The powerful light allowed for no shadows to be shed. They melted away revealing a whip-thin and tall man, his skin the swarthy brown of a Shizhuthian...human. He wore black leather, like me, a quiver of throwing darts at his hip. Wrapped about his torso was a strange chain wrap connected to a sickle sheathed at his waist. His head threw back. He screamed in agony because...Zanyia bit him. She savaged the flesh at the nape of his neck, his blood spurting around her clenched teeth. Her golden eyes. Then he said, “You are more desirable than my wife, but I am not going to leave her. I really do love her. She has had my children.” “Your wife is a sweet woman,” I said. “I do not want to do anything to hurt her.” At about two in the morning Vince woke me gently and asked, “May I make love to you again?” “Of course. Sure.” He got out of bed and turned on. More

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