“That much is true,” said Altair of Altair. “For when we are through here, I must hunt down the Angel and all who stand with him.”

“For poaching?” he asked wryly.

“Yes.”

“If you start killing every bounty hunter who’s looking for Santiago, you’re going to have a full-time job on your hands.”

“Most of them are insignificant specks of debris in the cosmos,” she replied. “Even Peacemaker MacDougal and Johnny One-Note will never find Santiago. Of them all, only you and the Angel have the ability to find him.”

“What about Giles Sans Pitié?”

“The Angel killed him last week,” replied Altair of Altair. “Giles Sans Pitié sought him out on Glenovar and proposed an alliance.” She paused. “The Angel has no more use for competition than I have.”

“I warned him to stay away from the Angel,” commented Cain.

“You realize, of course, that I have every reason to do to you what the Angel did to Giles Sans Pitié.”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” said Cain ominously.

“Forget your weapon, Sebastian Cain,” she said, an unfathomable expression on her exotic face. “It will do you no good.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” he said, withdrawing his gun and pointing it at her.

“How will you kill me?” she asked, her blue eyes alive with amused interest. “A bullet to the head? That is your trademark, isn’t it?”

“I don’t have a trademark.”

“All good killers have trademarks,” she replied. “With Giles Sans Pitié it was his metal fist, with Peacemaker MacDougal it is a pencil-thin beam of light, with ManMountain Bates it is his bare hands, with you it is a bullet. Only the Angel, who is adept with all weapons, slaughters with variety.”

“And what is your trademark?” asked Cain.

“You shall see,” she said softly.

And then, suddenly, he was no longer in a subterranean chamber on Altair III. Instead, he stood at the edge of a clear blue brook, the hot Sylarian sun beating down on his neck. He was barefoot, and the grass, long and swaying in the gentle breeze, felt like velvet between his toes.

He looked across the brook and saw a girl, her blond hair meticulously braided, her skin tanned and healthy. She wore a plain blue dress, and she gingerly held its skirt up to her knees as she stood ankle deep in the water.

“Help me,” she said, her voice heavy with worry.

“It’s shallow,” replied Cain with a laugh. “Just walk across it.”

“I’ll fall.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Don’t tease me, Sebastian,” she pleaded, reaching her hand out to him. “Please!”

“All right,” he said with a smile.