Tom sat in the restaurant watching the other diners and wondering how humans could eat this food. The meat was overdone, the gravy like glue, the mashed potatoes like paste and the vegetables tasteless. The coffee was worse, it could have been battery acid. But he was not here to eat he was here to observe. Today he chose to watch a group of teenagers in the corner booth. Watching how they interacted with each other and the adults around them, observing and taking note of the adults’ reactions.

Then a familiar scent came to him. He had smelled it only once. That had been over 8 months ago and hundreds of miles away. He would never forget it. He pushes the plate away, appetite gone, and food forgotten. His eyes scan the room, looking for her. When he sees her, time slows for a fraction of a second. She is walking right towards him, a smile on her face. She is smaller than he thought, five foot two or three and slender. She is dressed in black from head to foot, black silk blouse, black leather pants, black boots that come to her knees, black leather coat that comes to mid calf and flows behind her like a cape, and black fingerless gloves, also leather and she is coming right at him. He notices she carries a knife in her boot. Was that the same one she used on him? Without thinking he rubs his hand across his throat.

She comes to a stop beside him so close he can feel her heat. She looks down at him and waits. What is she waiting for? She takes a finger and strokes him down the side of his face, along his jaw and comes to rest on his chin. He looks into her eyes and slowly tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck. She buries her nose into the hollow underneath his jaw and inhales deeply.

"You smell wonderful, young one." She whispers. "May I sit?"

Tom slides over on the bench seat of the booth, fighting the feeling of being trapped with no escape. He knows it isn’t true, but he doesn’t like being penned in.

As she slides in beside him she snatches a coffee cup off of a nearby table and places it in front of her. As she turns her head to watch the waitress come to the table, Tom sees why her dark hair is pulled back. It is plaited into a single long braid falling more than halfway down her back. As the waitress pours her coffee, a $20 bill appears in her hand. "This is for you." When the waitress takes the bill she follows it with, "He has a brother if you make sure we are not disturbed." The waitress looks at the bill and nods.

Tom shifts slightly on the seat bringing his body more to face her, even though it meant putting his arm on the seat behind her. The motion-looked casual even intimate but was neither. "The coffee here isn’t very good" he says by way of conversation.

"I’ve had worse." She said as she sipped it. "Don’t mind me. Finish your meal."

He looks at the food on the table and shakes his head. "I lost my appetite."

Silence reigns as she sips the coffee and looks in his eyes. Finally he asks, "What are you doing here."

"I’m here to see you, young one."

He had asked the wrong question. "What are you doing in town?"

"Oh, I have business to attend to."

"What kind of business?"

"Something like yours." She says with a wicked grin.

The last time they had met, he had killed someone. Did that mean she had someone to kill here?

"How long will you be here?"

"I don’t know, a day or two, perhaps a week at most."

"Why?"

"Why did I seek you out? The Gods ordained it. It would be unwise to question what the Gods ordain."

Interesting, she said gods not God and he wonders what it means. "And you are not foolish?"

She laughs a warm throaty laugh, "I have been called many things but seldom foolish."

He tries again, "Why?"

"Why? Because I’m sure you have many questions you want answered. I can answer some of them but not all."

"How will you answer?"

She knows what he is asking. "If you ask a question I cannot answer, I will tell you. If you ask a question I will not answer, I will tell you. I will not lie to you."

He lowers his shields only enough to sense her answers. She tells the truth. She still feels like a calm sea washing over him.

She looks at him closely, "Do you wish to continue this conversation here, or would you prefer some place more…private?"

He looks around at all the people in the restaurant. Privacy is starting to sound very good. "Not here."

She slides out of the seat and steps aside. Another bill appears on the table as she grasps his hand. She leads him out of the building seeming to glide effortlessly across the floor. She moves much faster than he would have thought possible for a human. When they are outside she looks at him, "Your place or mine."

"Yours." He had no desire to let her know where he was living. Besides, that might create more questions than he wished to answer.

"Very well" She takes him over to a motorcycle. It looked too large for her, but she climbed on it with practiced expertise. She delicately backs it up and says, "Climb on"

As he mounts the motorcycle, she says, "Hold on tight."

