This particular day he arrived in the mid-afternoon, bare foot and bare chested, wearing a broad slouch hat and a grin, and carrying a bucket.

"Hey, Koko!" The call was good natured and he waved at its originator with a vague hand. The bar was not crowded, but well populated for an afternoon, its refuge having been sought by all the loaders off the dock. They had just completed an exhausting job, heaving bundled copra from the depths of two small steamers into the cavernous maw of a long distance tramp. The largest ship had now departed, leaving the well paid captains of the other two to reward the workers with promised pay and a hard earned drink. Koko made his way through the tables, smiling at familiar faces, jesting with some. He arrived at his chosen destination in no particular hurry, finding a shy grin for the woman in the small group gathered there, and placed his bucket on the bar with definite expression of triumph.

Bon Chance Louie, owner of said bar, and currently occupied with a murmured discussion concerning levels of stock with his wheelchair bound assistant, looked up at the new arrival, smiled thoughtfully, then looked at the bucket and frowned. His consideration flicked from the offending article back to its owner without comment, but Koko coloured under his tan and reached to move the bucket from the bar, to the floor.

Jake Cutter, leaning against the polished wood behind its owner, grinned. "Now what have you caught, Koko?" he enquired good naturedly. "A baby mermaid?"

The native laughed and shook his head. "Not yet, Jake. I am still trying. I did see one. I truly did. But these are better than mermaids - at least, I think so."

Bon Chance had moved forward to study the contents of the bucket, and he nodded in quiet agreement. "More immediately useful at least," he remarked, and hunkered down to get a better look. Cutter stepped across and peered over his shoulder. The bucket appeared to be full of large prawns, packed tightly together with a little sea water to keep them fresh. Koko smiled at the pilot's unconvinced shrug.

"So prawns," the American considered, sharing the discovery with a glance at the rest of his group. "So what?"

"I like prawns," Corky, his friend and mechanic announced. "I think."

The dog crouched at his feet barked twice, bringing a round of smiles to his audience. "All right Jack," Sarah laughed, putting down her glass of juice and moving to get a look at Koko's prize, "we all know you like them."

Jack pattered across and peered into the bucket, paws on its rim, his nose quivering. Curiously enough he started to growl and moved away to sit at his master's feet. Bon Chance considered him puzzledly for a moment, then shrugged, pushed back the sleeve of his jacket and reached into the bucket to lift a large crustacean and eye it thoughtfully. It was pale grey and easily seven inches long. "Mairvellan blues," he said, giving Gushie a glance as he did so. The man in the chair nodded sagely.

"Not easy to find," he allowed, eyeing Koko with respect. "You got lucky huh?"

The fisherman grinned and nodded. "I just dropped my net a little closer to the reef," he said. "There they were, just waiting for me. I thought ..."

Bon Chance dropped the first prawn back into the bucket and reached a little deeper. "If they are this quality all the way down, Koko, I'm sure we can come to a reasonable - ah!" He broke off, pulling his hand free of the water with a sharp jerk. Turning it palm upwards he considered it ruefully. "I was not aware that Marivellan Blues can bite."

Cutter looked down at him in surprise. A bead of blood was welling from a clear puncture mark in the fleshy part of his palm. "They don't, do they?"

Koko shook his head, clearly as surprised as the rest of them. "I don't think so. There might be some coral in the bottom though. I just emptied the net into the bucket - I didn't check it."

Bon Chance brought the offending wound to his lips and frowned without malice at the fisherman. "I see," he said dryly, rising from his crouch. "Gushie - is the punch bowl empty?"

"I'll get it," Sarah darted around the end of the bar and extracted the large glass bowl from its hiding place, placing it squarely on the polished wood between the fisherman and his customer. Bon Chance tilted his head at it, still intent on his injured hand. With Cutter's assistance Koko lifted the bucket and carefully emptied its contents into the waiting bowl. Prawns slithered out, and Sarah stepped back a little to avoid the inevitable splashing. Then she frowned and moved forward again. "That's not a prawn," she said, staring at something that had surfaced from the depths of the fisherman's catch.

Koko lowered the bucket and looked. Then he went quite white, dropped the bucket and crossed himself. "Merci de dieu," he muttered, clearly shaken. Cutter frowned at him, glancing at the creature that had emerged from his catch. It was small, the whole thing occupying less space than a baseball, a spray of irregular spines surrounding a knobbed body, striped in zigzagging patterns of black, white and yellow.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, putting out a curious hand. Bon Chance moved like lightning, his uninjured hand catching the extended wrist before it was halfway to its goal.

