Stane swiveled around in his chair and gave me an appreciative once-over. "That T-shirt looks a lot better on you than it does on me."
I smiled. "How did the game go last night?"
"We thoroughly thrashed the opposition, and moved up several levels in the process. What would you like to eat?"
"Azriel mentioned bacon and eggs."
"Done," he said, and practically bounced toward his kitchen.
I quickly showered and dressed. Though Azriel wasn't present in body, he was still nearby, still keeping watch. The heat of him washed across my skin like a summer breeze, warm and sultry.
I once again forced myself to thrust away the growing slithers of desire, and followed the delicious aroma of fried bacon back out into the kitchen portion of his open living area.
Stane slid both a Coke and a mug of steaming coffee over to me, then flipped the eggs. "I did that search for Henry Mack, Jason Marks, and Mark Jackson."
It took me a moment to remember that Mack, Marks, and Jackson were the aliases of the Razan we'd knocked out in the cavern where the hellhounds had attacked us.
I propped on the nearby stool. "And?"
"As you might have already guessed, neither the Mack nor Marks identity actually exists. The Jackson one does, although if it is the same man, he's over a hundred years old." He served up the bacon and eggs, then picked up his coffee and leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter.
"If he's listed as a Middle East war veteran," I said, alternating between speaking, eating, and drinking, "then it's the same man."
"Interesting, given that the photos of his recent incarnations suggest he's not more than forty."
"He's had a little magical help."
Stane snorted. "Then they should package that and make a fortune."