Twilight Fulfilled by MAGGIE SHAYNE

It’s what you came here to do. Hell, it’s what you were born to do! Her inner voice commanded. Kill him. Kill them both.
    She called up the power, and her hand trembled with her torn emotions. Dammit, what was she going to do? There could be innocent people on that jet. The pilot, any other passengers she may not have seen. Hell, she didn’t even know if the Good Samaritan was deserving of being blown to bits.
    Since when have you given a damn about innocent mortals?
    That mental voice sounded more like Rhiannon’s than her own.
    Shit.
    The plane was lifting off and no longer within her range. Or at least not within a range she’d ever attempted before. She’d hesitated too long. The decision was made. She would simply have to follow them. Unfortunately, she couldn’t fly.
    Striding purposely onward, she marched straight up to the small coffin-size booth where the security guard sat on his tall stool pretending he liked his job.
    â€œI need some information,” she told him before he could even ask her who she was or tell her this area was restricted or some such crap.
    He looked at her, his eyes narrow with suspicion. “You’re not supposed to be out here.”
    â€œWell, I won’t be—as soon as you tell me where I should be.” She flashed him a big, sparkling smile and tipped her head slightly to one side, like every blonde pop star in every publicity photo.
    It had the desired effect. He smiled back. “What are you looking for?”
    â€œI need to know if you know where that private jet was going.”
    He blinked. “And why do you need to know that?”
    Her smile faltered, and she felt frustration rising up in her chest. He was going to be difficult. Andshe was really out of patience. Tired, sore, hungry again—she had, as her brother had often noted, an appetite like a lioness.
    Sighing, she called up her vampiric powers, though not all of them. She didn’t need to fang-up to exert mind control. Nor could she, by daylight, without risking severe burns, if not death. When she met his eyes again, however, she saw the reflection of her own, their unnatural glow shining back at her from his startled mortal ones.
    But only briefly.
    â€œTell me where that jet was going.”
    â€œVirginia. Near D.C.”
    â€œWhat airport?”
    â€œPrivate airstrip. Covington.”
    â€œAddress?”
    â€œTwenty-one-fifty Airport Drive.”
    â€œHow creative. Who were the men I just saw boarding the jet?”
    â€œUm, I don’t know about the big guy. Never saw him before. The other one is here a lot—long hyphenated name. Graverson-Bailey or something like that.”
    â€œAnd what else do you know about him?”
    He paused, his eyes shifting left as if to search his memory. She quickly touched his chin, drawing his gaze back to her powerful one. It wouldn’t do to let her control over his mind slip, not now.
    â€œI don’t know, exactly. Something for the government.”
    â€œAnd how do you know that?”
    â€œHis ID. It’s all official.”
    â€œWhat does it say?”
    He blinked. “I don’t remember…”
    â€œYes, you do, Jerry,” she said, sparing a glance for the name tag pinned to his chest. “It’s in your brain, just like a photograph in an album. Open that album, look at that man’s identification card and read it to me.”
    His eyes went distant and even a bit cloudy. And then he was speaking in a haunting monotone. “Nash Gravenham-Bail. DOB, eleven ten sixty-two. Height, five feet eleven inches. Weight, one hundred sixty-four pounds. Hair, brown. Eyes, gray. Central Intelligence Agency, United States of America. Security Clearance, Level 6, DPI.”
    She felt her eyes widen as she turned to search the skies for the departing jet. But all that remained was its vapor trail.
    Utanapishtim, the most deadly being ever to walk the earth, was in the hands