COURAGE IN A MINOR KEY 
by Ruth Dempsey(Anglofans@aol.com)
(PG-13 to R)

DISCLAIMER: All Forever Knight characters mentioned within are
the property of James Parriot, Paragon Entertainment, Tri-
Star/Sony, Columbia, USA network and a network of fans that you
really *don't* want to make angry... 
Chad's song is adapted from "Come My Way" by Sean Altman
copyright 1994 performed by Rockapella on "Primer"
available from Primarily Accapella, harmony@netcom.com
(buy the album, it's good!)



*******


Prologue


He was brought across in 1228.
Preyed on humans for their blood --
Now he wants to be mortal again
to repay society for his sins
to emerge from his world of darkness
from his endless Forever Night.


He was brought across in 1531
A chosen warrior.
He fled his responsibilities then--
but not even he could run forever.
Now, he has stopped running.
He is the chosen warrior --
stalking in the shadows of the Forever Night....


They are the hunters --
born to walk the razor's edge
between light and darkness.
Theirs is the sacred trust --
born to bridge the gap
between human and animal.
There is no one better
to have at your side,
walking in the shadows of the Forever Night....







*******


"Courage is the resistance to fear, the mastery of fear, it 
is not the absence of fear"
     --Samuel Clemens

"Scaring the living shit out of people can turn up a hero"
     --Chad Roberts


Chapter 1.

      His head hurt.
      So did everything else.  His hands felt cold and
numb.  His arms cramped from being tied straight out 
from the shoulder.  He swallowed, feeling the gag pull 
at his mouth.  The pipes were cold as frost down his 
back.  A deep breath brought stabbing pain up both 
sides.
      There was a dim streak of light in front of him. 
He looked down. They'd taken his clothes. He tried to
see into the room.  All he could see was a red-covered
table and a symbol painted on the cloth.  It was the
head of a wolf crushing a golden sphere in its jaws;
the symbol of Skoll, the wolf who devours the sun to
signal Ragnarok, the Final Battle.
      If I'm not dead now, he thought, the Circle must
have other plans for me.  There's a comforting thought. 
Is this what David went through?  I pray not.  He let
his head droop.  Is this how it ends?  Am I not even to
be given a chance to defend myself?  Gaia, I am
Earthsinger.  They have gagged me and I cannot sing...
      Or can I?
      He took three deep breaths, clearing his mind. 
He heard the notes in his mind and let them echo over
and over.  He felt the power rising through the floor
and he flung the silent words outward, seeing them as a
spiral of light rising from his chest, blossoming in
the darkness into questing tendrils seeking a kindred
heart and mind that would hear and respond...
      *Come my way into the garden home, come raise the
cup,
      All children of Brave Hunter, the song we raise
will never end.
      Come my way...*



*****

     Detective Tracy Vetter smiled to herself as her
partner opened the door of the huge old Cadillac for
her.  Detective Knight was a good cop, street-smart and
experienced and had taught her a great deal, but
sometimes he was so old-fashioned he creaked.  She sat
down, but he didn't close the door.  He was looking off
into the  distance, frowning.
     "Something wrong, Nick?" she asked.
     "No," he replied, pre-occupied.  "I thought I
heard someone call me.  I was wrong."
     "Oh," she said.

*****

      The flight had been long and tiring.  Aristotle
Lukas tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his
bag.  He stiffened as he felt the Calling.  One hand
reached up to finger the silver pendant he wore around
his neck; a pendant marked with the head of a snarling
wolf.

*****

     The Raven is not found in any tourist's guide to
Toronto's night life.  The Raven can be found only by
rumor, by oblique hints or perhaps by accident.  Some
say there is a spell on it, that it draws only those
that need it -- or that are needed by it.
     The regulars smile mysteriously if they hear that.
     Some call the ambiance gothic, some call it
obscene, others whisper of deviant doings in its
shadowed corners.  Vampires, some breathe, which makes
most visitors scoff.  "Vampires?  In the Twentieth
Century?  Nonsense!"
     Again the regulars smile cryptically when they
hear.
     The dress code is darkness.  Color seems to be
unwelcome here. Pale skin, either real or painted is
the norm, as if the inhabitants avoid the sun (and some
do).  The music beats like a heart and moans with
ecstasy.  Here is where CERK's premier late-night D.J.,
the Nightcrawler, holds court as he purrs shadowed
philosophy into his microphone.
     One of the semi-regulars, the romantic Spaniard,
Javier Vachon paused with his drink to his lips, his
brow furrowing. It was as if he'd heard a faint call. 
He turned and searched the bar, brushing a lock of
long, dark hair out of his eyes. The usual gothic crowd
gyrated to the pounding black beat of the latest hymn
to the sinister.  
      Over in a corner, a group of young people recited
their latest Masquerade stories, playing the roles of
vampires in the modern world, never guessing the
smirking Storyteller that led them played for real. 
One pale lass in sable and spiderwebs dropped an
interested wink. The Storyteller scowled.  Vachon
smiled and waved.  He knew better.  The regulars
considered the Raven 'neutral territory' and one was
always on best behavior in neutral territory.
     The call was far away and he had hunting to do. 
He finished his drink and melted into the night.  It
was cold and clear, with the full moon watching like a
great silver eye.  A hunter's moon, he thought to
himself.  His dark eyes gleamed amber and the roots of
his canines itched with anticipation.
     A faint inward tug drew his attention to the
northeast.  Very well, he would go that way.  There was
a brand-new Metro station over there, bringing fresh
blood into the neighborhood.  He grinned to himself at
the thought.  He raised his arms over his head.
      "Vachon," a woman's voice spoke his name.  The
raised arms turned into a lazy stretch and he turned
slowly.
      Her hair was white.  Fine lines of humor gathered
at the corners of her mouth.  She wore a very ordinary
blue coat, as if she was a grandmother who had merely
come late from Bingo but when he saw her green and
amber eyes he remembered who and what she was.
      "Mayra," he said.

******

      Saskatoon, Saskatchewan -- 1935

      "Carl!" yelled a man's voice.  "What are you
doing?  We saw the fire clear to main street!"
      "I've got him trapped, and his lady friend with
him. I'm telling you, they're vampires!" shouted the
frightened farmer. "They're what's been running off my
horses!"
      Trapped in the barn by a ring of fire, Vachon and
his blonde companion Urs listened anxiously.  Urs
whimpered. Vachon flattened himself to the wall,
swearing softly as he peered through a crack in the old
boards.
      "Are you crazy, Carl?" demanded a confused voice.
      "All right!  Stay here for two more hours, it
will be sunup and see if I'm crazy."
      "Vachon!" Urs wailed.
      "Quiet!" Vachon tried to squint through the
flames.  "This is all your fault!  I told you to leave
them alone."  If he could catch the eye of the one who
questioned, maybe he could prod those doubts until
someone made a careless move.
      "OowooooOOOOOO!" rang in the night.
      "Wolves!" yelled someone.
      "The horses!  They're running the horses!"
      "I tell you it's that vampire!" Carl shouted.
      "Vampires I don't believe in, wolves I do, come
on!" 
      The crowd left.
      A wolf appeared in the doorway.  With a single,
lithe movement, she stretched into lovely, nude human
form.
      "You'd better go now," she said.
      "Javier Vachon at your service," Vachon eyed her
apprecatively.  "And to whom do I owe thanks, milady?" 
      "Mayra," she smiled.
      "I owe you a favor, Mayra," he said kissing her
hand.
      "Some day I will claim it."  She gracefully
shaped back into lupine form and cantered off.  Vachon
grabbed Urs's hand and the two fled to their hiding
place to wait out the day.