And they are off. He had ridden before but not with a rider with unknown skills. He holds on tight as she said and gradually relaxes as he realizes she knows what she is doing. He likes holding on to her. With the silk under his fingers and the scent of her permeating his mind. They ride in silence for at least thirty minutes and come to a stop at a motel just off the highway.

She brings him up the back stair. She must have been already registered. Typical motel suite; couch, table, television, it could have been one of a hundred thousand in the country. It had what could only be called a small kitchenette. Small refrigerator, microwave and coffee pot. There was an open bottle of red wine on the table with some glasses. "Please sit." She reaches into the refrigerator and took something out, a bowl of strawberries.

She puts the strawberries on the table. She takes her coat off and throws it on the couch; her gloves follow.

"Were you expecting me?" Tom asks, looking at the bottle of wine.

"No, red wine needs to breathe before it is enjoyed."

He watches as she goes through the ritual of pouring and tasting the wine.

"Umm. Very good. But it will improve with age." She pours him a glass, properly only1/3 full. "As will you." She says as she hands it to him.

He sips the wine, tasting the rich fruitiness of it, the sharp bite of the tannin, the burn of the alcohol. Yes, this was very good and very expensive. He was no expert but he had been trained to recognize what was good and what was not.

She sits in the chair by the table casually with her back to the wall. He suddenly realizes he is still in the center of the room with his back to the door. He had been so concentrated on her he had forgot ordinary precautions. He moves into the room, to the table, moving the other chair across from her also with the back to the wall. He puts his coat beside hers on the couch. He sits and watches her sip the wine and choose a berry to eat.

"Questions?"

He twirls the wineglass in his fingers, watching the wine and thinking what to ask. He lowers his shields in order to judge her answers more accurately. He looks at her and plunges ahead.

"I shot you, didn’t I?"

"Oh, definitely." She says with a small chuckle.

"Why didn’t you die?"

"I won’t answer that one. Perhaps the next time we meet."

"You cut me?"

"Yes."

"But there was no blood, no scar, nothing."

She shrugs her shoulders. "I healed it."

"How?"

"I don’t know how. I know I can. I’ve never met anyone else who can do it. I just can."

"I don’t believe you."

"Why not, young one?"

"Tom, my name is Tom."

She nods, "Why not?"

"It can’t be done."

The knife from her boot was in her hand. "Give me your hand." Even with the knife there was no threat, just calm. He gives her his left hand, his right dropping behind him in case he needs his gun. She draws the knife across his palm, cutting him deeply enough to cause him to hiss in pain. He watches the blood well up and start to drip on the white table. He raises his eyes to her and watches her strike the knife across her palm in an identical cut. He can’t take his eyes off the dripping blood. She grasps his cut palm with hers, clinging tightly. Without thought the gun is in his hands, pointed at her.

"Wait."

He feels something in his palm. Like electricity walking across the palm, burning and stinging. "What is it?"

"Wait. You’ll see, soon."

When the burning subsides, she removes her hand and wipes the blood from his. No cut, no scar, nothing. If there had been no blood he would have not believed what had happened.

"Can I go get a towel? You might want to put that away."

He nods mutely, still looking at his palm.

She brings a damp cloth and cleans his hand and the table. The blood is gone except for the scent in the air and the harsh taste on his tongue. "What was that?"

"I told you I healed you. It is easier with blood. I just can. Are you going to put that away?"

He notices he still had his gun in his hand. He swallows, "Sure." He slowly puts it away. He looks at her as she eats a strawberry. Her eyes were glittering as she watched him. He arranges his features. He wants to give nothing else away.

"You deserve a reward."

"For what? Letting you cut me?"

"No, for giving me your name. You didn’t have to you know."

She picks a perfectly ripe berry from the bowl. "Close your eyes." His eyes narrow but he acquiesces. He feels the cool berry against his lips. "Bite." He bites down on the berry and starts to open his eyes. "No, no. Concentrate." He concentrates on the taste of the berry; sweet and tart at the same time, making the wine seem almost sour in the process. He swallows and feels the wineglass against his lips. He takes a small sip, now the wine is filling his mouth and is stronger and richer than he thought before. As the taste of the wine fades away, he opens his eyes. "Better?"

