. I’m going to call Mercedes and get his ass out
here. You head out. Take Alex with you. Give her a gun. She’s safer
with you than alone.”
“You sure—”
“I’m sure, Madison. Do as I told you!”
It was not a usual thing for Wolf to pull rank, and Madison’s face
went flat and cold. “Yes, sir,” she muttered, and she hung up. “Alex,
have you ever shot a gun before?”
Alex blanched, and then shook her head “no.”
“You’re about to have a field trial, I think.”
And she offered a disturbingly wolfish grin.
134 Angela Romano

HE wasn’t even sure, now, how he’d gotten free.

He hurt. His entire body hurt, all over, a constant, throbbing ache. He
staggered helplessly, unable to focus, unable to think. He just knew he
had to go this way. The Little Ones were wanting him to go this way, just
a little farther, just a few steps more, hold on, hold on.
His hand ran along the wall, both for support and to ground himself
to reality; he kept fading out. He knew it was because of Monty, because
Monty had forced him to overuse his Gift, had ground him down to raw
nerves.
He could feel himself twitching, spasming. He kept falling, and it
was getting harder and harder to pick himself up again. But he had to
keep going, had to keep walking, because they were coming, they were
here, just a few steps more, just a little farther.
He knew he’d hurt Monty, getting loose. He’d waited, waited until
Monty came with food, came to ask him to Look again. And when
Monty had untied his hands, when he’d convinced Monty to untie his
hands, he’d struck.
He was, as he’d known he would be, dying. He could feel it, feel his
life draining away, being replaced by dull black exhaustion. It was a
foggy disconnection from the world around him, a strange, aloof feeling
that almost was as if his feet were barely staying on the earth. As if, had
he the strength to jump, he’d have just kept going, floating away to a
place where it didn’t hurt, where he wasn’t so tired all the time.
 Mourning Doves 135
Liaison had spent his entire life fighting. He’d fought through his
drug addiction and fought to get himself off the streets. He’d fought to
get the halfway decent apartment he had now, fought to save as many
people through his visions as he could. He’d been good at that, a private
eye when things called for it, a psychic when he needed to be. He told
people what was, and something that they needed to hear, though he
wasn’t fond of doing so. Liaison wasn’t a liar, and he wasn’t a softener
of the truth.
He was tired of fighting. He was just tired.
But he needed to keep going just long enough to finish this. He
couldn’t die without finding them, without seeing Monty brought down.
Now that he knew what Monty was up to.
The man had framed and killed, had stolen and taken bribes and been
blackmailed and blackmailed others, had raped and murdered, was a
pimp and a drug dealer. Liaison had been around men like him his entire
life, and for the first time in his life, Liaison meant to do the right thing
and bring him down.
One less was one less, and that mattered, right?
He staggered once more and hit a knee. One of his Little Ones wound
around his legs and meowed in concern, and he let out a jagged, panting
laugh.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “I’ll get up, sweets. Just let me… let
me rest a minute.” He closed his eyes, head bowed to his chest. “I just
need to rest. Just for a minute.” He felt himself sag farther to the ground
and lurched sharply alert once more. “I’m trying.”
A small head butted into his knee, and his eyes half-slitted open,
glittering green in the semi-darkness. With a snarling growl of effort,
Liaison pushed back to his feet and leaned against the wall before he
started to walk again.
One slow, shuffling step at a time; one soft, huffing breath at a time.
He could feel them. He was almost there. He could feel them, and,
desperately, blindly, he reached out.
And someone caught him.
136 Angela Romano

THE fire was gone. There was only darkness, broken by a soft, faint
light, and the boy standing before him, and the other man, and, behind a
filmy wall, the one known as Monty. The one that Liaison now knew as
Montgomery, as well. This was not a normal vision. This was not how
they went.
They stood inches apart, quiet and solemn. He didn’t hurt, here, but
there was a deep, aching sorrow in the eyes of the Kin male, an apology
for putting him through this. Liaison wanted to reach out to him, to
comfort him.
But when he tried, the other man stepped in front and caught his
wrist. And Liaison found a gentle hand on his cheek.
“You,” the man said, and his voice was a mellow rasp, “would have
been a good friend too.”
He loved that voice. He wanted to hear more of it. Part of him rose to
meet it, sang at hearing it. Part of him felt connected to that voice, and
he felt tears start down his cheeks. He didn’t want to lose that before he
ever had it. He didn’t want to lose them.
“You are a good friend,” the other man said, more gently, stepping
around Epsilon, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t help
you the way you helped us. Others. You’re a good person, Liaison. Don’t
doubt it. Don’t ever. You’re a good person.”
Behind that thin frost of glass, Monty was laughing. It was bitter,
ugly laughter, and the man’s ears pinned tightly. “It’s pointless. Your
death, their deaths—it’s pointless.”
“I won’t let them die,” he replied coldly, moving in front of the pair
protectively. “They won’t die, Montgomery.”
The glass seemed to be melting away, and behind him, the Kin let out
a low, frightened whimper. His companion hushed him gently, hand on
his shoulder.
“You seem to think you can stop me.”
 Mourning Doves 137
The wall was almost gone. Liaison move backward a step but
continued to keep himself between the two men and Monty.
“I already have. They know. They’ll find you and end this—”
“Not if I end them first.” The wall was gone.
The wall was gone, and Montgomery stepped forward, reaching as
he had in the first vision.
And Liaison grabbed his wrist.
An electric pulse beat through him like he’d been hit with a few
hundred volts of electricity. Monty’s hand latched onto his wrist, holding
him, and he began to seize and spasm. Blood poured from his nose and
his ears, and he was distantly aware that the Kin was screaming for him.
Screaming as if he could feel the violent shocks rocking his body.
Monty dragged him closer, his lips inches from Liaison’s ear, his
teeth bared in a vicious, aggressive snarl.
“Do not fight me,” he growled as Liaison struggled for air, struggled
for sense.
But Liaison would fight him. And he would fall, but they would win,
and that was enough.
“Do you hear me? It’s going to be enough.” And he pulled Monty
even closer, despite the pain, the agony of the contact.
“They won’t lose to you. Not to someone like you,” he managed, and
then he let go, back arching as the pain swept over him. But he was
laughing as it happened, laughing because he knew beyond a doubt, he
knew that Monty would lose.
And that was something very nice to know, indeed.

LEANDER followed the cats at a rapid pace down back alleys and side
streets, the entire time feeling more and more ill at ease and wishing
more and more that he’d not run off blindly like he had. He should have
brought Epsilon, should have waited and gone in the morning with his
partner.
138 Angela Romano
But what was done was done, and now he trotted, tail between his
legs and ears pinned, through the darkness in pursuit of the cats leading
him fuck only knew where. His nose was to the ground, and his steps
were sure, but he was scared, and getting more scared.
Then he picked up the blood scent.
He bristled and growled, speeding up the closer it became. The cats
darted off, but he didn’t need them, now; the scent was almost
overwhelming. He picked up into a run, and now his ears came
frontward, his tail flagging.
You’re close. Keep coming, he heard, and the voice was not his own
internal monologue, but clearly someone else’s. Male, a light, pleasant
tenor. It trembled with weakness but burst with strength, a defiant, proud
voice.
He followed it, followed it until he finally changed back to his two-
legged form, and he was navigating narrow alleyways that made him
nervous all over again.
“Where the hell are you?” he muttered, wrinkling his nose as he past
a dumpster a bit too closely.
Just a little farther. Just a little farther. Hurry, please. I can’t—
“I’m coming.” He heard himself respond, heard himself answer
aloud. “Hang in there, hang in there, whoever you are. I’m coming,” he
muttered, lifting his head to scent, and then he was on the trail again.
He found the body moments later, slumped against the wall,
surrounded by cats. He gasped softly in shock at the man.
The familiar man, at that. There was some part of him that
recognized this man, even though he’d never seen this person before in
his life.
The man would have been beautiful, if he hadn’t been so badly hurt.
Physically, he didn’t look badly beaten; but there was something broken
and dead in his green, green eyes.
Leander knew he was looking at a dying man, and he approached
with a timid, skittish respect. Somber, solemn, he dropped to his knees,
scattering cats.
 Mourning Doves 139
“Hey. Hey, can you hear me?” Leander asked softly, looking in vain
for the wound that was killing this man. He saw lots of blood, but most
of it came through the man’s orifices, and Leander felt terror and bile
rise in his throat at the sight. It increased when the man reached up and
out, touching his face, and smiled.
It was the most horrible smile Leander had ever seen, broken and
bloody.
“You,” the man rasped, and it was a mockery of the cool tenor that
had led him.
“Yeah, me,” he said, uncertain just what he was agreeing with, here.
“Don’t talk.”
But the man shook his head, coughing blood onto Leander’s shirt.
Leander hissed, lurching away instinctively. The man caught his hand in
a grip that was amazingly powerful. “Follow them,” he managed, voice
strained and struggling. “Follow the cats. He’s there. He’s….” A gasp, a
struggling breath. “He’s working with them.”
“Who? What? Aw, man, don’t you dare fucking die on me if you
know what’s going down here. You hang tight with me, kid.”
Leander had no idea what he would have done if Epsilon hadn’t
followed him. He’d taken off out the window without any supplies and
he doubted if this man would have been able to make it back to the
apartment, or even TASK.
As it was, he picked up on the man’s scent moments before he heard
him, and then he whirled in time to see the huge timber wolf—or,
perhaps, as with Bearrs, it would be more appropriate to call him a Wylf,
after the genetically modified wolves that had appeared just as Bearrs
had—pad up softly behind him. It growled deeply, its anger savagely
obvious, and paced a circle, snapping at him. He yelped and shied away
from Epsilon’s teeth, laying his ears.
“Not now, you fuckin’ bully. We gotta get this kid to TASK’s
medical center!”
Epsilon snarled, one giant paw swiping the back of Leander’s head,
but he moved forward calmly and let Leander ease the injured male onto
his broad, huge back. Luckily, Epsilon was more than large enough to
140 Angela Romano
load the male on comfortably, but every soft cry of pain made Leander
flinch in empathy.
“Are any of the others here?”
Epsilon’s huge head dipped in a nod as they started to walk out of the
alley, Leander holding the weak male on Epsilon’s back. He was aware
of how slowly they were moving, and it made his entire body itch with
the desire to change that fact—to just run. He had the disturbing feeling
that something or someone was following them and, paranoia or not, it
made his spine itch.
Epsilon brought them out of the alley and to the road where Wolf’s
car waited for them, and in the distance, he could see Madison’s rolling
up. He let out a relieved breath and then yelped with pain as Epsilon’s
jaw locked around his forearm and pulled. His first reaction was to think
that Epsilon was still pissed at him and getting revenge, but then he
heard the gunfire.
Oh, shit.
He rolled, watching Epsilon bolt for the car, the injured male
clinging to his neck. Mercedes climbed out of the car, taking the limp
figure from the huge creature’s back.
Leander spun, looking frantically for the source of the danger.
The Hunters came from the shadows in black swarms, half of them
armed, half of them coming forward with nothing but teeth and claws.
We didn’t smell them. Why didn’t Epsilon and I smell them?
He rippled and Changed, rushing forward to meet one of the unarmed
Hunters. He heard return fire from his companions in the car, including
the familiar bark of Epsilon’s rifle. The sound was oddly comforting,
gave him the knowledge that he had backup, and his fangs sank into the
throat of one of the Hunters. For one moment, one split second, he
remembered those savage weeks of pain, of ripping, aching pain that the
scratch Sasha had given him caused. It gave him pause, it scared him, but
then it was over. It was gone just as fast as it had come.
And in its place was the absolute rush he was more familiar with. His
teeth tore through flesh and bone, crushing the Hunter’s throat in a
powerful bite, snapping his head back and forth violently. He pushed off
 Mourning Doves 141
the body in a lithe bound and raced to his next target. Around him,
bodies fell, brought down by Epsilon’s expert shots. And somehow, he
knew that’s exactly who it was, knew that in the onslaught of gunfire and
violence around him, it was Epsilon and Epsilon alone that was guarding
his back.
The two were very used to relying on only each other, and anyone
trying to help them would only get in their way.
“Leander! There’s too many. Get to the car!” Wolf’s voice reached
his ears, and he ignored it, for the moment, his fangs and claws ripping
into the face of a female Hunter, dodging as she swiped at him and
digging his nails into her eyes.
“Leander! Now!”
The animal in him reacted to the alpha in Wolf’s voice, and he
sprang free, racing back for the cars.
Epsilon, sure enough, had parked himself just behind Wolf’s car and
was calmly and steadily picking off the Hunters that were on Leander’s
tail. He could see Madison behind Alex, her arms wrapped around the
other woman’s waist, hands on hers, guiding her shots, an oddly erotic
sight, and in another situation, he might have had fun with it. For now,
he was too busy trying not to get shot. The injured man was in the
backseat of the car Epsilon was taking cover behind, his head in
Mercedes’ lap, and Wolf was sliding into the front seat, cutting losses
and getting what was important out of the way.
Epsilon, though… Epsilon wouldn’t leave without him. Which meant
Leander had to haul ass back to him or he’d put himself in the line of fire
to get Leander out of the way. And that was something they’d both been
doing too much of lately.
He made two lat fierce leaps, and, midway in the air he concentrated
and concentrated hard.
He made the change halfway through his leap, hitting the ground on
two feet. It sucked just about every ounce of strength out of him, and
Epsilon had to yank him back up after his legs gave out.
“Idiot,” Epsilon snarled, shoving the .474 into his hand. Leander
smiled tiredly at the familiar feel of the gun in his hand and felt blood
142 Angela Romano
run down his chin.
Now that he was back to two legs, part of him shuddered in revulsion
at what he’d done. Epsilon’s gaze was dark and serious.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” He cocked the gun. “Wolf, we goin’ sometime today?”
“Both of you get in,” Wolf said, and they did, Leander taking the
front and Epsilon the back. Leander leaned out the window as he had in
his own car, his gun level and steady on the Hunters that started after
them.
Wolf was, to his immense gratitude, a better driver than Epsilon, and
more thoughtful to the fact that a certain Kin was hanging precariously
out the window. He wasn’t nearly pitched on his head. In fact, he didn’t
even lose his balance as Wolf spun around a corner, followed closely by
Madison and Alex.
It was almost boring.
He watched, holding his breath, as Hunters pounced on Madison’s
car, trying to use their sheer weight and aggressiveness to drag it to a
halt. He picked off the ones he could, more than glad to have the gun
back in his hand, but there was only so much he could do without fear of
hitting Madison and Alex. Most of it was taken care of, though, when
Madison slammed on the brakes and sent most of the Hunters flying. She
accelerated again, and the car either crashed into or ran over a good
number of them. He yipped and raised his gun into the air, his ears
upright and laughter on his face. Despite everything, it was always good
to see something like that.
“Leander!” Wolf barked from inside. “Get back in here!”
Leander slid back into the seat, and Epsilon sat forward, handing him
his holster.
“Here,” he drawled. “Next time you decide to run away, little boy,
don’t forget your toys.”
Leander shot him a brief grin. “Sorry, man. Shoulda woke you up.”
“Yeah, you should have, but what’s done is done.” Epsilon sank back
into the backseat next to Mercedes. “Damn, I can’t find any real wound
 Mourning Doves 143
on him.”
“I couldn’t either. I think it’s mostly internal or something.” Leander
turned in the seat to look back, and Wolf snarled.
“Leander, turn around, damn it! If you don’t learn how to ride in a
fucking car….”
Leander’s ears lay flat, and he sat correctly, tugging the belt around
himself reluctantly. “How’s he doin’ back there?”
“Pretty poorly,” Mercedes murmured. “He can’t breathe. Wolf,
hurry.”
“I am going as fast as I can without getting pulled over,” he snarled
back, his tension rising by the notch. “Leander, turn the fuck around!”
Leander whirled around once more, settling forward in his seat. His
ears were back and his entire body tense with anger and concern. “Where
are we going?”
“To TASK, of course. We can’t take him to a hospital, and their
medical center is the next best thing,” he said. “Are Madison and Alex
still behind us?”
Before Leander could turn and annoy Wolf more, Epsilon glanced
back. “Yes, and coming up fast.”
“Good.” Wolf turned sharply and sped up despite his own
misgivings. “Make sure she stays on my tail.”
Despite the speed Wolf put on, it was still a close thing by the time
they got to TASK, and Wolf and Mercedes rushed the man—boy, really,
just a boy—up to the medical center. Alex and Madison followed, but
when Leander tried, Epsilon grabbed his elbow.
“Epsilon, let go of—”
Epsilon spun him around, grabbed him by the collar. The force of his
lift pulled Leander off his feet, and his back—and the back of his head—
met with the wall.
“Motherfucker! What the hell, Epsilon?”
“You. Are. An. Idiot,” Epsilon hissed, face inches from Leander’s
own. “What were you thinking, taking off alone, without a gun?”
144 Angela Romano
“I was just—”
“You weren’t, is the proper answer, I think!”
“Well, maybe, but it’s just so overused—-”
And then he was tossed. He hit the ground with a yip, rolling away
from Epsilon. He staggered upright, bristling and ready for the fight, but
Epsilon didn’t come at him again. Instead, the older Kin made a
disgusted noise in the back of his throat and headed for the med bay.
Leander shook his head to chase away the fuzziness brought on by
Epsilon’s forceful slam and followed.
As it turned out, they all got chased out anyway as their medical
techs fought tooth and nail to save his life.
There was nothing physically wrong with the man, pure and simple.
It was all in his mind, and that wasn’t to say he was nuts. The man was
one of the rare humans who was Different, who had a sixth sense, a
power. He’d been so massively damaged on that plane that it was killing
him physically. The more they tried, the longer they took, the more time
passed where the small group could be questioning him.
Wolf paced the hallway, snarling curses under his breath. He’d been
utterly unable to get access to the med rooms, blocked by determined
techs, and even Mercedes had been unable to pull rank and demand
access.
And so Wolf paced. Mercedes sat in a chair with his hands between
his knees, head down, and watched him pace with a silent, bristling
irritation mingled with concern. Leander sat on the floor, leaning back
between Epsilon’s knees, and the older Kin was brushing his fingers
absently though his friend’s hair. Alex sat on Madison’s lap, her head on
the other woman’s shoulder and her eyes closed. She was shaking,
trembling from head to foot.
Wolf wondered if she’d ever killed anything before in her life.
“Wolf, stop.” Mercedes’ voice was soft and low. Wolf paused for all
of ten seconds to glare, then resumed pacing.
“Wolf, that’s not helping. Stop.”
“Excuse me. Our one chance at anything even resembling a lead is in
 Mourning Doves 145
that room dying, and we can’t get within ten feet of him because
stubborn techs refuse to admit they can’t fucking save him!”
“Wolf, they have to try.” Leander’s voice was soft and quiet. “You
can’t just want to let him die.”
“Of course I don’t!” he snapped, and Leander flinched away. Epsilon
snarled warningly, and Wolf took a deep breath. “Of course I don’t,” he
said more gently. “I just need answers,” he murmured, pressing his hand
to his forehead. “I’m just… I’m frustrated.”
“We’re all frustrated, Wolf,” Mercedes murmured, running a hand
through his hair. “But pacing is just making you more tense.”
“And what if he dies in there? What then?”
“Then we have to do this the old-fashioned way, that’s a—” He
stopped, his jaw clamping shut.
Montgomery Edwards stepped from the shadows to their left, his
gaze on the door. Epsilon started to growl, and Leander’s tail began to
lash over the slick floor.
“I hear you had some problems tonight,” he drawled in his soft,
dangerous voice. Wolf had stiffened and now watched him warily, and
even Mercedes had come half-out of his chair. It seemed that the tension
the group felt for the man was no longer as hidden as it had been. But
Montgomery seemed oblivious to it.
“Who is your new friend?”
“We don’t know, actually,” Madison replied. “We found him, and
he’s too badly hurt to get any information from.”
Montgomery nodded, his half-lidded gaze still locked on the door.
“What made you go looking for him?”
Leander’s chance to speak. “I smelled something funny. Followed
it.” It was a little more than half a lie. But then, it was half the truth, as
well, and Wolf smirked at it.
“And what alerted you to the smell?”
Leander went more stiff than before, very aware of how thin the ice
he was on. “I went to the window for some air. Couldn’t sleep,” he said,
146 Angela Romano
which was, again, a half-truth.
“And you picked up the scent?”
“Yes, and then I picked up the scent.”
“You sound a little defensive.”
“Excuse me if I’m stressed.”
“Leander.” Epsilon’s admonition was quiet and low. Leander’s
mouth shut immediately, and he gritted his teeth.
“And what are we hoping to get from this man?” Montgomery asked.
“How do we know he’s anything but a bum?”
“We have cause to believe he’s a good lead on—well, pertaining to
our little issue,” Madison said. “There’s been some oddity pertaining
to—”
“Cats,” Montgomery finished for her quietly, making all of them
startle visibly.
“Yes, actually,” Madison said at last, very cautiously. Montgomery
nodded.
“You’re forgetting that I’ve been keeping an eye on all of you,” he
reminded, and then he slid back into the shadows once more as the
medical doors opened.
“Well?” Wolf demanded, rising, and then everyone’s hopes were
crushed in one sweeping moment and the tech shook his head quietly.
“He tried, bless his heart, but he didn’t make it. Whatever got at him
did a good—”
Even Wolf jumped in surprise at Epsilon’s fierce snarl as he flipped
the side table over with a sharp clatter and stormed from the room.
Leander ran after him, whining softly, and Alex covered her mouth and
closed her eyes as Madison made a low, pained sound.
Wolf just slumped, falling in a defeated hunch into a chair with his
hands over his face. Mercedes placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
“Did he say anything before?”
The tech shook his head. “No. I don’t think he could.” The man
 Mourning Doves 147
looked a little disgusted that his words were all they were concerned for.
Wolf made a soft, pained sound of frustrated ache, and Madison’s
hand tightened on him.
And, unseen in the darkness, Montgomery smiled in grim
satisfaction.
148 Angela Romano

THE door to the apartment slammed forcefully, nearly tearing apart the
newly repaired frame. It opened again seconds later, and Leander closed
it considerably more gently, taking a deep breath.
“Epsilon, they were doing their jobs.”
“We missed the chance to get information from our only lead!”
“They couldn’t just let us quiz him until he couldn’t breathe
anymore.”
“He was our only thing to go on, Leander!”
“I’m very aware of that!” Leader gritted back, hands fisting. “You
think I don’t know that?”
Epsilon turned, his eyes sparking with his anger. “And what now,
Leander?”
“Don’t make it out like this is my fault! Hell, if it wasn’t for me we’d
not have found him at all!”
“As if it makes a huge difference.”
Leander’s jaw set once more. “He told me to follow the cats, told me
it was ‘him’. That ‘he’ was working with ‘them’.”
Epsilon took a deep breath, trying to calm down visibly.
“Come on, Epsilon, we both know what ‘he’ that kid was talking
about.”
 Mourning Doves 149
“We can’t prove it.” Epsilon growled. “We had proof if he’d lived—”
“Maybe we still can, if we go after those cats,” Leander tried.
“Maybe there’s something there—”
“You’re forgetting the part where swarms of Hunters ran our asses
out?”
“That may have been a fluke. If Montgomery—or whoever—was
waiting for us, lured us into a trap with that kid, they’ll be gone when we
come back.”
“You are not naïve, you are not stupid, so do not act like you are,”
Epsilon snapped.
“I’m not! Damn, Epsilon, I try to point out potentially good facts,
and you act like any optimism is stupid!”
“That would be because it usually is.”
“Oh, beautiful outlook on life.”
Epsilon snorted. “I’d think someone with your past would have a
more cynical view.”
A pause. “Y’ know, maybe you’re right; maybe I should be more…
cynical, I guess, but I can’t, okay?” Leander sat backward in a chair,
resting his chin on his arms. “The world’s got too many people like that
already.”
“There’s a difference between cynical and realistic, and I’m not
going to get into a debate about anything moral with you, not right now.”
Epsilon stripped off his jacket and draped it over a chair. His swords
came off, too, but those were gently set down on the table, as were the
guns. Leander also yanked off his holster, but kept the gun gently
gripped in his hand. He loved that weapon, and right now, he needed it in
his hand.
“Look, I’m sorry the kid died. But this doesn’t end us, and it’s not
my fault!”
“I never said this was your fault.”
“You’re sure as hell acting like it.”
“Maybe because you took off out the window with no weapon,
150 Angela Romano
without even your stupid little backpack—”
“That didn’t get him killed!”
“Leander, for once in your life can you just admit you did something
stupid?”
“I was trying to help you! I already apologized, anyway!”
Epsilon took another breath and held out his hands, his eyes closed.
“Stop, stop, just…damn it. Leander, we just need to go back to bed.
We’ve been up since the middle of the night, we’re stressed, tense, we
just need to get some sleep and take some time to catch our breath.”
Leander nodded, putting his forehead in his hands. Epsilon moved as
though to reach for him, then stopped.
“You’re covered in blood,” he said, very gently, and Leander’s eyes
snapped open.
They’d been at TASK since the discovery of the man, now almost a
full day ago.
Leander—hell, none of them—had gotten cleaned up since that
battle, and the blood of the Hunters was dried on Leander’s face. He
could taste it again, abruptly, and before either of them could do
anything, he doubled over and heaved. It didn’t bring anything up; there
wasn’t anything to bring up. Epsilon’s nose wrinkled, but he moved
forward calmly to rub Leander’s back.
Shooting someone and ripping out someone’s throat or face are two
very different things. Leander halfway opened his eyes, watching the
world spin lazy circles, watching it fade and blur at the edges.
“Leander. You’re going into shock.” Epsilon’s voice was calm and
gently. “Don’t pass out, because I’m not dragging your heavy ass
upstairs. Let’s get some water in you.”
He gently eased a hand under the Kin’s arm, pulling him upright. He
took the man into the kitchen, setting him down at the table and pouring
a glass of water for him. Leander used it to rinse his mouth out, and then
drank the second glass that Epsilon brought him. It helped to ease his
stomach, and after a few deep breaths the shaky dizziness had passed.
“I’m all right,” he announced, coming out of the kitchen. Epsilon had
 Mourning Doves 151
already gone upstairs, taking his jacket and weapons. Leander’s, too. He
made his way upstairs, dragging himself to his room and stripping his
clothes as he went.
His room, besides being a mess, was one that most people would
have made a disgusted face at before they called him a spoiled brat.
Large enough to hold a bed twice the size of his own futon, with its own
full-sized bathroom attached, it was a spacious and luxurious area, but
Leander never thought of it that way, or himself as spoiled. He worked
for his position in TASK, and this room, this apartment, was his
paycheck.
Still, it was a nice thing, having a bathroom this large only a few
steps away.
He shed his filthy clothes as he walked, not even bothering to find
clean ones; he just wanted to wash himself off. He turned the shower on
just about as hot as it could go without scalding him, then stepped in,
letting the water soak his red-blond hair and washing the dirt from his
body. He leaned his head against the tiles, his entire body relaxing
slowly, in increments. His mind began to relax as well, unwind from the
tense knot it’d found itself in all day. He scrubbed his skin nearly raw,
cleaning off the blood of that poor man who had died in the alley and the
blood from the Hunters he’d fought, though he could still taste that in his
mouth.
What made him double over and vomit yet again was that part of him
liked that. This time, there was something to bring up, and he did, all
over the shower floor. Mostly bile and water, but it made him feel better
when it was out, anyway.
It was slightly rust-tinged.
He closed his eyes against it and washed it down the drain quickly,
scrubbing his hair and then finishing his shower. He stepped out and
scrubbed his teeth like he’d scrubbed his body, rinsing and brushing until
his gums bleed.
That was okay; that blood was his own. He slid into a pair of
sweatpants, his bare torso revealing the huge dragon tattoo he bore. It
also showed the scar on his chest, a nasty, ragged tear gotten from a
Hunter, the knife wound from a street fight on his leg, and the winding
152 Angela Romano
scar from barbed wire around his right shoulder. And a half-turn showed
the road-rash-style scars almost completely covering his back. He’d been
dragged for miles for that one, and he was absurdly proud of the scar left
behind.
He yanked his hair up in a ponytail, giving it a little shake to remove
the last of the water. He snarled softly on a low, heavy inhale.
“I need a drink,” he muttered.
He stepped from the room, padding softly down the hall to rap on
Epsilon’s door. It opened after a moment, and his companion’s head
poked out. He looked freshly showered too, his dark curls falling in
damp hanks around his face, half obscuring his eyes, and he was in a pair
of shorts and a T-shirt that bore a the face of a grinning werewolf and the
words “Hello, Lunch.”
“Hey, you feeling better?”
“A little. You gonna yell at me more?”
“No.” The door opened wider.
“Can I….”
“I didn’t open it for the hell of it.” Leander moved into the room past
Epsilon, and Epsilon shut the door again softly.
“We should just get some sleep, really. Talking this late is just going
to take us in circles,” Leander said, but perched backward in a chair
anyway.
Epsilon sat on the bed, pulling his legs up to his chin. “We need to
know what Mercedes can do. Has done.”
“And we can’t do that until the morning, either,” Leander pointed out
quietly. “Let’s just… let’s just get some rest tonight. It’s been rough,
Epsilon. On all of us. Wolf most of all.”
Epsilon sighed and went to staring out the window. “I just want this
to be done with. I’m tired of people second-guessing my every breath.”
“Aw, babe, I know. Me too,” Leander agreed softly, rising once
more. “Look, I just wanted to be sure you were all right. Let you know I
am. Get some rest, okay?”
 Mourning Doves 153
Epsilon nodded. “I’ll call Wolf in the morning and see if he wants to
take off on this or give us all a couple days.”
“It’s weird. It’s not like we knew him, or anything. He may not have
even been a proper lead,” Leander murmured, putting his chair back in
the corner.
“So why does it feel like we lost a friend?” Epsilon asked, when
Leander was almost back at the door. His voice was so soft and faint that
Leander almost didn’t hear the question.
“I….” He stopped, closing his mouth and laying his ears softly, as he
always did when he was upset. “I don’t know, but it does, huh?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it really does.”
Leander tried a smile that felt like it failed miserably, and shrugged
one shoulder. Then he slipped out and shut the door once more with a
quiet click.
That entire night, cats prowled below Leander’s window.
They were gone in the morning.

