I stood there, speechless. Here was the opportunity I'd asked for- and now that it had presented itself, I didn't know where to even start. Intelligent words had betrayed me. All I could come up with was "Uh..."

Freddie put his hands on his hips, jaw set. "I can wait. Take your time."

Another minute passed, which was all the time he was willing to let me take. His patience was waning fast. His mouth worked in irritation; his eyes began to flash dangerously. Freddie might have looked quite intimidating if not for the suds or the warm, dry breeze playing sweetly with his hair.

Still, to keep another explosion at bay, I at last spoke, "I think we should sit down."

We walked back into the dim room, then. I sat down on the side of the bed, shabby without its pillows or proper covers. Freddie closed the balcony door behind him, shutting out the sunrise which was now turning the sky a soft, pinky lavender, and plopped down beside me.

"All right. Who are you and why are you here?" he said again, but much less aggressively.

"Maybe we should call for some tea first-"

"In a minute. No more stalling. Who- are- you?"

I swallowed. "Who- who do you think I am?"

"Oh, Good Lord," Freddie rolled his eyes.

"I only ask so I can get an idea of where your head is. I want to know how best to put it for you, if there's even a way to do that."

Freddie rubbed the side of his nose. "First, the real story. You know who I am, don't you?"

"Well, yeah. It's been about nine days, I think I ought to-"

"I mean, right from the very beginning. You always did. Why else would your boss send you to me?"

Boss? Who is my "boss"? Why does he keep referring to my boss? "It was an accident."

"Ah, yes. I've heard that before."

"But it's true!"

Freddie looked at me, then sighed, his expression softening. "All right, let's try a different angle." He seized my hand- tightly, so I couldn't pull away even if I wanted to. "Why did you start crying there in front of the World Trade Center?"

"I... Because..." The truth shall set you free, the saying goes. Just the opposite; I was feeling more cornered, and more chained down, than I'd ever been in my life. This went so radically against my Three Commandments, especially the second one, "Never talk about the future." Already I'd taken liberties with careless out-of-time references; if I defied this crucial rule so blatantly, there would be no point to adhere to the rest any longer.

"Come on, Eve," he pushed. "We don't have all morning."

"Freddie, this isn't just something I can spit out on demand! It's- it's hard! Don't you understand?"

He blinked. Something in my voice had touched him. Even in the first lights of the morning, Freddie's eyes suddenly were full of sympathy.

"Is it that bad?" he said in a small voice.

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. You wouldn't believe a word I say."

"Darling, you would be surprised what I would, and do, believe right now." Freddie tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Talk to me."

For a moment I was silent, lost in the dark caverns of his eyes. Somewhere deep inside them, I found the strength to begin. Bye-bye, Three Commandments. So much for protecting the course of time.

"There's going to be an attack," I managed.

"An attack? In New York?" When I nodded, he said, "What's-"

"Terrorists are going to hijack four separate planes. Two are going to hit the Twin Towers, send them crashing down. And people are going to die."

Freddie looked appalled. "Why didn't you tell somebody? When will this-"

"In about twenty-four years."

He just sat there, dumbstruck.

I sighed. "Think I'm crazy yet?"

Freddie didn't answer. "How- how many people, uh-"

"About three thousand."

Freddie swallowed. "That's so horrible. No wonder you-" Suddenly he cut himself off. "Wait a minute. Then why-" His eyes bugged, and his face went whiter than the shaving cream. "Oh, God."

"What is it?"

Freddie could scarcely get the words out. "Were you trying to tell me something?"

"I don't follow y-"

"Is that how I'm going to die? Is that what you were telling me in your oh, so roundabout fashion yesterday?"

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Of course not! You-" I started to say, but I couldn't go any further. From out of nowhere, cruel words attacked my brain, finishing where I had left off: You don't die like that. You die slowly. You die alone. You die unfulfilled.

"Sweet Jesus," I said aloud, covering my mouth while in my head I screamed, Stop it! JUST STOP IT!

I closed my eyes, squeezed the lids together as if to squash such terrible thoughts. Such a short time ago, I had been so cavalier, so detached, as to ponder his life and all its warts without batting an eyelash. Back when he was little more than an "exceptional dead guy," a distant dream worthy of admiration but not of any real affection. Oh, how quickly things had changed. As frustrating, as mean as he could be at times, he meant so much more now- more than I realized even in this moment. This big cat, this panther with deadly sharp claws, purring his way into my heart- that is, whatever was left of it that he hadn't yet shredded to bits.