"Don't touch it, Jake," the Frenchman warned, his voice tight. "Whatever you do, don't let anyone touch it."

The American's frown deepened as he withdrew his hand and turned to consider his friend in puzzlement. Bon Chance had gone as white as the native, his face drained utterly of colour. Realisation stuck the pilot like a blow. "Oh god," he murmured. "That thing's poisonous, right?"

"The devil's kiss," Koko muttered, horror in his eyes. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know. Believe me ..."

Bon Chance shook his head wearily. "I scarcely think you would have brought it here if you'd known, Koko. I understand you can get a good price for these things on Matuka." He cradled his injured hand with the other as he spoke, casually, as if nothing of importance had occurred. "You were lucky, ne c'est pas? Not to handle it in your net ...?"

The fisherman went even whiter, swallowing hard as he realised how close he had come to touching the thing. "Burn it," he whispered. "Destroy it. Before ..." He broke off, eyes darting involuntarily to the Frenchman's hands. "Merci de dieu," he breathed, finally realising what had happened. "Forgive me."

The discussion had drawn the attention of others in the room, sharp eyes spotting, and recognising, the object of concern. A low murmur of disquiet ran around the gathered customers as word passed from man to man. "The devil's kiss." "They say even a scratch condemns a man." "It always heralds a death." "It is said to bring madness at a touch."

Cutter resisted the temptation to silence them; he had quickly realised that Bon Chance's casual attitude had been assumed to cover the truth of the matter. Of everyone present only he, the fisherman, and the Frenchman himself were probably aware of the potential disaster that threatened.

"Take that out and burn it, will you Gushie?" Bon Chance requested thoughtfully. "All of it. I'm afraid your prawns will be contaminated Koko."

"I'll do it." The native reached to lift the glass bowl gingerly, carrying it out at arm's length and moving with care. The various occupants of the room moved out of his way with equal consideration. Nobody, it seemed, wanted to get anywhere near the dangerous creature. The Frenchman watched him go out the door and sighed.

"Could I have a word with you Jake?" he asked softly. "In my office?"

"Sure." Cutter's response was idly casual. He reached to take another mouthful of beer from his glass before thrusting the rest in Corky's more than willing hands and following his friend up the short flight of steps to the office. Behind the bar Sarah Stickney White frowned at the closing door.

"That thing gave me the creeps," she shivered, then pause to study the bleak expression that had settled on Gushie's face. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Koko said he'd get rid of it."

The man she addressed nodded slowly, his eyes on the office door. After a moment he turned and gave her a worried look. "Maravellan blues," he told her, too softly for the customers to register it, "don't bite."

Cutter closed the door behind him firmly. "Louie," he began, "perhaps you'd care to explain ..." He broke off, realising that the man in question had halted in the middle of the room, and was shaking. "My god," the pilot said, closing the distance between them, "are you all right?"

Bon Chance shook his head, his face contorted with the tension of surpressed pain. The damaged hand was curled tight against his stomach, and his whole body was quivering. "I was not sure I could get this far," he muttered through clenched teeth. "It hurts, Jake. Mon dieu, but it hurts."

"Siddown," Cutter ordered, pulling across a chair and half pushing his friend into it. Bon Chance sat without protest. Cutter leant back against the edge of the desk and considered him with concern. "Now what in hell was that thing, Louie, and what the hell is it doing to you?"

"Killing me," Bon Chance said tightly, his eyes bleak.

"From one scratch?" The pilot didn't want to believe what he was hearing. "What did Koko call it? The devil's kiss? I thought that tale was nothing but superstition."

The Frenchman shook his head reluctantly. "I wish it were mon ami," he said. "But the naturalists have duly classified it. A rare sea urchin, found occasionally in these waters. It uses a nerve toxin to discourage predators. Even in minute doses the poison is deadly."

Cutter was silent for a breath. "How long have you got?" he asked softly. "And is there anything ..."

Bon Chance didn't answer for a moment. He was shaking with internal reaction, his eyes tight with pain, his breath forced. He was, the pilot recognised with anguish, terrified by what he knew awaited him. "I don't know how long," the Frenchman said at last. "The tales that surround the devils kiss are many, mon ami. They say it can take days to kill a man. That first," he raised his eyes to meet Cutter's reluctantly, "it drives him mad."

