With a yelp, she let go, and he thrust her across the threshold.

Footsteps pounded overhead. They froze, and looked up.

Alathea sucked in a breath and screamed for all she was worth.

Crowley swore. He shoved her into the room.

She tripped on her skirts and fell, but immediately scrambled up. "Gabriel!"

Crowley slammed the door in her face.

Flinging herself against the panel, Alathea heard a key scrape, heard the lock fall home. She crouched and put her eye to the keyhole.

And saw the paneling on the corridor's opposite wall. "Thank God!" Crowley had taken the key. She reached for a hairpin.

Outside the door, Crowley stared at the ladder. Footsteps moved over the deck above, checking one hatch after another.

"Gabriel?"

A smiling sneer curved his lips, then he laughed, turned, and strode for the open cabin.

Gabriel found the main hatch. He hauled on the heavy cross bolt and heard it grate. Swearing under his breath, he shot it fully back. Chillingworth appeared and helped him lift the hatch cover, easing it over. They looked down on a circle of lamplit corridor and the rungs of the ladder leading down. Looking at Chillingworth, Gabriel shook out his hands, then signaled that he was going down. His face felt expressionless. He had no difficulty acting nerveless. His blood was ice-cold, his veins chilled. He'd never known fear like this-a cold cramping fist closed about his heart. He'd known Alathea forever but he'd only just found her. He couldn't lose her now, not when he'd finally bitten the bullet and opened his heart-and she'd been poised to give him hers. No-he thrust the idea aside. It was unthinkable.

They were not going to lose each other.

He grasped the hatch's rim and swung himself into the hole. Locating the rungs, he quickly descended. He was so tall, he reached the floor before the corridor came fully into view. Stepping onto the lower deck, he looked straight along its emptiness-directly into the maw of the pistol Crowley had pointed at his heart.

Gabriel heard the trigger click. He dove for the floor.

The corridor wall exploded outward. A door swung across, blocking Crowley's shot. Alathea burst into the corridor. The door panel splintered beside her shoulder. She instinctively ducked.

The percussion of the shot boomed and echoed, the sound bouncing deafeningly around the corridor.

"Get down!" Gabriel roared.

Alathea looked at him, then at the door. They both heard Crowley curse, heard his pounding footsteps nearing. Alathea shrank back along the corridor wall.

Crowley slammed the door shut. He didn't look at Alathea but at Gabriel, coming to his feet, the promise of death in his eyes.

Crowley turned and raced back to the main cabin.

"Wait!"

Alathea heard Gabriel's bellow but she didn't even look back as she raced straight after Crowley. He would need to reload. Gabriel was unarmed. She could at least slow Crowley down.

She rushed into the cabin, expecting to see Crowley at the desk or bed, frantically reloading. Instead, she saw him fling the pistol across the room as he strode past the desk. Reaching the wall, he grasped the hilt of one of the twin sabers hanging in crossed scabbards between two portholes.

The saber left its sheath with a deadly hiss.

Alathea didn't pause-she flung herself at Crowley, trusting in her sex to keep her safe. It never occurred to her that Crowley might use the saber on her.

It did occur to Gabriel; he crossed the threshold just in time to see her grapple with Crowley, now brandishing a cavalry saber. One swing and he could cleave her in two-Gabriel died another death. He should have felt relieved when Crowley flung Alathea aside, much as an ox would swat a gnat. She fetched up hard against the wall, shocked, shaken, but essentially unharmed.

Gabriel saw it all in an instant-the instant before blind rage took possession of his senses. After that, all he saw was Crowley.

Crowley settled his weight evenly, taking a two-handed grip on the saber, his very stance declaring he'd never used one in battle.

Gabriel smiled a feral smile. Crowley shifted. Reaching out, Gabriel pushed a small table out of his way-it slammed against the wall. His eyes didn't leave Crowley's face. Slowly, he circled.

It was Crowley's move; he was the one armed. Despite his pugnacious expression, his overweening belligerence, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Gabriel saw it. He feinted to his left. Crowley raised the saber and slashed-

Gabriel was nowhere near the space the saber whistled through. From Crowley's other side, he stepped inside his guard, left hand closing about Crowley's fists on the saber hilt, right fist slamming into the man's jaw. Crowley grunted. He tried to turn on Gabriel; Gabriel's hold on his fists prevented that, but Crowley's double-fisted grip also prevented Gabriel from gaining any hold on the hilt.

Crowley bunched his muscles to throw Gabriel off. Gabriel released him and spun away. Crowley slashed again and again, following Gabriel as he circled. Each slashing stroke threw Crowley off-balance. Gabriel feinted again; again Crowley fell for it. Gripping the saber hilt, Crowley's fists and all, Gabriel landed a swinging left on Crowley's jaw. Crowley roared and fought back. Wrenching the hilt free of Gabriel's restraining hand, he slashed and found his mark.

Ignoring the stinging bite of the sabre along his left arm, Gabriel flung himself at Crowley, locking both hands on the saber's pommel. Crowley was off-balance; Gabriel forced him back across the desk, pressing the saber closer and closer to his face.

Eyes locked on the blade inching nearer, Crowley gritted his teeth, gathered his strength, and shoved Gabriel and the blade to the side. Reading the move, Gabriel sprang back. The saber flew free, clattering on the floor.

Crowley reared upright-to be met by a solid punch to the gut. He bellowed and swung, starting after Gabriel, his clear intent to grapple with him.

Gabriel wasn't about to give Crowley the satisfaction of breaking his ribs. The man was a bruiser, the sort who'd learned his science in tavern brawls. Given his size and lack of agility, he relied on his brawn to win. In any wrestling match, Crowley would triumph easily. Fisticuffs, however, was another game entirely, one at which Gabriel excelled.

