Long Authors Note at bottom.

Also, this is not edited.

"Hey, Barbie, you ready for the meeting tonight? It's gonna be a `don't miss'."

Dave Jansen from accounting pressed his inflated crotch against Barbara Mason's thighs as she leaned over the copy machine. Normally, she tried to ignore him as much as possible. He was beneath her, and she would never be beneath him except in his dreams, so she didn't see any reason to waste her time. She turned to face him, nearly gagging on the scent of spearmint pouring from his mouth as he smiled up at her. He had no choice. She was eight inches taller than his five-foot-two.

After taking a quick glance around to see if anyone might observe their conversation and finding them alone, Barbara eased her hand between their bodies - Jansen still hadn't backed off - and slid her palm over the hard bulge behind the zipper of his seersucker slacks. Pale brown eyes, magnified by the thick lenses of his accountant's glasses, widened till they looked as though they might drop from their sockets.

`Better finish this guy off fast before he creams his jeans, so to speak,' she thought in disgust. She watched him as she slowly applied pressure, knowing the second she had passed pleasure and found his pain by the furrowing of his brow and the tensing of his shoulders. Leaning close, a pseudo lovers' tete-a-tete, she whispered for his ears only.

"Listen to me, you number-crunching shrimp. If I ever see this," she squeezed for emphasis, ignoring his soft groan of pain, "near me again, I'm gonna start thinking Lorena Bobbitt. And I don't think Cain would like hearing that you had been touching something he considers to be his personal property, do you?"

At mention of Cain Danson, all the color left Jansen's face. He shook his head vehemently, nearly dislodging his glasses from his long nose. His voice was strained.

"No, please, I didn't mean...," he squeaked.

Barbara released him with a snort of disgust, turning back to the copier.

"Go away, little man."

She waited till the sound of his padding feet had faded, then she sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Realizing she had just rubbed the black toner she had been refilling onto her face, she nearly laughed out loud.

"I've been at this too long, insanity beckons. Oh, well, maybe tonight, I'll get what I really want and it will all be worth it."

She could hope.

The abandoned church was illuminated by the eerie glow of hundreds of black candles. They burned in every available nook and cranny, flickering in the tiny breezes that worked their way through the cracks in the walls of the old church, making the light come to seemingly evil life. An unholy congregation, their face hiding black robes flowing across the dirty floor, gathered near the altar. Standing facing them, his robe distinguishable by the red velvet that climbed from the hem to circle his face and fall back to the floor, was their leader.

Cain, the High Priest of Satan's church, was holding mass tonight.

Raising his hands, he slid the hood off his face, revealing a shockingly handsome face with dark blue eyes and blond hair that curled endearingly around his ears. The murmur of noise that had existed in the church seconds before silenced instantly.

"Welcome," Cain spoke, his deep baritone speeding several hearts, male and female, "I am so glad you could all make it this evening. I have something very special planned."

Standing somewhere near the middle of the hooded assembly, Barbara Mason tried to slow her breathing. She needed to keep her wits about her, remember to say and do all the right things. She'd never succeed in acquiring her desire if she screwed up and made Cain angry.

Cain continued to address his congregation.

"First," he reached behind the altar and placed a small animal carrier on top of the blood-stained marble. A frightened `mew' came from inside the plastic and metal vessel, the sound bringing a smile of the purest evil to Cain's handsome features.

"Sounds like our little black friend can't wait to participate in our party. Patience, little one, you time is near."

Barbara had attended several meetings where small animals had given their lives for the glory of Satan. She, like the rest of the congregation, was surprised. They had expected something different this evening.

Cain tipped his head to one side with an expression of surprise.

"What's this? You aren't happy with my offering? Barbie," Barbara's heart shot into her throat and lodged there, refusing to beat or allow breath past, "come forward and assist me."

She took a deep breath through her nose and quietly blew it out between her lips. This was it, he had noticed her, singled her out. It was up to her to make it work for her. She dropped her hood as she made her way to Cain's side, unable to ignore the predatory gleam that entered his eyes as the veil of her platinum hair was revealed. She wondered if he intended to take her on the altar, a thought accompanied by a thrill of both fear and elation. As she reached the altar, Cain offered her his hand, palm up. Hoping her palm wasn't sweaty, she placed it lightly into Cain's hand, which closed around it. His smile belonged more on a wolf than a human being.

"Ah, what a precious porcelain doll. Open the box and show everyone the `pet' they have greeted with such disdain."