“SON of a bitch!” Wolf’s voice was ripped through with raw frustration
and anger, but he wasn’t yelling. His voice was low but pulsing with
anger and power, an edge to it that Mercedes didn’t like. It was that edge
that had made Mercedes follow him home in the first place, worry about
Wolf’s—um—mental state at the moment.
Wolf had the bad, bad habit of drinking too much at times like this.
He had the worse habit of driving while at it.
“Motherfucking son of a bitch! Who the fuck do they think they are?
Do you know what we could possibly have just lost? Do you have any
idea how close we were? Damn it. Fuck!”
“Wolf.” Mercedes’ voice sounded sane and calm in the void left by
Wolf’s rage. “Stop it; calm down.” He closed the front door softly and
set the alarm.
154 Angela Romano
“What are you doing?”
“Staying here for the night,” Mercedes said, refusing to take no for
an answer. “And don’t argue with me. You’re upset. I’m upset. Luckily
for you, I handle it better.”
“I handle it fine.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Mercedes stripped his coat. “Wolf, go take a
shower. Hell, I need to shower. We’ve all got blood on us. And dirt. Lots
and lots of dirt.”
“I don’t want to shower.”
“Yeah, you need a shower.” Mercedes grabbed him by a shoulder
and got thrown off. “And so do I, so if you won’t take one I want to.”
“Go ahead.”
Mercedes growled and gritted his teeth. “Wolf, don’t turn obstinate
on me, damn it.”
“Oh, excuse me. Am I irritating you?”
“Too late.” Mercedes propped his hands on the counter and hung his
head with a sigh. “Look, I’m going to clean up and go to bed. Do
whatever you want.” He pushed away from the counter and moved into
the little bathroom. The door closed behind him but didn’t lock.
Wolf was very aware of that.
He swore violently under his breath, punching the tabletop in
frustration. As if everything that had happened recently wasn’t enough,
he now had his body’s reaction to the thought of Mercedes in his shower
to deal with.
Mercedes and Wolf had been lovers months before Mercedes had
been assigned a higher position in TASK, and for a while nothing had
suffered. But it had been a slow erosion, their relationship, and before
either of them had known what was happening Wolf was packing his
things and moving out.
There had been no argument, no violent fight. In fact, the end of their
relationship had been almost a nonevent, and in all honesty, maybe that
was part of the problem.
 Mourning Doves 155
Such a mild but ugly break, because neither one of them had wanted
it to end.
Wolf could only handle Mercedes’ suspicions of Epsilon and
Leander for so long, and Mercedes had to be suspicious, because now it
was his job. And so they’d both just seemed to understand and
unspeakingly agree to end their… whatever it was… before it ended
badly.
Wolf now wondered if it hadn’t ended badly anyway. Or if maybe it
ending at all was the problem.
He shrugged out of his shirt, noticing the dried blood for the first
time. He was filthy, and suddenly he felt it. It made his skin crawl. He
shivered and climbed out of his pants too, standing naked in his living
room.
He glanced back to the bathroom and sank his teeth into his lower
lip.
Well. He did need a shower.
He slid the door open quietly, watching for a moment without
moving. Mercedes, of course, felt him watching instantly and froze for a
moment before he pushed back the curtain.
“Don’t just stand there,” he said gently, and Wolf stepped into the
shower, allowing Mercedes’ familiar touch to soothe away the hurt of the
day.

“DAMN, that poor kid.” Alex’s lament was soft and faint as she lay in
Madison’s arms on the bed that night. She took comfort in Madison’s
warmth and presence behind her, in her arms wrapped around Alex’s
slender waist, holding and soothing.
“I know, sweetie, but this….” She sighed quietly, pressing a kiss to
Alex’s hair. “This is far too common, in this line of work.”
“So people dying, it just… doesn’t bother you anymore?”
“I didn’t say that,” Madison scolded. “But if this—if you and I—”
156 Angela Romano
“Madison.” Alex rolled over, pressing her fingers gently to
Madison’s lips. “I’ve known from the moment I kissed you that getting
into anything like a relationship with you wouldn’t be easy.” She took a
deep breath. “This is what you do. And it’s not going to scare me of. You
won’t scare me off.” She ducked her head under Madison’s chin. “I’m a
tougher bitch than that.”
Madison was quiet for a little while, and then pressed her lips to
Alex’s hair.
“Good.” She said, and smiled in contentment. Alex made a soft
sound and nuzzled even closer to her.
“Are we—is everyone going to be okay?”
“I don’t honestly know,” Madison admitted softly, pressing her face
into Alex’s hair. “I think Leander and Epsilon put a lot on this lead. A
lot. Maybe too much. And Wolf got caught up in that. Mercedes, though,
managed to stay grounded, more like myself—and you—and hopefully
won’t let him do anything stupid.”

MERCEDES was very aware of just how stupid this was.

He knew what he was doing, knew exactly what he was breaking into
a thousand pieces as Wolf bowed under him, cried his name in strangled
tones for the second time that night. The water from the shower beat
down on them, pulsing, as if trying to wash away the trouble this simple,
complex act would cause.
When he’d ended the relationship with Wolf, he’d been—hell. Don’t
fucking lie to yourself, Mercedes. You were heartbroken.
He hadn’t wanted it to be over. He hadn’t wanted to lose Wolf. But it
had been unavoidable, and there had never seemed to be hard feelings on
either part.
And he’d jumped at the chance to make Wolf his again, and it was
the worst choice he ever could have made. But they’d made love in the
shower, and then they’d done other things in the shower, and the whole
time Wolf had never once stopped reminding him how insane this was,
 Mourning Doves 157
how stupid. They would just hurt each other again.
But now Wolf didn’t seem to care about the recklessness of the act,
his hands clawing into Mercedes’ shoulders, his green eyes almost black
with lust and intense feeling. Then the face was gone, hidden in
Mercedes’ shoulder, followed by teeth.
Wolf had bitten him. Marked him.
His breath caught in his throat at that. He’d always been Wolf’s, and
Wolf had always been his, and why was this a bad idea again? Why had
he ever left this man, this beautiful, perfect man in his arms?
Oh, wait, he remembered.
“Wolf,” he said softly, reaching out to turn off the water. “Wolf, you
gotta let go.”
Wolf blinked, pulled away, blinked again and then let out a low, hard
breath.
“Mercedes, I—”
“Look.” Mercedes pushed the curtain out of the way. “Look, Wolf,
let’s just go to bed. We’ll deal with this in the morning,” he said,
knowing that Wolf would soon start to analyze and then start to panic.
Soon, what he’d done would start to sink in.
Wolf would not be happy with himself.
“Come on. Let’s get you out and get dried off,” he said, stepping out
himself. “Come on.”
He took Wolf’s arms, already feeling him shaking. He pressed a kiss
to Wolf’s shoulder, and he stiffened, then relaxed.
“I… we, Mercedes… this…. We already—”
“Hush. I said we’ll handle it in the morning.”
“But—”
“Wolf, did you need this?” Mercedes asked, and Wolf went quiet.
“Yes,” he said after a moment, and Mercedes kissed his shoulder
once more.
158 Angela Romano
“Then hush and come to bed.”
Wolf was quiet, then just seemed to deflate, as though everything left
in him had just… faded out. Mercedes sighed and placed his hands on
the man’s shoulders, guiding him to the bedroom, hating the lack of fight
he felt. It was as if the entire episode had taken whatever strength Wolf
had left and drained it as surely as a vampire might.
He wondered if this had been a worse idea than he’d even originally
thought it would be. Wolf was shaking, trembling, and his arms were
wrapped around himself. Mercedes gently lowered him down on the bed
and knelt in front of him.
“Do you really regret doing that this much?” he asked softly, his eyes
hurt and quiet.
Wolf shook his head, lifting his own gaze. “No, not at all,” he replied
softly, honestly. “I just… I can’t—”
“Hush.” Mercedes sighed. “I can go to the guest room, if you—”
“No! No, stay here; it’s fine.” Wolf had grabbed his arm, but now
flushed and let go. “I missed sleeping beside you. I just missed you.” He
pulled Mercedes’ arm gently, and the older man lay beside the one
person he loved in all the world for the first time in nearly five years.
They both slept better than they had in all that time.
 Mourning Doves 159

AND come morning did. A man and his love—the only one he’d had in
his life, in fact, and the only one he would ever have—were forced to
wake up and face reality; a reality that would be difficult and painful for
them. And two young loves were also forced to rejoin the world, but they
did not dread the morning; they had each other. Reality did not frighten
them.
And Leander Kale and Epsilon Maddox woke too, peaceful for only
a moment before last night’s events caught up to them. Then a cold, hard
ball of dread formed in Leander’s stomach, and he felt sick all over
again. Physically ill. He lay in bed until Epsilon rapped on his door and
then peaked in.
“Leander? You’re going to oversleep.”
“Not asleep.”
Epsilon made a low, irritable sound. “Lying in bed all day isn’t going
to solve anything.”
“No, but it lets me stall.”
“Leander.”
Leander sat up, pushing hair out of his face. “Epsilon, yesterday I
had a man die practically in my arms and ripped out four throats and two
faces at least. Can I please just take a break, for once?”
Epsilon went quiet and then closed his eyes. “I know, and I’m sorry.
160 Angela Romano
But the sooner we end this, the sooner we can all breathe easier.”
He came closer, gently tugging the blankets off Leander. “Come on;
up you get, Leander, Wolf’s already calling us. And he doesn’t sound
right. Something’s off.”
“Something’s off and going to stay that way. After yesterday—”
“It was yesterday, Leander. Let it go.” Epsilon said.
“But—”
“Leander.” Epsilon’s voice was tight, bitten off. “Just let it go.”
He turned. “Wolf wants us to meet for breakfast, so hurry up and get
dressed,” he said. “We’ll talk about what happened yesterday—what was
important, Leander—when he decides to.”
“I happen to think what I’m trying to say is very important.”
“And I happen to disagree.”
Leander raised a brow and slid off the bed, well on his way to a pout.
It would have been a waste of a good pout, though, because Epsilon was
already leaving the room. Leander pulled his hair down and brushed it
through, then gently brushed his teeth a second time and dressed, sliding
into his “Never Stray from the Path” sweatshirt (it had a paragraph from
Little Red Riding Hood on the back, and it was one of his favorites,
bought for him by Epsilon a year prior) and a pair of jeans. He slid into a
pair of sneakers too, and grabbed his lovely, lovely jacket and both his
weapons before joining Epsilon in the living room.
Epsilon was in a gray T-shirt that read “Werewolf? Therewolf.”
Leander had given it to him on his birthday and been surprised to hear
Epsilon laugh out loud. And Epsilon also wore it, and not just
occasionally. Leander said it should read “here” instead of “there,” but
you made do with what you had.
Besides, “here” didn’t rhyme.
Leander accepted coffee in a travel mug gratefully, and the pair
loaded into their car and headed to where they’d agreed to meet Wolf.
It was a little hole-in-the-wall dinner, but they’d all been there
before, and the food was decent. More importantly, privacy was easily
 Mourning Doves 161
gotten there.
Leander smelled it instantly.
Something was so off between Mercedes and Wolf that it burned.
They were seated opposite of rather than next to each other. Wolf was
quietly sipping a coffee of his own, and Mercedes was tearing apart a
doughnut instead of eating it. They weren’t saying a word, and the air
between them smelled like—
Oh, lord, not again.
He looked at Epsilon.
Epsilon looked at him.
This was going to be a long fucking week.
They both were alerted to the sound of Madison and Alex pulling up
moments behind them, and then Epsilon sighed and took one for the
team, approaching the pair.
“Everything all right?” he asked softly, pulling up a chair between
the two men.
“Not really,” Wolf said bluntly, looking up from glaring into the
mug. “But it’s none of your business.” He hooked a chair out with his
ankle and motioned. Leander approached, tugging out the other available
chair and draping his small, slender frame into it, legs propped up on the
table.
Mercedes promptly shoved them off, and Leander’s chair nearly
tipped over backward.
“Is this going to mess us up?” Epsilon inquired, reaching out without
real thought to grab the chair’s back and steady it. “Because if it is, it
needs to get cleared up now.”
“And just what do you think ‘this’ is?” Mercedes asked abruptly,
looking up from his food.
“Whatever we can both smell on both of you.” Leander didn’t even
look up from the table. “Whatever you wanna call that.”
A terse silence fell around the table, and then Wolf spoke, voice low
and soft.
162 Angela Romano
“I was stressed, and Mercedes and I fucked. That’s all there is and all
there’s going to be. Now, is that a problem?”
“Not if it’s not,” Epsilon said.
“It’s not.”
“Good; then down to business.”
“What about Madison and Alex?”
“Alex isn’t a part of this. Madison’s keeping her alive.”
“Oh, she’s keeping her alive, all right,” Leander piped up, grinning
wryly. Epsilon smacked the back of his head.
“So they’re not joining us?”
“No.” Mercedes reached into his coat and withdrew copies of papers
in a manila file. He paused with his hands on the file. “Don’t,” He said,
mild but warning, “alert anyone to this, the fact that you’ve seen this,
that you know anything in here, or that you’ve even laid eyes on these
copies.”
“They’re going to be burned after this,” Wolf added softly, though he
didn’t look at Mercedes. “So if you need something you see, retain it.”
He pushed the files forward.
The men at the table all sat forward, glad of the privacy this place
offered, and began to push over the files that Mercedes and Madison had
swiped from a back door.
And the more he read, the more Leander felt his stomach clench even
further.
They knew. They knew.
His eyes flicked over the pages, hearing Wolf’s breath pick up faster
and faster as they read.
Every single file, everything they were reading, pointed straight to
Montgomery Edwards as being the person who had framed Epsilon so
many years before. There was no solid proof, of course, nothing that said
in big, red letters MONTGOMERY EDWARDS IS RESPONSIBLE
FOR THE FRAMING OF EPSILON MADDOX, but they certainly had
 Mourning Doves 163
their suspicions about him; there were notations about things he’d done
in the past, in other facilities of the government; he’d been on the police
force, once, until allegations of being a dirty cop had chased him away
from the game and sent him running to TASK.
TASK was notoriously open-minded, considering the type of people
and places they handled. There’d never been any proof that he’d been a
dirty cop, so TASK had tucked the files away and given him a clean
slate.
But, much like with Epsilon and Leander, things hadn’t gone away
completely. It had always been there, a black spot on the man’s record,
and it had made him primary target one when Epsilon claimed he was
being set up.
No one had bothered to say a word about it.
Of course they didn’t, Leander thought, tail lashing around the legs
of his chair. Of course not, because they’d be just as happy to be rid of
us, of Epsilon, even though we’ve done more for and through TASK than
Montgomery has even considered doing.
“Leander, you’re growling. Stop it.”
Leander jolted in surprise, eyebrows arching skyward. He was,
apparently, doing it again. “Sorry,” he muttered. “But, if they—if he was
suspected here, aren’t they looking at him for this situation?”
“Of course they are,” Mercedes said. “But it’s easier to place the
blame on someone like Epsilon or you, Leander.” Mercedes slid the files
back, turning them away once more. “You saw it in the files. The
moment this began they started looking at him,” he said. “They just did it
more quietly than they did Epsilon and Leander. It’s a scapegoat
problem, and you all know it. Unless we can bring irrefutable proof that
Montgomery is the one behind this situation, then they’ll just keep
bringing the blame on you two.”
“So. Our one and only lead just died, so what do we do?” Epsilon
asked.
“He tried to tell us,” Leander murmured, his ears back gently and
eyes half-lidded. “He told me to ‘follow the cats’.”
“We saw how well that worked.”
164 Angela Romano
Leander’s ears pinned once more, flat this time. “That was my fault,
and I admit it. But if we went prepared, then—”
“Then we’d be running directly into the Hunters and whatever else is
waiting for us out there,” Wolf said.
“Maybe. Maybe is the keyword—”
“I didn’t say it though, did I?” Wolf demanded.
“But you can’t discount it. Montgomery may have known he’d be
headed toward us, known we’d find that kid in the alley because of his
cats—”
“And he might know we’re going to follow them out there again.”
“Might.”
“Leander, we’re not prepared to fight that many Hunters; we proved
that just now,” Wolf said firmly.
“We were taken by surprise and had a badly injured man! It’s not the
same thing.” Leander threw his hands in the air, frustration making him
snarl. Didn’t they understand? Didn’t they feel it? That strange
connection, that strange draw to the now-dead man?
Didn’t they realize that this, even gone, was their only chance to
prove, beyond all doubt, that Epsilon was innocent?
“This man… this man wanted to help us,” Leander said quietly, his
eyes on the table. “He died trying to help us. He was calling me, in that
alley, psychically calling me, begging me to hurry. What d’ya say we let
’im help us, huh?”
A silence fell at the little table. Then Wolf let out a little sigh,
pressing his palms into his eyes. “Whatever this kid wanted us to know,
we owe him to find out,” he said. “He tried hard to get to us before—”
“Before he was killed,” Epsilon finished. “The damage done to him
was so intense it had to be deliberate.”
“So,” Leander said, still in his quiet tones. “Do you think you’ll let
me follow those cats?”
“Not alone.”
 Mourning Doves 165
“Epsilon, please. I’m small, quick, lithe, agile, all the things you
aren’t. You’re power, force, and that’s not what we need here. I can
handle myself if things go wrong—”
“Leander, I am not letting you go in alone.”
“Epsilon, I am just as much a trained agent as you are.” Leander had
come to his feet, tail lashing. “You don’t let me do shit.”
“I still have superiority over you,” Epsilon snarled. “And if you don’t
listen to me, Wolf has superiority over me.”
Leander whirled. “Don’t you fucking dare. You know I’m right.”
“He is,” Mercedes said quietly, wadding up the remains of breakfast
in a napkin. “He’s the best candidate for what needs to be done.”
“Bug me,” Leander snapped. “Wire me, bug me, do whatever you
need to do, up until and including being ready to burst in with guns
blazing if things go wrong! But I need to be the one to do this. And not
just because of my size. Epsilon. Trust me. I need you to trust me.”
Mercedes leaned back and closed his eyes. “We put a wire on him,”
he said softly. “Put a wire on him and send him in as a fox, and if
anything goes down, Epsilon, you charge in.”
Epsilon swore, and then he swore again and his hands connected with
the table. “Fantastic,” he growled. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”
Which was as close to an agreement as Leander was ever going to
get, as they say.

WOLF wasn’t speaking to him.

