"Immortality." The word rolled off of Sawyer's tongue like a tender caress, one that promised heat and pleasure and maybe even a lifetime supply of apple pie.

The four of us - Eddie, Jacek, Sawyer, and I - were sitting around the kitchen table talking about possible solutions to Paul, the dark unknown who really wanted me dead. We'd been talking about him for three days straight since the night of my twentieth birthday, intermingled with quite a bit of bodily exploration.

Our ...