Jefferson composed himself. “You said there would be repercussions if I failed.” He managed to look Franks in the eye, which put him on a very short list of mortals. “Whatever you see fit to do, I understand and accept the punishment. If I’m going to get kicked out of the Bureau, I just want you to know the last couple of years it has been an honor to help protect my country.”

Punishment? He had said that, and Franks always kept his word. “I have something appropriate. I’ll speak with Director Cueto.”

Jefferson stood up. “Understood, sir.” He limped back to the door, then hesitated. Franks could tell Jefferson really wanted to ask what his sentence would be.

“Myers is gone,” Franks stated. “I require a new partner.”

Jefferson visibly paled. “Your partner?” He certainly hadn’t expected that particular punishment. “Is it too late to resign?”

“Yes. Dismissed.”

Jefferson left Franks alone with his thoughts. Kurst had been banished, but at a terrible cost. Stricken had survived. He would be dealt with in time. Despite their temporary success, the mortal world remained in grave danger, otherwise Franks would not have been sent back.

Something Myers had said as he lay dying was gnawing at Franks . . . He’d said that his descendants could use the Elixir. Descendants. Plural.

He did not understand The Plan. He would abide by The Deal. The Contract was his life. Things had changed, but he did not know what would be expected of him next. Franks turned his head enough to see a sliver of the sunset through a gap in the blinds . . .

Nope . . . Franks still didn’t appreciate beauty.

He would never be human, but maybe he could be close enough to get by. So Franks lay there, staring at the ceiling, waiting for his next inevitable assignment.

He knew it would not take long.

* * *

Stricken sat in the dark room, listening to the waves, and contemplating his next move. A man with lesser dedication would have been frustrated by recent setbacks, but he preferred to see them as new opportunities instead. He poured himself another scotch, put his feet up, and watched the shadows of the tropical trees sway in the wind along the moonlit beach.

It was a rather nice hideout. He’d certainly earned this vacation.

His phone rang. He picked it up on the second ring. “Hello.”

The voice on the other end was electronically distorted. “You escaped.”

That was insulting. “Of course I did.”

“Where are you?”

“Nowhere you’ll ever find me. Don’t bother trying to trace this. You might be thinking about sending the Wild Hunt after me, but they’ll just end up frustrated, and everybody will go home disappointed.”

“Were you aware that the Nemesis bodies would be possessed by demons?”