Freddie watched me closely. Then in a very soft voice, he said, "You know something."

"Know something?" I said. Why was he taking all this so calmly?

"You know something about me," he repeated, "don't you?"

I know everything about you, I thought to myself. I know too much.

"Supposing I did," I replied. "Who's to say you'd believe it?"

"You've been right so far."

"About one thing! The plane! And it's entirely possible I could have just been trying to make you feel-"

"Good God, Eve, make up your mind! Do you want me to believe you or don't you? This little back-and-forth mambo thing is getting a little confusing."

My gaze lowered, studying his jawline and the slope of his shoulders. Freddie placed two fingers under my chin and drew me back up to face him.

"You saw something in my hand," he said quietly, yet in his words rippled definite fear. "Don't try and pass it off as, um, as a part of your high. You saw something, and it wasn't good. What's going to happen?"

"I don't know what's going to happen!" I cried.

"Yes you do. It made you scream."

"It was the concept that made me scream, not the- not the certainty!"

"The concept?"

A light switched on in my head. I'd stumbled upon a strategy, and a minimally risky one at that. I could tell him in such a way that wouldn't scar him for life, yet I wouldn't be necessarily lying to him.

"When I looked at your hand- I saw two things," I said. "I saw what's going to happen- and I saw what might happen. They both frightened me."

"Okay, so, what's going to happen?" He asked this as if he would believe whatever I told him to be the undisputed truth. Why? Why would he trust me? I'm just a girl, and one he's called mad at that.

But to hold out on him helped neither of us. It was time.

I took his hand and ran my fingers along his smooth palm. I spoke slowly, looking into his eyes. "In a few years, there will be a- a plague. A plague of weakness."

His brows knit together, forming that concerned expression again. "Go on."

"I say weakness, because it ruins the body's defenses. Makes one susceptible to pretty much anything. I don't know all the symptoms, but I know that. And there's two big ways people catch it. One way is through needles, like drug needles."

"What's the second?"

I closed my eyes a moment.

"Eve?"

His voice warned me; I made myself keep going. "No-holds-barred sex. Everybody doing everything with everybody."

Freddie was silent. I went on, "And, uh, it's going to throw the world for a loop. No one will be expecting it. And the sad part is, it wouldn't even be as big a problem if people would just-"

"What does it have to do with me?" he interrupted.

He didn't mince words, did he?

"Well, that's where the 'might happen' comes in," I explained. I sat quietly and let him think about it for himself.

At last he said, "Are you saying I'm going to-"

"I'm saying, you might! I don't know for sure." Okay, now I'm lying.

Freddie scoffed, "So you don't know?"

"No! That's what I just said-"

"Then why tell me if you don't even know?"

"Because I don't want anything bad to happen to you, you dork!" I blurted.

Freddie stared at me, his face in seconds wiped of all the irritability he'd been displaying almost nonstop since last night. He put his other hand over mine, so that it lay between both of his, and leaned forward.

"Evie," he whispered, "did you just say you cared about me?"

"Good grief. Of course I care about you, Freddie," I said. "You drive me up the wall sometimes- make that a lot of the time- but I don't want you to get hurt. If something happened to you I'd never forgive myself."

There was a new light dancing in his eyes. "You don't need to worry, my dear. I can take care of myself."

"Yes, I know you can, but that's just the kind of 'not me' attitude that makes a person vulnerable. What's more, I mean, knowing you..." I trailed off, flailing my hands helplessly.

He frowned. "Knowing me? What are you talking about?"

I sighed. "You're a sex fiend. Okay?"

Freddie shrank back, suddenly tongue-in-cheek. "Why, whatever gave you that impression?"

"Oh, please-"

"For your information, I have gone without for the past nine, almost ten days and look, I'm still standing. My hands don't shake. See? Steady as a rock. Sex fiend. I mean, really!"

I blinked. "You're kidding me, right?"

'Which part?"

"Am I to understand that you've been celibate for the past nine days?"

"Aren't you impressed?"

What do you want, a cookie? Nine days without making love, big whoop. I've never had sex, and you don't see me bragging about it!

I decided it wouldn't serve me much to ask why he was "going without." It wasn't any of my business, not even if Freddie wanted to make it my business. But I did say, "That explains last night, then-"

"Forget last night, I was terribly rude and a bit on the emotional side for reasons you well know- although I do have to say you are driving me crazy yourself."

"Me. Ha. You're funny." However, once more, I'd chosen a poor time to be sarcastic.

