One would have thought my killing the man's lieutenant would have put a damper on Whitefarrow's desire to meet. But it did not. Over the next day, I received several more notes from Rohan, relaying proposals for various times and places that my enemy and I might come together. The notes were short and otherwise friendly, but I could tell Rohan did not want to get pulled into the middle of anything.

I didn't blame him. He already had been kinder and more considerate to me than he needed to be. If I'm being honest, he and Isolde could have done away with me the night of the holiday party. They had the men and resources to do it. That they had not done so, or even tried, should have been a message to me that they were sincere in their desire for friendship, but .... I think we've firmly established I have issues.

And I still had not recovered from the anger I felt for their treatment of Freya-Lynn. Though I strongly suspect that episode was wholly of Isolde's doing, no doubt driven by her great fear of me. Maybe I should be more forgiving.

My reply to each of the proposals that Rohan put forward was to insist on a meeting in a public site in broad daylight. Neither term would sit well with my enemy, but I wasn't looking to accommodate the man. I just wanted to figure out a way to murder him with the least fuss.

I happily would meet him in broad daylight on the steps of city hall, a place and time that a normal person would find comfortable. Perhaps Whitefarrow realized that I would not hesitate to kill him in such a public setting. In that event, the man was not as dumb as he looked.

To my utter surprise, the next note from Rohan indicated that Whitefarrow had agreed to my most recent offer. He and I would meet the following day at 2:00 in the afternoon at Foley Square in Lower Manhattan, just a stone's throw from the New York Supreme Court building and other stately landmarks.

It wasn't my first choice, but I'd proposed it because there was always a strong police presence in the area, and I assumed that fact might put my prey at his ease. It seemed to have done.

But I wasn't foolish.

When the time came, I would meet Whitefarrow fully armed, and I would arrive at Foley Square well before noon to look things over. Did I plan on killing the man when he arrived? Only if he actually showed up and I saw the opportunity. Absent that, my intent was to learn as much as I could, and perhaps to get the fellow to drop his guard so I might extinguish him at some future date. Patience has always been my friend.

And there didn't seem to be a downside. The more I thought about it, the better the location appealed to me. There would be plenty of people about at that time of day, and courtroom security being what it was, I didn't have to worry about a hidden sniper picking me off from a nearby building. The NYPD and court officers would be proof against any silliness like that.

So, I continued to plan, and I prepared for the meeting.

***

My first act on reaching the square the following day was to pace off every step of the surrounding area, watching and examining every person and thing. No one there looked as if they were out of place. And the location otherwise seemed normal.

Life hummed on in the square as it did in every other part of the city. Cars passed, horns honked, and there was the omnipresent wail of sirens in the distance. People walked, chatted, worked, and otherwise went about their day. There hardly was a place there from which you couldn't see at least one police officer.

I began to think that Whitefarrow truly was coming for the intended purpose of meeting to talk peace. Too bad for him, but good for me. At 30 minutes before the meeting, I settled down at a nearby snack shop and took a seat near the window. It was far enough away from our meeting site that it afforded me a good view of everything going on in the area.

I watched and pondered, and then pondered and watched. Not long afterward, my view was obscured, and for a moment I craned my head before realizing the perfect body that blocked my view was topped with an angel's face.

I'd exchanged a few notes earlier in the day with Fallon, and carelessly I again had given her enough information to intuit my location. The smile on her sweet face said she knew she should not be there, but it was a sweet and loving smile, nonetheless.

Since my second birth, I'm not sure I've ever honestly been afraid, but I knew nothing but terror at that moment. I rose when she entered the door.

After we exchanged our kisses, she said, "I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I've been so afraid for you since your car accident."

I put my arms around her and whispered in her ear, "Darling, you can't be here right now. I'm meeting someone, and it might not go the way I hope. I'll come by and see you later, but you need to go now."

Perhaps it was something in my voice, but my friend blinked several times, and then she moved to speak and hesitated. Finally, in a voice thick with emotion she said, "Would you spend Christmas with me?"

"Wh ...?" I suddenly wanted to cry. Her voice nearly broke when she'd asked. "Of course I will, sweetheart. But you have to go now."

She nodded, threw her arms around me, and gave me a mighty squeeze. Afterward, we kissed our goodbyes, and she departed. You could have powered a city with my heart at that moment, it was pumping so wildly with fear and relief.

It took a moment or two to regain my bearings, but by that point the meeting time was nearly there. I stepped outside and took up a position where I'd planned on waiting.