He nods.

"Do you have more questions?"

"Yes, you smelled me. Why?"

"Young…Tom, you can change your clothes. You can change your hair. You can even change your face. You cannot change your scent. I would recognize your scent ten years, a hundred years from now. I suspect you would recognize mine."

He slowly nods.

"Why didn’t you kill me? It would have taken no effort. Why show leniency?"

"Tom, if I make a mistake I would like to be able to correct it. Had I killed you and later discovered that it was an error, I cannot correct it. Should I discover you need to die I can correct that."

Not the answer he expected. He thought it might have more to do with the desire he detected in her, and himself, he reluctantly admits. He has a more important question to ask. All others were preliminary.

She looks at him, intimately. "What is it that you really want to ask?"

"You said I had possibilities. What did you mean?"

She looks at him. Her eyes travel over his face. His face betrays nothing. He knows she cannot tell by looking at him how important this is to him. He had never been told he had anything but duty. Now duty did not seem to be enough.

She touches his face gently, her finger traveling over it, relearning his secrets. "I knew you were different. You had a scent I have never smelled before. I tasted in your blood the possibility of greatness. Someone has blocked you off. Tried to put a round peg in a square hole. You must learn to make choices, to live with your decisions, right or wrong. You have walls in you, which must be torn down.

"And you will tear them down?"

"No, not I. Someday you will meet someone who will do that. All I can do is show you that you can."

He feels her conviction. It’s like she has had this conversation before, another time, and another place.

He sits silently for some time, digesting what he as heard. "I am nothing. A soldier who follows orders, nothing more."

"Have you killed again?"

"No. It has not been…necessary."

She nods slowly, "Tom, try not to kill, if you can. It will harden you. Kill something that is inside. Pain is a harsh mistress. Do not bring her into your life."

He empties the wineglass and glances at her. "She’s already here."

"Oh, Tom. You must learn to leave her. She will rule your life if you let her. You are young enough, you can cast her out, if you wish."

"How long has she lived with you?"

He hears that warm laugh again. "A very long time. But we are not here to talk of me."

"You said you would answer my questions. Are you here to kill someone?"

"Yes, an old ‘friend’."

"Why?"

"Not a question I will answer. But it is a necessity."

He watches her eyes graze over him and feels a thin trickle of desire to build. He also feels her ignore it. This time he will be the one to take action. He rises and moves over to stand above her. He grasps her upper arms and pulls her up. He kisses her gently at first then more firmly, forcing her mouth open and plunging his tongue deep in her mouth. He pulls away and peers into her eyes. His kiss has inflamed her as a match to fuel. "What was that for?" She asked, her breath coming in gasps.

He allows his voice to go rough, "I thought this time you might want to do more than taste." He releases her arms. He was in full chameleon mode now. He would be exactly what she wanted him to be. He didn’t understand why, but he needed to show her he could do more than kill.

He slides his arm around her waist, feeling the silk beneath his fingers. He kisses her gently than runs his mouth along the line of her jaw to bury his nose in the hollow under her jaw. Her arms come around him to hold him close. He starts to pull her tighter when his fingers feel something under the silk. Instead of the smooth muscles of her back or perhaps the lines of her ribs he feels ridges, lines of flesh running parallel to her backbone. When he pauses he feels her passion turn sharply to pain.

"Not so interested anymore?" She says softly, a finger running across his lips.

He looks into her eyes and sees he has already hurt her. "There’s something different about your back. What is it?"

She pulls away from him and unbuttons her blouse. He was right, nothing but skin beneath it. She turns around and drops the blouse off her shoulders. He has seen many things, but the scars on her back make him flinch inside. Ridges of scar tissue run from her shoulders to disappear into her pants. Apparently they happened over a long period of time, as there were scars over scars. He swallows the bile that rises in his throat. His people seldom resorted to physical torment because of the effect it could have on the person doing it, especially on this scale. Even tightly shielded this much pain would seep through.

It took all his strength of character not to pull back. Part of his training told him that this was only another test. He was strong enough to face it. He runs his hands over the scars. Some so deep when they were made had to have exposed bone. "What happened?"

