Chapter 1

Katie Prisk cried as she ran down the jogging path. She tried not to.

She remembered her father telling her "crying doesn't help anything. Sometimes bad things happen. There is nothing you can do about it. When you cry, you're wallowing in self-pity. Instead, focus on the problem at hand, and how to handle it.

He had told her that after her mother's funeral. He had allowed her to cry during the service.

She had been eight years old.

Three years had passed. And now, she had lost her other parent.

It wasn't a total shock for Katie, when it happened. She knew that being a bodyguard was a dangerous job. Her father had warned her that his job might one day cost him his life.

That day was five days ago. A stalker tried to shoot the latest pop star from a crowd outside Madison Square Garden. Roger Prisk saw the gun just in time to intercept the bullet with his body.

The press was calling him a hero. But Katie knew he wouldn't see it that way. He would say that he was just doing his job.

The pop star was setting up a college fund for her, and her father had made sure he was well insured. Katie's financial future was secure.

And so was where she was to live.

Her mom's sister, her only living relative, had a farm in Nebraska. Her husband, Gary Roberts, worked at home. It was some kind of work with computers. This made it possible for them to live anywhere. And Nebraska was their idea of heaven.

For Katie, it was hell. It was forty miles from the nearest town. There were no neighbors for a mile. They had never had kids of their own. So that just left her with her aunt and uncle.

She had visited there twice. Once when she was five, with both her parents. They had horses, that hated her. They put her on their gentlest horse. The beast immediately bucked her off, breaking her arm. Her aunt and uncle apologized repeatedly, saying that the horse had never done that before.

And it wasn't just the one horse. All seven wanted nothing to do with her. If she walked toward a horse, it would move away, never letting her get near.

Their veterinarian said that some people just don't "click" with horses.

The only other activity was her Aunt Jean's vegetable and flower gardens. Katie was totally clueless in how to tell a plant you want from a weed. When asked to water the plants, she either over-watered or under-watered.

And she couldn't even watch TV. They didn't have one. There wasn't much her relatives wanted to see, and a satellite dish cost more than they thought it was worth.

Her second visit was even worse. It was only two weeks after her mother's funeral. She was still missing her mom, and dad had to do his two weeks with the Marine Reserves.

Without either parent around, each day crawled by. She went on long walks over the long flat rolling hills of Western Nebraska, and practiced her karate, which she had been learning since she was five.

After that, her father resigned his commission, so he didn't have to leave Katie for long periods of time.

He instead, devoted himself to developing a career that would allow him to come home each night, to Katie. His full time job had been with the NYPD, but that required him to sometimes work at night. So he quit that, and for the past two years Roger had been working for a company that provides security for VIP's visiting New York City.

That was his last job.

The service had been yesterday. Lots of police attended, though he wasn't technically one of their own. He still had lots of friends on the force.

Aunt Jean and Uncle Gary were there too. They spent the night with Katie in her apartment.

When she woke this morning, her uncle was taking down the pots, pans, and dishes from the kitchen cabinets.

"What are you doing?" asked Katie.

Uncle Gary turned around, startled. "Oh! Good morning, Katie. Just packing up. We got to be moving out tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?! That's too soon."

"Well, its either that, or pay a full month's rent for a few days extra."

Panic swept over Katie. She knew that she was going to move to Nebraska, but not two days after the funeral. "I'm not ready!" she cried.

Her Aunt Jean, entered the kitchen, with an armful of linen. "Now, Katie. I know you didn't have a good time, the last time you visited. This time'll be different. Once you go to school, and meet other kids your age..."

"And we're getting satellite TV," piped in Gary.

They had been repeating those phrases for the last three days. As if they were magic words, that would make everything okay.

The eleven-year old put her hands over her ears. "No, no, no!" she screamed, and bolted out the front door.

After the door slammed shut, Katie's legal guardians looked at each other and sighed. How were they going to handle such a willful child?

The path blurred in front of Katie, as tears streamed down her face, as she ran down the path pell-mell. She didn't care who had to dodge her, or who stared. She just wanted the pain to go away, and this was the only thing she could to do.

She careened around the corner, and into the arms of a strange man.

Instantly, Katie's martial arts training kicked in. She kneed him in the groin, then stepped back, fists raised, to strike, if the man was persistent.

There wasn't much chance of that, though. The slim man, dressed in a black muscle shirt, was doubled-over on the ground, groaning.

It was then that Katie realized that the collision was probably her fault.

She was about to apologize, when a woman's laugh rang out. "I like your style, kid," said the mellow soprano voice.

