He got no further, for StarDrifter had crossed the room in five strides and hit WolfStar as hard as he could.

WolfStar fell back across the bed, but made no move to either rise or strike StarDrifter himself.

"Did that make you feel better?" he said, his tone still soft, although more than sarcastic. "If you like, I could recommend you for a place in the Strike Force ... such aggression should not go unused."

"You piece of filth!" StarDrifter said, standing several paces away. His fists were clenched, although he held his arms rigid by his sides.

WolfStar raised an eyebrow. "What have I done now?"

Although StarDrifter had come to this chamber to accuse WolfStar of tampering with Zenith's already damaged soul, all he could think of were the past three thousand years in which WolfStar had manipulated and controlled, sending tens of thousands to their death along the way, and all the time justifying his every crime and sin as necessary for the achievement of the final end.

"What have you done?" StarDrifter whispered. "What have you done? Oh Stars! Don't get me started!"

"Zenith knows her own mind," WolfStar said, not in the mood for indirect conversations.

"Zenith knows her own mind?" StarDrifter began.

"Oh for the gods' sakes, man, stop repeating everything I say!"

StarDrifter stepped forward a pace. "Then let me say this! Were you the one who helped save her when Niah — with your encouragement! — tried to destroy her? What of my efforts, and Faraday's, in pulling her through the shadow-lands until she could reclaim her own body?"

"You meddlesome idiot. Perhaps it had been better that Niah had succeeded, for then she wouldn't be in the Demons' grasp!"

"Oh no, don't think to justify your own failures by blaming either me or Zenith —"

"I wasn't blaming Zenith," WolfStar put in quietly. He rose slowly from his bed, one hand still gripping his ribs.

"— when it was you who has done so much damage. You who put Niah into the Demons'

hands. You who —"

"Oh, shut up! What in Stars' sake did you come down here to say? Just say it and leave me in peace!"

"Keep your bloodstained hands off Zenith."

WolfStar gave a nasty smile. "I have hardly laid a single 'bloodstained' finger on Zenith, let alone an entire hand."

"Leave Zenith alone."

"Why? Do you think her yours?"

"Leave her alone."

WolfStar brushed past StarDrifter and poured himself a glass of wine from the jug on the table.

"Would you like some wine, StarDrifter?"

"Leave Zenith alone!"

"Zenith is revolted by the idea of your bloodless hands touching her, and she is certainly unable to placidly contemplate the act of love with you, fool! Let Zenith make up her own mind about who she wants, and how she wants them."

"She loves me!"

Wolf Star's mouth curled. "But she cannot stand your touch. A poor kind of love, wouldn't you say?"

StarDrifter stared, knowing he was coming off the worst in this exchange, but needing to not only let off some of his raging emotions, but also to somehow make this fiend realise that he should leave Zenith alone.

"You have raped and abused her," he said, making his voice as calm and as even as he could. "You have willingly conspired with another for the death of her spirit, her soul. Isn't there even a scrap of guilt in you?"

"No."

StarDrifter closed his eyes, refusing to believe he'd lost Zenith.

"Have you slept with her?"

Wolf Star grinned. "Oh yes, but that was many months ago. Don't you remember? It was under the warmth of the moon —"

"I mean recently! Since you've been in Sanctuary!"

"No. I have held her hand." WolfStar shifted slightly, standing more erect, letting the light of the lamp play over his body. "But I think it is time to correct that. I am feeling so much better."

StarDrifter stared at him, then turned and stalked out of the room.

The door crashed shut behind him.

WolfStar's grin broadened, and he drained his glass of wine.

Chapter 35

Dispersal

"We have almost no time," DragonStar said to his five witches grouped about him. They were alone in the basement chamber of Star Finger, save for the pack of Alaunt, the lizard among them, huddled in an indistinguishable pile of pale fur against a far wall. StarLaughter was wandering some of the still-intact apartment complexes on a higher level — no doubt searching for the right shade of colour to drive WolfStar mad with lust, DragonStar thought dryly — and the Strike Force were sheltering amid the tumbled rocks on the surface. They would all have to move. Soon. And very, very fast.

"And so —" Faraday began.

"And so you must listen to me, and listen well," DragonStar said, matching Faraday's stare.

She dropped her eyes.

"All of you must meet one of the Demons," DragonStar said. "This you know. But which ones?

DareWing and Goldman, your task will be the easiest, for you will eventually work as a team rather than individually. You will meet Barzula and Mot; which of you meets which one, I care not."

"Why together, and where?" DareWing said.

DragonStar hesitated briefly before replying, again wondering how much he should tell his five.

"I thought it was happenchance that I created five of you," DragonStar said, "but now I realise it to be the Star Dance's design. There are five Demons, not counting Qeteb whom I must meet, and there are five of you.