Freddie rose, and spoke sharply, "Darling, you're this beautiful creature with the eyes of a kitten and a voice like silk and a body that I can't stop thinking about, and you have the gall to sit there and make fun of me for wanting you?"

I swallowed, struggling to digest his words and not look spellbound in the process. Yet all I could manage to think was, Freddie wants me. He's not kidding either. Oh, wow.

I began, "I'm not making fun of you-"

"What would your boss say, if he knew how mercilessly you tease me?" Freddie interrupted again. "Are you trying to trip me up? That's so unfair."

"There it is again! Who is my boss? I've never said anything about my boss."

"Your boss," Freddie said again, as if I was just supposed to know who he meant. Then, rolling his eyes, he pointed at the ceiling. "The Lord Above. God Almighty. The Man Upstairs. Your Boss!"

I sat there, feeling as though I'd accidentally skipped a crucial chapter in a mystery novel. "What are you trying to say?"

"Is my soul being audited or something? Did He send you down to get the skinny on me, because that's how it f---ing feels sometimes. I mean, that journal or whatever it is you keep, the Magic Mirror-"

"Is that what you think I am?" I asked. "You think I'm some sort of heaven-sent tax collector?"

"I think you're an angel. I don't know what kind. But an angel, certainly."

I couldn't decide whether to laugh or ask him if he needed to see a professional psychiatrist; some amateur like me had no right handling this stick of dynamite. "Are you serious?"

"Am I right?"

He thinks I'm an angel. I don't believe this. And I thought I had an inflamed imagination! "Freddie, come on, you know better than that. That doesn't even make any sense!"

"Neither does, you just magically appearing in my closet, or knowing ahead of time that we aren't going to crash- or warning me that there's some kind of social disease about to strike. So, really, I think it's as reasonable a theory as any."

Opening my mouth, I almost rebuffed him with numerous examples of how wrong he was. But no such words left my lips. Instead I asked, "If I'm an angel, then why can't I get back to heaven?"

"The Relic, remember? You're stuck. Your wings, shall we say, are broken."

"What does God want with phone technology?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"And- and look, I'm not perfect! I screw up-"

"Whoever thinks angels are perfect needs to meet Beelzebub. Or was that too long before your time?"

In surrender I let my hands drop into my lap. Freddie had his mind made up, it seemed. And it was too early in the morning to start a heated debate over whether or not I was an angel. Unbelievable.

"So, let's have the truth, darling," Freddie said. "What's the message?"

"If I was sent to tell anybody anything, it was to tell you that you have, have, have to be careful, be smart, be safe, when it comes to being intimate with a lover."

"How do you suggest I do that?"

"For one, just- oh, and I have to say this, and please don't be angry at me for mentioning it, but- about Paul."

Freddie was confused. "Paul? Paul Prenter? What about him?"

I covered my face a moment, then cleared my throat. "Just- be careful about him. I'm not saying, don't be his friend, because I'm sure that guy could use all the friends he can get. But just be wary of him; he makes me nervous."

"Did the Magic Mirror say he's bad news?"

"He doesn't have to be- as long as you just keep your head about you. Have fun, yes, have all the fun in the world, but please- you have, have, have to be careful."

"So let me see if I've got this straight: don't get sick, and watch out for Paul. Sounds simple enough."

"And don't be a suicidal hedonist and eff everything within a three mile radius. Start there."

Freddie burst out laughing. "Look, darling, my sex drive is massive, but it's not demented! I already told you, I've been a good boy lately."

"That's as may be, you need to keep being a good boy- or else I'm coming after you with the flaming sword of justice and the Tommy gun of righteousness, or something like that."

"When I have you with me, I have no trouble being good," he said with a playful wink.

"Uh-huh. You still need lessons in good. And a lot of them."

"I'm willing to learn," Freddie smiled. "Would you be willing to show me?"

"You wouldn't let me get a word in edge-wise. You'd be too busy trying to teach me how to be bad."

"Okay, let's make a bargain. I teach you how to be bad first, then you teach me how to be good. Deal?"

I smiled and stood. "I don't want to know your definition of 'bad'- or how far I'd have to go before you decided I qualified." I gave him a friendly pat and unwittingly touched his chest, which was bare under the robe.

"You're an angel, darling, not a saint," Freddie said softly, touching my cheek. "Who said you had to follow the same rules as us mortals?"

"You tempter, you," I said, stepping closer to him. "You don't fool me an ounce."

However, to myself, I actually agreed with him, That's true, there was that one movie about Michael the archangel...