"That's crazy," the American denied. "I mean - dammit Louie, what do I do? Isn't there an antidote, or anything?"

His friend shivered as a spasm of pain lanced through him. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I can hope - Jake - " He looked up with bleak appeal. "If I knew there was no chance, then I would not have asked you to be here. I would have come alone, and ended this before it truly began. I have no wish to die, but a bullet would be preferably to what I have heard of this." Cutter's glance went, briefly, to the corner of the desk where Bon Chance kept a revolver hidden and he shuddered. The Frenchman knew what it was, to await the end with patience. He wasn't joking, and that he would even think of such a thing was terrifying in itself.

"That's not funny, Louie," he said anyway, knowing the reaction would be expected of him. Bon Chance shook his head.

"Neither is this," he muttered. "There is one - brief possibility. And if there were any other I would not ask this of you mon ami. But I must. Because I really do not want to die. Not over such a little thing." He uncurled his hand as he said it, studying the tiny wound with a look akin to disbelief. The flesh around the puncture mark had swollen slightly and was turning an angry red. "If anyone can cure this, it will be Kogi. She collects such things and studies them."

"Yeah," the pilot realised slowly. "That's right. She likes to surround herself with things as poisonous as she is." He allowed himself a tight smile. "No problem. Corky and I will leave right now. All we have to do is dodge a few Zekes, catch the princess in a good mood, promise her the earth and - voila! We'll be back in time for supper."

Bon Chance smiled, despite his discomfort. "It may not be that easy, Jake. I would not ask, but ..."

"Don't be a fool," Cutter interrupted sharply. "I'd do it for anyone, Louie, you know that. This just makes it personal, that's all. Kogi can't refuse a genuine request for help - particularly if it meant she'd have to break in a brand new Magistrate for this quarter of the islands."

Another smile, quickly lost in a wince of pain. The poison was eating into him now, setting fire to his blood as it burned its way through him. He shuddered involuntarily, then drew in a determined breath. "I am not sure how long I can fight this, mon ami," he admitted reluctantly.

Cutter's face set into a grim smile. "No longer than you have to, Louie, I swear. Let's get you upstairs before I have to carry you up, and then I'll go."

On his way down to the Goose the pilot was intercepted by a gaggle of villagers, an anxious eyed Koko among them. Cutter cursed quietly to himself. Bon Chance had asked him to keep the matter private, hoping to avoid the usual spread of rumour and superstition that public reaction would inevitably bring. It had not occurred to either of them that the fisherman himself might spread the tale; seeing him, in the midst of worried faces, the American braced himself for the worst.

"Well?" he demanded as they gathered around him. Someone pushed Koko forward, and he pulled off his hat to twist it in his hands.

Cutter thought for a moment. Thought of the reasons that had made the Frenchman saunter so casually into his office, even though his hand was on fire. Thought too of the superstitious murmurs that had greeted the creature's appearance and the way that rumour could blow things up out of all proportion. Then he sighed. "Yes," he admitted grimly. There was no sense in trying to lie about it. Koko had seen what had happened, even if he couldn't be entirely sure.

"Did he - know what it meant?" the fisherman asked anxiously, while a murmur ran through the crowd. The pilot's grim expression grew grimmer still.

"He knew."

Another ripple of sound, worried, gloom ridden. Hands pushed Koko forward again. "And - what did he do, when he was sure?" The crowd knew the right answer to that. Cutter heard a muttered remark about not hearing a gunshot, and another concerning sleeping draughts. He bit down hard on the but of his cheroot and glowered at them all.

"He told me. Which is why I'm on my way to Matuka to find if there's a cure."

The mutter became one of horror and surprise. They'd been ready to be sympathetic, even fatalistic, but to find the matter still undecided was unthinkable. "For the devil's kiss?" A voice enquired from the back. "There is no release except death."

A round of agreement. It seemed they weren't criticising the victim's decision to fight, but the American's agreeing to help him. "Even to bring it ashore is a curse," someone else announced. "The price is always at least one life."