He landed blow after blow, focusing on Crowley's face and gut. Crowley laid not a finger on him. Crowley bellowed and raged, staggering into punch after punch. Gabriel concentrated on softening him up, on enraging him further. On finally beating him to the ground.

But the man's skull felt like rock; knocking him unconscious was not going to be accomplished by one lucky blow.

Backed against the wall, Alathea watched, her heart in her mouth, her breath suspended. Even to her untutored eyes, the fight was a battle between steely reflexes governing strength honed and refined, pitted against sheer brawn and a blind belief in the power of weight. Gabriel was clearly winning, even though he was now risking more to step closer, well within Crowley's reach, to where he could deliver his blows with more force. One of Crowley's swinging fists caught him as he retreated, snapping his head back. To her relief, Gabriel didn't seem to feel it, returning the blow with one that connected with a sickening crunch.

Crowley couldn't possibly last much longer.

Crowley must have come to the same conclusion. The vicious kick came out of nowhere. Gabriel saw it, but only had time to swivel. It caught him high behind his left thigh. Crowley clumsily pivoted. Gabriel lost his footing and fell.

Alathea smothered a scream.

Gabriel's head hit the desk's edge with a dull thud. He slumped to the floor and lay still.

Massive chest heaving, Crowley stood over him, fists clenched, blinking his piggy black eyes, both bruised and half-closed. Then his teeth flashed in a vicious smile. He looked around, then swooped on the saber, scooping it up, hefting the blade as he took up a stance beside Gabriel's twisted legs. Crowley shuffled his feet apart as he settled his hands about the saber's hilt.

Gabriel groaned. His eyes were closed, his shoulders flat to the floor, his spine twisted. He lifted his head slightly, struggling up onto his elbows, frowning, blinking dazedly, shaking his head as if to clear it.

Crowley's gloating expression filled his face. His eyes glittered. He smiled as he slowly raised the saber.

Alathea inched along the wall, unable to breathe, barely able to think through the flood of emotions swamping her. But fear and fury were the strongest; she knew what she had to do. Setting her teeth, she passed behind Crowley, creeping silently further along the wall.

Crowley stretched upward, raising the saber high above his head, tensing for the downward stroke-

Alathea leaped the last feet, grabbed the second saber, and yanked it from its sheath. The angry hiss filled the room.

Crowley's head snapped around. Teetering, he took an instant to regain his balance. He started to shift his bulk, to realign his saber, turning to swing at her-

The weight of the saber flying out of its sheath swung Alathea away from Crowley. With a gasp, she hauled on the heavy sword and sent it arcing back toward him-

Shoulders and torso still turning, Crowley raised his saber-Gabriel finally refocused-what he saw stopped his heart. Hauling up his legs, he kicked at Crowley, catching him high on the thigh.

Crowley stumbled. His weight shifted. He staggered helplessly sideways toward Alathea, into the arc of her wildly swinging saber.

Powered by its own weight, the saber flashed in, burying itself in Crowley's side. Alathea gasped and released the hilt. The saber remained, its glistening tip barely disturbing the front of Crowley's coat, the hilt quivering behind his back.

Crowley's face leached of all color; shock overlaid all expression. He regained his balance, both feet settling square, the other saber held tight between his fists. Slowly, he looked down, then, equally slowly, turned his head and looked over his shoulder at the saber sticking out from his back. His expression said he didn't comprehend…

He shuffled his feet, turning to Alathea, still holding the other saber-

In a rush of footsteps, Chillingworth appeared in the doorway. He took one glance, raised his arm, and shot Crowley.

Eyes wide, Alathea made no sound as Crowley jerked. The ball had found its mark in the left of his huge chest. Slowly, he turned his head to stare uncomprehendingly at Chillingworth. Then his features blanked, his eyes closed, and he pitched forward.

Gabriel pulled his legs clear and struggled to sit up. Still dizzy, his head ringing, he leaned his shoulders against the side of the desk.

Chillingworth stepped into the room, frowning as he took in the saber sticking up from Crowley's back. "Oh. You'd already taken care of it." Then he looked at Gabriel, back at Crowley, then back to Gabriel, frowning even more. "How the devil did you manage that?"

Gabriel looked at Alathea's white face. "It was a joint effort."

Chillingworth followed his gaze to Alathea, still pressed back against the wall, her stunned gaze locked on Crowley's body.

Footsteps approached; Charlie looked in. "I heard a shot." Eyes growing round, he peered around Chillingworth. "I say-is he dead?"

Gabriel smothered a crazed laugh. "Very." His grim expression only tangentially due to the pain in his head, he studied Alathea, then softly asked, "Are you all right?"

She blinked, then she lifted her head and looked at him. "Of course I'm all right." Her gaze traveled over him. Wild concern flared in her eyes. Picking up her skirts, she leaped over Crowley's body. "Good God-the bastard cut you! Here-let me see."

Gabriel had forgotten about the cut on his arm. Now he looked and discovered his coat ruined, blood pouring afresh thanks to Alathea's probing. Crouched beside him, she was tweaking the slashed material, trying to see…

"Can you stand?" She looked into his eyes, then grimaced. "No, of course, you can't. Here." She waved Chillingworth closer as she wriggled a shoulder under his. "Help me get him up."

Frowning, Chillingworth lent his aid.

"Just watch out for that damned dress." Hauled to his feet, Gabriel settled against the desk.

Alathea pressed close, pushing his hair out of his eyes to peer into them. "Are you all right?"