Still, I thought to myself, it was already a fruitful morning. I slid away from reality for a moment. If nothing else, Freddie was back in good spirits again; we'd had our little talk, and no one was any worse for the wear. True, now he was convinced (unless he was being tongue-in-cheek again, which was just as, if not more, likely) that I was some celestial being trapped on Earth, but I'd warned him of the future. In a roundabout manner, perhaps, but how well do you suppose he would have taken it had I looked him in the eyes and said, "Freddie, in fourteen years you're going to die of AIDS"? If he didn't start crying, I would have. And then Freddie would have hated me, I would have wanted to kill myself, and no one would have learned anything beneficial to themselves...

The sound of Freddie's tightened breathing brought me back to Earth. I saw the look on Freddie's face, noticed the jaw clench. With a start I realized I still had my hand on his bare skin- and was slowly, absent-mindedly rubbing it back and forth so that my fingers were sliding through the black chest hair in an unmistakably sensual manner.

Without a word I lifted my hand away from his body, although now my palms were sweating. I'd just sent the wrong signal. Oh, crap. What was about to happen? I somehow managed to pull an oblivious mask over my face, and turned from Freddie.

The orange sun had risen well above the horizon by now, and was now only slightly hidden by the hotel towers on the Strip. To me, that meant it was high time to get a little coffee and tea going.

I picked up the room service menu and waved it around, asking, "You ready for breakfast, Prince of-"

Freddie plucked the menu from my fingers and set it back down. Before I could ask what that was all about, he took me by the arms and pulled me close to him.

"What is it?" I asked. "Not hungry yet?"

But his expression suggested he was indeed quite hungry- just not for food. Freddie's mask of composure was wearing ever thinner; he seemed barely able to contain himself. My heart pounded.

"Eve, listen," he whispered, his eyes wide. "This is a purely hypothetical scenario, of course, I was just wondering."

"Of course," I said softly. "What was the question?"

"Supposing I should ask you- very politely, of course, very properly- to make love to me. What would you do?"

"Well," I whispered, looking anywhere but his eyes. "If I was curious, I'd probably ask you what you meant by that."

'By what?" Freddie said. "By 'making love'?"

"Yes, that."

"Would you be curious?"

I smiled and said for him, "Freddie, what do you mean by 'make love'?"

"You know what I mean," he growled.

"Do I?"

"Stop f---ing around and answer me: what would you do?"

"Um, I'd probably ask, just to clarify:" I leaned in, as if to kiss him, and purred as seductively as possible- "'Would that be plus or minus the shaving cream, Santa Claus?'"

Freddie frowned. "What? Sha-" Instinctively he put a hand to his still lathered face, and went absolutely red. I'd never seen him look so mortified.

"OH MY GOD!" he shouted, running for the bathroom and slamming the door. In spite of myself, I began to laugh. I couldn't help it, he'd just overreacted so hilariously.

My laughter only made him more furious. "YOU COULD HAVE F---ING SAID SOMETHING EARLIER," he shouted through the door, "INSTEAD OF JUST MAKING A FOOL OUT OF ME!"

"Oh, Freddie, calm down," I said through settling chuckles. I walked over and knocked at the bathroom door.

"GO THE F--- AWAY!" he snarled.

Rolling my eyes, I simply opened the bathroom door to catch Freddie, now robe-less, throwing water on his face and toweling himself dry. He still hadn't shaved; dark stubble sprouted around his full lips and along his jaw. Murder returned to his eyes as he cast them upon me, erasing my mirth when they met mine.

"Freddie, I didn't mean any harm," I said. "I-"

"You could have said something," he snapped. "That would have been nice."

"You looked so cute," I tried to explain. "I'd never seen you like that, you seemed so human."

"What do you know about human, Little Miss Perfect F---ing Angel," Freddie muttered. "You and your good little world where everything is the same and no surprises and nobody ever does anything wrong-"

"Oh, please don't get into another snit, I honestly thought it was cute," I said, this time with a little apologetic smile.

He whirled away from me and faced the mirror. He shrugged as he looked himself over. "Whatever, I'll skip it today," he said to himself. "I'll go about looking like a lumberjack, but who's going to know?"

He drummed his fingers on the counter, his face still a fine shade of watermelon. Poor Freddie, he was so embarrassed. So many times, Freddie had gone out of his way to push me out of my comfort zone, and he expected me to take it like a man; one mention of the shaving cream and he cratered. So thin-skinned sometimes. Good Lord.

When he glanced my way again, I reached up and took his stubbly face in my hands. "Baby, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to emb-"

His voice was flat. "What did you just call me?"

