I was flying.

It's what I did these days when I want to think - and apparently, I was one of the few who could.

Lucky me.

I was moving along the beaches, idly following the curving shore. It was hours before morning, hours before I would be exhausted enough to sleep...but not so exhausted that I had to sleep. The medallion had removed the effects of sunlight, but not my natural - or unnatural - sleep patterns. My body still craved sleep during the day, happily doing so until sunrise if I would let it. Two kids and a full-time job, unfortunately, wouldn't.

I flew five hundred feet above the crashing surf. The beaches were empty. Correction...mostly empty. There was a lone man jogging with a little squirt of a dog. A little red dog. Yes, my eyes are that good at night and in this form. The man looked vaguely familiar. Tall and muscular. As I flew overhead, the little dog stopped and barked. At me. The little shit. The man, stopped, too, and looked up, but I was already gone. I smiled to myself, now recognizing the cocky son-of-a-bitch.

The ocean rippled and sparkled, reflecting whatever ambient light was around. Fang would never be the same. Our relationship would never be the same. Hanner had plans for him, I was sure. But she could shove her plans up her pale ass.

We'd see about her plans.

Was Fang's and mine a true friendship? Perhaps, perhaps not. I liked to believe it was. I liked to believe he cared for me beyond what I was.

I had not yet made a decision about what to do about Fang's request. Truth be known, I was afraid of what would happen once I did. I was afraid for our relationship, for him, for the world. Of course, Detective Hanner had made the decision for me, thus forcing mine and Fang's relationship to make that leap.

Fang was no puppet. Hanner was in for a surprise. Unless, somehow, the two of them had made a pact. Perhaps he had sold his soul, so to speak, to become that which he most wanted. Perhaps I had doomed him by delaying my own decision. Perhaps had I honored his request, he would not be bound to Hanner.

Was Hanner so bad? I didn't know. Not yet.

But one thing was sure: I would be there for Fang, for whatever reason, at any time. He had been there for me...and I suspected he was going to need my help.

Or perhaps not.

After all, he had Hanner now.

With a heavy heart, I turned to starboard, dipping one wing and raising the other, and headed over the million-dollar homes and back toward Fullerton.

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