Again the nods, the general assent. "The devil will demand his due," a third voice said insistently. "To refuse is to court nothing but madness and pain." "Better stay here and bring him peace," a fourth suggested. "If you have any mercy in you." The hubbub rose into common decision. "Accept the inevitable. Spare your friend ..."

"That's enough!" Cutter spat angrily. "Listen to you - all of you. Nothing but superstitious nonsense. Louie has been poisoned - not cursed, not claimed by the devil, not marked for death - just poisoned. And poison can be counterattacked. So cut all this talk will you? Before someone takes you seriously. You make it sound like you want him to die."

His outburst was followed by a moment of absolute silence; then someone said, very quietly, "It is not that we want to lose him, monsieur. It is just that we know that death follows on the devil's heels. You cannot fight the inevitable."

"Go home," he told them wearily, too pressed for time to argue further. They slowly parted to let him through, and murmured after him in low tones. Koko followed him onto the dock, catching at his arm to slow him down.

"I will pray for your errand Jake," he said, his voice tight. "I - do not wish anyone to die in my place. It should have been my hand on the thing, not his - and I would have ended it there and then."

Cutter paused to consider the earnest fisherman with a moment of sympathy. He couldn't blame Koko for feeling guilty in the circumstances. "Do me a favour will you, Koko?" he asked. The native nodded, intent and concerned. "Don't give up before we start the fight, huh? Louie trusts me. I won't fail him." It was an easy thing to say; Cutter's smile was less confident than his words. The fisherman's answering nod was anxiously unconvinced.

It was half an hour into the flight before Corky finally plucked up the courage to broach the grim lines of Cutter's expression. "Jake," he asked, a little plaintively, "if Louie's back there dyin', just why are we going to Matuka?"

"He's not dying," Cutter rounded on him angrily, then relented as he registered the hurt and bewildered expression on his friend's face. "Not yet anyway. There's a chance, just a chance mind, that Kogi may have some kind of anti-venom that can help him. I said we'd find out, okay?"

"Oh." Corky digested this explanation thoughtfully. "So why didn't he come with us then? I mean, if Kogi has something, surely the sooner he gets it ..."

Cutter had considered this point several times in the twenty minutes it had taken to fuel the Goose and prepare her for the journey. He'd thought of it, and even suggested it, eliciting a wry shake of the head from the man concerned. It had hurt to watch him shiver with reaction as the poison slowly claimed him, but not so much as what came next. He'd left him curled into a huddle of endurance, returned briefly while Corky had been pumping gas into the tanks. Cutter had been explaining the situation to Sarah and Gushie when the first violent fit had seized its victim, forcing the pilot to physically pin his friends spasmed frame to the bed while Bon Chance moaned and twisted as if some internal battle would tear him apart. He had quietened eventually, sinking into semi-delirium, and Cutter, knowing that Sarah would never be able to restrain another such fit, had bound him hand and foot for his own safety. It was not for nothing that the natives feared the kiss of the devil's urchin. Death would come as a welcome release from the savage madness it brought. The pilot had left reluctantly, understanding, at last, why his friend had thought of the cleanness of a bullet as an alternative to what awaited him.

"He's too ill to travel, Corky. Besides, we don't know for certain that Kogi is on Matuka. We might have to fly elsewhere to find her. I radioed Tagataya, in case the hospital there could come up with anything. If they do, they know where he is."

"Right." Corky accepted that willingly enough, but he lifted Jack into his lap and wrapped an arm about him for comfort. Cutter wished he could do the same. It was a long way to fly on what might just turn out to be a wild goose chase. Even if the Princess had a cure he might not be able to persuade her to part with it. It might amuse her to think of a man dying that way. He wouldn't put it past her to want to come and watch.

They entered Japanese airspace quietly enough, losing a passing Zero in a welcome cloud bank, and making most of the rest of the way in heavy weather. They were buzzed again over Matuka itself, but Cutter was already putting his plane in to land, only wincing slightly at the burst of warning bullets that buzzed across their nose. Their reception on the ground was less than cordial. He had to storm through a cordon of attendant guards, risking everything in a forest of half drawn blades, before he came face to face with a curious Todo, who looked him up and down with contempt.

"I have to see the Princess," he said. "Now."

The haughty samurai curled his lip into a contemptuous snarl. "Her highness is not to be disturbed for anything," he announced decisively. "But you can wait." He nodded at the other guards and turned on his heel to leave.