*****

      "Mayra," Vachon repeated.  "It's been a long
time."
      "Not so long in the mind of one who walks the
night, I think," she said calmly.  "I said I would
claim a favor from you some day, didn't I?"
      "Mm," Vachon shifted uncomfortably.  "So you
did."
      "My grandson has been taken."
      "Your grandson?" Vachon looked startled.  "Isn't
this a matter for the police?"
      "No," Mayra looked down at her weathered hands. 
"He's weyr, my grandson.  More than that, he's an
Earthsinger."
      Vachon looked puzzled.
      "He can sing healing.  Align the body and spirit
into harmony.  The Black Circle has captured him.  They
want him dead."  Mayra looked up at Vachon, with tears
in her eyes.  "They think I am a toothless old wolf.
Help me find him."
      "The Black Circle..." he'd heard only vague
rumors.  It was supposedly an organization that wanted
to take down all the 'green laws' and to exploit the
Earth of all its riches.  Screed had come burbling
about something similar, but he'd put it down
to his fellow vampire's feeding off an LSD tripper. 
"Mayra, I don't know."
      "He's calling, you can hear him," she said
stubbornly.  "I lay on you the debt three-fold: Life,
Honor, Protection.  I saved your life.  I gave you
protection.  I did this through my honor.  You will
save my grandson's life; you will give him protection
or face the consequences to your own honor!"
      "Damn you!" Vachon snarled, his eyes blazing
gold. Her eyes turned amber and she snarled back at
him.  He could feel the debt she called down tightening
around him like a noose.  The weyr had a way of calling
in their debts.  "I'll do what I can!" He launched
himself into the night sky, cursing all weyr.
      But the tug persisted, and the debt weighed on
him.

*****

      Rick Lowen shivered and turned the collar of his
black leather jacket up.  A sudden movement of shadow
drew his eyes upward, but he saw nothing except the
cold regard of the lunar orb. He shuddered.  A 
hunter's moon only brought back his nightmares.
      The large grey malamute pacing at his side
suddenly butted Rick on the left hip.  "Yeah, I know,
Val."  He bent and rubbed at the dog's ruff.  "You'll
be remembering too.  We won't get much sleep tonight." 
     The pair entered the Metro Cab garage.  Rick
nodded at the dispatcher and signed in.  He retrieved
his keys.  Val jumped into the front seat of the taxi. 
      "Another hard day's night, eh, Val?" he said
wearily as the motor ground into life.
      Val suddenly put his ears up and whined.  Rick
twitched his shoulders as he pulled into traffic.
      "You feel it too?" he asked.  He glanced upward
at the watching circle of the moon.  "Oh, damn, it's
happening again, isn't it?"  Shaking his head, he
shoved the discomfort away, concentrating on spotting
his first fare.