Carefully opening the animal carrier, her long blood-red nails giving her only a minimum of trouble, Barbara warily peeked inside, not sure what kind of four-legged creature Cain might have rounded up. What she saw made her throat tighten so painfully she thought she might lose her dinner right there on Cain's Italian leather shoes.

Inside the carrier lay a tiny human baby, no more than a few hours old. It was wrapped in a piece of burlap, its little arms and legs bare and still showing the residue of birth.

Her ice blue eyes flew to Cain's face, knowing, hoping she was mistaken. His smile broadened.

"Take it out, Barbie."

Swallowing hard to discourage the loss of her dinner, Barbara carefully lid her hands beneath the tiny figure, nearly jumping out of her skin when the baby moved and mewed again. Pulling the little body close to her own, she turned so the congregation could see Cain's `offering'. The collective gasp made her think of a pack of hungry hyenas just waiting for their leader to tell them he was finished with his meal.

"You are ready, Barbie."

The whisper in her ear made her jump. She turned her head to be pinned by Cain's deep blue gaze. His whisper was a lover's caress.

"Our master will surely deliver your heart's desire this night, my beautiful Barbie doll. And I shall initiate you as my High Priestess."

What was wrong with her? This is what she had wanted, worked for these last six months. Why were her hands shaking, the tremors threatening to work their way to her feet? She could do this. She could!

Forcing her lips into the best semblance of a smile she could manage, she spoke softly to Cain.

"I...I just hadn't expected...," she shrugged, "I don't want to fail the Master."

Cain placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he slid his hand down over her breast to rest on the baby's tiny head. The infant seemed to sense the danger in that seemingly innocent caress. It began to fuss, its tiny face screwing up in a preface to crying. Cain frowned in disgust.

"Put it back in the box. I don't want to listen to its caterwauling until I'm in the mood."

Barbara carefully laid the baby in the bottom of the box, covering it as best she could with the pitiful blanket. She closed the carrier securely, then turned back to the congregation. She could feel the tension in the room building to a crescendo. Knowing what the climax of this evening was to be, she wondered - Could she handle it?

From behind the altar, Cain produced the sacrificial knife. It was a long wicked-looking thing made of some black metal, it edge jagged and razor sharp. Stifling a shiver, Barbara wondered how much blood the lethal blade had spilled over the centuries of its existence. Cain held it above his head and the congregation as a whole obediently murmured their approval.

"Ah, I see you have changed your little minds about my offering for this evening. The master's presence is strong tonight. The sacrifice to The Dark One of this child of my own blood, the epitome of innocence, is sure to gain us his favor, perhaps even his visible presence. Prepare yourselves."

The black-robed figures took seats in the dilapidated pews. Hands searched through the folds at the front of the robes, their own or anther's, to pave the way for the orgy that would follow the sacrifice. Barbara took a step to join the others and found her way barred by a black-clad arm.

"No, Barbie," Cain's spoke as though to a small child, annoyance tingeing his voice, "As I said, you are to be my High Priestess. You will assist me."

Leaning close, his husky, breathy words were for her ears only.

"After we honor the master, you and I shall join on the altar, baptizing our union in the blood of our offering."

How Barbara wished she could raise her hood to cover the horror she feared was escaping her control to write itself across her face. Cain didn't seem to notice as he turned back to the congregation. He raised his voice dramatically, his arms lifted in supplication.

"Oh great Lucifer, angel of light, Prince of darkness, we beseech you to accept this worthy sacrifice and cast your favor upon us. This child, blood of my blood," he glared at Barbara, then motioned with his head toward the animal carrier. Jerking like a marionette in inexperienced hands, she opened the box, pulled the tiny infant from inside and laid it on the cold stone altar. As soon as any of its skin touched marble, the baby let out an indignant howl that quickly melted into the inimitable cry of a newborn. Cain's scowl turned to a smile of satisfaction and Barbara wondered if he thought she had deliberately done something to make the baby cry.

"...blood of my blood," he repeated for emphasis, "free of all Earthly sin, we offer to you as a sacrifice. I created this being for your glory, Master. I have served you long and well and..."

"Blah, blah, blah."

With a collective gasp, the congregation as one turned to the back of the church. Leaning against the entryway, his arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle, a man none of them recognized insolently addressed Cain. This new arrival was cast mostly in shadow, though his dimensions appeared quite impressive.

"How dare you!" Cain was indignant. "Do you know whom you are addressing?"