"I was disciplined."

He shook his head. "This is far more than discipline. You could have died from a beating like this. What kind of human would do something like this?"

"They were very careful. You die either from blood loss, shock, or infection. I didn’t go into shock and for blood loss and infection I was treated with salt and vinegar. Not pleasant, but effective. I was property, Tom. Too valuable to kill, but they didn’t want to mark my face. I could still be sold."

She pulled her blouse up and buttons it. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. "How many lovers have left you when they see this?" He puts his forehead on the back of her head and breathes deeply.

She tries to pull away. "Enough."

He moves his head down to kiss her cheek and realizes he doesn’t know what to call her. "What’s your name?" He whispers in her ear.

"Does it really matter?" She says as she shakes her head.

"Yes. I will not turn from you. You said I had choices. This is my choice."

"My name is Amerana."

"Amerana"

"Ah merrr ahn a. Let the r dance on your tongue."

"Amerana"

"Much better." She turns to look at him. "Possibly we will be lovers some day, but not now. It’s nearly sundown and I have to get you back. Besides I have business to attend to." She kisses him gently. "Thank you"

She picks up her coat and gloves from the couch and goes to the bedroom. When she returns she is dressed again in the coat and gloves with the addition of a black scarf about her neck. He notes the coat hangs oddly but he cannot put his finger on why.

She tosses his coat to him. "I’m sorry, but we have to go."

He puts on his coat and moves to the door with her. As she moves to open it, he holds it closed with his hand. "I will see you again, won’t I?"

"I promise, Tom. Only next time I get to ask the questions."

He follows her down to the motorcycle. He notices it will soon be dark. They had been here much longer than he realized. As he holds her close on the motorcycle he feels something in the coat. With his arms around her he whispers in her ear. "Why the sword?"

"I told you I had business. That’s part of it. I’m going hunting."

He holds her tightly as they return to the restaurant. This time he didn’t want to let go. When he arrives he sees trouble. Lewis was here waiting for him. He disappears for weeks and always reappears at the worst time. He dismounts from the cycle and leans down to kiss her thoroughly.

"You know you’re gonna get your ass kicked."

He just smiles. "I will see you again."

"Promise."

He walks over to hear what Lewis has to say, as he hears the motorcycle depart. He knows Lewis will not be pleased.

Two Days Later

He pulls up to the motel. The motorcycle is here. She is here. And he brings death. Lewis said he wanted to meet her, meet the human who had captivated one of his best. Tom was quite sure he meant to kill her, kill her while Tom watched. He had told Lewis very little, just that she was part of his cover. His target had disappeared the night before. He had gone to a soiree that had taken him weeks to wrangle an invitation to and his target had disappeared within the first hour. He would have to rebuild everything he had done.

He brings Lewis up the stairs and to the door of the room. He knocks, but there is no answer. He wrenches the handle and opens the door. He knows he broke the lock. He opens the door and smells her. She was not here but had been recently. He looks around. On the table is an open newspaper, a red marker, the wine bottle, a broken wine glass and a glass of wine. He steps over to the table and tastes the wine as Lewis searches the bedroom.

"She’s gone." Lewis says with a trace of anger in his voice.

"She always was cautious. There is nothing more to do here."

They hear the motorcycle start up and pull away. Both men hurry down the stairs but she is gone. There is no way to tell which way.

Beneath the windshield wiper of his car Tom sees a large manila envelope with ‘Tom’ in large red letters written on it. Lewis reaches for it but Tom is a shade faster.

"It’s addressed to me."

He opens it and takes out the black scarf. It smells of her. He knows Lewis will take it, but for now he drapes it around his throat. There is also a folded newspaper. He slides it out and looks at it. Folded to the front was a picture of the man he was to get close to. It had been circled in red. Underneath was written ‘Prominent industrialist missing’. She had written on the paper ‘Tom, hunting was good’ and had signed with a red heart.

"Lewis, what is my next assignment."

"You haven’t completed the one you have."

"Oh, yes I have." Tom slides the paper over to him. "I don’t think they’ll ever find the body. I said she was cautious."