*****

      Anji Porter paused, frowning.  A thin, cold
stream of air eddied around her ankles as she knelt
before one of the many file cabinets.  She replaced the
folder and straightened.  Drafts were rare in the
climate-controlled basement of the Hudson - Cambridge
building.
      Anji pressed her pale lips together.  It was
after hours and her supervisor, Mr. Renquist wouldn't
appreciate her leaving her tiny domain to go wandering
through the building.  All clerical staff working after
hours had to remain in their assigned area,
the last memo had said.  The draft teased at her ankles
again, chilling the strap of her sensible pumps.  A
draft meant that there was a door open that shouldn't
be, and a conscientious employee (said Mr.Renquist's
121 st memo) always maintained building security.  If
she left the area and was reported she'd get censured. 
If she didn't and someone else reported the draft,
she'd get censured.  Damned if she did or damned if she
didn't -- better to be hung for a wolf as a sheep.
      And besides, something was tugging at her,
calling her attention to the stream of air.
      Anji put on the sweater she usually kept on hand
and tucked her keys into her pocket, glancing only
briefly at her reflection in the small mirror that hung
next to the coat rack before she entered the hallway.
      She saw what she always did; a modest, petite
thirty year old woman with close-cropped, straight
mouse brown hair, black, almond-shaped eyes inherited
from grandmother Tomoe and a round face that was about
as interesting as a dish of vanilla pudding without
whipped cream or a cherry.  She dressed according to
code: dark skirt with a light colored blouse, minimal
jewelry, minimal make-up.  Five years with the company,
three in Inactive Files, twice honored for Excellent
Work. A very small and very unimportant cog in a very
busy machine. 
      Anji stood a moment, feeling the draft again. 
She turned left and headed down the hallway, her low
heels clicking in the silence.  At the end of the
corridor, she stopped dead in surprise.
      Ahead was the door that led to the old
sub-basement.  The heavy, metal panel was ajar, letting
in the draft.  That door had never been open before. 
She even knew where the memo was that had ordered it
locked off in 1977.  Puzzled, Anji touched the door and
it swung open a little further -- revealing a
descending staircase.
      There was a light at the bottom of the stairs.
      Anji hesitated, wetting her lips and fiddling
with the buttons on one of her cuffs.  She wanted to
just shut the door and go away, but Mr. Renquist had
sent out that memo only a week ago about conscientious
employees and the waste of electricity ... besides, why
on earth would a light be on down in an old
sub-basement?
      Go on, prodded an inner voice that sounded
terribly like her grandmother. Admit you're curious.
      The metal railing was cold under her hand.  Her
footsteps echoed faintly on the metal stairs.  The
light ahead had a harsh, white quality that threw black
shadows against the concrete walls.  Here and there,
spots of mildew bloomed where dampness seeped through. 
The floor itself was bare concrete, streaked in places
with the remains of a coat of some dark-colored paint.
The metal door at the bottom of the stairs had been
propped open with a concrete block.
      A naked bulb swung from the ceiling.  The room
was curtained off at the opposite end.  There was a
long, metal table and six rows of chairs with a center
aisle to her right.  To her left was a lectern and a
table draped with a dark red cloth.  There was a symbol
painted on the cloth; a wolf's head gripping a gold
ball.
      It looked like some kind of chapel.  She walked
over to the covered table.  Seven black-handled knives
formed a half-moon on a pewter tray on the red cloth.  
She took a step backwards, feeling suddenly light -
headed.  There was something wrong, very wrong about
this.  She could see the light switch next to the door.
      "I will turn off the switch," she whispered to
herself.  "I will go back upstairs and close the door. 
This is none of my business, none of my business..."
      A low moan came from behind the drapes.
      OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod, her thoughts babbled as a
sudden chill made the hair rise on the back of her
neck.  She clenched her fists and stopped by the door.
      "Who's there?" Her voice cracked.  "Is somebody
there?"
      A small muffled sound was her answer.
      "It may be nothing," she said out loud.  She took
two steps toward the stairs, a line from an old
C.S.Lewis novel whispered in her head. "... strike the
bell and mind the danger.  Or wonder 'till it drives
you mad what would have followed if you had..."  She
turned abruptly, flung aside the curtain.
      And screamed.
      There were pipes coming down from the upper
floors and the tall, thin man was tied to them, body
lashed to the middle pipe, arms out-stretched to either
side.  A swatch of silver tape gagged him.  He stared
at her with desperate eyes, one bruised and blackened. 
She realized he was naked.  Anji jumped backwards,
letting the curtains fall closed, both hands pressed to
her mouth.
     This isn't happening!  She shrieked inside her
head.  This is Toronto!  This is a building of a major
corporation!  These things don't happen here!  But
there he is.   
      She ran into the room.  If I get out now I can
just forget this ever happened and... and ...  She
snatched a knife from the tray and ran back.
      He was still there, looking more real, more pale,
more hurt, more desperate than the last time.   She
squeaked through a bitten lip as she tried to saw at
the ropes tying his left arm.  He shook his head and
she reached up to pull at the tape.
      "Ugh!" He exclaimed as it ripped free.  "Get out
of here.  They'll kill you."
      "What about you?" she said.  The rope snapped. 
He began to yank on the remainder while she tried to
cut the loop around his right arm.  He looked like he
had taken a dreadful beating.  She could see all sorts
of bruises on his body (A lean body with muscles like
whipcords and a red-tinged curling down placed from his
collar bones all the way down to ...)  She gave him the
knife after that and avoided looking below his waist. 
      "They won't kill me, not yet," his voice dropped
into coldness. "They'll want to have some fun, first."
      "Th-they?  Fun?" she squeaked again.  He stepped
free of the ropes and straightened up.  Anji pulled off
her sweater and  offered it to him.  He looked at her
as if he didn't understand, then took it from her. 
After a moment's consideration, he tied the sleeves
around his waist and let the back of the sweater hang
in front like an apron.  
      "Lady, may whatever Light you follow smile kindly
on you.  I'd give you a formal accepting of debts and
sing you a seven versed hero song..." Heavy steps
creaked on the stairs.  He froze. "But I have to go
now."
      He stretched out his arms and bent as if to touch
his toes. Short brown curls exploded into grey fur down
his back as a pair of black-tipped ears rose on his
head.  His eyes glowed topaz and his face stretched out
into a beast's muzzle...
      This can't be happening!  Her mind screamed as
everything spiraled into black.
      She awakened a moment later to stabbing pain in
her hand. She stared frozen at the bleeding half-moon
on her left palm, only peripherally aware of a shaggy
tail vanishing behind the curtain wall.
      A man's voice registered on her.
      "...But I'm certain everything was in order, Mr.
Carlise.  I can't imagine why she's here or what's
happened to our -uh- guest."
      Impossible!  She thought, that sounds exactly
like Mr. Renquist.  She turned her head.  It was her
supervisor, with the uniformed head of the building's
security.
      "Miss Porter!" Renquist shrilled, yanking at his
shirt collar.  "Kindly explain why you are not at your
station!"
      "There was a draft," said Anji simply.  "And your
memo said if there were any drafts, especially in the
basement - it might mean a possible compromise of
building security and we should be sure to maintain
building security."
      "Really?"  Carlise drawled.  "How *very*
considerate of you, Renquist.  So, you investigated the
draft and found someone --" Carlise gave a hard look at
Renquist.  "--Had left the door to the sub-basement
open.  And then?"
      "There was a light on."  Anji used a chair to
pull herself shakily to her feet.  Her left hand hurt. 
Neither man offered to help her.
      "Oh, was there?" Carlise's voice was icy.
      "And what if there was--?" Renquist's voice
cracked.
      Anji swallowed, her stomach clenching into a cold
fist.
      "Explain yourself, Miss Porter!" Renquist flared
at her.
      Anji suddenly was angry at him.  "You did an
official reprimand on Sharon when she left her desk
lamp on during lunch! I came down here to turn it off!"