Mercedes ignored it studiously, pretending like it didn’t bother him,
but it did. Wolf, after all, had initiated the moment in the shower. It
wasn’t like Mercedes had dragged him in there for their little “quickie,”
and if he hadn’t exactly fought the other man off, well—who could
blame him?
He’d dreamt of that for months.
166 Angela Romano
And now two weeks had gone by. Wolf refused to let him back into
his apartment and refused to speak to him outside of work.
“You think this’ll hold with the Change?” he asked Leander, gently
fingering the line attached directly to the man’s skin and looping its way
into his ear.
“It should, since it’s not on my clothes,” Leander murmured. “It
pinches.”
“We can’t help that,” Wolf said, from across the room. His voice,
though, came from Leander’s ear. “You hear me all right?”
“Ow. I can hear you fine.” He flinched. “Damn it, if I knew this
entire thing was gonna hurt. Jeez.”
“You can still back out,” said Epsilon, lounging in the corner.
“Shut up,” Leander drawled. “I am doing this.”
“Just reminding you of the options.”
Mercedes chuckled softly and motioned. “Get your clothes back on,
stud.”
“At last someone recognizes my beauty.” He fluffed his hair with a
playful grin, his eyes flashing. He tugged on his clothes, yanking his hair
into a ponytail. He let out a low growl again, his ears swiveling. “It
hurts.”
“Stop whining or don’t do it,” Epsilon spoke up again. “You
survived weeks of agony brought on by your body rejecting one of the
more notoriously dangerous and addictive drugs brought into mankind. I
think you can handle this.”
“Thanks for the reminder.” Leander made a face. “I still think we
should have Madison here.”
“She and Alex know what’s going on, and they’ll be in touch with
me through the cell phone.”
Leander took a deep breath. “All right. I’m ready, if everyone else
is,” he said, tugging on that absurd coat that was his favorite. Wolf
braced himself visibly but nodded. “Epsilon, you hooked up?”
Epsilon rose languidly, stretching. He was hooked up to a wire more
 Mourning Doves 167
traditionally, rather than to his skin, and the little mouthpiece muttered in
Leander’s ear as he tapped it lightly. The huge furry ears twitched and
flinched.
“Don’t,” Leander warned, and Epsilon’s eyebrow arched.
“Then you’d better listen to me in the future.” He ran a nail over it
lightly, and Leander whirled on him with a snarl.
“Ass.”
Epsilon just smirked at him.
“Boys, can we play nice for an hour, at least, here?” Mercedes
grumbled, and he ignored Wolf’s snort.
Epsilon tucked his blades, his .45, and his rifle away. He then
grabbed Leander’s shoulder gently and showed him what else he was
tucking away for a situation gone bad: the .474 and little derringer that
Leander so loved. He shoved them both in that little backpack, and then,
with something of a grimace, he swung the backpack over one shoulder.
It barely went over said broad shoulder. Wolf chuckled a little,
cutting off when Epsilon spun a hard glare on him.
“So much for anyone behaving,” Leander drawled, grinning and
tossing Mercedes a wink. “You boys think you can not kill each other
while I’m playin’ recon man?”
“I wish that was all you’re doing,” Wolf said. “Go on; we’re ready.”
Leander nodded, and for the first time looked a little uncertain.
Epsilon, to Mercedes’ surprise, was who reached out and squeezed his
arm, giving him a nod.
“You’ll be fine, Leander,” he said quietly, despite his own
misgivings. Leander needed to hear it, and so Epsilon would give it to
him. That was part of why they made such a fantastic team.
And a fantastic team they were.
Leander grinned and made his Change. For a moment it looked like
the wire might evaporate like clothing did during the Change, but it held,
and Leander gave them a doggish grin, tongue lolling from the corner of
his mouth as if in pride.
168 Angela Romano
Epsilon rolled his eyes. “Be careful,” he warned, and he opened the
door to the TASK building and let the tiny fox run out. He made his way
to their car and gave Leander the count of twenty before he followed,
slowly. He could hear Leander’s panting breaths and the man—fox,
rather—ran on, and heard the difference in it when he caught the scent he
was looking for. Leander barked once to let him know and then was off
and running again.
Epsilon slowed even further, not wanting to spook whatever Leander
might be on the trail of. He came to a complete stop at Leader’s second
bark and turned off the car, eyes closed as he leaned the seat back,
prepared to wait.
He only hoped that that was all he’d be doing.
Meanwhile, Leander had caught the scent of cat and blood roughly
back at their apartment, just a block or so away, and taken off after it. As
of yet he’d not actually seen anything, but the scent was strong enough to
keep him following. It took him down that familiar alley where he’d
found the man injured and dying, and then he nearly gagged as the smell
of blood redoubled. He padded softly down the alley, and now he had
visual aid, the trail of what he’d been smelling leading away.
He whined. Oh, that poor kid.
“Leander?”
His whine had alerted Epsilon. He gave a woof huffing noise to let
the man know he was all right, and then braced himself and began to
follow his trail.
But as he was getting farther along, a separate smell caught his
attention, and he paused in confusion, one paw lifted, indecisive.
The cat smell had taken a corner; the blood smell had not.
His ears swiveled around as he pondered his dilemma. He’d been
told to follow the cats, but this other trail could lead him straight to
where Montgomery had holed up.
Sometimes he really wished he could speak in this form. Growling
softly, he followed his instincts—and the cat smell.
It took him down a side alley and led to the backdoor of an old,
 Mourning Doves 169
abandoned building. He Changed back, pushing the door open carefully,
wishing, for the second time in his life, that he was armed.
He could smell no recent human activity, though; no one had been in
here for weeks. He pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped
inside softly.
Cats everywhere, dozens of them. There was a mattress on the filthy
floor, covered in a few tangled sheets, a small TV, a little mini-fridge in
the corner, a microwave, bedside table, a lamp, and a bare bulb
illuminating the room from the ceiling.
“Oh,” he breathed, familiarity striking him over the head like a club.
“Leander, everything okay over there?”
“Fine,” he said softly, pleased that the place didn’t stink, at least.
That might have pushed him over the edge, and his stomach was trying
to rebel as it was.
“Kid lived in a pit,” he muttered. Talking to Epsilon helped. “Don’t
look much different from my old place,” he added with black humor.
“So what are you supposed to find there?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out. Please hold.” He closed the door
behind him and began to poke around the room. At least he figured out
how the cats were coming and going: broken window in the corner.
Someone had tried to board it up, but the job hadn’t been done well and
it fell.
He sniffed the air but got nothing out of the ordinary, opened the
fridge. Cat food, milk, beer, some human food. Nothing substantial.
He wasn’t really surprised.
With an irritated growl, he made his way over to the pile of bedding
in the corner. He sniffed it and the area around it, going through the
drawers in the bedside table and finding zip that seemed useful in any
way.
Snarling in his frustration, he kicked the bed in the corner.
And for one moment, his world spun.
He lurched and grabbed hold of the dresser for balance, sucking in
170 Angela Romano
his breath sharply. For one moment, he’d been sure he’d seen—
“Not possible, and really not fuckin’ cool,” he muttered.
“What?” Epsilon asked.
“I thought I saw—”
“What?”
Leander shook his head.
“I thought I saw a dead man,” he muttered.
“You what?”
“You heard me, Epsilon.” Leander stepped forward slowly, moving
to the pile of sheets. “For a minute, he was there.”
He bent over the bed, reaching a hand down to gently touch the
blanket once more. And once more, his head was spinning. He felt like
he was experiencing a severe vertigo, as if he’d just gotten off a ride at a
carnival for the fifth time.
He kept his grip on the blanket, though, and let the vertigo guide him
to his knees, where his other hand landed on the bed.
The moment it touched, it was as if an electrical pulse had shot
through his entire body. He gasped, his ears falling back, and tried to pull
away. It didn’t work, not at first, but the second time he managed to yank
free.
Shaking his hand and his head, he staggered to his feet.
“That was… fucking strange,” he said. “Epsilon, it felt like a jolt of
electricity or something.”
“You all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It just… my head is spinning now.”
“Well, if it was your head, then you’re fine.”
“Oh, do me a favor and shut up,” Leander muttered. “I don’t
understand why I had to do this. There’s nothing here.”
“Boo.”
Leander jumped nearly ten feet in the air, whirling to face the man
 Mourning Doves 171
he’d heard but not been able to smell. How hadn’t he been able to smell
the man?
He sat perched on the mini-fridge, a man just a bit taller than
Leander, just as skinny. His hair was auburn, a thick mane of curls that
fell easily to his ass, and eyes of roughly the same color that laughed
good-naturedly at the world. Even now, Leander recognized him.
And he suddenly realized why there was no scent.
“You,” he whispered. “You’re dead. You just died—”
“Well, yeah,” the other man replied, hopping down and approaching
calmly. “I figured that might happen.”
Leander’s jaw worked dumbly for a moment.
“Let’s start with introductions,” the man said, grinning in a
charming, lopsided manner. “I’m Liaison.” He extended a hand that
looked solid enough. “And you must be the little fox,” he said.
“Leander.”
“Leander? What the fuck is going on over there?”
Liaison sent his eyes to the wire on Leander’s body. “So that must be
the wolf listening to us?”
“The wolf? No, Wolf isn’t—I mean, Wolf is back at the center. This
is Epsilon. Epsilon, I think you need to get down here.”
“Epsilon? Is he Kin, like you?”
“Kind of. He’s gene.”
“And what is his other form?”
“A wolf.”
Liaison nodded, smiling as if not surprised. “Do I need to wait for
him to get here?”
“Can you? I mean, can you linger that long?”
Liaison laughed. “I’m not going to fade out involuntarily, if that’s
what you mean.”
“All right. All… right….” Leander sat down hard on the floor.
172 Angela Romano
Liaison chuckled.
“I know this is a pretty big shock,” he said. “I’m sorry that I
couldn’t—”
“You tried,” Leander said in a low murmur. “You tried. We just—”
“You acted more than quickly enough. He knew, though, that you
would come, would try to find me.” Liaison frowned.
“Montgomery, right?” There was a quick nod from Liaison.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m glad at least I don’t have to convince you.”
“No, we—” Leander started, and then he paused as Wolf’s voice
filtered down the wire.
“Leander? Montgomery’s dragged Epsilon off to one of the
conference rooms in TASK. He won’t let Mercedes or me in there,” the
man hissed out. “We’d gotten his wire off, thankfully, but he won’t be
able to get to you. I think… I think he’s making a case to get Epsilon
pegged as the leak,” he said.
Liaison had perked up. Leander told him what Wolf said, and he
nodded again.
“This is all happening more quickly than I thought it would, but….”
He went to a corner on the floor and then swore softly. “Here, come here
and break this open.”
Leander moved over to the corner, looking down at a previously
hidden trap door. There was a small lock on it.
“No key?”
For the first time, Liaison looked sad and distant. “It’s on my body.
My real, physical body. I wore it around my neck.”
“You didn’t have a key around your—”
“You mean this one?”
For the second time, Leander whirled around, annoyed that he’d been
too distracted to scent someone else.
“Son of a bitch! People, stop fuckin’ sneaking up on me!” He
snarled, reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.
 Mourning Doves 173
“Oi, Wolf? You said Montgomery took Epsilon off? Well, I think we
got a miscommunication. ’Cause he’s standing right in front of me. With
a big fucking gun. Montgomery, that is, not my lovely partner.”
Static.
“Wolf.”
Static.
“Son. Of. A. Bitch!”
174 Angela Romano

THE first thing that always returned to Epsilon when he awoke—either

from unconsciousness or sleep—was smell.
He was growling softly, before he even really was aware he was
doing it. He shifted and then realized that he couldn’t move, not
properly. His growling increased in pitch as he began to unconsciously
categorize the smells that had come to him moments before.
One smell he was coming to be all too familiar with; that of blood
and Hunters.
He could also smell Wolf and Mercedes, and smell them close. He
snarled with effort and opened his eyes. It hurt, light spiking into his
skull. He whined and slammed them shut again.
“Epsilon?” Wolf’s voice, a low, raspy hiss that made the man start
coughing. He opened his eyes once more, blinking rapidly until they
adjusted.
He was in the conference room of TASK that he’d been taken to
openly by Montgomery. The door was locked, and the lights, despite
being on enough to hurt his eyes at first, were actually rather dim, as if a
conference were really going on inside.
He was seated in a chair, tied to it; Wolf was off to the side, much the
same way. None of them were gagged, but yelling wouldn’t have done
any good. You couldn’t hear anything outside of this room.
Mercedes was across from both of them, watching them with his
 Mourning Doves 175
quiet, calm gaze. He was a wreck, physically; he’d obviously fought like
hell being taken. His lip was split and bleeding, as was his forehead.
From the way he was slumped, Epsilon guessed broken or bruised ribs,
at the least, and his right arm, even bound behind him, didn’t look quite
right.
Epsilon’s head was throbbing. Powerfully. Someone had clubbed
him over the back of it. It made him nauseous and woozy. Snarling, he
yanked on his bonds, giving his head a vigorous shake. His vision
wouldn’t focus; there was two of everything, in a vague, blurry manner.
He could see Hunters, two at the door, one at each window. They
prowled restlessly but didn’t do anything else. Something or someone
had them on leashes. Proverbial leashes, of course; if they were on literal
leashes, Epsilon wouldn’t have had such a big problem.
He must have been smacked over the head harder than he’d thought.
He swallowed the urge to laugh.
Wolf had been beaten to get in here too; blood matted his dark hair,
and Epsilon saw with a swell of ache that one of Wolf’s deep green eyes
was ruined, blinded. The wound running over it looked painful and deep.
His throat was swollen, accounting for that cough.
“Mercedes is out cold, still. I’ve been trying to wake him, but—”
That would account for the cough too, if Wolf had been calling the
man he loved in concern and regret.
“His breathing is even, just a little shallow,” Epsilon said, soothingly
as was possible. “No wetness, no sound of difficulty. He’s in pain, but I
can’t hear any sign of serious injury to his lungs. Did he get hit over the
head?”
“No, he blacked out.” Wolf sounded a little defiant. “They bent his
broken arm—”
“You don’t need to defend him,” Epsilon said. “Pain can be a
powerful weapon.” He closed his eyes again. A headache was rising
from the wound.
“Stop struggling. You’re handcuffed; we’re all handcuffed.” Wolf
told him as Epsilon jerked at his bonds again.
176 Angela Romano
“What the hell happened?”
“Montgomery brought you out of the room, said something about
needing you to come to a meeting regarding your situation. He took you,
and it was… there was thumping. We could barely hear it, but it was
enough to get Mercedes concerned.” Wolf swallowed hard, coughed
again. Epsilon was concerned about his breathing; the swelling in his
throat seemed to be getting worse. “We headed out that way and saw
Hunters prowling the halls; we were outgunned and outnumbered, and
they’d taken us by surprise. We fought, but—” He stopped, swallowing
again.
“Stop talking.” Epsilon scolded. “I shouldn’t have asked you to
start.”
Wolf shook his head. “One of the nasty fuckers has a hell of a grip,”
he rasped. “But I’ll be all right.”
“I know you will, but stop talking.”
Epsilon gritted his teeth and tried to rise, but his legs were also bound
to the chair. Snarling in impotent frustration, he bucked and then wished
he hadn’t as the world swam in front of his eyes. He closed his eyes and
gritted his teeth, focusing hard, starting his Change.
He started off with a low, steady growl that turned into a screaming
roar of pain as sudden heat sparked through his body, emanating from a
collar around his neck. His back arched to the point of breaking, and his
already wounded head snapped backward. His scream turned into an
animal howl as it went on and on, the constant, snapping agony.
Distantly, he could hear the Hunters laughing, and Wolf calling his
name now.
And then it stopped.
He relaxed, panting, huffing for breath. He felt a touch on his arm
and jerked upright with a roar, his teeth, useless as they were, snapping
shut inches from one of the Hunters. With a cry, the man fell back and
then scrambled upright again, laughing. Laughing.
Epsilon knew what that thing was. He knew.
Most people knew very little about genetically enhanced Kin, as
 Mourning Doves 177
Leander had noted many times to himself and even out loud. People just
acknowledged that bad things had happened to criminals and street scum
in an attempt to make stronger, better Kin. They even accepted and
swallowed, willingly, that some of those people had volunteered, even
though that was a lie.
They glossed over the details and were happy to do so; they didn’t
want to admit the horrors that went on in those labs, in those hospitals.
But horrors had occurred, and one of those was a method of
controlling their test subjects. They had come up with a hyped-up shock
collar, modified to let out pulses of raw electricity every time one of the
men or women in that facility attempted a Change with it on.
He’d been rid of that collar for years and had never thought he’d
experience it again. To have it on again made the animal in him go mad.
It raged uncontrollably, rent him from the inside out.
“Epsilon. Epsilon, you’re hurting yourself!”
Wolf’s voice came as if from a huge distance, but at last he heard it
and was aware that he was ripping apart the skin on his wrists in a vain
and wildly uncontrolled attempt to pull free from the restraints. Blood
ran freely down his wrists and arms.
“Stop. Stop, Epsilon. Just calm down.” Wolf was pleading with him
gently. “Come on now, Epsilon.”
Talking him down, like a drug addict. It made him even angrier, but
the rational part of him realized how stupid that was.
He took a few deep, hard breaths, forced himself down. The Hunters
were watching, prowling the room like big, trapped cats.
“What’s Montgomery think he’s playing at?” he asked.
“Your little Leander, he’s just not so stable up top, is he?” one of the
Hunters hissed, making both men jerk glances toward him. “After he
killed that poor boy in the alley, it got even worse. You found out about
it, and he just snapped. And Montgomery, well, he tried to save all of
you, but he was, in the end, forced to kill the boy.” A grin, and the man
cocked his head.
“Bullshit.” Epsilon snarled. “No one will believe that—”
178 Angela Romano
“Oh, no?” asked another of the Hunters. “What else do they already
believe about your Leander… and yourself?” There was a scoff.
Epsilon snarled and kicked the table. Snickers rippled around the
room, and Wolf closed his eyes helplessly and let his head dangle.
“We’re fucked.”

THE ghost of Liaison was still there; that surprised him more than
almost anything. He was hovering in the room near the back wall,
helpless and useless. He was, when you got right down to it, still a spirit,
and still intangible.
So in the end, in a shootout he wasn’t very helpful.
Leander wished he had his ’Bull more than almost anything, his ears
pinned, tail lashing about.
And Montgomery held his own gun steady, unwaveringly, on
Leander. The two weren’t moving. Hell, Leander wasn’t breathing, until
he felt lightheaded and had to remember to do so.
He didn’t know how Montgomery had gotten from TASK to here so
quickly, though really, it wasn’t that difficult to believe. TASK was only
a five-minute run from here, and if the others were being restrained or
hurt in some way, there was no one to say that Montgomery had actually
been the one to do it or even been there for it. He could have taken off
for this place right after Wolf had said that nothing was normal.
That was easily ten minutes ago. But then, Montgomery didn’t look
as though he’d run. In fact, he barely had a hair out of place, his entire
countenance calm and unruffled.
He didn’t look as if he could see Liaison in the back of the room, and
Liaison looked pleased about that fact; hell, Leander would have been
happy if Montgomery hadn’t been able to see him too.
“Easy now,” Leander murmured, lifting his hands slowly.
“Montgomery, you don’t want to do anything.” He backed slowly toward
Liaison, who was frustrated now, kneeling beside the locked door in the
 Mourning Doves 179
floor. He may have looked solid, but his incorporeal hands went through
the wood of the floor, causing him to make low, desperate sounds of
irritation.
“Actually, you’re right. I don’t,” Montgomery said softly, in a low,
mild purr. “At least, not right now. But I want you to take off the wire I
know you’ve got on and calmly come with me. Quietly. I don’t want to
shoot you, Leander, but I will.”
“What did you do to the others?”
“You’re going to find out. Now, Leander.” Montgomery made a
fierce jerking motion with the gun. Leander took another step backward,
yet again closer to Liaison. Liaison put his hand on his shoulder, and he
felt a cold chill at the touch. Absolutely no contact, though.
“Montgomery, look. I’ve got no idea what’s going on here. Just put
the gun down, an’ we can pretend that I was never here—”
“I said move, Leander!”
The gun cocked, and Leander realized that he was babbling and only
irritating Montgomery more.
“Montgomery, c’mon, man, this is pointless.”
“You have until the count of five to move, or I start putting bullets in
places on your body you will not like. It doesn’t matter if I have to shoot
you here, Leander. I can work that into things.”
“ ‘Things’?”
“One.”
Damn it. Leander was good at thinking fast, thinking on his feet, but
not this quickly.
“Just go,” Liaison said quietly, his voice shaking. “Just go with him
and give yourself time to think of what to do. Once you get where he’s
taking you, you might have a better grip on things. You might have a
better idea of what to do. I can… I can wait here for a little bit longer.
Not long. But a day or so. He’s counting.”
“Four—”
Sonofabitch!
180 Angela Romano
“All right. All right!” Leander yelped. He lifted his hands, scooting
past Montgomery. The man grabbed his hair, and he let out a squawk of
pain as it was yanked, nearly pulling him off his feet, and Montgomery
gripped his ear, twisting it forcefully. “Slow down,” he snarled. “You
will walk to the car, and you will not let anyone know that I have a gun
pressed into your back.”
“Gotcha,” Leander hissed, panting softly. Montgomery, mercifully,
let go, and Leander pushed himself to his feet. He felt the cold steel of
the gun press against his flesh and flinched once, and then he forced his
face neutral.
He walked out to Montgomery’s car—that explained the speed of
arrival—and slid into the passenger side of the car. He slammed the
door, and Montgomery climbed in after him, keeping the gun on Leander
with one hand and steering the car with the other. Leander stayed calm
and patient, letting the other cars and people go by without alerting them
to anything strange occurring. They drove up to TASK, past the guards,
and as if Leander needed reminding to behave, the gun was pressed into
his thigh.
Again, the forced march down the halls of TASK, careful to keep his
expression as normal as it could get. He passed fellow agents and bit
down hard on his tongue to keep from alerting someone, from giving
them some subtle signal that something wasn’t normal, wasn’t right. As
it was, all they saw was Leander Kale, being closely guarded by
Montgomery Edwards, as the case should be.
Montgomery took him down the hall to one of the main conference
rooms, and Leander smelled the Hunters before he saw them.
Aw, sonofabitch. We’re not walking out of this.
He brought his head up as they grew closer and then took a breath
and took his chance. He whirled, hitting the floor flat on his back and
pulling Montgomery’s arm with him. The gun went off, blowing a hole
in the floor next to Leander’s face. Bits of it flew, hitting him in the side
of the face. The sound of the gunshot brought instant attention to them,
and suddenly Leander realized he’d made a very, very big mistake.
This was too easy for Montgomery to warp. To manipulate. It would
be his word against Montgomery’s and, shady past or no, they’d believe
 Mourning Doves 181
him over Leander. They would, because while he may have been a
“dirty” cop, he was not a “bad guy,” and Leander had been.
He rolled past Montgomery, scrambling to his feet in desperation.
“Stop him! He’s brought Hunters into TASK. He’s a traitor! Leander
Kale is the man you’re after! Stop him!”
Swearing, Leander watched as TASK members reacted as if shocked,
swarming the Hunters in the hallway. He bolted for the door of the
conference room, but found his way blocked by men he’d called friends,
his co-workers. With guns leveled at him.
He snarled and Changed, darting through legs and dodging people
who tried to grab him with graceful elegance. He heard one or two other
Kin start after him, but he didn’t stop to look back.
He’d given Montgomery exactly what he’d needed to prove—or at
least fake-prove—that Leander was the leak. The way this entire
situation looked could have Leander pegged as the aggressor.
And now he was running.
But that was okay. He would come back; or get the information he’d
found in Liaison’s hideaway to Wolf or Mercedes, Epsilon, or even
Alex. But he couldn’t do that if he was—
The bullet caught him in the shoulder blades. He screamed in pain,
bucking. Another bullet caught him in the ribs, and he went down,
panting, scrambling at the ground, writhing in agony, feeling the life
flow out of him onto the cold tile of the TASK floor.
182 Angela Romano

WOLF had been moved again. He wasn’t surprised, after that uproar
with Leander. He and Epsilon had tried to get attention from inside the
room, but the Hunters had acted fast to shut them up, and after the
gunshots had been fired, they’d all gone very quiet. Even the Hunters
had seemed surprised.
After the Hunters outside had been killed and Leander shot,
Montgomery had had them all moved. They’d been drugged, Epsilon
snarling and fighting like a wildcat, Mercedes groggy and out of it still,
Wolf fighting too, but still less violently than Epsilon. He thought very
few could be as violent as Epsilon, really. The man was so feral right
now that he was afraid he’d hurt himself.
He’d cut his wrists all to hell, and he kept fighting that collar around
his neck, kept trying to Change.
Every time, that thing would shock him until he slumped, panting
and twitching, into the chair. When they came to drug him, he’d gone
insane, so much so that Wolf was amazed no one in TASK had heard.
He wasn’t sure where they were. He’d only just come to, still
struggling to breathe through a badly wounded throat, watching
Mercedes, who had come around at last about an hour after Wolf, on the
cot across from him.
They were in an old building, some kind of abandoned apartment
complex, if he was right. There were cots for each of them, and they
were bound with hands behind them and feet together. Epsilon was
 Mourning Doves 183
trying to come around, growling softly in pain and effort. The drugs
weren’t going with his head wound well, and this was his second
attempt. The first time he’d tried to wake up, he’d just sort of faded back
into unconsciousness.
“Epsilon,” Mercedes coaxed gently, from his left. “Epsilon, come on,
big guy, come on back.”
Epsilon’s growl increased in pitch, and he tensed, brows fluttering
and breathing coming more deeply. But after a moment he seemed to
grow tired and let himself fade again.
“The head wound and the drugs aren’t a good mix,” Wolf rasped,
clearing his throat with effort. It hurt, as did his eye; and his lack of
proper vision was making him sick to his stomach. His vision was gone
in his right eye, and it wouldn’t be coming back. Mercedes moaned
softly and shifted, trying to get his weight off his broken arm.
“I think it’s more than that,” Mercedes said after he’d gotten into a
more comfortable position. “We all heard Leander take that bullet; I
think Epsilon’s just done, thinking Leander might be….”
Wolf closed his eyes and shuddered. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But
he’s trying; you can hear him.” As if to give his words weight, Epsilon
had begun growling again, a broken, straining noise.
“Yeah, well, there’s a difference between trying and fighting.”
Mercedes groaned again softly, brow furrowing with pain. “Fuck. I
can’t… can’t….” He gritted his teeth and lolled his head. Wolf’s eyes
opened again.
“Easy,” he soothed. “Just hang on, Mercedes.”
The other man panted softly. “I’m sorry, Wolf. I didn’t mean to get
you hurt,” he rasped, making Wolf roll over in surprise.
“Mercedes, this isn’t your fault.”
“Should’ve… you saw that file. I could have… could’ve protected
Epsilon and Leander—”
“No, you couldn’t have, and this isn’t the time or the place.” Wolf
swallowed with more effort than it should have taken. “We’ll talk about
it later.” Epsilon was growling once more. The sound was more focused
184 Angela Romano
now, as if he’d gotten his head on straight.
“Epsilon,” Mercedes said again calmly. “All right, Epsilon, come on,
come on.”
Epsilon’s brow furrowed, and his lashes fluttered. He threw his head
and bared his teeth, growling more loudly. Wolf started to get frightened,
watching him struggle so hard to do something as simple as wake up.
Finally, though, with a snarl of effort, his eyes came open.
“Epsilon?” Wolf tried, and his head snapped around in alarm. He
clearly re-created it instantly, because his eyes closed again and he
moaned deeply, bowing his head.
“Hurts,” he whispered, pressing his face into the cot. “Dizzy.”
“I know,” Wolf said. “I know, Epsilon. Stay with me.”
“I… dizzy.” Epsilon suddenly lurched upright and vomited violently
over the side of the bed. Even when his stomach was empty, he dry-
heaved helplessly.
“Yeah, he’s not reacting well,” Mercedes muttered, worry thick in
his voice. “How much did they smack him with?”
“I think it’s a combination of the drugs, head wound, and that
fucking collar, and, like you said, Leander.”
“If he’d stop trying to force it, he’d stop activating that thing.”
“Like that makes it be—” Wolf stopped, coughing hard. “Better.” He
ended on a gasp as he got his breath back.
Epsilon, for his part, seemed to have sunk back into his drugged
sleep, willingly or not. Mercedes, too, was falling back into sleep. Wolf
could hear it in his voice. With a groan, Wolf let himself follow them.
Whatever happened would happen.
Maybe he wouldn’t want to be alert for it.