Katie turned, and saw a woman who, in her tear blurred vision, looked just like her mother. The same blonde hair and blue eyes.

The woman saw the girl's tear scarred face. "Are you okay, honey?"

Katie's emotional dam finally broke. She ran into this strange woman's arms, and sobbed out all her grief and frustration. The words were only half-intelligible, but the woman got the gist of it.

"Wow! Sucks to be you, huh? I know what you mean about country living. I was raised in rural Iowa. I couldn't wait to get away.

"Look, your aunt and uncle must be worried sick about you. My shop is just a block away. We can call them, and tell them you are okay."

"Okay," sniffed the eleven -year old. "What's your name?"

"I'm Heather. And you are?"

"Katie Prisk."

The man whom she had racked, was still on the ground.

"Oh, get up, Cecil. You've been hit in the balls harder than that."

Slowly he regained his feet. "If so, not much harder. She kicks hard, mistress.

Heather reappraised the girl. "Do you study karate?"

"I used to. I'm now learning judo and aikido."

"Good choices."

With clearer vision, Katie saw that Heather was not the spitting image of her mother, though there was a resemblance. Her blonde hair was platinum, and probably not natural. And her face was more heart-shaped than her mother's oval.

Also, Heather was tall; at least six foot. And there was something in the way she carried herself, that showed ultimate self-confidence. You could tell that she was used to getting her way.

She was wearing knee-high black boots, and knee-length tight black pants. Her black knit top had a plunging neckline that showed off her ample cleavage.

When Cecil rose to his feet, Katie saw that he was a slender man in his mid-twenties, maybe two inches shorter than Heather. He had short spiky dark brown hair, with blond tips. He wore a black muscle shirt had the design of a red hourglass on it, and a pair of black leather pants.

What was really unusual, though, was what he wore around his neck.

"Cecil," asked Katie. "Why are you wearing a collar and leash?"

Heather stood behind Katie, clearly amused. "Yes, Cecil. Why are you wearing a collar?"

The young man blushed and bowed his head. "I am Mistress Heather's ... pet."

Even in her depressing situation, Katie almost smiled. This was the silliest thing she'd ever heard. "You mean, like a dog?"

Heather burst out laughing. "That's it. Just like a dog." She walked behind Cecil, draping her right arm around his neck, and petting his hair with her left. "But you like being my dog; don't you."

Cecil blushed even deeper, and nodded.

Katie didn't know what to say. Even for New Yorkers, these were unusual people.

Heather pointed toward the muffled sound of traffic coming from Central Park South. "My store and home is right over there. Let's go call your folks."

Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Cecil's leash, and took off down the jogging path.

Heather had long legs, and stride was so long, that both Katie and Cecil had to trot to keep up.

"So," said Heather, in a conversational tone, "is Katie short for Katherine?"

"Nope. Katie Ann Prisk is the name on my birth certificate."

"Oh. That's a shame. You might think about changing your name, when you get older. Or use your middle name."

Katie didn't say anything, but she thought that she'd never change her name. To do so would be a slap in the face of her parents, who gave it to her.

"Would it be okay if I called you Kate?"

Nobody had ever called her that before. She rolled the name over in her mind. It sounded strange, but very adult. "I guess that would be okay."

"Great."

They stood at the stoplight, then crossed Central Park South. Across from the part was a row of boutiques. Between two shops, with large display windows, showing off the new fall fashions, was a plain black door. On the door was the same red hourglass symbol that was on Cecil's shirt. This one was such a dark red, it almost blended into the door.

Heather unlocked the door. Inside was an antechamber, with another door on the opposite side. This door was bright red, with a black hourglass on it. Next to the door, on the wall, was a keypad and speaker.

Heather pushed the white button next to the speaker., then said "We have guests."

She punched a series of numbers on the keypad, then opened the door.

Inside was a large, mostly empty, room, with white marble floors and walls.

Katie saw a flash of a person bolting out of the room, through a door on the far side. "Did I just see a naked woman?" she asked.

Heather nodded, looking none too pleased. "Yes it was. And I'll need to talk to Cecile about that."

There was a small landing at the door, and five steps leading down to the room. The door was in the corner of the room. One wall was twenty feet in front. The left wall was next to the door, and the right one was fifty feet away.

"What kind of place is this?" asked Katie.

"It's a boutique. I design fashions for people like me, who have ... pets. I design custom clothes for them." Heather stepped down to the large room.

"It looks awfully empty," said Katie, following her down.