Slowly unfolding like a cat waking from a long winter's nap, the stranger straightened to his full height of six-four and began his careful entrance into the light. As he was fully revealed two women, and one man, sighed loudly. A sardonic smile split his face at their appraisal.

His shoulders were broad enough to match his height, his hips slender. He wore a black silk vest, open down the front, adorned with intricate red embroidery, black jeans and black cowboy boots. Muscle rippled under every square inch of exposed flesh. He walked as though he were comfortable inside his skin. And as though he ruled the known universe. His face was handsome, if one overlooked the cruelty that lurked behind the near-black eyes, the suspicion that seemed to permanently furrow the black brow. His eyes were slightly sunken in his face, his high brow shadowing them, hiding their secrets. He had a classic Roman nose, his lips were full and well-defined, his rugged chin a near-perfect square. Sable hair, held securely at the back of his neck by a piece of black leather, brushed the middle of his broad back.

This guy is bad news in spades, Barbara thought, even as she found herself admiring his confidence, his ‘I’ve got big ones’ self-assurance, and, yes, his jaw-dropping good looks.

As he approached the altar - surprisingly enough, no one attempted to halt his progress - he responded to Cain's inquiry.

"Do you know whom you are addressing, High Priest Cain?"

Cain's eyes looked like they might explode from his face at any minute, he was so angry.

"No," he hissed, "who might you be?"

The stranger lifted one finger and laid it beside his nose, wiggling it back and forth. With a sound much like an explosion, all of the candle flames leaped several feet into the air, the sudden additional light acting like a flash bulb on their eyes. When they could see again, the stranger was standing face-to-face with Cain. His dramatic whisper carried through the building.

"Got a clue now, High Priest?"

The color drained from Cain's face on a sigh and Barbara actually wondered if he might faint at the stranger's feet. The congregation seemed to erupt into sighs of pleasure and gasps of horror. Chaos was it. Barbara's next move meant success or failure. Gazing at the tiny face framed by still-damp curls, she knew failure was not an option. Fingering the tiny heart pendant that hung from a silver chain at her throat, she pressed the concealed button at its point and waited.

The stranger turned to the congregation and hissed, "Silence!" Barbara was amazed at how quickly the church became quiet as a tomb. His smile held no humor as he gave a slight mocking bow.

"Thank you."

He returned his attention to Cain who started to drop to his knees before him. The stranger's hand closed around Cain's throat, freezing the High Priest in a semi-crouch. With what looked to be very little effort, he raised Cain into the air by his throat.

"Cornelius Frazier, you are a pitiful excuse for a man. How do you think your congregation - That is the way you have always addressed them, yours, not mine - how do you think they'd take it if I told them your insignificant little tool will not rise to the occasion except at these little shindigs? That you bought that baby - ‘blood of your blood’," he sneered, "from an obstetrician friend with a nasty barbiturate habit? That you do charity work and confess your sins every week to the good Father James, just to keep your bases covered?"

Cain - a.k.a. Cornelius - had stopped struggling and was beginning to turn an ugly shade of blue. Barbara decided she had better make a move or she was going to lose an essential part of this gig. Slipping her hand into the front of her robe and along her bare thigh, she pulled the gun from the concealed holster, stepped forward and pressed it into the small of the stranger's back, hoping the voluminous folds of her robe would hide the weapon from the congregation. She kept her voice low.

"Put Cain down or you will be the sacrifice this evening."

She felt as much as heard the deep chuckle that rumbled through him.

Great, a nutcase that isn't afraid of guns. She pressed the gun more firmly against his back, deliberately changing the angle.

"Okay, so maybe you're not afraid to die, but how do you like the idea of being crippled and without the tip of your precious tool for the rest of your life?"

She breathed a sigh of relief as Cain's nearly lifeless body dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

"It would seem the only thing you did right, Frazier," the stranger hissed, "was to choose a loyal, if foolish, High Priestess. I'm going to turn around, Barbie."

Barbara tensed, pressing the gun what she hoped was painfully into his flesh.

"You're gonna to stay put until I tell you otherwise."

Slowly he began to turn toward her. Short of shooting him - she did not want to be explaining that for the rest of her life - she could do little but let him turn and keep him in her sights. Stepping back, she raised the gun in both hands, bringing it to her chest level. Which put it aiming approximately at his solar plexus. Then she raised her eyes to meet his, knowing that every move, every thought shows in the eyes first.