LEANDER paced.
He was, frankly, amazed that he was alive to pace. But, despite the
 Mourning Doves 185
pain, neither bullet had struck a vital area.
And so now he was stuck behind a cell and about to go out of his
head with pain and worry.
He snarled and fell back to sit on the bed. Montgomery had won. It
was over. He didn’t know where the others were, although he knew
Montgomery had organized a “search party” for them, but it was very
likely they were all dead. Even more likely their deaths would be blamed
on him.
He groaned and cupped a hand over his ribs; already they were
starting to heal, but he kept breaking the skin over them open once more.
It felt like he’d done it again. He leaned back on the wall and took an
experimentally deep breath, letting it out slowly. Ache, but no stab of
pain in his back or ribs, so he relaxed and took another. He forced
himself to use the deep breathing to calm down. After a moment, it
worked, and he was able to sit up and survey his surroundings without
wanting to destroy things.
He was in the holding area of TASK in a cell that was only about the
size of the living room in his apartment, which was to say, not very big
at all. Leander had never been too great with small places, but he forced
that to the back of his mind. He couldn’t deal with claustrophobia on top
of everything else right now.
He jerked up and looked in surprise at the sound of footsteps that
suddenly began to approach his cell, rising once more and moving
toward the cell bars. The guards in TASK came down in four pairs, two
Kin among them. And in the middle of them was—
“Madison!”
He yelped the name in surprise and relief, hands gripping the bars
savagely.
Madison looked over at the guards who’d escorted her down. “Can I
be with him… privately?” she requested.
“Miss Rivers, the prisoner is highly dangerous, not to mention Kin—”
“Not to mention injured, weaponless, innocent until proven guilty
last time I checked, and in a cage,” Madison said. “Besides that, you can
see everything that’s happening from the observation booth right up
186 Angela Romano
there.” She pointed with a falsely sweet smile.
“It’s very unorthodox for us to allow you to be alone with someone
known to be both a traitor to us and your companion.”
“You don’t know anything.” Madison sounded tense now. “There’s
been no concrete proof, and until you get that, then all you’re going on is
theory and bias.”
“There’s no bias, Miss Rivers—”
“Of course there’s not.” She smiled again, just as coldly. “Forgive
me for disbelieving that.” She turned. “Now, am I going to be allowed to
be alone with him, or do I need to make a scene?”
They were still reluctant to agree, but she was finally given the room
to herself with only Leander for company.
Once they’d gone and shut the door, Madison’s whole demeanor
changed. “Oh, Leander,” she breathed, gripping his arms through the cell
door tightly. “Oh, sweetie, are you all right?”
“Hurtin’ a bit, but I’ll live,” he breathed. “They won’t give me shit
for the pain.”
“I can get that changed if you need it.”
Leander shook his head. “I don’t wanna be foggy,” he said. “I just
like givin’ ’em trouble bitchin’ about it.”
She laughed. “Typical.”
He grinned in a charming manner. “You know you love me. Where
are the others, Madison?”
She let him go, regaining her composure. “Wolf, Epsilon, and
Mercedes are missing still. Alex is back at my place,” she said, as if
telling him the weather.
He growled. “Montgomery’s little ‘search party’?”
“A front, mostly, I’m certain,” she replied. “He knows where they
are, and he’s not going to let anyone else know.”
“Of course not. I don’t think he intends for anyone to find them ever
again,” Leander spat out bitterly. “He’s winning.”
 Mourning Doves 187
“Stop that. We’re not just going to give in that easily, are we?” she
asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Madison, it’s done. We’re done,” Leander said, slumping tiredly
again. “I can’t—” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead into the bars.
“Can’t what?” she demanded, her voice taking on a hard, steely tone.
“Leander, you’re just going to let him win?”
“I’m tired,” Leander murmured, not lifting his head. “The others are
dead or dying, and no matter what happens, no one’s ever going to fully
believe we’re… innocent, for lack of a better word. I’m tired of trying
and being found wanting. My whole life, I’ve been fighting, and my
whole life, people keep kicking my feet out from under me. I can’t get up
anymore.”
“You haven’t even spoken your case—”
“It doesn’t matter, Madison!” He hit the steel with a fist, eyes
blazing. “They will find Montgomery innocent of any wrongdoing, and
they will find me guilty of being a traitor and a murderer, because in the
end, Montgomery is more important than I will ever be!”
“And you’re just going to give up on our boys.”
He let out a dry sob. Madison’s hand came through the bars once
more. Her hand gently caressed one of his ears, rubbing the base
steadily. Comfortingly.
“Madison,” Leander said at last. “Go to Epsilon and my apartment.
Follow th’ cats from there. Trust them. Trust me.” He told her no more.
He didn’t want to risk anyone who may be able to hear from the
observation room figuring out anything they shouldn’t figure out. He
wasn’t sure if they could hear or not, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“The cats?” Madison’s brow furrowed, confused.
“Yeah,” he said. “This is all I got left, Madison, and I don’t know if
it’s worth it.”
“It’s worth it, Leander,” she promised. “Don’t you burn out on me
yet.”
He nodded, but it was a dull, exhausted thing with none of his usual
spirit behind it. Not for the first time since this began, Madison felt her
188 Angela Romano
stomach churn and twist with concern.
She would not lose her boys.

EPSILON was struggling again. Wolf opened his eyes, taking a moment
to get used to only having vision in one. Mercedes had managed to get
himself into a sitting position, but he was slumped, chest heaving with
pain. His eyes were closed, but he was awake. His brow furrowed as
Epsilon muttered and whined, tossing and struggling in a nightmare.
He’d started having those recently, too, and they broke Wolf’s heart.
Wolf pushed himself upright slowly, swallowing. The swelling in his
throat had gone down, and breathing was, thankfully, less of an effort.
But swallowing still hurt.
“Mercedes?” He asked.
The eyes slid open, and Mercedes blinked a few times, trying to
focus. When he seemed able to, he groaned and shifted once more. “You
doing okay over there?” Mercedes asked.
“Hurts, but I’m all right. You?”
“I don’t know what the fuck they’re gonna do about my arm,” he
admitted softly, fear in his voice.
“Let’s face it; we’re all pretty badly beaten up. And to think, we’re
trained agents.”
Mercedes chuckled softly, leaning his head back. “Apparently, we
need to buff up our troops.”
“Or just blow Montgomery and his Hunters off the planet.”
“That too,” Mercedes replied, chuckling softly, closing his eyes once
more. “We’ve lost this, haven’t we?”
“Not yet,” Wolf snapped.
“Leander—”
“We don’t know if he’s alive or dead. Don’t give up on him.”
 Mourning Doves 189
“We heard that gun go off. You heard him scream.”
Wolf closed his eyes at the memory. “I’ve heard him scream before,”
he said with a weak, gentle laugh. “And he survived, if barely. These
guys are stronger than you give them credit for. So am I, for that matter.
Don’t underestimate us, Mercedes.”
Mercedes let out a soft breath. “Yeah, I’m figuring that out.”
190 Angela Romano

FOLLOW the cats, he’d said, and so that was what she’d done. This
wasn’t her typical hangout, and she felt out of place. Very out of place.
She ran her hand over the wall, watching the small tabby run in front
of her, pausing every few steps to turn and meow at her, rubbing along
the wall and her legs, purring, running ahead then coming back. There
were other cats she’d seen too, around Leander and Epsilon’s apartment.
They had been everywhere; at least twenty cats.
They’d led her instantly, as if knowing what she wanted.
Needed.
She had followed them without hesitation, though, remembering their
conversations about the cats, watching their odd behavior. There was no
doubt in her mind that her boys were right. No doubt that these cats were
trying to lead her somewhere.
That they weren’t normal cats.
They led her to the side door of a building, and she pushed it open
with some trepidation, gasping as she saw even more cats inside. The
place was half-trashed, and once again, Madison wondered what,
exactly, she was supposed to find here.
She entered, slowly, running her gentle hands over the backs of the
cats. She poked around the room quietly, wrinkling her nose despite
herself. She wasn’t a snob, per se; she’d never been a snob, but this place
was a run-down pigsty, and despite her association with Leander,
 Mourning Doves 191
Madison remained something of a neat freak.
“Why in the world would you want me to come here, Leander?” she
muttered. She poked at the pile of blankets on the floor, her heart aching
for the person who had to live like this. Leander had explained that he, at
one point, had been in this situation too; and she remembered when
they’d pulled him from that, brought him onto TASK.
She sighed and rose once more, petting her hands over one or two of
the cats. “I’m sorry, Leander, but I don’t see whatever it is you wanted
me to find here,” she said. She headed over to the door and then
suddenly froze as her hackles shot up. Her hand drifted to her gun,
landing softly on the butt, and she half-turned.
Nothing there, but she felt like someone or something was…
watching.
It didn’t feel malicious, but it was very creepy, and she licked her
lips nervously, biting the lower one. She knew there were humans,
“normal” people with abilities—ESP-type abilities, the Different ones, as
they were known. She thought of the boy they’d found only days before.
Wait, no, weeks now. She thought about how Leander had known—
known—to find the man, to find the cats.
And now, this shivery, icy feeling down her back.
“Hello?” she asked softly, taking a step back into the room.
The cats meowed insistently, running suddenly to the back of the
room. She followed them hesitantly. “Hello?” she tried again, and she
felt something brush gently over the back of her neck.
Please don’t be scared.
She jumped. Someone’s voice, clear as if she’d heard it out loud. But
she was alone in the room, and that voice hadn’t been aloud.
“I’m not scared, exactly,” she replied, unsure if she was actually
being heard. “More like extraordinarily wary.”
She had the oddest sensation that she’d just amused the… whatever it
was and took another step into the room. Cautious, slow, she approached
the back wall and felt that cold, chilling brush against the back of her
neck once more. It pushed her, guiding her to an area of the room, and
192 Angela Romano
she let it, followed it. Her steps were uncertain, but she only stopped
when the cold chill suddenly let up off her neck, and she looked down.
Trap door. Trap door, well hidden under old carpeting, but partly
revealed. “Leander must have started to open this,” she muttered,
running a hand over it. It was locked, firmly, but Leander was not the
only one who’d come from a less than perfect past.
Madison knew how to pick a lock. She was rusty, but she knew how.
The entire time she worked at it, she could feel that odd thing or person
waiting impatiently off to one side.
Hurry. You need to hurry.
“I’m going as quickly as I can,” she muttered, at last letting out a
hard, victorious breath as she popped the lock.
“There, are you happy now?” she asked the thing in the room with
her she could only assume was Liaison. She looked into the trap door,
and gasped.
Inside were sketches of Montgomery, sketches of him with people
who were clearly Hunters, and a note. It was written shakily, and blood
dotted the paper in many places.
My name is Liaison, the paper read, and that is all you need to know
about me. I am Different, and I guess you could say I was a psychic, a
carnival fortune teller. But I don’t see the future; I see the present. I get
visions, and sometimes I can see into the past, and I have dreams.
These drawings are things I’ve Seen. I don’t know if I’ll live much
longer, and if I don’t, this is all the proof I can offer. Montgomery
Edwards is also a man named Monty, just “Monty,” a pimp and a drug
dealer. He sells the drugs that Hunters use. I’ve put a list of his
connections under this paper and the “images.” I used to be one of them.
Montgomery tried to use me to divine what you—whoever you really
are—were doing, to stay one step ahead. It backfired. I am not a
weapon, and I will not be used.
He is a traitor. He’s killed me and not just me, so you kill him.
I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.
And the cold chill in the room suddenly brushed gently along
 Mourning Doves 193
Madison’s hair and face, like the touch of a lover.
She glanced up at the touch. “I don’t know if this will be enough,”
she said. “We already have knowledge of a dirty past with him, but I still
don’t know.” She sighed and rose. “Thank you for trying, anyway,” she
said. “And don’t worry; we’ll fix this.”
Kill him.
“We can’t just kill him—”
Kill him or I will.
And there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that this was true. She gathered
the papers and gently closed the trap door again. “Are you planning on
lurking around forever?”
Until he’s dead, yes.
She sighed and closed her eyes. “Thank you for giving us this.” She
rose, tucking it away and heading for the door once more. “We won’t be
able to just kill him.”
Suddenly there was a roar, and the cold in the room began freezing.
She screamed as wind suddenly picked up in the room, gusting and
blowing violently.
No proof, not enough to put an end to a man who ruined lives, who
killed me? Then I’ll handle it the renaissance way, won’t I? the voice
demanded, and, just like that, it ended.
She did not run, but she left very quickly.
And as she left, the door slammed behind her, and for just one
moment, she could swear she heard the sounds of a young man crying.

MONTGOMERY appeared, surprising all of them.

It must have been another week at least before he made his
appearance, and in that time, they had all begun to recover to a degree;
they were still in pain and struggling, but at least Epsilon was lucid and
Wolf able to breathe without struggling.
194 Angela Romano
Mercedes was concerned about his arm. He hated to admit that, but
he was.
It was very possible that he’d never regain full, proper use of it; just
as he knew Wolf would never see out of his injured eye again. But other
than that, Wolf was okay. His heart had felt a heavy weight lifted from it
days ago when he’d heard his friend’s breathing ease. The swelling must
be going down.
Epsilon had been sitting up now too, was sitting up when
Montgomery entered the room. He’d calmed down, realizing the futility
of fighting the collar and the handcuffs, but the second Montgomery
stepped into the room, he lost it again. He came up off the bed with a
ripping, savage snarl.
“Epsilon!” Wolf yelled, and Mercedes jerked upright as well,
prepared to move or act in any way he could. Not that he could do much,
with the shape he was in, but he could try.
Montgomery met him head on as Epsilon crashed into him, throwing
both of them to the ground. There was another savage, screaming roar.
“You killed him, you son of a bitch!”
Wolf closed his eyes as the collar kicked in, but it didn’t stop
Epsilon; his enraged cries of pain echoed in the building and the static,
but he kept trying, body arching and writhing and twisting and
screaming, until Mercedes couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop it. Epsilon, stop it!”
Montgomery was struggling underneath the rippling, convulsing
form of Epsilon, the man’s teeth locked in Montgomery’s shoulder, and
the Hunters had sprung into action. A pair had converged on the
wrestling pair on the ground, trying to yank Epsilon off the man, and
more had surrounded Wolf and Epsilon, keeping them firmly on the
beds.
The sounds of the fight weren’t normal; there were the typical sounds
of struggle mingled with snarling and growling, raging and animalistic
hissing.
And then it was over as quickly as it began.
 Mourning Doves 195
Epsilon was slammed back down on the bed, arching and whining
with pain, and Montgomery was struggling to his feet. Mercedes was
pleased to see blood running down his face and shirt.
“Epsilon,” Wolf tried. “Epsilon, come on, man, just calm down.
You’re just managing to hurt yourself!”
Epsilon fell back at last, a snarling, panting heap. Mercedes watched
in near silence as the Hunters retreated back at Montgomery’s barked
command. Wiping the blood irritably away from his face and chest,
snarling and cursing, he approached the bed that Epsilon was still
writhing on and slapped him once, hard, across the face.
“Don’t you understand, boy?” He snarled. “It’s over; you lost.”
“Let him be, Montgomery,” Mercedes tried, but his usually
commanding, fierce voice was weak and shaky in pain. “You’re a lot of
things. Don’t add ‘bully’ to the list.”
Montgomery pulled away, approaching Mercedes’ bed in the way he
had Epsilon’s. He reached out, cupping Mercedes’ chin. “You. You’re
the one that sullied my file with that business with the police force.”
“It’s not my fault you’re unsubtle about taking bribes.”
Montgomery slapped him and knocked him on his wounded arm.
Mercedes yelled with pain and curled up, shuddering. Wolf heard
himself yelp the man’s name before he was even really aware of it.
“Let him be, damn it. Leave him alone!” He half-rose and then sank
back down as the Hunters started to converge on him. He growled and
jerked at his bonds, turning his head in an attempt to keep them all in
sight with his one working eye. Montgomery saw that and laughed
softly, approaching to run a thumb over the scar on Wolf’s eye.
“Get your hands off him.” Wolf startled at Mercedes’ low growl, at
the possessive intensity in it.
“Oh, is this your toy?” Montgomery purred. “I know once upon a
time he was, but I didn’t think you were playing again.”
“It doesn’t matter if he is or not; get your hands off him.”
Montgomery’s grip tightened on his chin and suddenly crushed his
lips to Wolf’s. Wolf stiffened and lurched, before snarling and fighting
196 Angela Romano
violently against the hold.
Montgomery let go and clenched a fist, slamming it into Wolf’s jaw
just as viciously as he’d kissed him. Wolf yelped as his lip re-split,
falling against the wall. He yelped yet again, and Montgomery grabbed
his hair.
“Used toys can still be fun to play with,” he hissed, and Wolf
realized with a horrible chill just what was going to happen to them.
Montgomery would rape Wolf, if only to enrage Mercedes. Just like
killing Leander had been mostly to break Epsilon. He would rape Wolf
and then kill all of them. He would “find” their bodies and blame the
deaths on Leander, even if the man wasn’t still alive.
And Montgomery would be home free.
Wolf wasn’t going down that way.
Hell no. Not that easily.
His eyes wandered, meeting Epsilon’s gaze and then Mercedes’.
They were both thinking, he realized, near to the same thing he was.
And none of them were planning on going down that easily.
They were soldiers, damn it. Trained fighters, not victims; not
helpless children being used as fodder.
Mercedes and Wolf moved at the same time. Neither had their hands
available to them, but Wolf slammed his head into the bridge of
Montgomery’s nose. It broke with a sickening noise, a soft, dull crunch
that was satisfying to hear. Montgomery cried out and lurched away.
The Hunters moved without a sound, but Mercedes and Wolf weren’t
the only two who had decided to go down fighting. Epsilon came up,
meeting one Hunter’s stomach with his shoulder. The two went over in a
growling heap. Wolf came up off the bed, sweeping Montgomery’s feet
out from under him, and smiled grimly as the man hit the ground on his
ass, struggling to regain his feet.
Another Hunter lunged forward, its teeth bared and aiming for
Wolf’s throat, and Mercedes caught him from the side in a full-on tackle.
Wolf watched in something that was half-fear and half-amazement as he
realized that Mercedes had taken advantage of the chaos to slip his cuffs
 Mourning Doves 197
around to the front, and now he wrestled with the Hunter on the floor and
got the chain around its throat.
Wolf didn’t get a chance to see him strangle the son of a bitch
because another Hunter’s claws latched into his shirt. They missed flesh
by inches, and Wolf lurched in reaction, throwing the Hunter. He
staggered as he recovered from the force himself, having no ability to
really balance himself out right now. The Hunter was up again instantly,
teeth bared as it rushed him a second time.
Blood flew to his left. He sidestepped the rushing Hunter, nearly
falling again, and looked in that direction.
Despite the collar, Epsilon had manipulated a hand, and its form
flickered between a clawed wolf’s paw and his own dark flesh. It had
plunged into the Hunter’s chest, ripped along the flesh to his navel. He
ripped out with a cry of pain and effort, his teeth sinking into the
Hunter’s throat.
The gunshot took Wolf on his bad side, which was understandable
since he’d not been able to see what Montgomery was doing out of that
eye. Of course, later, he would curse himself for not moving to keep an
eye on the man, but at the time, he was only grateful that he’d been
moving to finish the Hunter that had been attacking him. It was only
thanks to that, that the bullet took him along the ribs rather than in a
more vital area.
He spun to face Montgomery, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he was
going to do, hands bound and all.
The choice was taken away from him.
Wolf wasn’t sure what would have happened next if things had kept
going. The fight, at the moment, seemed to be going their way, but
Montgomery had the weapon and there were more Hunters. They still
had their hands bound, even Mercedes, and no way to change that.
It was a dice roll.
But suddenly the entire room grew very cold, freezing cold, and the
door began to rattle and pound as if something very big was on the other
side wanting in very badly.
Everyone froze, enemy and friend alike, and stared unblinking at the
198 Angela Romano
door. Epsilon started to growl, deep and low in his throat, and the
remaining Hunters bunched together like a pack. Wolf and Mercedes
moved closer together. Wolf could see Mercedes’ injured arm, how
swollen and wrong it looked. It must have taken enormous effort to twist
it around in front of himself, and Wolf was amazed the other man hadn’t
passed out. He leaned carefully on Mercedes, offering strength and
comfort and, more selfishly, trying to receive some. Mercedes leaned
back, giving him what he wanted and accepting what was offered.
The pounding stopped, and for just one moment, they all relaxed.
Then it blew open, flying off its hinges, and they realized it had just
been gathering its strength, whatever it was.
 Mourning Doves 199

LEANDER was quickly becoming claustrophobic.

He lay on his back in his little cell and tried not to think about how
long he’d been in here, or how close he was to just giving up and letting
the system railroad him, or how worn he was, or how damned small this
cell was.
Madison had never come back.
His hope that she would find that trap door, that maybe Liaison had
helped her the way he’d tried to help Leander—he wasn’t sure if it had
been pointless or not.
And he needed to know, if he was going to keep fighting this.
How long had it been since he’d sent Madison after those cats? A
week-ish? Something around there, right? Enough time for her to get
whatever it was Liaison was so eager to show him, and come back.
Right?
What if she already had come back? What if the stuff Liaison had
hidden away wasn’t enough?
What then? What then?
Leander rolled over and buried his face in his arms, his ears laying
flat along his skull and tail tucking between his legs. He whimpered
softly, wanting Epsilon now more than he had in his life.
200 Angela Romano
Wanting all of them.
But he knew, even if Madison could get him in the clear, that they
were all likely as dead as Liaison had become. Everyone was dead, and
Montgomery—well, he’d probably get off scot-free. Because really, he
was too important to be guilty.
He was quickly losing his will, and he could feel it.
The yelling was faint and distant, but he was still Kin, and he still
had fiercely sharp hearing. One large, fluffy ear twitched, rotated, as he
picked up on the faint sounds.
“Madison?” he muttered, pushing up off the cot and letting his other
ear lift and shudder as well, listening hard. She sounded urgent and
harried. An unusual thing to hear in Madison’s voice, that was certain.
He rose, though it took him two attempts, and moved to the front of
the cage, eyes closed as he listened hard.
“—telling you, if you don’t listen to me, Montgomery won’t be the
only one to end up dead—”
Leander’s eyes flashed open.
“Oh, damn, Madison. What did you do, girl?” he snarled, but the
spunk was back in his eyes, his voice. Something was happening, things
were moving along. It was enough to let him feel desire again: desire to
live, to prove that he was more and less than what they thought he was.
He began to pace once more, but the sound of his own footsteps was too
loud, and he couldn’t hear the argument outside. He stopped and
returned to gripping the bars, tail lashing, as if some part of his body
needed to be moving. The sounds of the argument never came any closer
to his cell, but nearly two hours later, footsteps did. He’d taken to
slumping on the cot, but now straightened again as, for the second time,
Madison came into the room. She was almost running and had a few of
the higher officials in TASK with her. Leander shied back on instinct,
ears flat, but Madison didn’t even stop. She ran to his cell and opened it.
“Leander, you need to find them,” she said, her voice strained and
tight. “If you don’t find them and stop him, Liaison’s going to kill him.”
“Let him,” Leander snarled before he remembered she wasn’t alone
with him. Watch your mouth, boy, unless you want this door to be
 Mourning Doves 201
slammed and Madison to be hurled in here with you.
“I can’t be sure he won’t kill the others, Leander,” she said, putting
her face inches from his own to speak in a soft, low voice. “He’s hurting
and desperate.”
Leander took a deep breath. “I have no idea how to find them,
Madison,” he said softly, helplessly. “Can’t follow the scent; there ain’t
one to follow. Not after this long. Not with how he’s been comin’ and
goin’. Wolf and Epsilon, they’ve been in every room in this place at least
once. There’s a chance I could pick up a stronger scent. That might tell
me what room they were in last, and from there I might be able to follow
it out—”
“There were Hunters in here,” Madison reminded sharply,
desperately.
“Oh yeah, believe me darlin’, I know. ‘S a big part of why I’m in this
pretty little apartment.”
“Shut up being a wiseass and listen for once in your stupid life. There
were Hunters here, and a couple got away, so couldn’t you follow their
scent out?”
Leander stopped, feeling very stupid for a moment.
“Yes,” he admitted with a grin and a blush. He stepped out of the
cell, rested a brief hand on Madison’s shoulder, and walked past the
others in the room without so much as a word.
He made his way up from the holding cells and back into the main
offices of TASK, flinching at first in the sudden light, brighter than
below and painful to his sharp senses. He snarled and waited until his
eyes had adjusted, then moved down the hallway until he came to the
same room Montgomery had been marching him to.
He picked up the scent of the Hunters and Montgomery instantly, not
surprisingly.
What was surprising was that the scent of the Hunters kept going,
right up to under the door. His lip curled in a half-snarl. For a time,
anyway, he must’ve had Epsilon and the others in here and kept them
guarded.
202 Angela Romano
Right under their fucking noses.
Leander swore and kicked the door once, hard, before he opened it to
get the scent of any surviving Hunters. Once he picked it up, he followed
it out a window, and, without checking to see if anyone was following,
he took off down the road after it.