"It won't wait." Cutter tried to follow, only to find his path blocked by the menace of several swords. He subsided reluctantly, realising that getting himself killed was not going to help anyone. Abruptly Jack took matters into his own hands, leaping from Corky's arms to run between a number of legs and past the departing samurai. Todo cursed as the dog shot by him, pausing only to reinforce the order to keep Cutter where he was before bounding after the vanished mutt. Corky joined Jake at the hedge of weaponry and looked a little sheepish.

"Guess we wait, huh?" he said. Cutter nodded wearily, staring through the archway and into the garden beyond. He was thinking of the people left behind on Boragora and his hands balled up into tight bundles of helpless frustration.

They waited an hour, Cutter cooling his heels against a handy low wall while Corky tossed stones into a nearby pond. The guard changed, but nobody came. The pilot looked at his watch and paced a little; then he went back to the wall and prayed. The longer he waited the more he thought of the nightmare his friend endured. It was not so much the waiting as the sheer helplessness of having to wait that hammered at him.

When Todo finally reappeared, to beckon imperiously and lead them along the carefully cultivated paths, the American was almost ready to offer anything he might be asked in payment for what he desired. Imagination was rapidly becoming worse than actually being there.

Kogi was sat in elegant splendour on a close cropped lawn, a table laid with fine and delicate china in front of her. She was dressed in a smart riding ensemble, complete with tight jodhpurs and shiny riding boots. Jack perched at her feet, to receive an occasional titbit, and a frown from his master when he saw him there. "Why, my dear Jake," Kogi greeted him with her usual condescending and speculative smile. "Whatever brings you here in such a hurry? I had just returned from a ride when your 'friend' here came to disturb me. Has something untoward occurred?"

Cutter had to firmly remind himself that there was no way Kogi could know what had happened on Boragora only a few hours before. The question was purely speculative, and he had a suspicion the princess was absolutely burning with curiosity over his unheralded arrival. He wondered at the best way to pursue event, and decided to tackle things slightly obliquely, in order to best determine her mood. "Have you ever heard of something called 'the devil's kiss'?" he asked, slipping into the seat she indicated and trying to ignore the pretty maid who proceeded to pour him tea. Kogi pretended to think about it.

"I might have done," she allowed, glancing at Todo, who shrugged, the question having no relevance to him either. "Why? Do you want to sell me one? They are very - deadly as I understand it."

Next question. The tricky one. "I was wondering if you'd know of a cure for its poison," he said, twisting his cap subconsciously in his hands. Another glance at Todo, more concerned this time.

"I might," she considered cautiously. "But you don't need it, Jake. You'd know if you'd touched one. Believe me." She smiled, then added, "Perhaps somebody else ...?" Her eyes flicked across to Corky's anxious and nervous smile and the mechanic looked helplessly at his friend.

Cutter hesitated, wondering if he'd overplayed his hand. She was too close in that quiet guess, knew him too well not to understand the importance of the answer. It was uncomfortable, to place himself so much in her hands, but - he remembered the haunted look in his friend's eyes before the inner violence had consumed him, and he knew there was no time to indulge in the subtle games that Kogi loved. "A local fisherman brought in a bucket of Maravellan Blues early this afternoon," he told her, a little bleakly. "There had been - an urchin, caught up in his net with the catch."

"And...?" she prompted sweetly, lifting her cup of tea to sip at it.

He took in a slow breath. "And - Louie put his hand on it."

She paused between one sip and the next, regarding him over the edge of the cup with surprise. "Bon Chance picked up the devil's kiss thinking it was a prawn?" For a moment the news had caught her off guard, and her brief concern, he noted with distant amazement, appeared to be genuine.

"He didn't see it. Not before ... We thought it was just some coral at first, and then, when we emptied the bucket out ..."

Kogi had recovered her composure. "Oh my poor Jake. That must have been quite a surprise all round. That is precisely why I have everything inspected before it gets anywhere near me." She smiled and went back to her tea, while Todo nodded his superior affirmation of the way his princess was protected. "So tell me," she continued after a further sip of the golden liquid, "whatever did he do? I have no doubt Bon Chance, at least, is aware of the dangers of the local wildlife. Not to mention the superstitions that surround it. The devil's kiss is not a pleasant way to die. Or so I have been told," she added sweetly.