      "And the man down here?"  Carlise's icy gaze
fixed on her.
      Her thoughts froze in a stuttering halt. "The
m-m-man?"  The pain in her left hand seemed to
increase.
      "The man, Miss Porter..."
      "You won't believe me," she squeaked, rubbing her
palm.
      "Yes, I will, Miss Porter."
      "Really, Carlise," Renquist sputtered.  "This is
hardly necessary!  She's seen to much!  Kill her now."
      Anji froze.  No, she cried, this can't be
happening.  It can't!
      "Renquist," Carlise turned to the smaller man. 
"We've lost a very valuable opportunity because it
seems you are a careless and extremely anal little
shit."  He drew his gun and fired. 
      Anji screamed and fell over the chair with a
crash.  Mr. Renquist looked in surprise at the spot of
crimson erupting on his white shirt.
      "Sorry, Miss Porter," Carlise turned and the
world filled with the sight of the silver barrel and
the black, smoking muzzle of his gun...
      A growl echoed through the room.  The curtains at
the back of the room exploded.  Carlise yelled and
turned.  With a savage snarl, the man she rescued
sprang on the security chief.  Only ... only the former
captive wasn't a man, but an unholy amalgam of
wolf and human that was become more bestial as she
watched.
     Carlise's gun came skittering to her feet.  She
looked at it blankly.  The security chief threw off the
wolf man.  A thrown chair crashed on the beast's head. 
The wolf man reeled.
      "Defiant to the last," sneered Carlise, pulling
another knife from the table.  "Stupid, stubborn
animal!" 
      A shot rang in the air.  Something heavy and
metallic sprang up and whacked her just above her left
eyebrow.  She fell back against the chairs again,
watching the gun clatter at her feet without having
remembered standing or picking it up. Carlise fell
heavily to the floor. Everything felt cold.  She
couldn't seem to move. Her forehead radiated pain. 
Something wet ran down the side of her face.  A part of
her was screaming that this couldn't be happening, but
it seemed to be detached from the rest of her, like
when she tried to wake herself up from a nightmare. 
Only now, she wasn't waking up.
   The wolf man stood up, the grey and black fur
retreating on his body and changing to brown, tightly
curled hair as he stretched back into human form, still
wearing her sweater cinched around his waist.  He
laughed harshly.
      "A hero song with nine verses, but not now!  Come
on," he grabbed her hand.  "My mark is on you, but we
can't stay here."
      "I've done something," she heard herself whisper.
      "Yes," he said.  "You've saved my life."
      She staggered after the wolf man.  At the head of
the stairs, he paused.
      "Which way?" he asked.
      Anji stared at him.  This has to be a dream, she
told herself.
      "Lady, please, don't go blank on me now.  I was
knocked out when they brought me here.  I know you're
scared, but for Gaia's sake, which way is the way out?" 
He gave her a gentle shake. His eyes were brown.  She
could have sworn they were yellow.  His nose was as
battered as the bow of a Lake Erie icebreaker and that
wide mouth looked more for smiling than for the taut,
hard line it was currently drawn in.  He didn't look
like anyone she'd seen on television or anyone she
knew, those were the people who usually turned up in
her dreams.  'This is the strangest dream I've ever
had.'
      "Out?"  Why can't I wake up?  She wondered.
      "Come on, lady, please," he wet his lips.  "My
name is Chad, Chad Roberts, what's yours?" 
      "Anji," she said.  "Anji Porter."
      "Ok, Anji, which way is the way out?" Chad's
voice was shaking and he was shivering.
      Anji pointed.  "That way's the elevator to the
lobby."
      "I don't think that's a good idea," Chad hugged
himself. "Uh, any other way out?  Back door, secret
exit --"  He stopped, grimacing.  "Sorry, I babble when
I get scared."  He shuddered all over.  "Is it always
this cold in here?"
      Anji licked her dry lips and shivered herself. 
"I think...  I remember there were jokes about the new
metro extension.  It's level with the sub-basement and
someone made jokes about it being the 'secret entrance
to the Bat-Cave'," she trailed off.  "It really wasn't
very funny."
      Chad shrugged and led her back down the stairs. 
A low moan came from within the altar room.  Chad
dragged Anji past the door into the shadows of the
inner hall.
      "I-If there is a door, Mr. Carlise would have the
keys," Anji heard herself say.
      "Ten verses to your song!" Chad said, and dove
into the room.  Anji closed her eyes and hugged
herself.  Beneath her lids she kept seeing Mr.
Renquist's face and the blood and Mr. Carlise's
gun....  She opened them again with a shriek.
      Chad was in front of her, wearing a pair of dark
pants that were far too short for him and her sweater
knotted over his bare chest.  He took her hand and
pulled her along.
      A throbbing noise filled the corridor, beating
like the rush of a great heart.  It wasn't until she
heard a shrill, metallic screech that she realized it
was a train.
      "Ha," said Chad ahead of her.  There was a
jingle, a fumble and a swallowed cruse.  A dim yellow
light filled the hallway as a metal door swung open. 
"One secret entrance.  Keep to the wall, we're right
against the tracks."
      The door fit into a narrow, decorative brick arch
along the metro tunnel.  Chad squinted down the tracks. 
"I can make out an area of lights this way.  That'll be
a station."
      Anji followed.  The hazy dream feeling was still
on her.  She might still believed it a dream except for
the pain in her head and the coldness in her stomach.
      Mr. Carlise killed Mr. Renquist.  I killed Mr.
Carlise.
      The howl echoed above the humming of the inner
rail.  Chad whirled, his eyes turning yellow as a growl
rumbled in his throat. He shoved Anji back into another
arch.  Anji felt the hair on her neck rise again.  Her
stomach knotted in real pain.  A shadowy figure,
somewhere between human and beast emerged from the
darkness.
      "The Circle wants your death, Earthsinger,"
called a throaty woman's voice.  It was the voice of
Mr. Renquist's secretary.
      "No, no, no," Anji heard herself whimper.
      "Quiet, my mark is on you," ordered Chad.  "I
offer no quarrel," he said in formal tones.  "I seek
only free passage.  I will not hunt your territory nor
trouble your game nor..."  His voice was almost lost in
the rising hum.
      "Screw yourself!" said the she-wolf abruptly and
charged. Chad caught the monster's wrists and pushed
her back, knocking her on the tracks.
      The humming turned to a roar.  The world was
filled with a thundering white light and a blaring horn
that mingled with a short, sudden scream and a heavy
thud.  Anji covered her eyes.  Chad was forcing her
against the bricks.  She was certain she was screaming
against his chest but could hear nothing except the
horn and the piercing shrill of metal on metal. 
      The sounds faded to a ringing in her ears and
Chad saying over and over.  "Don't scream.  I'm sorry. 
Don't scream.  I'm sorry.  Don't scream."
      They skirted the confusion as the crew
investigated what had happened.  The two huddled
together in a corner by the station platform as the
crowds moved by.  Chad was shivering, his face was
pale.  Suddenly, he lifted his head as if sniffing the
air.
      "Ha," he said softly.  "I hoped this was part of
his territory."
      Anji just looked at him.
      "An ally of a sort," said Chad and he whispered a
name into the crowd. "Vachon," he crooned.  "Vachon."


*******

Chapter 2.

      "Accident on the tracks," remarked one passerby
as the ambulance gurney pushed its way through the
tangle, escorted by police.
      "Great," complained his companion.  "We'll miss
the overture of Phantom."
      Their remarks were ignored by the shadowed figure
they passed.
      The dark-haired vampire smiled slowly, his gaze
never leaving the face of the young woman sitting with
the magazine.  She dived behind the cover, face flaming, 
only to peek out again an instant later.  He purred to 
himself as he continued flirting.  The fact that she was 
wearing a crimson beret amused him no end.
      'But yes, Chapon Rouge,' he thought.  'I am
indeed the big, bad wolf.  The big, bad wolf of your
dreams.  Eyes; the better to see you with, ears; the
better to hear you with and teeth -- heh, heh, heh...'
      'Eh?'
      Someone was whispering his name.
      While only the brave, reckless or foolish actively 
seek a vampire's attention, there are certain ways
they must be approached.  To shout a vampire's name
from across a room or from the street is considered
annoying and rude.  It is never wise to annoy a vam-
pire.  The proper way to attract a vampire's attention
is to whisper their name.  They find this intriguing; 
it piques their curiosity.  It can be just as dangerous
to intrigue a vampire as it is to annoy them, neverthe-
less there can be little doubt it starts one off on a
slightly better footing...
      "Vachon," came the barely audible descant. "Va--
ah-ah-shon."
      Javier Vachon turned slowly, his dark eyes 
searching the sleepy, grumbling late night passengers. 
The soft whisper caught his ear again. Leaving his
disappointed Red Riding Hood, he sauntered to the edge
of the platform.
      There were a tangle of railroad personnel and
police further down the track.  The accident he sup-
posed.  Flashlight beams were dancing around the tunnel
and the blinding strobe of a flash camera blinked
between shifting silhouettes.
      He saw the pair hiding in the shadows; a small,
terrified Eurasian woman with dried blood on her face
and a tall, shivering nearly-naked werewolf.  
      He knew the werewolf, they had met roughly a year
ago, when he had gone out for a midnight snack and his
snack bit him first.  The weyr called himself Chad
Roberts, after exchanging a few outraged snarls, they
had agreed on a truce and to go their separate ways. 
Why was Chad --?
      Then he felt it.  The tug of the call and the
constriction of the debt Mayra had laid on him. 
      Chad was Mayra's grandson.
      'Oh, no, why me?' For one instant, he was tempted
to turn.  He would walk away, as he had for so long. 
      "You will be my warriors..."
      His Master had laid a debt on him and he had
walked away from it.  And had kept walking -- walking
-- all right, say it -- *running*.
      "And that's all you've been doing, running away?"
Tracy's voice asked scornfully in his memory.
      "I was *young*," he had argued.
      "I don't think I like you very much," she shot
back.
      Somehow, in her directness, he realized he didn't
like himself very much either.  When he had walked away
from his Master, he'd been pursued only by the Aztec;
he suspected Mayra and the Weyr would prove more numer-
ous and more stubborn.
      Glancing behind to be certain he was unobserved,
he jumped to the gravel and walked over to the pair,
trying to radiate a casual good will with a half--
hearted smile.  Chad struggled to his feet and greeted
him with a low growl and a warning stare.
      Resentment flared, 'you wanted me you stupid...' 
His thoughts froze as he felt a familiar presence
surging behind him.