There was no doubt that Whitefarrow, if he came at all, would arrive in a vehicle, but the area was so heavily cordoned by gates and Jersey barriers that there were limits on where any vehicle could go. I had no intention of getting into any car with the man, and I stayed well away from anyplace that he might pull up.

About five minutes later, a dark SUV arrived, circled once, and pulled up alongside the barrier nearest me. A man got out on the passenger's side, circled to the driver's side, and laid his hand on the backdoor handle. He didn't open the door, but looked at me and waved me toward him.

The gesture was so peculiar, so theatric, that for a moment I wasn't certain what to make of it. Then he again made the broad sweeping gesture. This time he opened the door but a crack. He was a big fellow who was bald as an egg and who I didn't remember having seen among Whitefarrow's people. There was something peculiar about him, something off.

I was about to leave when I caught a rush of movement from the corner of my eye.

"Shit!" exploded from my lips.

A half a dozen men rushed me at once. It was far too many for me to deal with during daylight, and, careless fool I was, I didn't even have my hand on my knife. But it didn't stop me from fighting back like a berserker. I managed to pull my right arm free and threw a few hard elbows that took at least one man down. But by that time, my feet were no longer on the ground, and I was being hustled along.

It was then I saw the handcuffs in the hands of the bald man, and he began calling out, "Police! Police! Everybody stay calm. This'll be over in a minute."

Shit, the man clearly was no cop. I fought like a wild woman, managed to get my second hand free, and began to pound on the heads and faces of the men carrying me. Soon I had one foot on the ground, but something hard struck the side of my head. For a moment I saw white, and then I spun, lashing out in every direction.

It was then that I heard her, a high-pitched and throaty voice calling my name. Through a break in the crowd I saw her, Fallon, running toward me with all her speed, screaming my name. Sweet, passionate, loving Fallon, come to my rescue.

Before I knew it, something hard was around my left wrist, and I realized I'd been handcuffed to the vehicle's rear door, now wide open. There was no one in the vehicle, only stacks of crates. There was no question what was in them.

I let out a howl of rage, threw my feet against the vehicle door, and pulled with all my might. I'm not terribly strong when the sun is up, but I pulled in that moment harder than I'd ever exerted myself in my life. I pulled with all the strength in my body and more. I pulled until I thought my arm would rip from its socket. I pulled until something, either the car door or the manacles around my wrist, gave way with a thunderous crack, throwing me to the ground.

When I was free, I scampered to my feet, and ran with all my speed to the sweet child trying vainly to protect me, all the while screaming for her to stop, screaming for her to turn and to run away. I had just thrown myself toward her when the gates of hell flew open behind me.

***

There was no question that I lost consciousness, but it couldn't have been for long. When I sputtered to awareness, my body was a raft of pain, and I had no idea what was going on around me. Dust and smoke choked the air, and the smell of burning something nearly left me to gag. It was difficult even to draw breath. There were others around me, living and dead, but I wasn't sure.

The only thing I knew was that Fallon was half beneath me, and she wasn't moving or breathing. I pulled myself up, wrapped my right arm around her, and managed to lift her from the ground like a ragdoll. Then I started running.

I don't really remember that time. There were screams of pain and sorrow near and far, some of which may have been mine. All were muffled by the terrible pain and ringing in my ears. I knew I'd been hurt, and badly. I could barely move my left arm and something, something large and sharp had lanced through my back, just under my left shoulder blade. I'd been stabbed before, many times. This one was bad.

But I ran and ran faster than I'd ever run in my life. I'd taken a careful survey of the area before the so-called meeting, going over every detail for blocks in every direction, and I knew there were two hospitals nearby. I seldom noted such things. What would I need with a doctor? But I knew the closest of the two was just three blocks distant.

So, I slung my sweet cargo across me, and I ran. She was hurt so badly, covered in blood, limbs twisted, head lolling, the kind of injuries from which people didn't often survive. But I ran, nonetheless.

Not even the smell of her blood swayed me. Nothing would stay my course that day. I had but one purpose in the world. I would have let Whitefarrow live at that moment, and let him send me straight to hell, in exchange for her life.

I don't remember reaching the hospital. I don't remember taking her into the emergency room. I don't remember having spoken with the doctors. I don't really remember much of anything.

I knew I was dying—or I should have been. My body will take a great deal of punishment. I can lose almost all of my blood and still survive. But I can't lose all of it. I knew I was dying.