Gulp.

Ooh, smart, Julia. Real smart. That is my name, isn't it? Julia? Maybe it is, I don't know.

I took one step back. "I- I don't know-"

Before I could go further he took hold of my elbow. "'Cos it sounded a lot like you just called me 'baby.'"

"Oh," was all I said. Whatever else I planned to say died when our eyes locked onto each other's. Freddie's embarrassed anger once more shriveled up and dissolved. What I looked upon now was his now sharply whetted appetite- his insatiable passion, the raging fire going unappeased for more than nine days.

Nine days too many.

I watched his tongue dart out, sensuously slide across his lips. In my head, I heard a voice shout, Get out of there, get out, get out, and against my own desires I began to pull away.

But he struck too quickly.

His iron grip clamped down on my arms, rendered me motionless. He made no pretense of gentleness; Freddie pushed me up against the bathroom wall, almost knocking my head against the towel rack. But I barely felt it; how could I, when now he was pinning me against the wall with his whole body, his arms snaking tightly around my back and his half-open lips shamelessly attacking mine. It was a wonder I remembered to breathe.

"Kiss me," he growled between kisses. "Do it."

I made one feeble attempt to stop him. "Freddie," I gasped, weakly pushing his shoulders, "F- Freddie, please-"

"Shut up and f---ing kiss me," he ordered.

I felt my will sliding away from me. Desperately I struggled to get it back. No...stop... My arms slipped around his neck. Stop! My eyes closed. Oh, God, please, make... Freddie began to moan in time with his heavy breathing.Make him stop... Oh...

I gave back kiss for kiss. My head spun faster. I clutched the sides of his face, the stubble on his gaunt cheeks rough against the palms of my hands. And as soon as I did, I felt something new- something much more moist than just his lips. My blood ran cold when I realized. Freddie was forcing his tongue into my mouth.

His hands slipped back to the front, reached for the buttons of my pajama top. Still kissing me, he seized my collar, took hold of both sides as if he was going to rip my shirt wide open. Just as he was about to try and find out how I looked without a bra-

BAM-BAM-BAM.

Someone was knocking at the door.

My eyes opened. So did Freddie's.

Now we heard a voice. "Loves! Are you up yet?"

"Yes, Peter, we're up, just a minute," I called back.

Freddie didn't move, hands still clenching my collar. So I said, "Are we going to keep Straker waiting?"

I watched his sanity slowly return, the mania in his eyes receding. Freddie looked down at me- and I was in fact me again, not the brainless bundle of surrender I was headed for becoming- and sighed. "How many times has this happened?"

"Three?"

"Three times, Peter's cut in on us?"

"I think that's right. Once at the club, once at Central Park-"

"And now."

"Yup. And now."

Freddie and I looked at each other, and for no reason at all shouted, just like on the plane, "STRAKER!" then burst out laughing. It felt good to be us again.

To myself, though, I said, That was way too close. Exciting, certainly. Fabulous, yes. But way. Too. Close. And Peter may not be around to save me next time. Don't let it happen again.

I sighed, then pushed him off me. "Come on, you so-and-so, let's get him."

"Did you count?" he asked casually, meaning the kiss "score."

"Oh, no, I didn't, did you?"

"I think you're at forty now. Two more, and we can break the average."

"Huzzah, huzzah."

Before I could open the door, though, Freddie checked me. "You never did answer me, what would you do?"

I cocked my head. "If you asked me to make love to you?"

"Mm."

"Simple. I'd pray that Peter Straker was looking for you nearby."

Freddie laughed and rolled his eyes. "Good God."

"Ask a silly question," I shrugged. "By the way, how are we gonna work the license thing?"

"What?"

"The reason we're here, Freddie! The bet! The license! You know!"

"Oh! Oh, yeah, that. We'll work that out in a bit, when the others get up. The more minds at work, the better. Straker probably hasn't had breakfast yet. Would you please grab the phone for us, angel, and get room service on the line?"

"Right-o, my prince."

Freddie didn't verbally react to my new name for him, but he did glance my direction and give me a long, pleased once-over before he received his friend. It had stemmed from a smorgasbord of partially suitable names that all had one thing in common- Prince of Darkness, Clown Prince of Crime, the Persian Prince, and of course, best of all, Prince Charming. What with so many princes in mind, it only made sense that he should be one, too.

And with all that's happened this morning, I marveled to myself, dialing room service, Freddie still doesn't know who I really am. Thankfully.