******

      "Vah - ah - shon," crooned Chad.  He slid down
the wall, shivering.
      "We can't stay here," Anji went to her knees
beside him.  "The police --"
      "No police, too many questions," Chad shook his
head violently.  He coughed.  "So *cold* --"  He
pressed against her, wanting her warmth.  He could
almost see a brilliant white light blossoming where her
heart was.  She was the kindred spirit he had prayed
for; had called for. 
      "You're going into shock," Anji slid her arms
around his shoulders.  Her skin was soft and smelled
of plum blossoms.  His head rested on her shoulder 
heavily.  Her hair tickled along his forehead as 
he coughed again, wincing.
      "How do you know?" he asked.
      "My two brothers are EMT's, my one sister's a
nurse-midwife and the other's a vet."  She pulled a
rueful face.  "I'm the family disappointment."
      "I doubt that."  Chad said.  She began to tremble.
"What is it?"
     "I --"  tears welled in her black eyes.  "I think
I killed Mr. Carlise, didn't I?  I - I've never killed
anyone - anything."  She shuddered again. 
     Chad closed his eyes.  Oh, Gaia what she has done
for me! He tightened his grip on her.  "Anji, listen to
me," he turned her left palm upward, revealing the
purple wound.  "I put my mark upon you because I
thought to place upon us the debt-threefold." 
He paused,  "but this between us lies beyond life or
protection or honor."  Suddenly, he bit his own palm
and pressed the bloody mark to the mark he had placed
on her.  "Thus I swear to thee, Anji Porter; ye have
been wounded for my sake.  Ye have shed first blood for
my sake -- between us there is the Debt Unpayable.  All
thy debts and debtors are as mine."  He vowed
formally.  "Ye shall be as a sister to me and I shall
set your children with my own.  Let sun and moon and
stars and Gaia herself bear witness!"
      "I--" Anji began.  Her face had gone paler and
her eyes were wide. "Please, I don't understand."
      He sniffed the air.  "Ah!"  He pulled away from
her and struggled to his feet. "Vachon."
      A lean man in black approached them, an uneasy
smile pulling at sensual lips.  Chad growled a low
warning in his throat. The other stopped, frowning,
then abruptly stiffened and turned.
      A slender, blonde woman detached from the 
crowd and walked unerringly towards Vachon.  Chad's
nostril's twitched. She was human.  The two met.  
Vachon had his back to them, but by the expres-
sion on the woman's face, a short, heated
conversation took place.  Finally, Vachon made a
placating gesture and the other returned to the crowd,
clearly unsatisfied.
     Chad blinked uneasily.  As the vampire turned 
back, he had seen a starlight-pale reflection of 
the kindred light that bloomed in Anji glowing within 
Vachon -- but that was impossible, he had always been
taught that the nightwalkers were wholly swallowed by
darkness and incapable of hearing a Calling...
 
******

      Feeling slightly more resentful than he had
before, Vachon returned to the huddled pair.  He put
his hands on his hips and considered the situation.
      "Vachon," acknowledged Chad warily.
      "Chad, you old dog," he said carelessly.  "What
have you been up to?" With unhurried ease, he slipped
off the long leather duster he'd been wearing and
handed it over.  "Interesting fashion statement."
      "I didn't have much choice."  Chad wrapped the
coat around himself.  He was skinny enough that the
garment nearly covered him twice.  The hem swung three
inches above where it should fall.  He had to lean
against the wall and the small woman came to support
him.
      "Good God," said Vachon getting a better look at
his grey complexion, swollen eye and numerous bruises.
"You look like hell."
      "The Circle tried to kill me," Chad winced as the
vampire took his arm across his shoulders, supporting
him with ease for the jump to the platform.
      "Damn near succeeded."  Vachon held out his hand
for the dazed looking woman.  He'd seen that look
before; she was scared to near-hysterics.  And smelling
of blood when he was so *hungry*.  Just what he needed.
"Who's this?"
      "Anji, she saved me." Chad tried to pull free and
gasped heavily with pain. His jaw clenched and his eyes
watered.  Chad swallowed hard and continued.  "I just
need your car keys..."
      "You need more than that," Vachon retorted.  He
was close enough to hear a faint grating sound as Chad
breathed.  That meant at least one broken rib.  
      "I hold you to no obligations."  Chad began to
chant formally.  "All debts between us have been..."
      "Tell that to your grandmother."  Vachon muttered
crossly.
      Chad blinked.  "My grandmother -- you mean
*you're* the one she..." 
      "Exactly." Vachon interrupted sharply.  The trio
headed for the door.  No one seemed to notice them as
they made their way cautiously to the street. That was
because Vachon was using his ability to divert
attention from them, a psychic "trick of the trade." It
wasn't easy.
      "Then I accept your debt and with it promise to
speak only in honor of your name," Chad gasped, wet his
lips.  "In return, I pledge to..."
      "Oh, shut up."  
      Chad growled.  Vachon growled right back.  Anji
whimpered.
      "Oh," she moaned.  "He's a werewolf too?"
      "No," said Chad.  "He's a vampire."
      Anji went white.
      "Thank you!"  Vachon declared in exasperation.
"Say it louder!  I don't think they heard you in
Kitchner!"  He turned and looked Anji in the eye.  "You
will not start crying,"  he said with gentle firmness. 
"You will keep quiet and follow me."  Her eyes went
blank.  'A little trance won't hurt you -- not yet
anyway,' he thought.
      "Why did you do that?" Chad demanded sharply.
      "Because I can," Vachon retorted.  "Now, shut
up."
      He was perspiring with effort by the time he
dragged Chad up into a dark alley.  The werewolf
scowled at him.
     "If you would just give me your car keys," Chad
argued, wincing and pressing his side.
     "What makes you think I have a car?" Vachon
snapped.
     "How did you get here?"
     "How do you think?"
     "Damn."  Chad leaned hard against the wall.  His
face was paler.  He looked over at Anji's blank
expression. "Wake her up."
     "I don't think that's a good idea right now."
      "Look, whatever my grandmother said --"  Chad's
eyes flared topaz.
      "Your grandmother had no right to involve *me*,
but she did.  Listen, damn it!  Don't you have a group
that protects you from accidental discovery?"  Vachon
argued.
      "The Fenris but--"
      "The Fenris!  You have the Fenris!  Well, *we*
have the Enforcers -- and I suspect, the Fenris are
more reasonable."  Vachon stepped back and folded his
arms around Anji's unresisting body.  "I could settle
the matter right now and save us both a lot of
trouble..."  He turned her head to his shoulder,
exposing the creamy-gold of her throat.
      "No!" Chad cried.