THE door slammed into the back wall, narrowly missing Wolf’s head.
Mercedes grabbed him with his good hand and yanked him clear, but he
could still feel the wind of the door’s passing. He cried out in surprise
and stumbled, nearly knocking his companion over. Montgomery lifted
his gun, aimed it at the door.
Wolf knew within moments that there was no point. Whatever had
tossed that door as if it was made of straw was not something you could
put down with a bullet.
It crashed into the room and systematically began to destroy things.
And then it started on the people.
It blew the beds, the cots, upside down and tried to throw them, but it
seemed like that first blast had taken most of whatever this thing had in
the way of energy and it was quickly running out. It got them tipped
upside down, though, and knocked down every item that was on the
walls. Then the wind-like force spun like some nightmare out of The
Wizard of Oz, spinning every small, removable, breakable, loose item
into a tornado and making that tornado into a weapon. It spun wildly,
attacking the Hunters with force and items like some Carrie rip-off,
attacking, attacking, savagely, ruthlessly.
But it was getting tired. It was clearly struggling to maintain its force
and speed, and was flagging, dropping its weapons and losing force.
It wasn’t hurting them, though. It wasn’t targeting them in any way.
Epsilon had fallen back, behind one of the overturned cots, pulling
Mercedes with him, and Mercedes reached out to drag Wolf back too.
Mercedes put his body over Wolf’s, pinning him to the tipped cot, and
Epsilon leaned over both of them, protecting them with his body.
 Mourning Doves 203
Montgomery’s scream made Wolf flinch and huddle into the bed
despite himself, and he felt Mercedes press even closer. The man
screamed again as the freezing wind howled, drowning out the sound of
his agony.
He was glad he couldn’t see what was being done to the man. He
knew Epsilon could, though, and it was a testament to how bad it was
when a man who had just ripped a Hunter open with his bare hands
leaned over and began to retch violently at whatever he saw.
And just like that, it was over.
Wolf opened his eyes at the gentle touch to his hair that wasn’t
Mercedes. He saw nothing, but he could swear a soft, lilting male voice
whispered in his ear.
Sorry.
His jaw worked soundlessly for a moment, and then he shook his
head. “No,” he said, almost choking on the words. “No, I’m the one
who’s sorry. We’re all sorry we couldn’t save you. You felt you had to
do this. Whoever you were, I’m sorry you thought you had to do this.”
Arrogant wolf. But there was laughter and affection in the perceived
voice.
Then he heard Epsilon. “Fucking hell, he’s alive!”
Wolf jerked in surprise and felt Mercedes, above him, tense as well.
“That thing left him alive? After that?”
“Barely. If I didn’t have these fucking cuffs on—”
And just like that, they fell off.
Epsilon blinked in surprise, rubbing his arms, and then Mercedes
gave a low, growling hiss of pain as his own cuffs were removed. Then
Wolf felt his pair loosen, then again, as if something was struggling with
them, before falling off.
Lock that son of a bitch up for life, came the ghost of a whisper.
“Thank you.”
And then the force was gone.
204 Angela Romano

WHEN Leander and the others finally arrived at the small, destroyed
home in the outskirts of the city TASK was located in, they found the
bodies of Hunters sprawled over the ground, blood painting the area.
They found their missing agents, huddling together in front of the body
of Montgomery Edwards, who was clinging to life. They seemed to be
trying to keep him that way, though they were pretty beat up themselves;
broken, bleeding, raw, and battered. Leander flew into Epsilon’s grip,
and the two stood, clutching each other in sheer joy to see each other
alive, but then Epsilon’s legs gave out, and he collapsed, finally reaching
his own limits. Leander caught him before he fell, the two sinking to the
earth together slowly.
Madison helped Wolf struggle to his feet, her fingers running over
the scar ruining his eye with gentle, almost feather-light fingers, making
a soft moaning sound in empathy. Mercedes’ arm was lifted into a
makeshift sling the moment someone saw how bad it was, but the second
change in position made him come inches from passing out.
An ambulance was called, and Montgomery was taken to an
emergency room. TASK medical officials could handle the smaller
wounds on the others.
When they got back to TASK, Leander was instantly taken back into
custody, grabbed by guards.
“Stop! Let him go. You have no cause to take him back into—”
“Until this situation is resolved, then Leander is still to be held in
custody,” one TASK official told her calmly.
“Wolf, Mercedes, and Epsilon all told us Montgomery was the
person—”
“We need to hear the testimony from the men themselves, and
Montgomery’s version of things, and then, possibly, he can be let free.”
But Leander’s face was calm, his posture relaxed. “It’s all right,
Madison. Calm down,” he murmured. And it was okay, because Epsilon
was alive, and Wolf and Mercedes, and things would be okay.
 Mourning Doves 205

IT took precisely one month before the impromptu captives healed fully.
Leander was kept in custody for that full time, and while it nearly
drove him insane, he was uninjured and relatively good-natured about
the situation, all things considered.
After all, things had decided to take a turn for the better.
And Epsilon was alive. Leander was fine, so long as Epsilon was
alive. Wolf and Mercedes would be all right too, given time to heal and
rest, and Leander could survive a few weeks in a cage so long as his
friends were no longer in immediate danger.
Wolf had been right about his eye; his vision was lost in it for good.
The scar wasn’t bad, but it was painful-looking, and he suffered chronic
pain from it. The doctors told him in time it would likely fade, but there
was a possibility that he would always have fits of pain. Mercedes was
lucky that his broken arm healed well; it had to be re-broken, which was
not a pleasant experience, but was healing nicely after that.
Other things were slower to mend.
Wolf and Mercedes gave their testimony, told those above them in
rank and station that it had been Montgomery Edwards that was behind
their kidnapping and what had been done to them. They gave written and
audible testimony and then went their separate ways.
Between the circumstances surrounding Wolf, Mercedes, and
Epsilon’s kidnapping and the circumstances of how they were found, the
206 Angela Romano
papers and drawings, the written evidence, Montgomery’s past and the
word of, most primarily Mercedes, gave the officials of TASK no choice.
There was too much evidence to suggest that Montgomery was, in fact,
the one behind not only the leak in TASK but the attempted setup of
Leander.
Of course, it was still too much trouble to pursue legal consequences
for Montgomery, but he was dismissed from TASK and black-marked
from all government work; his previous record as being a dirty cop was
mysteriously leaked as was his involvement with selling drugs and
prostitution on the streets, something that was easily checked and proven
correct with a little directive work.
Once out of the holding cell, Leander collected Epsilon, who was
wheelchair bound for at least another few weeks, and took him home.
The man had physically and mentally exhausted himself fighting that
collar, regressing violently into the animal that lurked behind the human
he was.
Madison went home, where Alex hadn’t yet bothered to move out.
And then, she just never bothered to move out. And neither of them
really ever said anything suggesting or pertaining to it. It was strange to
Madison, how easily Alex fit into her life; the spunky, spirited girl
brought something into her home she’d never imagined could be there.
A happy ending, all the way around, it seemed.
But if things were that simple, things would be boring.
And as stated, not everything mended so easily.

LEANDER stretched, curling around his pillow and resisting the urge to
kiss it. It was peaceful, being back in his own room, in his own
apartment, knowing Epsilon was safe down the hall from him and that
Montgomery, when he finally recovered fully, would not be coming back
to TASK.
He felt secure, for the first time in a long time. It was a bittersweet
feeling, a lost, sad kind of feeling, in truth. The man, the boy, Liaison,
 Mourning Doves 207
was still dead. He’d been so angry, so desperate, that he’d stuck around
as a ghost. Ghosts, spirits, weren’t any more unusual than Kin or the like
nowadays, but it took a majorly strong will and a serious grudge to allow
someone to hang around, and from what Epsilon had said happened at
the end—Liaison had torn Montgomery’s arms and hands off and
mangled what was left beyond recognition—he’d expended some major
energy.
That boy had been felt such intense anger and emotion that he had
not only stuck around as a ghost, he’d nearly exhausted himself getting
revenge.
He had no idea what would happen to an exhausted ghost. He
thought it might not be pleasant.
He sat up at last, reluctant to leave his bed but knowing he had to.
Hell, he needed to get Epsilon out of bed too. The man had lost energy
and punch ever since he’d come back, and Leander knew why. It was
only partly the exhaustion and pain from his weeks of being tormented.
The rest of it was emotional and mental exhaustion. The collar had
launched him right back into his past at whatever lab had made him what
he was, and the animal in him had thrown its head up and slipped its bit
in rebellion at being contained.
The nightmares had been getting worse with the awakening of his
past, and it wasn’t helping him recover. It wasn’t helping Leander
recover, Epsilon’s screams waking him at night. He showered and threw
on his “Creatures Dig Me” T-shirt and a pair of shorts, tugging his soft-
colored hair into a braid and tugging it through the back of his black
R.O.U.S. baseball cap. There were holes cut in the top of the hat for his
ears, just as there were holes sewn into all of his pants for his tail. The
hat was a birthday present from Epsilon, knowing his secret love for the
movie The Princess Bride.
Emphasis on the word secret.
He moved downstairs at the smell of coffee, yawning softly.
“Mornin’,” he muttered.
“Or rather, good afternoon. I wondered if you were going to stay in
bed all day,” Epsilon said. The older man looked as sharp as Leander
looked messy, in black pants and a black T-shirt with a picture of a girl
208 Angela Romano
who seemed to be Little Red Riding Hood being licked by a wolf.
“Like you have any room to talk? And look, you made food.” He
grabbed a biscuit and dodged Epsilon’s smack to the back of his hand.
“You’re rude.”
“You love me all the same,” Leander muttered, mouth full. “You
doin’ okay and everything?”
Epsilon paused. “I—” He shrugged.
“No?” Leander offered gently, setting down the biscuit. “No one
expects you to be right away, Epsilon.”
“I’m fine.”
“Well. That’s awesome for you, considerin’ I went through less and
I’m not. Fine. And I know Wolf and Mercedes aren’t. Madison and Alex
are maybe the only two that are, and even that’s questionable.”
“I’ve been through worse.”
“I always guessed you had,” he replied, nodding sagely. “You know,
people—they don’t talk about those places.”
“They shouldn’t. It’s not a pleasant topic of conversation.” Epsilon
turned away from him.
Leander shrugged. “Neither is eating out of Dumpsters, but no one
ever let me forget I did it once. So what makes your background taboo
and mine perfectly acceptable?”
“Are you upset by that?”
Leander laughed softly, taking a seat and propping his feet on the
table. “Nah,” he said in a low voice, grinning down at the tabletop. “I
outgrew being upset about that kind of thing. It was just a question.”
“My past is taboo because people don’t know a lot about it and they
don’t want to. People can barely stand the thought of a monkey being
tested on for medical reasons, let alone a person being tested on for
reasons straight out of a sci-fi novel.”
“But you… it was rough there.”
“Yes, it was rough.” Epsilon turned back around, jaw set. “Leander, I
 Mourning Doves 209
don’t like to talk about it.”
“Maybe you need to.”
He slammed a hand into the countertop, making Leander jump, along
with several kitchen items.
“I don’t want to, and I’m not going to!”
“All right, all right.” Leander lifted his hands.
“Leander, look, I know—” He stopped, trying to find the right words.
“Just let it alone. I understand what you’re trying to do, but just let it
alone.”
Leander nodded. “All right, you’re the boss,” he said mildly enough.
Then there was a knock at the door, and all conversation was finished.
Leander jumped up to get it, and Epsilon chuckled.
“Next thing you know, you’ll start barking.”
“Oh, fuck you, all right?”

TWO weeks.
In two weeks, Mercedes would be going back to his home on the
outskirts of town, four hours away from Wolf.
But it may as well have been fourteen hours.
Wolf felt the distance between them, ever since they’d left the
hospital, every time he saw Mercedes in the TASK building. They barely
spoke; they barely even looked at each other.
The loneliness Wolf had felt in his apartment so many weeks before
was only intensified now. He wanted Mercedes back in this apartment,
wanted the familiar, comforting sound and feel of the man wandering
around, keeping him company.
His hand drifted to his lips, eyes closing. He could still imagine
himself able to taste Mercedes on them, as romantic and foolish a notion
as that could be.
210 Angela Romano
If he was being honest, all he could taste was the alcohol he was
downing right now.
He looked at the label on the bottle, trying to read it. It was like
looking through a tunnel, a strange, warping sensation that made him
almost vomit. He had absolutely no depth perception, but that was
ignorable compared to this. Well, ignorable except that he had walked
into more than one wall. And door. And table. And TV. And Madison,
once, which had nearly killed her. He actually preferred hitting inanimate
objects.
Before, when he was hurt, there was a pair of hands there to catch
him, a pair of hands to soothe away the hurt.
He wanted those hands back. He wanted those hands, that voice,
those lips, that gentle, kind warmth.
He threw the bottle across the room and dropped his head into his
hands. He just wanted Mercedes again, and he’d been viciously, harshly
reminded of that fact when he’d gotten into the shower with the man
and….
He groaned and fisted his hands in his hair.
Son of a bitch. What was he supposed to do?
Common sense said that the obvious choice was to let Mercedes go
home, let this entire thing blow over. Common sense said that pursuing
anything would end up the exact same way it had last time.
And fuck, he couldn’t do that again.
He couldn’t survive that again.
He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he grabbed a mop
and a towel, picking up shards of broken glass and cleaning up the
spilled liquor. Thank goodness for wood floors.
He tossed the entire towel, rather than tossing the glass inside.
He managed to cut himself anyway, because he couldn’t see well and
managed to place his hand down on a piece he missed. Swearing, he
jerked away and stuck his hand in his mouth.
He found a bandage inside his pantry and was struggling with
 Mourning Doves 211
wrapping his hand wrong-handedly when there was a knock at the door,
and his semi-drunken pity party was interrupted.

“ALEX? Alex, I don’t smell smoke. Weren’t you cooking today?”

Madison kicked the door of their apartment closed, dropping her bags
onto the table. Two weeks since the entire situation had blown over,
since Alex had taken to being something of a fixture in Madison’s home.
There was no reply to her call, and she relocked her front door, once
again calling for her lover.
If Madison were Kin, she would have smelled something off
immediately.
But as it was, TASK agent or no, she didn’t have any sense of a
problem.
She headed through her living room, stripping her coat and dropping
it over the back of the couch. “I thought you said you were going to
make—” She stopped, words dying in her throat as she realized the
kitchen was empty.
“Alex? Alex, sweets, are you all right?” She frowned, realizing the
oven was left on. She shut it off and then headed into the bedroom.
Empty.
Had Alex left and forgotten to turn off the oven? Not something that
was hard to imagine, knowing Alex. But now she was starting to feel that
something was very wrong. She lifted her cell phone, calling Leander.
The phone rang a few times, and then he picked up, sounding stressed.
“Better be important, Maddi.”
“Madison, Leander. Is something the matter?”
“I’m not really sure yet, honestly. Epsilon and I just got this letter…
why are you callin’?”
“I can’t find Alex.”
There was a pause. “What, you don’t think she just ran to th’ store or
212 Angela Romano
somethin’?”
“She left the oven on,” came the low reply. “I don’t see any evidence
of a struggle, but there’s—”
“Something putting your hackles on edge?”
“Yes.” She sounded a little relieved he understood, at least to a point.
“Epsilon and I can come over, if you want. I think we both need t’
get out of the house, and… maybe you need to read this letter we got,
anyway.”
Madison nodded, sinking onto the edge of the bed.
“You gonna call Wolf and Mercedes?”
“I think perhaps it’s best if those two are left alone for a bit,”
Madison replied. “If my suspicions are right, then we can give them a
call.”
In truth, she’d been concerned about Wolf for some time now, and
Mercedes to a smaller degree; Mercedes seemed more capable and
certainly more composed about the situation. Wolf had always been,
under his hard, composed exterior, strongly vulnerable. She knew that
losing Mercedes once had broken his heart, and going through it again…
well. She didn’t know what had occurred between them, but something
had, and Wolf had retreated into himself after it.
“All right. We’ll be over just as soon as I can calm Epsilon down.”
“He’s upset?”
“I’ll explain when we get there.” And Leander hung up. Madison
fingered the phone for a heartbeat, then sighed and hung up herself. She
bit her lower lip for a second, and then began to search the house. For
anything out of place. Anything that would tell her what had become of
the woman she was so quickly becoming fond of.
 Mourning Doves 213

WOLF stared in surprise at Mercedes, and then took a step back from the
door.
“I—hi.”
“Hi,” Mercedes replied. “You look… your eye.” He said softly in
regret, and he reached out without meaning to as if to caress the scar.
Wolf pulled back a little, and the hand stopped partway in the air,
then lowered again. “Do you think I could come in? We need to talk.”
“We do?” But Wolf opened the door further to let his superior and
companion into the apartment.
“I think so, actually.” Mercedes closed the door softly and turned.
“You want a drink or something?”
“I want you to sit down before you fall down. You look pretty pale.”
“It’s the vision. It takes some getting used to.”
“You still look pale.”
“I’m dizzy.” He leaned on the counter. “What did you want to
discuss?” He needed a smoke.
“Dizzy from your eye or from this?” Mercedes lifted a bottle and
shook it gently.
“I haven’t drunk much. What do you want?”
214 Angela Romano
Mercedes flinched. “Look, we haven’t had a lot of time to discuss
what happened a few nights ago—”
Wolf shook his head. “There’s nothing there, Mercedes. We’ve
already had this conversation.”
“We sort of have.”
“Sort of nothing, Mercedes. We’ve talked this thing to death.”
Mercedes sighed, grabbing Wolf’s arm gently. “Wolf, please.”
Wolf snapped Mercedes’ grip with skill, spinning around to face the
man. “No, Mercedes. Don’t do this to me, okay? Not again. We—I—
made a mistake. I was exhausted and frustrated, and I made a mistake,
and I’m sorry. Just leave. Walk out of here, go home, and forget about
me, forget about us, just like you did last time.” Wolf took a deep breath,
leaning back on the counter.
“Wolf, I never forgot about you or forgot about us,” Mercedes
breathed, taking a step back. “I can’t believe you ever thought that.”
“I hoped you had,” Wolf replied, teeth gritted. “It would be better if
you did.”
“Better?” Mercedes threw up his hands. “How the hell is it ‘better’
when we’re both miserable and can’t stop fucking pining over each
other!”
“I have never pined in my life. That word is reserved for romance
novels and fainting heroines.”
“I think Madison would resent that remark.”
“I said ‘fainting heroines’; that doesn’t imply that there aren’t ones
that don’t faint.”
Mercedes chuckled, shaking his head. “You can’t be that drunk if
you’re so eager to bicker and change the subject.”
“So who says this isn’t me drunk?”
“Wolf, you’re a friendly drunk. You get more and more friendly and
then you pass out. You don’t hit anything like obstinate. Hell, the worst
you get is flirty.”
 Mourning Doves 215
“And how do you know what kind of drunk I am?”
“Because I know you!” Mercedes threw up his hands. “I’ve known
you for years, Wolf. I love you no matter what you try and call it.”
“Oh you do not,” Wolf snapped, all good humor gone. “We never
loved each other; we just had a good couple of fucks.”
“Wow, remarkably cynical coming from you.”
“Being dropped on my ass and betrayed by my lover does that to
me.”
“Betrayed? What the hell does that mean?”
“Betrayed. Backstabbed, double-crossed, lied to, cheated, tricked…
you know, betrayed?”
“And when did I do any of these things?”
Wolf turned to stare at him in slack-jawed astonishment. “I don’t
know, Mercedes, maybe when you condemned my team the first time it
looked like they’d done something shady? Accusing me of allowing the
murder of other agents in TASK, dropping me on my ass the moment
you got a higher position—”
“Excuse you, we both agreed that was better—”
“Only because you were ready to send Epsilon and Leander to the
chopping block! How was I supposed to stay in a relationship with a man
who doesn’t trust me!”
“I never mistrusted you. I did what I had to do in my position, which
was investigate every possibility. The evidence pointed to Epsilon. What
the hell was I supposed to do?”
“Trust me when I told you he was innocent!”
“I trusted you this time!”
They both went silent at that.
“I came down here to you because I believed you. I believed you last
time too, but you saw just how badly your hands can wind up tied in that
situation. I came down here to help. I came down here because…
because I wanted to be close to you again. Because you needed someone
216 Angela Romano
on the inside who believed you. Because—” He stopped, shaking his
head.
Wolf was staring at him, silent. “Because?” He prompted.
“Because I trust you. I trust you completely, Wolf.” Mercedes
reached out to him, and this time his hand didn’t hesitate. It landed,
butterfly light, on Wolf’s cheek. Wolf shrank back and then leaned into
it, letting his breath out.
“I always have, always will. Fuck, man, when I walked out before, I
thought I was going to just lose my mind, the few years I had to wake up
without you.”
“Mercedes, I don’t want—”
“Yes, you do want.” He took a step closer, pressing Wolf closer to
the counter, slowly pressing his body closer to the man who had been his
lover, had been a friend.
“I—” he tried, words failing and growing softer. “I—”
“Hush.”
Mercedes kissed him softly and then kissed him again more firmly.
Wolf responded even though he didn’t want to, felt his body stirring at
the familiar presence. His arms lifted, wrapping around the man’s arms,
fingers twining in the soft, prematurely gray hair. Mercedes shivered at
the touch, pulling away slowly.
“Told you,” he breathed very softly, and Wolf laughed, the sound
almost a sob.
“You can’t do this and leave again.”
“Who said I wanted to leave?”
“Wanting doesn’t necessarily—”
“Wolf, things are a little different now,” Mercedes said, brushing his
lover’s hair out of his face. “Before, I was new to the position. I was
unsteady on my feet. I’ve had this position for years now. I can go where
I want and do what I want, and no one’s going to get in my face about it.
Especially after this business with Montgomery. I can throw this in some
important faces.”
 Mourning Doves 217
Wolf stroked Mercedes’ face slowly, letting his fingers linger over
the man’s lips. Mercedes nipped him, and Wolf chuckled, pulling his
fingers away like a startled animal. Mercedes grabbed the retreating
wrist and began to press kisses up along the skin of the man’s arm.
“Mercedes. Mercedes, stop, you have to stop—”
“Don’t run away from me, Wolf. Not again.”
“I can’t. We can’t.”
“Wolf—”
“I need a smoke.”
“Stop it.” Mercedes caught him again. “You taste like an ashtray
when you smoke.”
“You won’t be kissing me, so you won’t care.”
“I plan on doing a lot more than kissing you.”
“Damn it, Mercedes, let go of me!”
“Never.”
Again, silence fell, and Wolf shivered. “You did.”
“I was an idiot.”
“It hurt.”
“I know. I was there.”
“You say you trust me. How can I trust you again?”
“Wolf, I’d like to think I did a pretty damn good job of proving
myself through this entire situation. Look, here, just let me stay a few
weeks. Until you get used to your vision being messed up. You need a
seeing-eye dog for a little bit. After that, we can figure out where to go.
Okay?”
“Just to help me out.”
“Exactly. Just a friend playing guide dog until you’re more adjusted.”
“I can still see, you know.”
“Humor me.”
218 Angela Romano
Wolf laughed softly but kept putting space between them. “Just a few
weeks.”
“Then we’ll see what happens?”
“I already know what’ll happen. But yes.”
“All right, then. I’ll move some of my stuff in here tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.” And Wolf allowed Mercedes to press a kiss to his hair.