Kogi lowered the cup to the table and eyed her visitor's thoughtfully. "He let the poison take him?" She sounded impressed. "Well, he is either a very brave fool, or a very foolish coward. A man with any sense would have chosen to make it clean and quick."

Behind her Todo was nodding a short sharp agreement to the statement, and Cutter forced away a shiver. "He thought about it," he admitted, trying to sound matter of fact about it. He heard Corky react in quiet startlement, a reaction the mechanic covered with a cough, and the pilot winced inwardly. He'd forgotten the Corky hadn't been aware of that. "I would have stopped him - knowing there might be a chance."

"Yes," the princess breathed, selecting one of the rice cakes from the plate in front of her. "I heard about your little jaunt to French Indo-china. There are times, my dear Jake, when your personal loyalties get a little tiresome. Still, he, of all people, has reason to be appreciative of life; and he is no coward, of that I am sure. You know," she continued thoughtfully, "it does seem a quite ridiculous way to end such an - interesting life. An assassin's bullet, a jealous husband, even that little escapade with La Guillotine - now that would have been a suitable end for a man of his reputation, wouldn't you say?" She bit into the rice cake and offered the rest of it to Jack at her feet. The dog barked twice in agreement, earning himself a scowl from his master. "But a pointless little scratch from an insignificant bucket of prawns ..." She laughed a little at the thought. "How very pedestrian. Exotic," she allowed, "but still quite pedestrian." She smiled at the surpressed rage that was churning across Cutter's features and reached for another titbit. "What would you do if I said there was no antidote?"

He considered her as dispassionately as he could manage in the circumstances, trying to determine if she were teasing him or not. He had asked himself the same question several times on the flight. "I don't know," he said eventually, avoiding looking at his friend beside him. "Perhaps I'd go back to Boragora and kill him myself."

Todo chuckled in quiet disbelief while Kogi looked up from the table to consider him with speculation. "Now we can't have that, can we," she announced with a hint of amusement. "The French government takes such a very dim view of premeditated murder. Even mercy killings. Especially," she added, half in tease, "if the victim happens to be one of their officials ..."

Something snapped inside the American's soul. He found himself on his feet, hands pressed angrily to the table while he loomed above her, and Todo started to draw his sword in alarm.

"Dammit, your highness," he spat. "This is no time for your games! Louie is fighting for his life back there - and you're right. Its a crazy, ridiculous, pointless way to die. Perhaps he should have walked away from me and put a bullet through his brain, but he didn't. He gave me a chance to save him. He trusted me. And I will do everything in my power to repay that faith - whatever it costs. Understand?"

"Well," Kogi seemed unconcerned at his outburst, waving the samurai back to his place with an indolent hand. "Everything in your power, mm?" She looked up at him with calculated interest. "Its a bold enough boast, Jake. But I wonder just what price you would be prepared to place on his life?"

"Name it," he growled. Beside him his mechanic winced.

A small smile of triumph crept into her eyes. "Oh, Jake," she murmured. "You tempt me. You really do." She sighed, a little regretfully. "I suppose I'd better be sensible about this. I really can't afford to lose a Magistrate that understands me quite so well ... and yet you do have so little time, and nothing is ever certain in this world ..." Another sigh, and she paused to wipe her fingers on her napkin. "I would like to know just where your 'friendly' fisherman caught his little surprise. And then - " A thought struck her, and she smiled round it. "I have to go to Hong Kong shortly," she considered. "It would be so much more convenient if you could fly me there ... and back, of course," she added sweetly.

It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse. Hong Kong would be a trip of several weeks, and every one would be like spending time swimming round a tiger shark, but he could survive that. He was fairly sure he could survive that. And for once, Sarah would understand precisely why he'd agreed to do it.

"Agreed," he breathed with barely a moments hesitation. She looked a little disappointed.

"I could have asked for so much more," she realised regretfully. "Never mind." She glanced up at the evening sky and let playful consideration slide back into her smile. "Now, can you find Boragora in the dark, or should we wait until morning ...?"

"We?"

"Oh yes," she said, rising to her feet and indicating to the maids that they could clear the table. "I've always wanted to see if what they say about the devil's kiss is true ..."

Return to the Monkey Bar

Disclaimer:This story has been written for love rather than profit and is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Donald P Bellasario, Bellasarius Productions, or any other holders of Tales of the Gold Monkey trademarks or copyrights.
© 1999 by Penelope Hill