*****

     "What's your problem, Val?"  Rick Lowen demanded
of the large dog riding shotgun in his front seat.  He
made a note of the last fare and shoved the money into
the slot of the locked glove compartment.  The grey
malamute whined again.  "What?"
     The dog bent down and pulled up his leash.
     "Ah, come on, you did that before we left," Rick
grumbled.  Val whined repeatedly.  "All right, all
right."  He flicked on the radio. "Dispatch, this is
7-oh-8.  Dispatch this is 7-oh-8."
     "Dispatch, What's up Rick?" crackled the radio.
     "Taking fifteen by the new Metro Station, Danny."
     "Taking fifteen?  Why?"
     "'Cause Val's got to take a piss, why else?"
     "You and that dog..."
     "Hey, he's kept me from getting robbed twice,
don't knock it."
     Rick fastened on the leash, fumbled out the pooper
-scoop and stepped out on the sidewalk.  Val promptly
lowered his head and hauled Rick briskly down the
street ignoring the cab driver's sputtering.  The dog
stopped dead and barked once.
     "What *is* your prob..." Rick took a breath.
      A dark-haired man in black hugged a small woman
with a head wound while a taller, leaner, paler,
bare-foot companion gestured pleadingly.  The crowd of
passengers and police moved around the trio as if they
didn't see them.  The hair stood straight up on the
back of Rick's neck as he felt the subtle tug that had
troubled him when he started his shift.
      Val growled.  While a fierce lunge, he yanked the
lead from Rick's hands and charged into the alley,
barking.  He slammed into the dark-haired man, knocking
him away from the woman. She fell bonelessly to the
ground.  In a flash, the second man gathered her from
the pavement, holding her close and snarling, his eyes
glowing amber.
      "No," Rick whispered.  "Oh, God, no!"  He ran
over. 
      The dark-haired man's eyes also blazed yellow. He
batted the big dog aside.  Val tumbled end over and end
with a yelp.  Rick grabbed his collar.  His stomach
went cold.  'Why me?' he thought, catching the second
man's eye.  For one instant they stared at each other,
nostrils flaring to catch each other's subtle scent...
      "Brother!" the one gasped.
      'Don't call me that!' he wanted to scream.  "Come
with me!" Rick said.  Val still snarled and lunged at
the first, it took all of Rick's strength to pull the
dog away from the alley.  
      "STOP!" the crack of authority in the dark-haired
man's voice abruptly halted all three of them in their
tracks.

*****

      "Right," said Vachon to the frozen tableau.  "I
have had just about enough."  He fixed a falcon's eye
on the cab driver.  "You were walking your dog.  You
saw someone push the lady into the alley.  She's hurt,
her purse has been stolen.  *You* are going to be a
gentleman and escort her home."  He pulled Anji from
Chad's unresistant grasp.  "Anji, you will forget
everything except that you decided to take the new
Metro line home but the accident delayed you."  He told
her.  "Somebody snatched your purse and shoved you into
the alley where you hurt your head.  You don't remember
what your attacker looked like. This nice cab driver is
going to help you home." 
      Vachon placed Anji under the driver's arm.  The
big dog growled at him.  
      "Nice doggie," he said absently.  "Jump on me
again and I'll break your back."
      Finally, he faced Chad.  "You," he said coldly,
"stand right there."  He turned his back to the weyr. 
"Right arm across my shoulders. Left arm under mine
like *that*.  Lock your grip on your wrists; grab my
neck and I'll drop you on your head.  As soon as I take
off, everybody *do as you're told*."

******

      Aristotle Lukas stood in front of the hotel's
mirror adjusting the line of his dark blue suit to
cover the shoulder holster he wore.  The subdued cheep
of his cellular phone interrupted his corrections.  He
flicked back his black curls and answered.
      "Lukas," he said.  "No, I haven't.  A Jane Doe on
the new Metro line?  I will attend to it."  He paused.  
"There was a Calling earlier tonight.  Yes, I'm quite 
certain.  Very well."
      He folded the phone and slipped it into the
specially tailored pocket of his jacket.  He opened one
of his bags to reveal a slim pistol in a special case. 
Lukas opened another box and removed an ammunition clip
which he loaded into the gun.  He withdrew a calf
holster from the case and rolled up his pant leg. When
it was comfortably in place, he slid the pistol into
it. Finally, he settled the silver medallion around his
neck.
      "The hunt begins, Fenris," he whispered.
      For a moment, his eyes glowed yellow in the
mirror.

******

      Anji gasped and swayed as a sudden uprush of air
gusted into her face.  A strong arm tightened around
her.
      "Easy miss," the man was only a little taller
than she was, with chin-length tangled streaky blond 
hair.  A thin, pale scar traced his right cheekbone 
from the corner of one blue eye down to his square 
jaw.  There was a patch on his faded blue shirt, 
the words "Metro Cab" registered on her as she 
blinked in confusion. "Easy, you've had a nasty 
fall."
      That explained why her head hurt so much.  "My
purse!" she exclaimed.  "He - he took my purse..."
      "I know, I saw," the cab driver nodded.
      A large grey dog growled indignantly and shoved
them with a shoulder, knocking the pair off balance.
      "Val!" he said sharply.  "Behave yourself."
      The dog grumbled.
      "My name's Rick."  He frowned a moment, looking
as if he were trying to remember something.  "What's 
your name, miss?"
      "Porter, Anji Porter."  She felt the same weird
disorientation.  Something wasn't quite right, but she
just couldn't seem to remember what it was.
      "Come on, let's get you home."  He led her to his
cab, took her address and proceeded to argue with his
dispatcher all the way over to her apartment building.
It seemed the dispatcher took a dim view of 'charity 
cases.'  Val sat in the back with her, his shaggy head in 
her lap.
      "I *can* pay," said Anji with some irritation.
"I have a check book in my apartment."
      "Danny is just an anal little shit," Rick retorted.
His face colored up.  "Uhm -- sorry, miss."
      Anji blinked she'd heard that phrase before, but 
where --?  She reached up to touch her aching head, only
to pause, looking at a purple half-circle mark on her palm.
It looked almost as if something had *bitten* her.  Val 
poked the mark with a black nose and licked it with the 
tip of his pink tongue.
      The street in front of the large, old complex
was tree-lined and narrow.  The cold eye of the 
westerning moon threw weird shadows over the ornate 
stone facade.  Rick opened the cab door for her.
      "If you come up, I'll get the check," Anji said.
      "That's not necessary."  Rick shook his head.
      He walked her to the safety door.  She winced 
as she gripped the rail with her left hand.  She 
turned it palm up, frowning at it.  Rick reached 
over and looked at the strange wound.
     "When did this happen?" he demanded.
      Anji shook her head.  "I don't remember."  She
frowned again.  "I -- I really don't remember."
      Val barked once, his great tail thumping against the 
door and seat.
      Rick held her hand for a long, quiet moment.
     "Marked," he said suddenly.  "You've been marked."
     "I don't remember," Anji repeated.  She wet her lips
nervously and pressed the button for the superitendant.
"Are -- Are you sure you won't come up?"
      Val jumped out of the window and capered up to them.
He rubbed against Rick's legs, whining a little.  Rick
scrubbed his knuckles between the dog's ears.
      "All right," he said.  "Let me lock the cab."

