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mentally for the coming days, and enjoying the fleeting feel of warm sunshine on the freshly healed new skin of his face.
    Gone were the insecurities and doubts that had plagued him before he’d defeated Burnout and regained the Dragon Heart. Forgotten were his desires for vengeance on Dunkeizahn’s assassin. Out of his mind for the moment. Shelved until the task at hand was successfully accomplished. The task of delivering the Dragon Heart to Thayla.
    More words came back to Ryan from the messenger spirit’s speech. “In order to complete your task, you must enlist the service of a powerful mage who knows the ritual that can carry you and the Dragon Heart into the metaplanes . . . Harlequin would be my first choice.”
    Now that I am completely healed, Ryan thought, I must begin the search for the mage, Harlequin. Anything else is but a distraction.
    Ryan returned to his room, showered and shaved, then dressed in a comfortable suit and tie, restrapping the Dragon Heart to his waist under his suit coat. The Heart bulged at his abdomen, almost making him look like he had a gut, but Ryan had decided to carry the artifact with him until his mission was complete.
    He tucked the Walther PB-100 pistol into a discreet ankle holster and took two extra clips of armor-piercing ammo. Just in case. Then he allowed himself to be chauffeured to the Watergate Hotel. He arrived a little before noon, very hungry for having skipped breakfast.
    The crowd around the Watergate was thinner than it had been the past few days, mainly concentrated in the front by the manastorm. Someone had erected a temporary macroplast podium and was addressing the crowd, spouting off about how Dunkelzahn had martyred himself, about how the dragon had been a saint and had been called up to heaven by God.
    Ryan had heard of the Church of Dunkelzahn fanatics, and apparently their numbers were spreading worldwide. The limousine driver pulled into the circular drive, newly repaired since the explosion had taken out much of the hotel’s façade and the overhanging canopy. The limo stopped by the brand-new revolving glass doors and the driver came around to let Ryan out .
    Initially, Ryan had felt a tad conspicuous in corporate attire, but that had lasted only a few minutes. He knew that in this part of the Federal cluster, a suit and tie were almost as effective as an invisibility spell. He stepped inside and up to the elevator.
    Nadja greeted him at the door to the penthouse suite, a beaming smile on her lips. And Ryan ran to her, ignoring the defensive looks from the secret servicemen clustered around her. He plunged himself into her arms, pulling her off her feet in a rugged embrace. She smelled sweetly of faint vanilla.
    She laughed and kissed his neck. Squeezed his body tightly.
    Ryan ran his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said . “I’m so sorry.”
    “Shh,” she whispered in his ear.
    He held her close, her face in the hollow of his neck. His tears threatening to come. He loved her more than he’d loved anyone, and he’d nearly caused her death. Burnout had gone for her because of what she meant to Ryan.
    After a minute Nadja pulled back and straightened her suit and skirt, the deep green going perfectly with her eyes and hair. She always did know how to kill in the fashion department. “You hungry?” she asked.
    “Famished.”
    “Come. I’ve ordered Greek from Aesop’s.”
    Nadja led Ryan into the raised dining area, situated next to the kitchen. A young human male poured him wine and brought a plate of stuffed grape leaves, hummus, and pita bread.
    Ryan’s stomach rumbled. He took a sip of his wine and helped himself to the food.
    “I heard Burnout was taken by the Azzies,” Nadja said.
    “Yes.”
    “Any idea where?”
    “Not exactly,” Ryan said. “Jane is trying to track him."
    Nadja nodded and swallowed a piece of pita smothered in hummus. She was so beautiful, so strong. Ryan would do anything for her.
    “I was hoping