BY the time Leander and Epsilon appeared at her front door, Madison
was nearly ready to give up and start a search on her own. She knew it
would likely be futile, but she was antsy, and realized that she might not
be thinking all that rationally.
As it was, they arrived before she could do anything stupid, rapping
at her door.
Madison let them in, smirking as Leander entered as a small, merrily
trotting fox and Epsilon followed carrying his companion’s strange
jacket, backpack, probably his weapons somehow, and a bag, she saw
with a laugh, of candy.
“No wonder you two took so long.”
“You know Leander; can’t go an hour without food. Preferably
sweets.”
Madison took a moment to inspect the pair. Leander was a fox, but
she’d seen him in the past few weeks. He had a pale, worn look under his
usual smile and laughter; there was something bothering him, and he was
still recovering. Physically, he looked well enough; skinnier, tired, yes,
but being home again was helping, and being with Epsilon too. The
immense pain he’d been in for so long had left its mark on him; he was
still, and probably always would be to a degree, a little stiff, had a little
difficulty moving in the morning. But he had recovered nicely and was
continuing to recover nicely. Perhaps, soon, even that stiffness would go
away.
Epsilon looked worse than his partner; strained and tired, his
 Mourning Doves 219
normally dark skin was pale, and there was a listless weariness to his
movements. He was jumpy and growled distantly under his breath at
almost everything. He was thin and scarred, most especially his throat
and wrists; it made her breath suck in sharply every time she saw them.
He must have gone crazy, to leave ragged tears in his flesh like that.
Leander ran into the bedroom she shared with Alex, hopping up right
onto her bed.
“You put mud on that sheet and I’ll shave you,” Madison threatened.
Leander whined and pinned his ears at her, and then he Changed and was
sitting on her bed. He looked a bit better than she remembered, and she
smirked. “I will still shave you.”
Leander stuck his tongue out and reached for the candy Epsilon still
held. “So, you want us to find lover girl?”
“Did you smell anything—odd—when you came in?”
Leander shook his head. “No, and I didn’t smell fear or anything else
coming in, either. Just you and Alex.”
“Did you smell her outside?”
“No, but I wasn’t smelling for her,” Leander admitted. “There are
about a billion and one scents on that sidewalk, but I know Alex’s.”
“Are we still leaving Mercedes and Wolf out of this?” Epsilon asked,
studying knick-knacks on the shelf. He was running a finger along little
figurines of animals.
“Yours?”
“Alex’s,” Madison said. “You should know better than to think I
collect those things.”
Leander grinned. “You don’t seem incredibly concerned.”
“No blood, no signs of a struggle, no odd scents, no sign of a break-
in, nothing out of the normal. I’m assuming she just went somewhere.”
“You’re hoping. You never answered me.”
“That’s because your partner butted in.”
Epsilon snorted.
220 Angela Romano
“Let’s see if there’s any need to involve all of us in this first,”
Madison replied, slanting him a glance. “If we think there’s anything
wrong, we’ll see about bringing them out.”
Leander shared a quiet, secret glance with Epsilon, and then nodded.
He took his jacket and weapons from the man.
“First, let’s see this letter you were talking about,” Madison
suggested. Leander instantly froze, and Epsilon looked away, reaching
into his back pocket.
He handed the envelope to her, and she pulled out the paper inside. She
gasped softly, despite herself, when she read it. It was a note from the
TASK head himself, and while it was addressed to Epsilon and Leander,
it referenced all of them.
It explained what they already knew, that Montgomery would not
have legal action taken against him but would no longer be allowed to
work in government once he recovered, but that they were—they all
were, from Leander to Alex—to appear at the TASK main conference
room in a week. They were to receive a public apology for everything
that had happened.
“This is a bad thing why?” she asked, raising her brows at them.
Leander sighed, his ears back. “It just… things don’t work this way
for us,” he murmured at last. “And we’re not really sure—Epsilon and I,
anyway—that we’d accept it.”
“Why not?” Madison demanded, throwing her hands up.
“After everything?” Epsilon put in quietly. “We just want it to go
away.”
“But this would clear your record—”
“Maybe.” Leander finished shrugging into his coat, turning. “We
ready to go?”
Madison sighed and handed Epsilon his envelope back. The man
tucked it into his pocket, and then Leander led them all outside.
Epsilon and Leander began to sniff the air the moment they stepped
outside, neither Changing. Madison knew that their sense of smell was
just as keen without doing so, and she only stood back and let them go.
 Mourning Doves 221
Leander picked up her scent first, but Epsilon led the way; they
swerved down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the crowds and
darting across roads with no care for traffic, much like dogs, while
Madison snarled at them both for being idiots.
“Do I have to keep you on leashes?” she snapped, the fourth or fifth
time this happened. Epsilon raised a brow at her, and Leander stuck out
his tongue.
“Do you want us to find Alex or not?”
“Not by killing yourselves. I’d like you in one piece when we find
her—both of you.”
“Takes more ’n a car to wipe us out, Maddi.”
“Madison.”
Leander just laughed and kept walking. Epsilon fell back to walk
alongside Madison, cutting his long stride in half. She was tall, but he
was taller.
“He’s not going to get hit.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “It’s nice to be able to worry about him
over mundane things again.”
“I know.” He tucked his hands in his back pockets, his coat moving
with the action of his arms to reveal his weapon, tucked into his pants.
She sighed quietly, looking up at him; a man of barely thirty who’d spent
his entire life like this with a gun by his side. Fighting.
She felt absurdly sad for a moment. It wasn’t as if she and him were
much different, really, but she hadn’t been forced to claw her way for a
handhold in TASK her entire life, hadn’t been forced to struggle to keep
her head above water.
His blue eyes flicked over to her, feeling her gaze on him. “What?”
“I just….” She shrugged. “Nothing. Just… thoughtful after
everything, I suppose.”
He nodded, turning away to watch Leander half-run ahead of them.
“I think we’ve all been,” he said, voice quiet.
“You two doing all right?”
222 Angela Romano
He nodded. “Recovering. Leander’s gotten clingy, after everything.
And not just to me. To the house too. At least he recognizes that he
needs to get out, needs to get back to normal.”
“Or as normal as we ever get.”
Epsilon’s laughter was low and soft. “Or that.”
They walked in silence a few more minutes, watching Leander lose
the scent. Epsilon found it again for him, and Leander continued to lead
them.
“What about this public apology you’re meant to be getting?”
“We’re. We’re meant to be getting.”
“You two still not planning on going?”
“It won’t matter, Madison,” Epsilon said. “They’ll make their
apology, and then the first time anything out of the ordinary comes up,
they’ll be looking at us sideways again.”
“Epsilon, they have proof that Montgomery’s been behind everything
against you two—”
“That doesn’t matter, Madison.” He shrugged. “There’s been so
many times I’ve just considered… leaving. Taking Leander and leaving
TASK, living a boring, normal life in an apartment we paid for, and just
living.”
“Why don’t you then?”
Epsilon shrugged. “I don’t think either one of us would be happy
with that. Leander loves doing this.”
“You don’t.”
Epsilon was quiet for a while. “No. I do. I just dislike having to
prove myself constantly,” he said.
“Well, maybe things will change now,” she suggested.
“I doubt it will.”
“Epsilon, look, you won’t know unless you go there and find out.
And if they’re taking the steps to reach out and mend bridges, then you
should meet them halfway.”
 Mourning Doves 223
“‘They’?”
“The officials of TASK.”
Epsilon snorted. “I’ve been trying to meet them halfway for years.
Both of us have.”
“I promise you things are different.” Madison stopped, turning
Epsilon around to face her. “If I’m wrong, then you two do whatever you
need to, but you should at least try, even just this last time.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Leander’s
voice.
“You two gonna kiss or follow me? Trust me, Epsilon, I think Alex’d
be pretty upset at both of you.”
“Wiseass. Why are you talking instead of scenting?” Epsilon replied,
pulling away from Madison—hell, all but shrugging her off.
“Did you lose her again?” Madison asked.
“Just the opposite. Her scent gets real strong here. The problem is
there’s another one just as strong.”
Epsilon frowned and came closer, and then instantly growled when
he picked up whatever Leander had. “Motherfuck, that bitch won’t die!”
Madison’s blood ran cold.
“Sasha? But you said you nearly decapitated her!”
“I did. Apparently ‘nearly’ wasn’t enough.”
“Rarely is.” Leander stretched, popping his neck from side to side.
He grinned and pricked up his ears. “What say we jump on back in up to
the neck?”
“Leander—”
“Oh come on, Epsilon, get back on the horse.”
“Can you track them?” Madison asked.
“Of course I can track them.” He grinned and winked. “Epsilon can
too, but he’s letting me do all the work.”
Epsilon snorted.
224 Angela Romano
“You want I should follow?”
“I want Madison to go home,” Epsilon said abruptly, and Madison
stiffened. “Leander and I can handle Sasha and any little friends she
might have brought with her.”
“Just the two of you?”
“When she ran off from me, she was very badly injured. There hasn’t
been enough time for even a Hunter to have recovered fully, not from a
wound like hers. It’s easier for the two of us to handle this without
having to worry about someone else—”
“As if I’m not as fully trained and capable as you both.”
“You are, Madison. Nobody’s trying to say that,” Leander gritted
out. “It’s just that Epsilon and I, we know each other. We understand
each other, how we fight, how we move. It’s not that you can’t fight. It’s
that we’re not used to another person.”
Madison scowled. “I want to find her.”
“I know you do, Madison, but right now it’s better if you just let
Leander and me handle it,” Epsilon said.
“I can’t just let you two go rushing in there clashing your way
through everything.”
“Madison, I understand you’re worried about her, but honestly, it’s
better to just let us do what we do best.”
Madison huffed, gritting her teeth. “You just plan on making me wait
in my tower like a damsel in distress?”
“No, I expect you wait with Mercedes and Wolf.” Leander was
already sliding off his backpack, pulling out his cell phone.
“You can’t make them babysit me like a child!”
“If it keeps you from going with us, yes.”
“I have every right to go with you—”
“Not if we ask you not to—”
“Or to go home!”
 Mourning Doves 225
“I don’t trust you to stay there. And if something attacks you, I don’t
want you to be alone.”
“I can handle myself!”
“So can Wolf, Mercedes, and I, and we all got brought down by these
things!” Epsilon snapped. “Madison, this isn’t a question of ‘can you
handle what the boys can’. We’re not on the school playground!”
“I’m very aware of that!” she snarled right back. “But Alex is my
responsibility.”
“Alex is a big girl,” Leander put in softly. “Madison, it’s no more
your fault she’s missing than it’s ours that that boy, Liaison, died. It took
a very long time for that to become clear in my brain, but it’s the truth:
it’s not our fault he’s dead. It’s Montgomery’s, and his alone. He’s
paying for that. And this, Alex being taken, that’s all on Sasha, Madison.
You thought she was gone; we all did. That doesn’t make you
responsible for this.”
Madison pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Now,” Epsilon finished softly, touching her shoulder. “Do you want
us to continue to stand around arguing, or do you want Alex back?”
“Fine.” Madison’s voice was clipped and hard. “Fine, then, call
them.”
Leander let out a soft breath of relief and dialed. The phone was
picked up on the second ring by, to his surprise, Mercedes. It was to his
surprise because he’d called Wolf first, and while a few years ago
hearing Mercedes pick up at Wolf’s place might be normal, not so much
anymore.
“I… uh… hey, Mercedes, ’sup?” he recovered at last, and Mercedes
laughed heartily on the other end.
“Don’t worry, I’ve not taken advantage of your friend’s gentle
innocence,” Mercedes teased. “I’m just staying here a few weeks until
Wolf gets used to his new… way of seeing things.”
Leander winced. “Bad pun, my friend. Look, babe, we’ve got a pretty
major problem on our hands, here, and I need you two to come get
Madison.”
226 Angela Romano
“Come get? Where are you, and who all’s there?”
“Epsilon an’ me, with her. We’re, um—” He stopped and read off the
street name.
“That’s a little ways from her apartment. What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you two when you get here.”
“You’re assuming we’re coming.”
“Ha ha. Just get down here.”
“Let me see if Wolf’s up to it. In all seriousness, Leander, he’s
rough.” Leander felt a prick of guilt at the words. He remembered
Madison’s reluctance to bother them and realized there were probably a
few reasons why that was.
“Look, Mercedes, you don’t gotta—”
“Leander, if you need a pickup, it’s not a big deal. I just need to see
if Wolf is up to coming with me or being left alone.”
“Everything okay?” Epsilon asked as Mercedes left the phone for a
moment.
“I think Wolf’s feeling pretty bad,” Leander admitted. “But
Mercedes, at least, should be available for a pickup.”
At the moment, Mercedes came back on. “You there?”
“There some reason I shouldn’t be?”
Mercedes sighed. “Knock it off, Leander. I’ll be on my way in about
ten.”
“Wolf coming with you?”
“Possibly.”
“Well, that’s so vague it just might work.”
“Oh, hush and wait.” Mercedes hung up the phone.
Leander flipped his phone shut as well, tucking it back in his little
pack. He swung the pack over his shoulder once more. “Mercedes is on
his way.”
And indeed, Mercedes pulled up about an hour later. He stepped out,
 Mourning Doves 227
and Leander could see Wolf in the passenger seat, but his seat was tilted
and his head leaned back. He was, Leander could see even through the
car’s windows, pale.
“Should you have brought him?”
“He’ll be fine. He needs to start getting out,” Mercedes replied.
Leander chuckled a little. “Nice to know Doc Mercedes is on the
job.”
“Wiseass.” Mercedes extended a hand to Madison.”After you, my
dear.”
“And you call him names,” Madison snorted, but headed for the car.
She bent by the passenger window to speak softly to Wolf, who opened
his eyes and tipped his head so the good one focused on her. He smiled a
little at whatever she said, and then she climbed into the back, sitting
behind him.
Mercedes grinned and then looked back at Epsilon and Leander, who
had already turned to finish tracking the scent. “You two gonna be okay
alone?”
“There’s no guarantee we’ll even find her today,” Leander reminded.
“The scent might drop off halfway and we’ll have to find it again.”
“But if you do find her.”
“Then we’ll be fine.” Leander gave Mercedes’ arm a pat. “We might
be just getting back in the rodeo, Mercedes, but this isn’t our first bull
ride.”
“I know,” Mercedes said. “I worry; it’s natural.”
“Go on. Wolf doesn’t look so hot,” Leander said, instead of replying.
“Like I said, he needs this.”
“‘This’ is not sitting in a hot car while you argue with me. Go home.”
Mercedes paused, visibly torn for a moment, and then sighed. “Fine,
all right. But call, for fuck’s sake, if anything goes wrong.”
“Well, if anything goes wrong we might be a little busy handling it.”
“You know what I mean.”
228 Angela Romano
“I know what you mean. We’ll be all right, honestly. Go on.”
Mercedes nodded and patted Leander’s shoulder. Then he climbed
back into the car and peeled away. Leander watched as the car pulled off,
then glanced at his partner.
“Ready?”
“As I can be.”
Leander quirked a grin and then bolted. Epsilon was barely a half-
step behind him, and both were moving faster than Madison would ever
have been able to. Yet another part of the reason why they’d not wanted
her to come along; they’d have been forced to slow down for her. Not
that Madison was out of shape; Kin were simply faster. Epsilon actually
had to slow down for Leander. The pair ran in tandem across the side
streets and down alleyways. They ran past the lake and ended up having
to circle back, circling around to the other side. Luckily, the scent
resumed there.
They followed it into the shallow woods around the area, and back
into deeper woods still, not stopping, not even pausing. Whatever was
going to come was going to come, and they may as well get it over with.
They only skidded to almost violent halts when they came to the
edge of the “forest,” finding a small cabin there, half-hidden. They
stopped almost in tandem, Epsilon purposely coming to a halt a few
steps in front of Leander, so that the smaller male was just barely behind
him and to his right. It was an unconsciously protective pose, and it
made Leander smile a little. In his turn, Leander did what the person in
the back is supposed to do: he watched Epsilon’s back. His ears swiveled
around behind him to catch any sound that might come up on them, one
to the side for the same reason in another direction, and his .475 came
out of its holster, ready to fire in any direction but the one Epsilon was
facing. That was Epsilon’s concern, and, unlike his partner, Leander was
not always so comfortable putting his companions in the way of potential
friendly fire.
He was a good shot, but he didn’t ever want to have to find out how
good. Epsilon already knew he was a crack shot.
“Can’t believe this bitch won’t just stay down,” Leander muttered
 Mourning Doves 229
absently, and Epsilon grunted an agreement.
“Actually, our attempts to keep Alex from her probably only made
her more determined. And injured, like one of us would, she’s operating
more with animalistic thought processes.”
“So she has even more drive to claim Alex.” Leander finished the
thought.
Epsilon nodded, not pulling out his own weapon but resting his hand
near the hilt of his swords. “It makes her all the more dangerous.”
“Yeah? Babe, we’re dangerous too.” Leander grinned wolfishly and
nudged his partner. “You ready? Let’s go.”
Epsilon nodded and advanced, slowly, with Leander barely a step
behind him. The two split as they got nearer the cabin, Leander
vanishing into the woods; Epsilon moving right at the front door.
Leander slipped around, silent as—well, a fox—and paused mere
steps from the rear entrance. He’d know when it was time.
He watched the windows for any sign of movement, trying not to
burst in completely blind. He had the feeling that Epsilon was doing
much the same, and thus why nothing had gone down yet. He could see
nothing, but then, there wasn’t much light. Closing his eyes, he listened
hard but couldn’t hear anything abnormal or out of place in the woods
around him, either. He waited another few heartbeats, and then he heard
the sound of the front door slamming open hard and knew the time for
waiting and planning was over.
The chances of Sasha being in there alone with Alex were slim, and
Leander knew that there were only so many things that would happen
once he joined Epsilon in this rather hostile takeover.
The first scenario was the best case: Sasha, wounded and worn,
would not be capable of rational thought, would be running on simple
instinct. In that case, there might be one or two other Hunters in there
with her, members of her Pack, easily taken and easily killed. Alex
would be hurt, perhaps, but not injected in any way with that drug, and
getting her out would be a black-and-white matter.
Or, things could be roughly the same, but Alex was drugged and
already affected by the same drug that destroyed Sasha, and in the end
230 Angela Romano
they had to put Alex down too. Madison wouldn’t be too damn happy
with them for that one. Neither would Leander be happy with himself.
There had been one death because of this whole mess, and that was too
many already.
Or Sasha could have recovered, healed to the point where she was
functional once more and methodically and intelligently taken Alex. This
was the second-to-worse case scenario, because in it Alex was still
salvageable, but probably badly hurt and maybe raped, and there were
lots of Hunters protecting of the two women. If Sasha had gotten her
entire Pack to protect her, then that was a damned ant colony of Hunters
like back at the warehouse, and Epsilon and Leander would probably
have to retreat. Or at the very least fall back and strategize.
The worst possibility was also very similar to the one above it on
Leander’s mental list. But if all that occurred and Alex, once again, had
that stuff in her system, there’d be nothing they could do but blow up or
set fire to the lot of ’em, and let Alex die, once again.
This all flashed through his mind in moments, and then Leander was
coming in through the window, rolling to absorb impact and coming up
with his gun steady and level, ready.
 Mourning Doves 231

THE ride back to Wolf’s apartment was a quiet one indeed. Wolf was in
pain and a little carsick, and Madison was so concerned and frightened in
the backseat that she was thin-lipped and said barely a word.
Mercedes tried to lull them both into conversation a couple of times,
but failed miserably, and the only words spoken were from Madison,
when they were home once more. She informed them she was going to
take a bath, and Mercedes offered to make some lunch for all of them.
Wolf simply went into the living room, and Mercedes bit his lip in
concern when the man flopped onto the couch.
Wolf had so much less spirit than he’d had, and Mercedes couldn’t
help but wonder if this was caused by his presence in the home. He knew
Wolf didn’t, or hadn’t, wanted him there at first. He knew that Wolf was
hurting and confused. Mercedes understood that very well right now. He
just hoped he wasn’t doing the wrong thing by sticking around.
Mercedes had the bad habit of doing the wrong thing.
He finished making subs for lunch, bringing Wolf’s out to him and
dropping it on the table. “There you are, your highness,” he drawled,
sitting down on the other end of the couch. Wolf’s good eye flicked to
him, and the man sat up slowly.
“I’m not hungry, thank you.”
“Oh, come on. I went through all the trouble of making it.”
232 Angela Romano
“You eat it then. Or give it to Leander when he gets back before he
starts gnawing through the table legs.”
“It’ll be soggy and gross by then.”
“Do you think that’ll stop him from eating it?”
“Point noted, though I really wish it wasn’t. That’s nasty.”
“It’s Leander. What do you want?” Wolf pointed out. He sobered.
“I’m really just not hungry, Mercedes, but thanks.”
Mercedes studied his friend in concern for a moment, and then he
reached out a hand to stroke along the man’s face. Wolf flinched back on
instinct, and Mercedes let the hand fall.
“Wolf?”
“I just don’t feel so wonderful still,” Wolf said.
“Wolf, you can’t mope around and then be surprised when you feel
like shit.”
“I don’t mope around!”
“No?” Mercedes quirked a brow. “What do you call what you’re
doing now?”
“Resting because my face fucking hurts, if it’s all the same to you,”
came the tight snarl in return. Mercedes paled and reached for Wolf
again. The hand threaded into his hair and stayed put this time. Wolf
tried to yank away, but Mercedes tightened his grip and pulled Wolf in
closer. Wolf whimpered but stopped fighting, instead pressing close to
Mercedes.
“Hey. Wolf, c’mon, easy, sweetheart,” he soothed, feeling sudden
tears leak onto the front of his shirt. “If you’re in that much pain, Wolf—”
But the dark head on his chest shook “no.” “It’s not my stupid eye,”
Wolf muttered, thick and foggy sounding. “It’s you.”
And there was the realization of worst fears. Mercedes froze, eyes
going cold and stark.
“Wolf, if you need me to, I can leave,” he said gently as Madison
reentered the room. She froze in the act of tying up her hair, watching
 Mourning Doves 233
them. Her gaze on Wolf was protective and watchful, and he knew that if
he hurt Wolf, she’d throw him out of this house herself.
But Wolf reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, his hand
fisting in the material.
“No. I don’t even know anymore,” Wolf murmured, but didn’t let go
of his shirt.
Mercedes gently gripped Wolf’s upper arms and pulled him away.
He looked the man in the eye, freeing one hand to gently wipe the tears
from his face.
“Hey. Relax, breathe, it’s all right, man, you’re okay.”
Wolf closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, then pulled away
from Mercedes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’d say we have to talk, but we’ve about done it.”
Wolf laughed softly, taking a deep breath. “No. I mean, no, we
should.” He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes closing. “We should do
something besides ignore—”
“Not now,” Mercedes replied, rising slowly. “Wolf, I already told
you, I don’t expect anything out of you.”
Madison was very aware she was missing something, but kept quiet.
Wolf was glad of it; he rose, headed into the kitchen. He nearly
knocked over half a dozen cups, but Mercedes had followed him and
grabbed his elbow.
“Okay?” he asked, steadying the man.
“I’m fine.” Wolf pulled free gently. “I hate lacking peripheral
vision.”
“I’m sure you do, but that’s what I’m for. What was that all about?”
“Nothing.”
“Apparently I’m nothing, now.”
“No, you’re not—that’s—” He sighed.
“You gonna last a week with me?”
234 Angela Romano
Wolf smiled a little. “I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t think so.”
“Wolf, you just burst out in tears. Do you know how unlike you that
is?”
“I feel like shit, Mercedes, and yeah, okay, you’ve got me a little…
emotional… but we’re all worn down and sick after everything. That’s
all.” He laid a hand gently on Mercedes’ arm. “It’s okay.”
“No, actually, it’s not.”
Madison had come to the doorway of the kitchen, and stood with her
cell phone in her hand. She looked pale and frightened, and that alone
was enough to scare Wolf and Mercedes. Madison didn’t look that way
for no reason.
“Madison?” Wolf asked. She glanced at him, but her eyes didn’t see
him at first. Then she bit her lip.
“Leander just called me. Sasha is, without doubt, dead this time.
Unfortunately, so might be Epsilon.”
 Mourning Doves 235

LEANDER wasn’t sure if it had gone bad or it if had started off bad. He
remembered jumping through the window, powerful gun brought to bear.
He remembered getting a flash of a Hunter rushing him, and then
everything just went to hell.
He remembered running up stairs after his prey, and he remembered
hearing a distant rumble like thunder, but wrong somehow, off.
He’d stopped, turned on his heel, and looked back to where Epsilon
was.
Epsilon was supposed to be.
The man was gone.
Snarling, he turned back to the Hunter, pulling the trigger once. He
didn’t feel like playing right now, not with the sudden feeling of wrong
that had taken over this entire situation. The bullets took the Hunter
through the head and blew him backward. He ran back toward where he
saw Epsilon, skidding to a stop. He scented the air, ears quivering.
He picked up Sasha’s scent and then Epsilon’s; he relaxed a little.
Likely he was chasing her.
There was another distant rumble, and he went tense again instantly.
Fuck, something was just not right.
He took a moment, getting his bearings. There was only one story to
this place, no upstairs; but lots of stuff to shift dangerously if there were
236 Angela Romano
an earthquake or something.
That noise didn’t sound like an earthquake.
The smell of heat reached his nose, and fear rooted him to the spot.
“Epsilon!” he bellowed, taking off at a run. The thing was only one
story, but it was huge. He burst through rusted heavy door after rusted
heavy door, following the scent of his partner. Soon he got Sasha’s trail,
also, and he snarled as the familiar scent of her reached his nose.
“Epsilon, we gotta go!”
He turned a corner, slamming through another door into a back room
without thinking.
The shot caught him high in his left shoulder, half-spinning him
around with the force of it. He cried out and hit the floor, ducking behind
a pile of boxes and leaning back on them, panting and clutching the
wounded shoulder.
Motherfuck! That’ll teach me to barge in.
“Shit, Leander!”
“You shot me, you dumb sonofabitch!” he snarled in reply to
Epsilon’s shaky call. “Can’t you fucking smell me before you fire?”
“I’m a little distracted!”
Leander took a deep breath and then dared to look around his boxes.
He saw Alex, held by the hair, Sasha using her as a human shield. Alex
was weeping, and he could barely hear her, if he listened hard,
whispering, pleading with Sasha. She was trying to appeal to what was
human in Sasha, but the problem was there was nothing human left in
Sasha.
Once, Epsilon had told Leander that he’d always been a little
frightened of that happening to them. He could, he’d said, feel that
animal inside him; feel it like a tiger in a cage, pacing and clawing,
snarling and growling, just waiting for the chance to leap out and go
mad. It had almost happened when Montgomery had taken him captive.
He’d nearly lost himself to that wild animal instinct that drove the
Hunters.
 Mourning Doves 237
Leander understood his fear. He knew exactly what Epsilon was
talking about. He’d experienced that sensation too. And there was
nothing he could say that would ease the older man’s mind, because
anything he said would be empty and hollow.
It was possible for a Kin to lose his mind to that animal instinct. It
had happened before. Once in a very great while, a Hunter turned out to
be a Kin.
They’d always had to be put down too.
Leander growled with annoyance, unable to get a clear shot at Sasha.
“Epsilon, something’s not right here!” he called.
“I know. I hear it too. You gonna live over there?”
“Your aim sucks, dude. I don’t feel a thing! You owe me majorly, all
th’ same!”
Sasha whipped around toward his voice, and he ducked down again
instantly.
“You disappointed me, Mr. Kin!” Sasha sang out, head tilted. “I
wanted you for mine too!”
“I know,” he drawled. “Sorry. I don’t play pet to anyone.”
He didn’t know if she’d heard him. He didn’t really care.
“Epsilon!” he snapped, and there was no reply but he could feel
Epsilon pay attention, feel him ready himself.
He closed his eyes. Sasha was snarling, audible over Alex’s soft,
distressed cries. He could hear her pacing, shifting uncertainly between
Leander and Epsilon, unsure what to do.
She made for the door suddenly, dragging Alex with her. Running.
“Now!” Epsilon and Leander snarled at the same time, and the pair
leaped from their respective hiding places and charged. Leander came
low and hard, Epsilon high and fast, and they slammed into Alex and
Sasha both, drawing a scream from the former and a roar of rage from
the latter.
It worked, though. Sasha got involved with flailing and biting at
238 Angela Romano
them, and Alex’s hair got let go.
“Move!” Leander snarled at her. “Go. Get the fuck out of here now!”
He ducked Sasha’s claws, watching Epsilon’s face Change, watching the
man’s fangs sink into her neck. The woman screamed.
Alex started to back away, one uncertain step at a time.
“Go!” Leander yelled again, and she turned and ran this time, flying
out the doors.
Leander knew there could likely be other Hunters out there, waiting
for her, waiting to grab her. But he also knew how Hunter packs worked;
if Sasha was the leader of this little group, they would let Alex go in
favor of assisting her.
Still, Leander let the woman go abruptly. “Take her, Epsilon. I’ve got
Alex’s back!” he demanded, and he ran after her.
And that was when the final distant rumble came, and then there was
a BOOM so loud that he felt it more than heard it, and then only for a
split second.
Then Leander was flying backward.
His back struck the wall with enough force to crack a rib, and he had
a split second to realize that the ceiling was coming down on him. He
threw his arms over his head and tucked into the smallest ball possible,
as it was the only thing he could do.
He didn’t know if he was grateful or not later, when he was hit on the
head and blacked out and he didn’t come around for minutes, at least.
When he blinked awake, the room was far too silent; as if the world was
stunned, trying to recover from the shock and the violence of what had
just occurred.
There was no longer a ceiling; most of it was on top of him, actually,
and he realized just how fucking lucky he really was. He could have
been killed instead of just knocked out for a few minutes. He was
covered in more than just roof debris. He was singed, he realized, and
bleeding badly from… somewhere. His numbness was fading, but the
pain was so spread throughout his body that he couldn’t pinpoint one
location.
 Mourning Doves 239
He pushed up slowly, carefully. He was fully aware that he shouldn’t
be moving. He was also fully aware he didn’t have much choice in his
current situation.
The movement hurt; his ribs moved in a way they shouldn’t, and he
cried out, a choked, hard sound that he cut off before it could grow. If
any Hunters at all were around and alive and had heard that, they would
be on the move, even if they were as hurt as he was. And they would
deal with injury better even than a Kin.
In body, he was still just a skinny, lanky teenage male. A skinny,
lanky teenage male body didn’t do well in the event of—-
Of—
What the hell happened, anyway?
He lifted his ears—the right one was bleeding—and tried to take
stock. He had trouble picking up a smell or sound in the chaos, but he
quickly determined what had occurred.
Something had blown up. Hell, something had blown everything up.
He groaned and tried to drag himself upright, and instantly forgot
about the Hunters as pain ripped through his leg. The scream tore from
his throat and echoed around the destroyed building, and the second one
followed it before the first had even dissipated. He doubled over, hand
clutching his thigh, his ears back and his face contorted with pain. He
stopped at last, panting, heaving, and began to shove debris off his legs
and torso.
He saw the problem almost instantly.
A metal pole had been driven through his kneecap.
His breath sped up and he was aware for a moment that he was
starting to hyperventilate, that if he didn’t stop and calm down he was
going to do himself more damage. But the sight of the pole going
through his jeans and skin gave him instinctual panic, made worse by the
animalistic side of him; for a split second all he could think was trapped
trapped trapped hurt trapped, and he was afraid he was going to lose it
and gnaw his own leg off.
Then he forced himself calm again. He closed his eyes so he couldn’t
240 Angela Romano
see it and forced himself to take deep breaths. When he could open his
eyes again, he did, and forced his body to relax slowly. Then he reached
out and gripped the end of the metal pole. He closed his eyes again,
taking one, two, three, four, five breaths, and then yanked in one clean,
smooth motion.
He didn’t scream this time. He couldn’t.
The pain surged up around him in a black, charging wave, making
him buck and arch as if struck with electricity. His head slammed into
the floor, bounced off. He hurled the blood-soaked piece of metal across
the floor, curling around his wounded leg and then he could react, his
breath coming out of him in a whoosh, his pain leaking out of him in
rocking sobs, heavy and loud.
Finally he brought himself back under control, panting softly and
rocking himself in agony. Then he sat up again slowly, evaluating
himself to the best of his own ability. Ribs broken or cracked, leg, of
course, ear, his arm wasn’t bending right and hurt when he lifted it above
his head, bruises, cuts, bleeding from multiple shallow and deeper
gashes. Didn’t feel like anything internal was badly hurt, but then, didn’t
hurt to be careful.
He grabbed hold of the same wall he’d crashed into, standing by
inches and leaning against it, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
Head injury, maybe from smacking it into the floor, maybe not. But he
was dizzy and nauseous; he wondered if he had a concussion.
When he felt he was ready, he took a step forward and promptly went
down in a heap. He yelped silently in pain, curling into a fetal position
and rocking until the pain subsided. Then he tried again, pushing himself
upright a second time, more slowly this time. He used his tail for balance
the way a reptile might, though it didn’t work as well, and made his way
through the room again, using every item available to stay upright.
He began to sniff again, fear making a cold ball in the pit of his
stomach now that the pain had been pushed to the back of his mind. This
place had just been blasted like a condemned building, and Epsilon had
been in here too.
“Epsilon?” he tried, and started to cough and cough hard. He doubled
over, hacking violently, gasping to get air. He heard himself crying out
 Mourning Doves 241
again, his ribs jarred with each wrenching cough. His ribs too, were a
fear factor for him; he was afraid that he would hurt himself worse by
coughing. He stopped after what felt like hours, gasping desperately.
“Epsilon!” he tried again, breathless and weak. There was no reply,
and he managed to get back into the room he’d left the two battling in.
It wasn’t there anymore.
He stared at it in horrified shock, at the place where that room should
have been. There was a wall, and part of the roof, but not much more.
“Oh, fuck,” he hissed, and began a frantic search for the backpack
that came everywhere with him. Luckily it had landed only steps from
him, and he got it free of the rubble without much effort, though the
whole kneeling-to-pick-it-up issue was one that nearly made him black
out again.
He dug his cell phone out of it, amazed to see it was not only fairly
uninjured, but working just fine. “Wonders of modern technology,” he
muttered, eyebrows arched. He leaned on the wall again, dialing
Madison’s number.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Leander?”
“Madison? There a demolition scheduled for a building on 10th
Avenue?”
“No.” She sounded confused, worried. “Not that I know of, anyway.”
“Oh,” he breathed. “Then someone just wants us all dead.”
“Leander, what the hell are you talking about? What happened?”
“I think Epsilon’s dead,” he said, hearing his own voice grow fainter.
“Sasha too. Ever’ Hunter that was in here with us. Alex. Me.” And then
he dropped the phone, leaned over, and vomited until he passed out
again.
242 Angela Romano