******

      Tracy examined the slim, leather billfold as the 
coroner's people finished zipping the body bag.
      Detective Knight was looking around the sub-basement.
A naked bulb swung from the ceiling.  Bare, institutional 
yellow walls glared harshly in the hard, white light.  Three
naked pipes descended from the ceiling on one wall.  There 
were roughly six rows of chairs (now tumbled about as if 
from a struggle) with a center aisle to his right; to his 
left was an unornamented lectern.  Nick frowned to himself.
There seemed to be something missing, but he wasn't sure 
quite what.
      There was a wink of reflection near the pipes.   Nick 
pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, covered his hand with 
it and lifted up a dagger.  It was an ornamental dagger, 
with a black handle.  The pommel had been carved into a 
wolf's head gripping a golden sphere in its jaws.  Nick 
turned the plastic bag over it and scribbled an evidence 
tag on it.
      Tracy came over, shaking her head.  "Nearly a hundred
dollars cash and two major credit cards.  Well, whoever
took his pants wasn't interested in robbery.  His name was
Theodore Renquist."
      "What do you make of this?" he asked Tracy, holding
up the bag.
      Tracy shook her head, handling the blade gingerly.  
"It's  ugly," she finally said.  "I thought he was shot."
      "He was," Nick confirmed, taking the dagger back.
"And we found the weapon just inside the subway tunnel.
But why is this here at all?"
      "A letter opener?"
      "It's not a letter opener. It's a dagger."
      "Really?"
      "I...know something about daggers," Knight smiled 
ruefully to himself.
      "If you say so," Tracy pulled out her notebook and
scribbled in it.  
      A uniformed building security guard clattered down 
the stairs.  "Detectives?  We've been able to account for
all the employees tonight except for this one."  She 
passed over a security id photo of an Eurasian woman.  
"Anji Porter, she was working in one of the file areas.
There's no record of her signing out."
      "Is this her address?"  Knight handed the photo
to Tracy.  "Call Captain Reese and see if he can send
a unit to her apartment.  Thank you for your cooperation," 
He added to the guard.  She nodded briskly and hurried 
away.
      For a moment, Tracy looked startled as she stared
at the photo.  Knight watched as the blonde woman suddenly 
bit her lip and swallowed hard.  She looked younger than 
her years.
      "What is it?"
      "The Metro tunnel, where we found that... thing," Tracy
paused.  "Nick, I think I saw this woman there.  She was
with Vachon."
      "Vachon," said Knight in a flat voice.  "I see."
      "Nick, let me talk to him."  There was something 
almost frantic in her voice.  Her pale eyes pleaded.
      Nick felt a muscle in his jaw twitch.  He shouldn't.
He should insist on going with her.  He could feel her 
mustering arguements, trying to decide which lie to tell 
this time to protect her secrets.
      His shoulders slumped in resignation.  He had too 
many secrets of his own.  "All right," he said.  "But you've
*still* got to do the paperwork."
      "I will," her voice glowed with relief.  "Promise."  
The metal stairs clattered again as she ran up them.
      Nick watched her go, rubbing the back of his neck.

******

      The guard entered the back room of the security office.
"How is he?" she asked anxiously.
      "He should go to a hospital," said the other guard, 
shaking his head.
      "Shut up, MacCrory," growled Carlise, sitting up as
the second guard bandaged his chest.  He glared into the
shadowed corner where a dark frame waited patiently.  
"Well?" he snapped.  "Any other ideas, Morgan?"
      "How surly you have become, Carlise," purred the
shadow.  "You should be thankful the little file clerk
was so inexperienced with firearms."
      "I'll get that little bitch for this."
      "She hardly qualifies as *that*, even if she is
running with the weyr."  Morgan commented dryly.  "No, 
no, leave her to the police.  There *were* only her
prints on the gun, correct, Carlise?"
      "Yes," Carlise grumbled.
      "Well, then, what have we to worry about?"
      One of the phones rang.  MacCrory answered it,
then passed it over.  "It's Lon, sir."
      "What is it?" Carlise lunged upright at the 
answer, his face paling.  "I see.  No.  Keep me
informed."  His hand was shaking as he hung up.
"Morgan!" Carlise turned.  "There's a Fenris in
town."
      "Really?" Morgan purred.  "Well, then perhaps
we *do* have something to worry about."

******

      "You had no right," Chad growled -- only to gasp for
breath as Vachon yanked the bandage around his chest 
tighter.
      "Hurts?" inquired the vampire coldly.  "I thought so. 
You've got a broken rib.  I should think you'd be thanking
me.  She's in no danger now from what she knows about 
either of us."
      "And the Circle?" Chad demanded.
      "Your Circle means nothing to me," Vachon's eyes 
tracked a rat across an overhead pipe.  He might be 
hungry, but he wasn't *that* hungry, not yet.  "How would 
they even know about her?" 
     He didn't want to stay here in this underground 
hideaway.  Too many memories whispering at the edges of his
mind.  Chad's jaw was still in an angry clench as he slid 
back down on the matress, his eyes drooping from weariness.
A soft sigh escaped the weyr.
      *"'Ad a good run, dinnit we, mate?"*
      'Not now, old sailor, not now.'Vachon shoved the 
memory behind a door and slammed it shut. 
     *"Wuss."*  Trust Screed to get in the last word.
      "Think you'll be alright while I get both of us 
something to eat?" he asked.  The Weyr nodded, tugging the
dingy blanket tighter around his shoulders.  Vachon paused,
wondering if he should say something else, then shrugged 
and left.

