Oakland, California. The city across the bay from San Francisco, better weather, better food, better living to hear the locals tell it -- but a little more well-known for the higher crime rate, especially violent crimes. A working city where the ships dock and the trains stop. A city that always needed its heroes. Near the east edge of town, in a cemetery spread across the hills several people gathered to say goodbye to a friend.

The services for Henry J. Herbert's family had been earlier in the morning but near noon, some of the current and past members of the Centurions came to pay respects.

Kendra Worth followed the motorized wheelchair of Nathan Ryder through the paths between live oaks and hedges of huckleberry vines. Two towering sequoias marked the upper corners of Veterans Field near the middle of which Specialist Herbert's body lay under a fresh layer of green sod. Len Salvatore stood already by the grave and they were soon joined by Gilbert Bellows, Sylvia Glass, Ted Andropoulos, and Penelope Haeckel Ryder.

No one said anything for several moments then Len asked. "His family don't know, do they?"

Kendra shook her head, her silvery hair concealed beneath a lacy black cloche hat. "Only his sister Danetta. She's the only one that knew -- who he was."

"Hank's the lucky one," said Nate. "A hero's death and yet he lives on." He thumped the arm of his chair and looked across the grave toward his ex-wife. Penelope did not look up but she nodded, silently.

Gil rubbed his shaved head and said, "It's not the same. Urban is gone, unless someone wants to take up the identity?"

Len shook his head. "I'll wear his uniform for a few appearances, just to confuse things. And make Stryker worry. We going to go after that sumbitch?"

Everyone except Kendra nodded. "I'm going to go up to the Seattle area first, check on Tessie. See if she's right about her daddy."

Ted cleared his throat. Besides security and gadgets, he was the group's liaison with the Blue Galaxy, the federal super-troopers. "We might be able to wrangle a pardon, if this Death Masque hasn't committed any serious crimes since the seventies."

Kendra shrugged. "I'm not sure I'll get close enough to ask that sort of thing."

Sylvia squatted beside the grave, dropping a yellow rose onto the fresh turf. "Goodbye, my brother," she said. Len stepped close and offered her an arm; she accepted the half hug but stepped away to wipe her eyes. "We keep losing good ones," she murmured, remembering other deaths, other cities. She'd buried almost a whole team once, including her own twin sister. She added Hank's name to the roll call in her head.

"He's not exactly dead-dead," Gil pointed out to no one. Penelope bent over Nate's chair to kiss his cheek and then everyone left.

* * *

In the concourse at Sea-Tac, one tall man shook hands with an even taller one. "Leo," he said, "I'm Todd."

"You recognized me?" asked Leo. "I thought the dye job on my hair was pretty good."

"I can see about twice as many colors as most people," said Todd. "And I can smell you."

Leo nodded and they walked through the crowds toward the carpark. Outside, the famous Seattle rain fell on the righteous and the wicked, alike.

"Keep forgetting how wet this fricken city is," Leo muttered as they got into Todd's SUV.

"We'll have you home and dry soon enough, Catclaw," said Todd. "You can meet the family."

Leo grinned. "They all wear shrouds and carry scythes, Reaperman?"

"Not hardly," said Todd. "Let me tell you what's been going on."

* * *

Tessie shivered for no apparent reason. Hank Herbert's grandma, when she saw someone shiver like that, always said, "Someone's walking on your grave, child." Tessie suspected that in this case, Grandma would have been right.