“HE said 10th Avenue,” Madison said as they clambered into Wolf’s
car. Mercedes already had half a dozen other TASK agents on the case,
dispatched to find out what they could about why the hell a building
would randomly explode.
Or maybe not so randomly. That was what Wolf was afraid of more
than anything; that Sasha had planned this, had set it up. That she wasn’t
as base and instinctual as they’d thought, but was steadily and slyly
setting dominos up and watching them fall, setting them all up for a
painful fall.
He knew Mercedes was afraid too.
He wondered if Madison was thinking about it too. From her deep,
musing silence, he’d say so.
He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the
seat, his fear swelling in the pit of his stomach. Mercedes reached over
and took his hand briefly, and he startled and opened his eyes once more.
Mercedes didn’t smile at him, didn’t even try to look reassuring. But
Wolf felt startlingly better, as if someone had just offered him a hand up
from a deep, dark pit and pulled him up.
Mercedes let go a moment later, giving his hand a pat, and they
started to move toward the street their friends had run into so much peril
on. It seemed no matter where Leander and Epsilon went, said peril
followed. You’d think by this time they’d all be used to it, but no matter
 Mourning Doves 243
how many times it happened, it seemed to strike home anew. Of course,
he imagined that no matter many times anyone saw a loved one in peril,
you couldn’t really “get used to it.”
They drove in silence to the street Leander had mentioned. They
didn’t have to look very far or hard for what had happened. Wolf had
been concerned about that, but the moment they turned his fear
dissipated to be replaced by fear of a new sort.
Police, paramedics, government officials, camera crews, and
emergency teams flooded the streets. People had come out of their
homes to see what was going on, but farther down there weren’t any
homes left to come out of. They’d been massively destroyed.
The car rolled to a stop outside the police barricades that were being
set up. Mercedes was the first one out, getting out before the car had
almost come to a complete stop. Wolf was forced to reach over and
nervously grab the wheel, glaring daggers at Mercedes’ back. Madison
came out after, and then Wolf, moving slightly more slowly than the
other two.
Mercedes flashed his badge as they approached. No matter what
people thought of TASK, it was still an official agency, and it still
demanded respect, at least technically.
“Mercedes Knight,” he introduced. “The hell happened, officer?”
“This isn’t TASK-related,” the man snapped, sneering the word
TASK. Wolf bristled, but Madison laid her hand on the man’s shoulder
and held him at bay.
“A TASK agent was in this area on a job. We’re concerned he was
injured in this… whatever happened here.”
“You had one of your guys in there?” The cop’s expression changed;
dislike the branch of government or not, losing a partner was still losing
a partner, and he understood what it was like to have one of his own men
in danger.
“Two, actually. They’re partners.” Mercedes jerked a thumb over his
shoulder. “And her partner too.” Technically, this was true.
The cop sighed, running a hand over his face. “Place was old;
scheduled to be taken down about a month from now,” he explained at
244 Angela Romano
last. “Some nut job found out about that and decided it would be fun to
try and do it themselves; set up an assload of homemade explosives and
set ’em off. Didn’t expect it to be such a big explosion. He took down
half the block,” the cop gestured around, “then took off again.” He
sighed. “Guess it spooked him when he realized that the explosion
wasn’t gonna be small and neat.”
“Who thinks blowing up a building’s going to be small or neat?”
Madison demanded, and the man snorted.
“Yeah, well, there it is, Miss—”
“Rivers. Madison Rivers”
“Miss Rivers. I’m sorry about your partner, and the other guys, but
frankly I’m not sure what you want done about it.” He went on,
shrugging a little. “There’s so much chaos here I’m surprised anyone
knows what the fuck’s going on.”
Mercedes sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Who the hell
blows up a building in the middle of town?” he muttered.
“Dumb kids,” the man replied, gruffly.
“Just let us have a look around. We can help you out too,” Wolf
spoke up softly.
The cop shifted and then closed his eyes. “All right, get over here.
But keep yourselves out of the way and don’t touch anything.”
Mercedes stepped around the barrier, followed by the other two. The
chaos around them was disheartening in the extreme, but the actual
building was fairly calm; the only people inside, it seemed, had been a
few Hunters, Leander and Epsilon, Sasha, and Alex. The Hunters were
all dead, and the only people messing about with them were people
taking the bodies away.
One body, Mercedes saw and pointed out, was Sasha. Or what was
left of Sasha. She’d been blown nearly in half. She must have, Madison
said softly, fear making her voice shake, been close to where the blast
was.
Which likely meant Epsilon and Alex had been too.
The place was a helpless mess, and they quickly departed from the
 Mourning Doves 245
area the paramedics and cops flooded, looking through the less populated
areas that were still standing. Leander and Epsilon both would have
dragged themselves off to the most isolated part of the half-destroyed
building they could the moment people started to flood the place. Instinct
would have driven them to do it, and they wouldn’t be coherent or strong
enough to try to deny it at that time.
Wolf saw the blood first, to his own surprise.
There was a trail of it that he nearly stepped in, and, following it, he
saw its source rather quickly; he gave a shout of delighted surprise and
broke into a sprint, nearly killing himself on the destroyed matter around
his feet.
Alex stood near the back of the building, leaning on the wall.
Madison called her name, and she turned, instantly letting out a sob
and falling into her lover’s arms as they got close. She clung to Madison,
sobbing helplessly while the older woman tried to both comfort her and
see how badly she’d been hurt. They wound up sinking to the ground,
and all Madison could do for the now was to hold Alex and let her weep.
One down.
Hopefully, Wolf scanned the area where they’d found Alex, but he
could see no hint of Leander or Epsilon. Mercedes had moved off down
what had been, at one time, a hallway, back into the remains of the huge,
destroyed building.
He turned and faced Alex and Madison again, watching the younger
woman stroking her hands gently over Alex’s face and through her hair.
Their foreheads were pressed together, and Madison was murmuring
gently to her. He bit his lip softly and then made his way back to the pair.
He knelt beside them, placing a hand on Madison’s shoulder.
“She gonna be all right?”
Madison’s head came up and she pulled Alex protectively into her
chest. “She needs a hospital.”
“I know,” Wolf assured, squeezing his friend’s shoulder gently.
“We’ll get her to the paramedics out front, but we need to know if she
knows where Leander or Epsilon could be.”
246 Angela Romano
Madison closed her eyes, and Wolf saw tension enter her body as
Alex began to hiccup for breath, brow furrowed in pain.
“Alex. Alexandria, calm down and look at me,” she said, in the voice
that Wolf was more familiar with. The firm, demanding tone that
commanded respect and control. Alex stopped crying and looked up at
her with bleary, pain-dazed eyes. “Darling, I need you to focus. I need
you to listen to me, all right?”
Alex nodded, one arm wrapped around her middle, clutching her
other arm. Broken, Wolf assumed, and most likely an ugly break. But
she was nodding and listening, and that was all they needed.
“Did you see any of the others?” Madison asked. “Do you know
where they might be?”
Alex took a gulping breath, struggling to calm down. Wolf had seen
Sasha’s body. The woman had probably been ripped away from Alex,
and no wonder the girl was traumatized. She shook her head, burying it
back in Madison’s chest. “She—” She stopped, her voice trembling, and
tried again. “She threw me when the blast hit,” she whispered. “She felt
it coming and threw me out of the way.”
Oh. That would be a good reason for being traumatized too; your
half-insane lover tossing you out of harm’s way when only moments
before she’d been holding you captive. Gave a person a lot to think
about.
What is it with us and fucked-up relationships? Wolf thought, and
then snorted. Oh, please, comes with the territory. He pushed himself
upright, groaning softly. His own body was still recovering, and he had
to brace for a moment against vertigo brought on by his increasingly
annoying lack of proper vision. Then he grabbed Madison’s arm, gently
tugging both women upright.
“Come on, Madison, let’s get Alex to a hospital,” he said gently, and
she wrapped her arm around Alex’s waist, guiding the woman back to
the front of the building. When he was certain they’d gotten out safely,
he went back inside, out of the bluster and hubbub, the dead bodies and
hurting people.
Who the hell blew up a fucking building for kicks? His instincts were
 Mourning Doves 247
screaming there was something more here, but he didn’t care. He didn’t
want to care.
He just wanted this whole mess to be over.
He picked his way over fallen bits of wall and support structures,
paying close attention to make sure nothing else would come down on
his head. He knew they had limited time before that happened, before
everyone was forced to leave the area because it was too dangerous to
stay inside.
He grimaced. Never should have let Mercedes wander off alone
inside. Now they had yet another missing person. He called his ex-
lover’s name softly, concerned when he didn’t get a reply. He reached
the base of stairs that had half-fallen down, and groaned.
Surely, surely Mercedes hadn’t been stupid enough to attempt that.
He placed one slender hand delicately on what remained of the rail.
“Mercedes, if you’re up there I hope you break your leg!” he called
dangerously, wondering if he should try for it.
“Now that is not very nice.”
The voice made him startle so violently he fell into the stairs. They
instantly shuddered and gave more under the unexpected weight, and
Wolf had a split second to realize that there was no way even someone as
slight as Mercedes could have made this climb before he was tumbling
backward.
“Shit!” Mercedes reached out and caught the front of his shirt,
hauling him upright again. He did it fast enough to keep the material
from ripping and dumping Wolf on his ass despite the save, and Wolf
clutched at his friend’s upper arms for a moment, as if unsure if the
ground would stay steady under his feet. Then he realized Mercedes was
laughing, and he shoved him away violently, punching him in the
stomach. Mercedes “woofed” with the loss of air, doubling over, but his
amusement was still plain.
“Jackass. That wasn’t fucking funny.” Wolf snarled. Mercedes shook
his head, unable to speak just yet, but grinned helplessly. It was so, and
you know it, said that grin, and Wolf took to pouting.
Mercedes caught his breath again after a moment. “That hurt,” he
248 Angela Romano
informed.
“It was supposed to hurt. Asshole.”
“Oh, stop.”
“Did you find anything, or are you just playing?”
Mercedes’ grin faded, hurt and anger crossing his face. “Excuse the
fuck out of me.”
Wolf snarled, turning to walk past the steps. “You’re in here playing
around like it’s a fun old time. Leander and Epsilon could be dead!”
Mercedes ran the two steps he needed to catch up, walking briskly
beside Wolf. “I’m dealing with stress instead of letting it toss me around
like a little rubber ball,” he drawled. “Getting so uptight you can’t
breathe isn’t going to help, Wolf.”
“Fuck you!” Wolf stopped, distantly aware that he’d yelled and it
was echoing. At least, if Leander and Epsilon were alive, they’d know
their dysfunctional rescue party was on its way. “Fuck you, you stupid
son of a bitch! You never take anything seriously, and when I do, I’m
being too intense!”
Mercedes drew back as if stung, blinking. “Do you really think now
is a good time to have a couples squabble? Because I’m all in for talking
about us, but not usually when two people could be bleeding to death
somewhere.”
“That is exactly my point,” Wolf hissed, finger in Mercedes’ face. He
resisted the urge to bite it. Wolf would probably hit him again, in the
face this time. “You don’t even care about them.”
“You used to like my light-hearted banter. It kept you from doing to
yourself what you’ve been doing to yourself ever since I left. That is,
stressing until you get sick. And then pushing yourself until you
collapse. And didn’t we just have this conversation?” Mercedes asked as
Wolf began walking again. “Or one a whole lot like it? Does everything
come down to that? That, once upon a time, I doubted your boys? You?”
“Not everything.”
Mercedes shut up, jaw snapping shut with a nearly audible click.
“Well, then,” he snarled at last, and he used his height advantage to out-
 Mourning Doves 249
distance Wolf.
Wolf didn’t really make an attempt to keep up, at any rate.
That’s that, then, Mercedes thought, surprised at how calm he felt. If
it just comes down to he can’t stand me, there’s not much I can do about
it. We’re just not compatible.
Maybe we never were.
But I love him.
The last thought was achingly painful, and he closed his eyes briefly.
Sometimes that wasn’t enough, would never be enough. After everything
that had happened, they’d proven that Mercedes was a back-stabber and
a traitor, and Wolf wasn’t someone who could stay with someone he
couldn’t trust and depend on.
Apparently, there was even more to it than that.
They came at last to the last room in the old building, and Wolf
stayed out in the hall as Mercedes began to poke around, calling out
softly and shifting anything that might be hiding a wounded person.
Or a body, but he refused to consider that. One body was enough for
this adventure. More than. He scowled.
He was starting to get discouraged when he heard it; the barest
whimper from his left. He perked up, listening intently. “Leander?
Epsilon?” He called again and got another low whimpering groan in
reply.
“Wolf! Get over here and help me!” he snapped, and, differences
aside, Wolf moved instantly next to Mercedes. The pair of them moved
toward the sounds, and soon had unburied Leander Kale from the pile of
building he’d been half-buried in. Carefully, delicately, they pulled him
free, Mercedes hissing in empathy when he saw the gaping wound in the
man’s leg. He pulled his shirt off and made a bandage hastily, winding it
tightly around Leander’s wound to stop the now-sluggish bleeding.
Sluggish couldn’t be a good thing.
The man didn’t wake up, barely even stirred as his two rescuers lifted
him carefully, but he did come around as they got back into public,
struggling weakly and snarling.
250 Angela Romano
“Easy, easy,” Mercedes soothed gently, as they got him on a stretcher
and the paramedics descended in a swarm. “You’re safe, Leander, you’re
safe now.”
Two down.
“We need to go back,” Wolf said, as they finally let Leander go and
started to back away. But Leander shook his head, grabbing Mercedes’
wrist. “Not there,” he rasped.
“What?” Mercedes turned, freezing with concern.
“Sasha—did you find—”
“She’s dead,” Wolf said bluntly, watching Leander fight off the
paramedics. “Leander, stop. You’re hurt. They’re going to help. We can
talk later.”
“No.” Leander shoved away the helping hands once more. “No, I—
she’s dead?”
“More than.”
But Leander did not look pleased at the news. “Epsilon—he was
chasing her,” he breathed. “He was right there with her.”
Wolf and Mercedes glanced at each other in stark, hard fear.
“Alex was—”
“She told me Sasha got her out of the way,” Wolf interrupted. They
both knew exactly what that meant. If Sasha had been ripped apart that
way, and Epsilon had been steps behind her—and he probably had been
as he’d would have been after her with those damn swords instead of a
gun like a normal person—he’d probably been torn open too.
Leander’s eyes closed, and tears were already streaming down his
cheeks as he finally gave in and let the men trying to help him do their
jobs.
Wolf and Mercedes went back to the car. Madison had gone with
Alex in the ambulance, but they would follow behind Leander’s. They
didn’t want him to see them grieving.
Wolf settled into the passenger seat, staring blankly out the window.
“Hunters,” he said at last, as Mercedes climbed in. “Hunters. Routine.
 Mourning Doves 251
Hell, fucking easy, all things considered. I’ve seen Leander laughing
while fighting Hunters. He plunged right into that swarm of them and
came out without a scratch. Epsilon can pick them off in one long shot
like shooting cans.” He laughed, the sound bitter and broken. “This
should have been simple. Easy.”
Mercedes reached out, but Wolf jerked away. Mercedes bristled at
this second, blatant rejection.
Mixed fucking signals left and right. You don’t know what you want.
He placed both hands on the wheel and leaned his forehead on it. He
didn’t have a right to be upset by Wolf right now. Not with two people
badly hurt. And Epsilon.
Leander was going to be devastated.
“Wolf, this was not your fault.”
“They’re my boys, Mercedes,” he replied, without looking over. “My
responsibility. I trained them, I practically raised them. Those two are
my best. There’s no one in this world that can ever be like them. Special.
Incredibly special. The world was going to let them go and TASK
brought them back around, and they turned into the most unique and
incredible kids. And I just let one half of the whole die because I was too
busy—”
“Wolf, you can’t be expected to keep them in little bubbles. Leander
will recover, and you can retire him. Send him out to the country, let him
take it easy for as long as he needs. I’ve got a little cabin up near
Colorado. He’d love it there. He likes open spaces. Wilderness.”
Wolf blinked and then turned to smile faintly at Mercedes. “That
would be good for him,” he agreed, but there was doubt and sorrow in
his eyes.
“He’ll heal. We all will heal.” Mercedes started the car, pulling out
after the ambulance carrying Leander.
“Maybe physically,” Wolf said, going back to looking out the
window. Mercedes flinched at that, but didn’t argue. He couldn’t.
They’d lost one of their own.
They’d lost a friend.
252 Angela Romano

HOW many times was he going to wake up to the steady, calm sound of
hospital machines beeping in his ears?
Amused, he pried his eyes open and realized instantly that he was
much, much worse off than he usually was. There was a mask over his
face, uncomfortable and smothering to the point of panic. He closed his
eyes and forced it back. It’s all right. I’m in a hospital, it’s all right. He
opened his eyes again. Someone’s hand was on his forehead, whispering
gentle assurances, and someone else was stroking his leg gently. His lips
quirked up and he slid his eyes to the person touching his forehead first.
Wolf smiled down at him. Leander tried to smile, awkward with the
mask, and reached up. Wolf’s fingers laced with his and squeezed.
Leander squeezed back, but it lacked significant force and hurt to do.
Still, he liked Wolf holding his hand, so he didn’t pull away. He looked
down at the leg-stroker, his mind full of naughty little comments for the
only person who would dare touch his leg. He focused his gaze on the
person that should have been Epsilon, but wasn’t.
And then it all came back in a hard jarring slam.
Epsilon was dead. Sasha was dead. Who knew about Alex? Mercedes
removed his hand when the black panic entered Leander’s eyes and
moved his touch to his other hand. “No, no,” he said, sharply but gently.
“Hush, Leander.”
Leander’s eyes squeezed shut, and he tossed his head violently to the
left, breath coming in huffing pants, even with the mask. He wanted that
 Mourning Doves 253
thing off, and he wanted it off now. He tugged at the hand in Mercedes’
grip, but the other man only added his other one to the mix. “Stop it.
Leander, I’ll take it off but you have to calm down,” he told the man.
Leander nodded agreement, and Mercedes reached up, gently
removing the mask. Instantly it was obvious why he’d been made to
wear it. It was hard and painful to breathe without its assistance. But
he’d rather suffer than have to wear that thing again, right away, anyway.
He smiled a little, grateful, and Mercedes returned it. “Welcome
back,” he said gently, stroking Leander’s hair.
“Alex?” he asked, surprised at the effort it took to do so.
“Is actually better off than you,” Wolf piped up softly. “Sasha got her
out of the worst of it, which is the most amazing part of all. Few broken
bones, cuts, scrapes, minor burns, and one goose egg of a bump on her
skull, but she’ll be all right.”
“Epsilon?”
Silence, and Leander’s brow furrowed with resignation. He’d thought
as much when he saw that room. No way had anyone in there survived
that.
“We can’t say he’s dead, Leander,” Wolf tried. “No one’s found a
body to fit his description.”
“There’ve been no reports of him being found alive, but the victims
of that accident are being transported to hospitals all over,” Mercedes
added. “We’ve got TASK officials covering it; anyone who even sounds
like they fit Epsilon’s description is being checked out.”
“Accident?”
Wolf explained what the cop had told him, and anger darkened
Leander’s normally good-natured face.
“All this ’cause of some… motherfuckin’ stupid kid?” he gasped, and
if he’d been stronger Wolf thought he might have thrown something.
“Calm down. Now, Leander,” Mercedes told him again, holding the
mask like a threat. “You get yourself upset enough to hurt yourself and I
will let the nurses tie you down. And not in the way you like.”
254 Angela Romano
Wolf chuckled, and Leander tried one as well, but it died in the back
of his throat. Wolf cleared his own softly.
“Mercedes, could I have a minute alone with Leander?” he asked
softly, and obviously this didn’t surprise Mercedes in the least, because
he nodded and gave Wolf’s shoulder a pat. Wolf, Leander saw to his
confusion, jerked away from it. Something dark and aching crossed
Mercedes’ face, and then the man left.
“Was that?” he asked, conveniently forgetting the first part of the
sentence. Another odd quirk of Leander Speak, which they had all come
to get used to and even fond of.
“Nothing,” Wolf said, pulling his chair closer and finally letting
Leander’s hand go.
“Didn’ look like it.”
“I’m not here to talk about my relationships—or lack thereof—with
you.”
“I don’t want to talk about th’ other.”
“Neither do I, but some things need to be said.”
“Like… stop pushin’… guy you love off.”
Wolf blushed. “I’ll put this mask back on you to shut you up if I have
to,” he snapped, and Leander grinned once more.
“Don’t want… t’ talk about th’ other… thas’ all.” He was sounding
steadily worse, the more he forced himself to speak.
“Shut up, you idiot. You’re hurting yourself.”
“You… too,” came the murmured, pointed reply, and Wolf froze.
“You’re hurtin’… th’ both of you.” Leander’s eyes were sad and far
away. “Stop it… ’fore you run outta chances.”
Wolf’s blood ran cold at the truth of the words. Any day it could be
Mercedes rather than any of the others who wound up dead or badly hurt,
and the one thing he regretted more than anything else—the one thing he
would always regret more than anything else was chasing Mercedes
away.
He knew he had every rational reason for keeping the other man as
 Mourning Doves 255
far at bay as possible. Leander knew it too. But Leander was removed
enough from the situation to see what Mercedes could not for the trees;
that it was crushing both of them.
“I’ll talk to him,” he said gently, softly. “Once things calm down,
okay?”
Leander nodded, seemingly satisfied with that reply. “What’d you
wanna say?”
Wolf went silent for a while, considering his words. Epsilon was not
necessarily dead yet, but it would be insulting to Leander to pretend that
he was fine and everything would be fine. He wasn’t and it wouldn’t.
But to hurt him with Epsilon too much while he was trying to recover
wouldn’t help, and Leander had insisted that he didn’t want to discuss it.
He had to be careful.
“Wolf?”
“I just… I wanted to apologize. For everything that’s happened up to
this point,” he said softly, holding up a hand when Leander tried to
interrupt. “Let me finish, Leander. I need to get this out.”
Leander fell quiet obediently, mostly because he didn’t really have a
whole lot of strength left to argue, anyway.
“I should have done more to protect you two, through everything.”
Wolf went on, after a pause to collect his thoughts. “I spend so much
time blaming everyone who judges you two, but none of it blaming
myself, and I should be.” He shook his head when Leader tried to
protest. “It’s my job to protect you two, and in every way, I keep failing
at it.”
Leander couldn’t stay quiet any longer, it seemed.
“You didn’t fail any—”
“Yeah, actually, I did.” Wolf rested his chin on his arms, but his face
was calm. He didn’t seem unduly upset by the thought. It was, Leander
thought, as though he’d gone through this a million times in his head and
was so unaffected by it now that it came off as apathy.
That thought disturbed him more than he’d like to admit. If Wolf had
gone over this in his head, then that meant he’d been likely beating
256 Angela Romano
himself up over it, even subconsciously. Wolf did things like that; he
beat himself up without even realizing he was doing it, and then when he
felt like shit he didn’t understand why.
But Wolf was pushing up right now. “I’m not going to anymore,” he
promised softly, his hand landing on Leander’s cheek softly. Few people
ever touched his face; most of them went straight for his ears. Not that
Leander minded people touching his ears, but it was nice to have his face
touched instead. He leaned into it unconsciously, and Wolf smiled. His
touch became firmer, and he stroked his hand gently through the man’s
hair and then brought his hands up to the fuzzy ears. His fingers found
the notch that was now in the right one.
“You’ve got a little character here,” he commented. Leander smiled.
“Beauty mark,” he said. He closed his eyes. “I think I need the
mask.”
He gently brought the mask back up over Leander’s face. “Rest,” he
said. “Just rest for a little while. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Leander shook his head, but let his eyes fall shut, too tired to keep
them open. His ears wilted backward, and after just a few moments he
was asleep.
Wolf closed his eyes and pulled the chair away, working it back into
its corner. He bit his lower lip softly, and then went back to the door.
“Mercedes?” he asked softly, poking his head out. The taller man was
leaning on the wall, and turned his head a little, and Wolf’s breath
sucked in softly.
He saw what Leander had seen. Mercedes’ eyes, normally gentle and
warm, were strained and dull, and they went flat and blank when he
looked at him. His mouth thinned, and when he pushed off the wall, his
motions were stiff.
Wolf gave him a smile and saw something spark softly behind that
bleakness. He hadn’t entirely killed Mercedes after all. He took a deep
breath and gently extended a hand, still smiling, still keeping his eyes
locked on his partner’s.
Mercedes’ brow furrowed, and he studied Wolf’s face hard. He
didn’t say a word, and Wolf suddenly realized he was holding his breath,
 Mourning Doves 257
was afraid to move too quickly for fear of startling Mercedes like a
skittish colt.
And Mercedes reached out, placing his hand in Wolf’s slowly, as if
afraid of being burned.
Again.
Wolf flinched a little, and Mercedes thought it was his touch. He
moved to pull away, and Wolf’s grip tightened on him. “No,” he said,
and tugged him gently into the hospital room.
Mercedes allowed himself to be tugged as he was closing the door
softly. There was a cot set up against the wall, as Mercedes had
demanded they be allowed to stay overnight with Leander, and Wolf
moved over to it now. He toed off his shoes and crawled onto the cot,
then looked up at Mercedes, who was clearly uncertain.
“Come on,” Wolf said softly, a husky, nearly tearful quality to his
voice. “I’m cold.”
Mercedes nodded, sitting gently on the edge of the cot and then
climbing in next to Wolf. Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around the
smaller man and pressed back against the wall to make room for both of
them, surprised when Wolf cuddled up with a sigh.
Mixed signals, indeed, Wolf.
He looked over at Leander and caught the young Kin watching back
through slitted eyes. The moment Leander saw him watching back, he
slammed them shut again, but Mercedes had already seen and knew.
You troublesome little matchmaker.
He chuckled and ducked his chin against Wolf’s head, closing his
eyes.
They would be okay.
They would be okay.

