"That'll be a neat trick," she said with a chuckle. "He's liable to wring yours."

"That'll be a neat trick," she said with a chuckle. "He's liable to wring yours."

"He's over two thousand years old," Kira called over the sound of water running in the sink.

"Merlin'sover two thousand years old," Wyrdrune replied wryly. "Billy's only fifteen."

"He can take care of himself," said Kira. She started to brush her teeth.

Wyrdrune lowered Archimedes to the floor and got out of bed. "I don't know what Merlin's thinking of,

letting Billy hang out in bars all night. How the hell does he manage to avoid being carded?"

"You're kidding, right?"

Wyrdrune opened the bedroom door for Archimedes. "Go tell Broom to get breakfast ready," he said.

"I'll want to see a printout of that report as soon as I finish getting dressed."

"Gotcha."

The little computer waddled out the door and Wyrdrune closed it behind him. He put on his blue terry

bathrobe and went to the bathroom door. Kira was standing at the sink. She put back her toothbrush

and rinsed with mouthwash. Wyrdrune watched her for a moment.

He loved the way she stood, with one leg straight, the other slightly bent, accentuating the graceful

curves of her thighs and calves. He loved everything about her, the feral-pretty way she looked, the

catlike way she moved, her facial expressions and her mannerisms . . . It was hard to believe that the first

time they met, they had an intense, mutual dislike of each other. He pressed up against her from behind

and ran his hands up her sides and underneath her tank top, cupping her small, firm breasts.

"Mmm . . ." she said. She pressed back against him, closing her eye as she straightened up and tilted her

head back. He nuzzled her throat and felt her respond.

She turned around and kissed him. Their arms went around each other and she wrapped her leg around

his. Suddenly she pulled back, her eyes wide open.

Wyrdrune was gone, and in his place stood another man, older and taller, with blond hair that was much

shorter, neatly combed back at the sides and across his forehead in the front. He had a neatly trimmed

beard that accentuated his strong jawline, high cheekbones, angular features, and a wide mouth that had

a faintly cruel look about it. There was an emerald runestone set into the center of his forehead and a

ruby in his chest, over his heart.

"Modred!" she exclaimed. She struck him on the chest with her fist. "Damn it, I told you not to do that!"

He chuckled. When he spoke, his voice was deeper than Wyrdrune's. "Forgive me. I couldn't resist."

She pulled away from him. "You know I hate it when you do that! At least give me a warning!"

"But that would spoil the fun."

"Yeah, great," she said wryly, turning around and combing her short, jet-black hair. "The two of you are