As soon as their eyes met, she had a feeling she had made a mistake, one that might cost her her life. Staring into his eyes was like gazing into the center of an erupting volcano. His eyes were black, truly black, with tiny specks of red that seemed to flare into being, then disappear. If the eyes were indeed the mirrors of the soul, this guy's soul was one dark place. For the first time in six months, she wanted to pray to God in Heaven.

His eyes narrowed as he took in her stance, the look of steel in her ice-blue eyes.

"Why, Barbie, I didn't think you had it in you. You're misguided and..."

As he lifted his hand, she barked, "Freeze!" His sinister smile revealed a row of perfect white teeth with what looked to her to be unusually sharp canines.

"Freeze? An interesting command, especially when issued to me. Some might say I am incapable of freezing. In my experience, only those of the police persuasion use that term with any frequency. I believe the bad guys avoid using it out of fear that their own inadequate colleagues might mistake them for the authorities, shooting first and making apologies later. You are becoming more and more interesting by the moment. And you," he hissed over his shoulder at the prone Cain, "are proving to be more of an ass than even I had realized."

The stranger tipped his head to the side, listening. One jet black eyebrow rose slowly as he returned his attention to Barbara.

"Fascinating."

Doors and windows suddenly burst inward as men in blackout gear exploded into the church. Shouts of "FBI!" and "Freeze!" accompanied their dramatic entrance. Releasing a breath dangerously close to a sob, Barbara addressed her prisoner.

"You're under arrest..."

"For what?"

The stranger's unexpected interruption angered her more than it should. Or was it his nonchalant attitude, as though he got busted every day, that was making her teeth grind? Who was she kidding? It was those damn eyes, looking at her now as though he could see...What? Shaking her head, thinking she was definitely going to take a few days off after this one, FBI Special Agent Skyelar Thomas Garfield responded brusquely.

"Kidnapping, attempted murder, trafficking in illegal substances, trespassing..."

"Trespassing? A tad petty for the illustrious FBI, don't you think?"

"It's been a slow week! Now would you mind closing your mouth long enough for me to read you your rights?"

Ignoring the gun that still threatened - Skye would never know why she didn't shoot him - he stepped forward and touched one fingertip to her chin, sending a lightning bolt of sensation through her nervous system. He spoke in a husky voice as she fought to control a shiver of unknown cause.

"Do you really think you can arrest me, Bar...What is your real name?"

"Skye."

Who said that, Skye wondered, refusing to recognize her own husky voice.

"Skye."

The way he said it, as full of meaning as Moby Dick, made her glad she had revealed her name. Somewhere deep in her brain, a voice was trying to break through to her, a voice of warning shouting words like `hypnosis' and `exhaustion', but she was having such a wonderful time listening to this oh-so-attractive man that she refused to hear that inner voice.

"Skye, you know who I am, don't you? Turn the gun on your colleagues, Skye. Once you have taken care of them, we shall have a most amusing time, you and I. Wouldn't you like that, Skye?"

Skye blinked once, a catlike smile spreading her lips as her eyes narrowed menacingly.

"Nooo, I'd really rather shoot you. But Management frowns on that sort of thing, so how about I just see to it that you get the Presidential Suite at the local hoosegow? Wouldn't you like that, Mr I-think-I'm-Satan?"

The stranger jumped as though he'd been slapped. Skye's smile widened, though it still held little humor.

"I don't hypnotize well, though I've gotta give it to you, you had me going there for a minute. Now put both hands on the altar and spread your legs wide."

His nostrils flaring with indignation, eyes narrowed to slits of anger, he hissed, "Very well, Special Agent, let the game begin."

AN: Hey all! I decided since Damon and Jessie decided to take a vacation to Balise or something, that I'd do NaNoWriMo this month. And, lo and behold, I actually finished a story. I know, try to hold in your shock. If my readers from Unexpected Dangers are reading this, I promise you I have not abandoned it! I'm just extremely stuck. The lovely Sarah has said that she'd help, and I have another friend that is going to help also. I will give you something soon. Now with this story, it doesn't even seem like I wrote it. It has a completely different feel and sound than UD. I can't think of a summary right now, my creativity is drained right now. This story is finished, but I'll probably wait a week or so before posting the next chapter, depending on the reviews I get. Now, the site has added a friend for Herman, and I shall name it Louise. She is Herman's girlfriend, and will be the button you feed for this story. So go, feed Louise some reviews. Tell me what you think. =:3 )

Much Love,

Carly