EPSILON was dead, and Leander could feel it as a cold, heavy ball in
258 Angela Romano
his stomach. It was as if he’d just swallowed gallons and gallons of ice
water, then chased it with some steel wool.
His heart was breaking. His world was shaking unsteadily on its axis
and all he wanted, all he wanted was to open his eyes and see Epsilon, to
know the other man was all right.
But he knew he wouldn’t.
The mask had come off about two days ago. He was physically
healing in that speedy way Kin had, recovering quickly, outpacing Alex
by far, and his injures had been worse. Normally, he’d be teasing her
about it, encouraging her, sneaking off to her room in a wheelchair,
sneaking them all off in wheelchairs. Normally, he’d be helping
everyone else recover with the sheer force and energy of his happy,
playful presence.
But his Epsilon was dead. His best friend. His partner. He rolled over
on the hospital bed, careful of the things still attached to his skin, and
stared at the spare cot.
The only vision Leander could entertain was Epsilon, hurt, dragging
himself off like some wild animal to find a quiet place to—
He shook his head. No. No one had made it official. Epsilon could
possibly be alive. He could be, really. Kin could survive massive
amounts of damage, particularly genetically altered Kin. Epsilon was
tough, he was hard. If Leander had survived that blast, then couldn’t
Epsilon?
He refused to just believe Epsilon was dead. He couldn’t just
swallow it.
Leander had lost a lot of people in his life. Growing up like he had,
he’d seen friends and family die in ways that were both natural and
horrible, and he’d gotten over each and every one. Some more slowly,
some more easily, but he’d recovered from them all. Death was
something Leander was used to experiencing, and he knew how it felt to
lose someone.
He didn’t feel that now. He didn’t feel the love of Epsilon. There was
a part of him that insisted the other man was alive, was out there
somewhere, if they could just find him.
 Mourning Doves 259
Leander’s door opened, and he half-turned to face it as Wolf and
Mercedes entered again. Madison wasn’t with them, but that didn’t
surprise him. She’d been staying with Alex as much as she could, easily
as much as the pair had been staying with him.
“Hey, you need to be eating,” Wolf said, as the pair slipped inside
and Mercedes closed the door behind them. He made a motion at the
untouched hospital food the nurse had brought him only minutes before.
“I’m not very hungry,” he said. His voice was still breathy and
painful, but at least there was no longer any risk for him when it came to
moving about or speaking.
“You need to eat anyway,” Mercedes put in, perching on the edge of
Leander’s bed. Over the few days he’d been in the hospital, after he’d
said what he’d said to Wolf, Leander had watched the pair heal their
relationship, slowly. Now there weren’t exactly any PDAs between
them, but there was something comfortable and easy.
They had taken the first steps forward, toward trusting each other
again.
Leander was glad to see it; glad that Alex and Madison were happy,
Wolf and Mercedes would be happy, eventually. He needed them to be
okay so when he finally was offered undeniable proof that Epsilon was
dead, he could look to them for strength and comfort.
He needed someone to be all right.
He wondered what he would do now, since he knew no other partner
would have him. He didn’t want another partner anyway. So, pushing
himself carefully up on an elbow, he addressed the pair in front of him.
“I think I’m leaving TASK when I get out of here,” he said, and he
watched for reactions. Wolf looked ill but unsurprised; Mercedes just
looked unsurprised.
“We thought you might say something like that, eventually,” the
older man told him. He brushed his gray hair back, a nervous tick. “I was
telling Wolf that I have a place you could stay, if you wanted, a little
cabin out a few miles outside Colorado. It’s pretty much in the boonies,
but not so far out that you don’t have modern luxuries.”
“Colorado. That’s really far away.”
260 Angela Romano
“Sometimes being really far away is easier.”
Leander nodded solemnly, reaching up to finger the knick in his ear.
He rather liked it. “So, what? I’d just go an’ hang out for the rest ‘f my
life up there?”
“If you wanted, yes. Or, for until you want to leave.”
Leander bit his lip. Colorado. Horses. Mountains. Hills. Snow. Snow.
Leander had always wanted to see that in person. It never got cold
enough here. It must be beautiful, where Mercedes’ cabin was. Peaceful.
It would be boring for someone who’d lived as he had. He’d be restless
and listless and probably regret it, but he would never hate it there. In
fact, he could probably learn to love it. And wouldn’t it be nice, getting
to finally relax, to finally get some downtime after spending his entire
life fighting?
Epsilon had sometimes mentioned wanting that.
Leander looked up again finally. “I think I’d like that,” he said at last,
slowly.
Wolf and Mercedes looked at each other, and the moment was
bittersweet. Wolf nodded once, suddenly, and Mercedes touched his
hand. The gesture was so fast Leander almost missed it, but he didn’t,
and smiled.
“I’ll go make some phone calls,” Mercedes said, and left the room
again.
Leander’s ears went back softly as he looked at Wolf.
“Epsilon will want to come too,” he said, his words unflinching and
unarguable. Wolf looked so tired and so hurt, for a minute, but then it
was gone and he was approaching the bed, picking up the hospital tray
and plopping it down on Leander’s lap, pretty as you please, as if
everything was perfectly normal.
“Of course he will. Cabin’s big enough for both of you,” Wolf said
with a soft, fond smile, and Leander cried softly, because when Wolf
smiled like that he was lying, and despite all of Leander that screamed
he’s not dead he’s not dead there was a little, bitty corner of him that
whispered, maliciously and cruelly, over and over again, he is, yes he is,
and so are you.
 Mourning Doves 261

LEANDER got out of the hospital nearly four full weeks before Alex did.
He didn’t go to the apartment he’d shared for so long with Epsilon.
Instead, he let the movers pack the place up and went up with Mercedes
and Wolf to see his new home.
The place was beautiful; he hadn’t been wrong.
It was a small cabin, two bedrooms, one bath, with a nice front porch
and a swing to go on it. It was set on five acres of land, but no one
owned the land around, so it was pretty isolated, like Mercedes had said
it would be. The inside was sparsely furnished, but that would change
when Leander’s things arrived. It was a rustic, old-fashioned thing that
Leander instantly fell in love with. He was charmed by the whole setup,
and Mercedes felt sure that he would recover nicely.
The young Kin already looked happier than he had for a very long
time.
When they returned, he stayed in a hotel. Wolf was concerned
beyond words that Leander wouldn’t go back to his apartment, but
Mercedes was calm about it.
“Think about it, Wolf,” he said, two nights after they returned from
the cabin. “Think about everything that’s happened in and near that
apartment.”
262 Angela Romano
Wolf tugged off his shirt, shivering a little as Mercedes came up on
his blind side, his voice somewhere near Wolf’s ear. It took a lot of trust,
Mercedes knew, for Wolf to let him do that; and he privately thought that
it turned Wolf on a little too. Hell, it sure as fuck turned Mercedes on,
and wasn’t that sick?
But what was more sexy than unfailing trust in one person and one
person alone?
Being that person, that was more sexy. Being the person that trust
was directed at. That was also a heavy responsibility, and Mercedes was
determined not to screw it up this time.
He reached out and touched Wolf’s bare arm, letting his fingers trail
over the skin there. Wolf didn’t pull away. “I understand that; it’s just
not healthy,” he replied, as if Mercedes wasn’t testing the waters.
“Wolf, you are in no position to say what’s healthy and what’s not.
None of us are.”
Wolf chuckled and then looked down at the hand still on his arm. He
brought his hand up to cover it gently, lacing his fingers with the other
man’s. Mercedes turned him around gently, fingers gripping Wolf’s chin.
“I know this isn’t,” Wolf breathed, but he leaned up and kissed
Mercedes with all the emotion of the past few weeks anyway. Mercedes
responded instantly and then pulled away with a laugh. “You taste like
an ashtray.”
“Fuck you.”
“Please do.”
“Hard ass.”
Mercedes chuckled and tumbled Wolf backward onto the bed, his
long, lean frame sprawling on top of Wolf’s smaller, more compact one.
“I’ve missed you so much.”
Wolf reached up, initiating touch for the first time in a long time. “I
know,” he said. “Me too.” He pulled Mercedes down for another soft
kiss and then pushed against his chest gently.
“What?”
 Mourning Doves 263
“Need a shower. Move.”
“But you make a comfy pillow.”
“Get your heavy ass off.” Wolf laughed, grabbing a pillow to whack
Mercedes with. The older man groaned and rolled away, rubbing his ribs.
“What’s in that thing, bricks?” He grabbed the pillow from Wolf, and
his expression changed. “Ooh, soft. Mine now.” He clutched it to his
stomach and rolled over, laying his full body on it. Wolf grinned. “What,
it’s a better pillow than me?”
Mercedes peeked open an eye. “No, nothing’s better than you,” he
said, letting go of the pillow to grab Wolf’s arm. “But it doesn’t wiggle.”
Wolf raised an eyebrow at that. “I should hope not,” he muttered.
This was nice, this normalcy that Mercedes’ presence offered. The man
had always managed to keep Wolf balanced, keep a light-hearted,
grounded feel to any situation.
Wolf liked having that back.
He swung his legs off the side of the bed and half-turned to look at
Mercedes, who was watching him. Mercedes offered a little smile, and
looked so hopeful and happy for a moment that it damn near broke
Wolf’s heart, and he smiled back gently.
“I’m glad you came back,” he said at last. “And that Leander told me
what an idiot I was being.”
“You’re glad?” Mercedes quipped, and then his cell phone went off.
Swearing, he rolled over to grab it as Wolf made his way into the
shower. It was, to his horror and disgust, TASK, calling to find out from
him if their meaningless little apology to two men whose lives had been
ripped apart would be accepted.
“They’re dead,” he snapped into the phone, pushing himself up on an
elbow. “And Wolf and I quit.”
The immediate, squawking protests over the other end of the line
didn’t faze him. It was high time, he thought with a slight grin, that he
learn what was important in life. Power, position, money, fame; none of
that was it.
He snapped the phone shut and cocked his head a little as the shower
264 Angela Romano
came on, his now-unemployed partner humming softly over the sound of
the water. Wolf was going to have a fit. But it would be a good fit,
Mercedes thought, his grin spreading.
“Wolf!”
“What?” The door cracked, and Wolf’s head popped out when he
didn’t answer right away. “Mercedes?”
Mercedes stretched like an oversized cat, and then rose and went to
the man he was slowly making his partner once more. He bent, lips
inches from Wolf’s ear.
“Love you,” he whispered, and Wolf went stiff as a board until
Mercedes pulled him into a soft, tender kiss.
This was what was important in life. And Mercedes was tired of not
having it.
He pulled back slowly. “We need to talk,” he said. “I have a little
surprise.”

YOU can’t say they ever really lost touch. Friends so closely bonded,
they can’t ever really lose touch, not unless something drastic happens.
But they did drift away from each other, physically becoming farther and
farther apart even while they stayed close emotionally.
Leander reclined on the porch swing, watching the sun set and
smiling to himself as he ran his hand over the book given to him for his
birthday, the newest novel by his favorite author. Inside, in four
different, familiar pens, were four different birthday greetings; none
were signed. They didn’t need to be. He could pick each out.
“Happy birthday, Leander! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t let you!”
was Madison, in her neat, half-cursive writing.
“Happy twenty-fourth, old man!” had to be Alex, in a hand that was
unfamiliar to him now, but wouldn’t always be. Her writing was big and
loopy, taking up half the inside flap of the book. He chuckled at it.
The girl had healed well, and she and Madison had come down
 Mourning Doves 265
nearly two months after he’d gotten settled in to see him. Alex had been
awed by the wilderness and begged Madison to move them out of the
city. Madison had turned in her resignation from TASK only a week
later, and last time he checked, the two of them were renting a little
home in Massachusetts, in one of the less suburban areas. Alex was an
artist, and finally getting noticed, at that. She’d opened a gallery
recently, and they’d all been there for the opening of it. That had hurt,
admittedly, having them all together like that. It made the absence of one
all the more noticeable. But Leander, to his own surprise, had dealt; he’d
handled it.
They’d had no body to bury for Epsilon, but they’d had a service,
anyway, with a closed, empty casket. It was a small funeral with only the
four of them and one or two other TASK agents; they’d buried the body
of that man that had fought so hard to help them too. Liaison. His name
was on his headstone, and Leander was glad they knew it.
It had been like a cauterization, those two funerals.
His thumb traced Mercedes’ familiar, neat print. “All the best, pup.
Happy b-day.” And, under it, Wolf’s bold, firm writing, still a little
shaky and off center but very legible and commanding, if writing could
be so. “Miss you, Leander. Happy birthday.”
Mercedes and Wolf had been the only pair to stay in the city, but
they had moved to the outskirts of it, out of the hubbub and memories of
the actual city. Their relationship was mending, repairing itself slowly
over time as they learned to trust and depend on each other again.
Those two, Leander thought with a gentle smile, had never once
stopped loving each other. They’d just gotten tangled up in themselves
halfway through the dance and had to go over the steps from the
beginning again. Neither one of them entirely minded. In fact, Mercedes
was having a ball courting Wolf once more, and Wolf was thoroughly
enjoying being courted. Leander laughed aloud this time, and the sound
surprised him.
It had been a while since he’d laughed.
That was not to say he was sad.
He wasn’t, not really. There was a bittersweet weight to this life, but
266 Angela Romano
it was almost nice, that melancholy peace. He was, he thought, closing
the book, content. Even happy, in that slightly sad way.
He was never meant for a life like this, though. He wasn’t a solitary
creature by nature, and he missed having a partner, a roommate, a friend,
a companion, someone to talk with and annoy. He liked being alone but
he didn’t like being alone constantly.
He set the book down gently on the rail, letting his hand linger softly
on the cover. He wasn’t used to everything being so calm, so easy and
peaceful and completely without fight or challenge, and quiet. It had
been nice, for the first few days, weeks even; it had been wonderful.
Now, though, the more time passed the lonelier he became. And he
knew if he wasn’t careful, he could become unhappy very quickly.
But Leander refused to allow those thoughts to take root, to grow in
him. Epsilon would, he thought, gazing out on the wilderness before
him, have loved this and loved that Leander was out here. You’re free,
he’d have said. You’re free and miles away from ghosts and memories.
But that was just it; he couldn’t seem to separate himself from them,
not entirely.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the very not-city air and holding it in
for a moment, relaxing slowly. Then he stepped off his porch. He wasn’t
sure where he was walking, but he just wanted to be walking.
He let his feet take him out into the woods, passing ancient trees with
quiet respect, admiring the trees that were hundreds and hundreds of
years old. There was a deep sense of peace in these woods. Peace and
something more, something almost surreal. The light was almost erased
by the thick, large canopies, and flowers of different, brilliant colors
covered the ground in the thick moss around his feet. Vines and ropey,
thick brambles stretched from tree to tree, and there were rivers and
several small waterfalls that could be found buried deep inside the forest.
It was his own private world.
The lingering sadness and aching feeling he’d been struggling with
vanished as if it hadn’t been. He Changed, something he hardly ever did
anymore, and made his way as a fox through the wilderness, feeling at
one with everything around him and totally, utterly, okay.
 Mourning Doves 267
I’m okay, he thought, sticking his nose in one of the icy rivers and
lapping at the water. Playfully he splashed in, yelping at the cold, and
swam along it until he got tired. He climbed out, shaking the water from
his fur and continuing to follow it. He could go a very long way without
danger of getting lost.
I’m really okay. How weird.
He startled a pair of birds and chased them on a whim, nearly
catching one by the tail feathers, then broke into a lazy lope, picking up
speed as he ran.
And ran.
He kept going until he couldn’t go anymore, pushing himself until
his ribs heaved, his tongue lolled. He could barely hold the Change, he
was so tired, and finally he collapsed under a tree, his legs giving out
from under him and slamming him into the earth violently.
He was exhausted, and it felt wonderful.
He lay panting until he could get up again and then shakily began to
make his way back home. He moved considerably more slowly and
Changed back halfway to better admire and inspect his surroundings. At
long last he came back to the pretty little cabin in the open field
surrounded by majestic woods.
For one minute, just for one second, he thought he saw a man sitting
there on his porch swing. Tall and dark, with impossibly, electrically
blue eyes and black hair that spilled down his back in deep waves, the
wind teasing his locks and tugging at the black trench coat he wore.
The figure looked up and smiled at him, lifting a hand in a lazy
greeting as if nothing had happened, but when he opened his mouth, the
wind gusted, and the image was gone.
Leander, he thought he heard, but it was just the wind.
Of course it was just the wind.
Leander smiled softly, making his way back up the porch. His right
hand gathered the beloved book gently, and he reached out to stop the
swing’s motion, then he pulled back and went inside instead.
268 Angela Romano

IT had taken him nearly two years to find this place. Everyone was in
places they were not supposed to be, and none of them were looking for
anything from the past anymore. But he wasn’t angry at them, because
after all, who could blame them?
He looked forward to their surprise, their happiness. He was glad
they were all as already as happy as they were. They deserved this, he
thought. They deserved this and more.
He limped. It was pronounced and painful, and his skin was covered
in scars, marred from head to toe in burns and cuts. He moved stiffly
where once he’d been graceful, and his thick, dark hair was little more
than stubble, growing back in where the flames had burned it off.
But his blue eyes still burned with life and intensity.
The terrain was rough, and he stumbled more than once, staggered on
his bad leg and swore in a low, growling voice that had been ruined and
distorted by heat and flame. Despite his grumbling, he was captivated by
the beauty around him, and he paused a few times; sometimes to rest, but
others just to look. Just to admire the area.
You picked a good place to retire, anyway, he thought with a twitch
of his lips. Even that was stiff, the burned flesh on his face making it
difficult to smile.
He wondered if he should follow through with this. He was badly
hurt, badly burned, and he didn’t want to make life any harder for any of
 Mourning Doves 269
them by showing up out of the blue and looking like some kind of
monster. But he was too close to turn back now and he knew it.
He took a deep, bracing breath and stepped into the clearing, closing
his eyes and scenting.
Leander. Horse. Wilderness. Gasoline. Leather, hay, manure, grain.
Mercedes. Madison. Alex. Leander. Wolf.
He smiled, and it came more easily this time. He could hear the
horses getting closer now, and he crossed the front yard and strode into a
recently erected stable, taking comfort in the warmth and smells. He
could also hear laughter and talking, the snorts and grunts of the horses.
Leander had always wanted horses. Leander had begged for a horse,
if they ever wound up out of the city.
The little group finally entered the barn, and no one saw him right
off. Leander swung down off a pretty blue roan animal that didn’t seem
perturbed by his Kin-ness. It was a horse, not a new, mutated Equess,
and so were all the others. The roan nudged Leander affectionately, and
he pulled the bit from its mouth, giving its forehead a pat.
Mercedes and Wolf both rode dusky gray animals, Wolf’s a lighter
shade than his partner’s. He was pleased to see Mercedes help Wolf
down and Wolf let him, even more so to see Mercedes brush a fond hand
over his partner’s back.
Good going, Leander. You fixed them.
Alex rode a tiny bay, and Madison a big paint. It was as they were
dismounting that he saw Leander freeze, saw him half-turn.
“Leander?” Mercedes asked him in concern, and he melted back into
the darkness, once again unsure of the choice he’d made.
“I thought—” Leander’s voice was deeper, more mellow than he
remembered. When had that little Kin grown up?
“You thought?” Alex walked into the barn, leading the little bay. She
wasn’t lingering around or hiding behind Madison anymore, he noticed.
She was confident now, competent.
“Nothing. Never mind.” But Leander was staring hard into the
270 Angela Romano
darkness where he’d just been standing. He pulled back farther, well out
of the line of sight.
The men and women who had once been involved with TASK went
about rinsing down and unpacking the horses, chattering among
themselves. Mercedes made a comment on the cold, and Leander
instantly perked up.
“Cocoa?” he chirped, and the man grinned and shook his head. In
many ways, it seemed, his little Kin hadn’t grown up. That was nice to
know.
“Sure,” Madison said. “Come on. I’ll help you make some lunch to
go with it.”
“I rented a few movies for us too,” Alex said. “Madison, they’re in
the back of the car.”
“We’ll be in as soon as we’ve given the horses dinner,” Wolf said,
and the group separated.
He slipped out of the barn, carefully edging past curious horses to
follow the pair up to the house. He didn’t go in, but watched through the
window as Leander stripped his coat and moved away into the kitchen.
Madison stopped at her car to grab a small shopping bag of movies and
laughed to herself at the amount, then headed inside too.
Now that he’d heard it mentioned, it was cold. He wrapped his arms
carefully around his ruined skin, shivering with the sudden feel of the icy
weather.
He stood watching the house for a while longer, still considering
simply vanishing into the woods. He was already slipping back into the
darkness when Mercedes and Wolf entered the house, and Wolf stopped
too, looking out into the woods. Mercedes touched his arm gently.
“You okay?” he asked, and Wolf nodded.
“I—Leander—” He shook his head. “If Leander—”
“Wolf, he’s dead. He’s been dead for nearly two years now.”
“I just… Leander’s always half-expected him to be alive, and—”
“And that’s to be expected. They were best friends.” Mercedes laced
 Mourning Doves 271
his fingers gently with Wolf’s. “We all loved him. Wolf….”
Wolf shook his head. “I just—I keep expecting him to be there. He
was always Leander’s shadow,” Wolf murmured.
“I know.” Mercedes’ voice vibrated with longing, so sad that it broke
his heart, and he leaned against a tree, feeling cold inside more than
externally now.
Then he realized that he’d been feeling cold since he’d healed from
that explosion, since he’d lost Mercedes, Wolf, Leander, Madison, and
Alex. He needed them to feel warm again. He needed them to stop
hurting.
He stepped forward slowly, one stiff step at a time, slow and
frightened. His breath puffed in the cool air, and he zeroed in on the door
before him. His feet scraped on the stairs, on the wood of the porch. To
his amazement, the door opened before he could even lift a hand to
knock.
Leander Kale stood in front of him. It had been years since he’d seen
the Kin. He was taller; his ear had a knick out of the top of it. His skin
was darker, as if he were outdoors more, and his tail was bushier, waving
lazily behind him. He’d started smoking, somewhere along the line,
something he inherently and instantly blamed Wolf for, and his clothes
had toned themselves down; he was in a black button-down shirt and
black jeans, with a black—
His black trench coat, he realized with a start, a hard-drawn breath.
Leander was wearing his coat.
And all black. Mourning. Leander was mourning him, after all this
time.
The soft, feminine lips were parted in shock, and the ears lay so flat
in the hair that they nearly vanished.
That was different too, his hair. It hung now nearly to his ankles,
tightened back in a ponytail. So different from his own near-baldness.
He smiled, feeling his lips crack, and it took him two tries before he
could speak. It had been so long since he’d made his voice work, and it
was rusty and painful-sounding even to his own ears.
“Hey, Leander.”
272 Angela Romano
 Mourning Doves 273

ANGELA ROMANO is twenty-one years old, a laid-back Christian,

spunky, and, rather like a Chihuahua, has no idea—or just doesn’t care—
that she’s tiny. She’s been a horse person since she was old enough to
realize what an equine is and has been in love with words and stories
from a young age. She loves God, animals, words, the supernatural, and
well-developed characters in any book. She lives to make the world
laugh and loves most everyone, though she prefers to keep her own
company. She’s an avid cosplayer and looks forward to Sundays when
she and her most precious people get together for Dungeons and
Dragons. She is also happily involved with the most wonderful gamer-
nerd Army boy in the whole world, who is not only tolerant of her
obsession with anime and yaoi, but seems to enjoy it too.

Visit Angela’s website at http://www.fictionpress.net/~spiritbearr.

E-mail Angela at actorangel@aol.com.

274 Angela Romano