******

      "Well, it's not much, but it's home," said Anji, 
opening the door.  It was a tiny studio apartment; 
kitchenette, a closet-sized bathroom and a couch that 
opened into a bed next to the only window.  The other 
furniture consisted of a meager chest of drawers with a 
small, battered televison set, a wooden plant stand 
decorated with photos and a minature coffee table.
      "It's nice, really," said Rick.  Anji excused herself 
to the bathroom.  Rick turned around -- to find himself 
face to face with a tawny-haired naked seventeen year old 
youth that had the husky's pale blue eyes.
      "Holy --! Val, are you *crazy*?" Rick hissed between 
his teeth, dragging the young man into the apartment and 
shutting the door.  "Get your fur coat on!  What if she 
sees you?"
      Val snapped his fingers under Rick's nose.
      "All right," Rick blinked.  "I'm paying attention."
      The young man signed rapidly.
      Rick's eyes widened.  "*Vampire*?  *What* vampire?"
      "Did you say something?" asked Anji from the bathroom.
      "Uh - no," he turned back to Val.  "Are you sure?"
      Val signing was emphatic.
      "All right, all right -- I'll clear things up later.
Now get your fur coat on!"  Anji came out of the bathroom.
Rick turned towards her with a wide, false grin.  Val 
nearly knocked him over by butting him with his head.  
Rick glared down at the husky, who grinned back and wagged
his tail.
      "Can I get you something to drink?" asked Anji, 
self-conciously rubbing the bandage on her left hand.
      "Ah, no, really, that's not necessary." 
      "It's no bother; tea?"
      "Yes, thank you."
      Anji filled a kettle at the sink.  "Do you like it
the oriental way, or the Canadian way?"
      "There's a difference?" Rick ambled over to the old
plant stand.  On the narrow top was balanced a yellowing
black and white photo depicting a stiff-standing young man
in an army dress uniform.  Seated in front of him was a
beautiful oriental woman in an elaborate kimono with her 
hair gathered high on her head.  Next to it was a smaller
black and white photo, a man and woman in fifties-style
suits, the woman having an oriental appearence.  Below 
that, on the wider shelves, were a collection of 
snapshots in drugstore frames -- two men, two women who
were obviously related to Anji and their families.
      "The oriental way means it doesn't eat the spoon,"
Anji came over.  "Those are my grandparents," she pointed
to the largest photo.  "They came here after the Second 
World War.  That's my mother and father."  She pointed to
the second photo.  "That's Kenji and Juli, they're twins,
my big brother Terry and my big sister Jana.  I'm the
youngest."
      "Do they live nearby?" Rick asked, making conversation
as he stopped Val from sticking his nose into the collection.
      "No, they're all down around Fort Erie.  I'm the only
one who came to the big city," she gave a little sigh.
      "Yeah, my folks live far away too," Rick's eyes turned
away, looking at a patch in the plaster wall, fighting the
memories.
      *"I'm not a monster!  Why don't you believe me?"*
      Val turned his ears to the door and rumbled low in his
throat seconds before the knock came at the door.
      Anji frowned.  "Who is it?" she called.
      "Police, ma'am." said a polite voice.
      "Police?" Anji opened the door.  "Oh, did Mr. Anderson
call you about my purse?"
      "Purse?" the patrolman looked at his partner.  "No ma'am.
I'm afraid not."
      "Then why--?" she began as Rick came and stood beside her.
      "We have to ask you to come down to the station ma'am,
to answer a few questions."
      "About what?" demanded Rick.
      "Homicide Investigation, sir."
      Anji's lips moved silently, repeating the phrase as the 
tea kettle began to whistle.
 

*******

Chapter 3.


     Anji Porter, very confused, climbed into the back of
the police car.  Rick shifted uncomfortably and fiddled
with the collar of his jacket, uncertain what to do.  Val
suddenly jumped in the black and white with Anji. 
     "Hey!" exclaimed one of the patrolman.  "Get that mutt
 out of there!"
     Val squeezed down on the floor against Anji's legs and
growled.
     "Val, stop that!"  Rick reached in and grabbed his 
collar.  Val tensed up the powerful muscles of his neck
and braced his feet against the floor.  "Val, come on!"
Val growled even louder.  "You son of a bitch!"
     "Val, go on," Anji tried pushing.  "It's all right,
go to Rick."
     Val dug in even harder.
     "Looks like we'll have to take him with us." remarked
the second uniform.
     "Oh, Jesus, and with my allergy?!" yelled the first.
     "Can it, Bernie, we'll keep the windows open. It's 
not like you'll be riding in the back."
     "Then I'm coming too."  Rick climbed in.
     "You don't have to..." Anji began.
     "I'm not leaving this dumb kid by himself," Rick 
snapped.
     Val wagged his tail and looked very self-satisfied.
     "Just you wait 'till I get you home," Rick hissed in
a furry ear.


*******

      Green-gowned, gloved and wearing her safety goggles,
Crown Coroner Dr. Natalie Lambert looked up with surprise 
as one of the guards escorted the white-coated visitor 
inside just as she was about to open the body bag.
      "Who are you?" she asked.
      He was as tall as Nick, with the same build. 
Thick black curls fell around a broad forehead and his
full mouth was set in a firm line.  He produced credentials
from a pocket in the white lab coat.
      "I'm Doctor Lukas, from Vancouver.  I'm here to 
observe your techniques -- an idea from Ottawa I'm afraid,"
he said in an apologetic, European accented baritone.  
"Surely Doctor Westen informed you?"
      "No, he didn't," said Natalie in irritated tones 
that boded little good for her superior.  "Fine, you 
can scrub up and get suited over there.  I'll get the
preliminaries started on this one."
      She unzipped the body bag and blanched.  She had
thought she had seen everything that could be possibly 
seen in her job -- including having a corpse stand up 
and walk away.  This one was beyond even *her* belief.
      For a moment she was certain she was dealing
with two bodies, a woman and a dog's.  Her next thought was
that she was dealing with some sick medical college joke.  
Her final thought was the sudden fear that she was crossing 
a threshold into an area that had been lost to folklore and 
fable.  It was much the same way she had felt when Nick sat 
up on her table.
      And if she was crossing a threshold, this was one she 
would cross alone.
      "Doctor Lukas," she said, zipping the bag closed.  "I'm
not ready to start this subject right now.  If you're ready,
we'll go into the next room.  There's a male gunshot victim
there that would give you a better picture of my techniques."
      Doctor Lukas regarded her a moment with an odd,
speculative expression in his eyes.  Then he shrugged and 
accompanied her into the next room.

******

      Detective Nicholas Knight entered the interrogation 
room.  The small Eurasian woman from the Hudson - Cambridge
company was sitting stiffly in the chair, her thin fingers
interlacing and clasping repeatedly.  She looked like she'd
been through a mauling -- her stockings were laddered, her 
skirt hem was falling down, buttons were missing from the 
cuff of her sleeve.  A bruise darkened one cheek and there
was a bandage on her forehead.  A grey husky crouched under
the table.  It growled softly.
      "No, Val," she said in a low, shaky voice, rubbing the
dog's black ears.  
      Nick took a step backwards and motioned to one of the 
patrolmen who had brought her in.
      "What's the dog doing here?" he demanded.
      "Won't leave her," the patrolman grinned.  "Growls at 
anyone who tries.  Rode in the back of the squad car, you 
should have heard Bernie!"
      "I see," Nick frowned and rearranged his papers,
wishing Tracy was here instead of chasing Vachon.  He 
looked at the dog a second time.  Pale blue eyes met his
own squarely.  Nick blinked.
      That... was not a dog.  He wondered if the woman knew
just *what* was curled at her feet.  He shuffled papers one
more time, then entered the room.
      "I'm Detective Knight, Miss Porter."  He said, trying
to project friendliness.  He held out his hand, and was 
greeted by a savage snarl from under the table.
      "No, Val, bad dog!" said the small woman, reaching 
under to rub the beast's neck.  "I'm sorry, Detective...?"
      "Knight," he frowned at the husky.  She shook his
hand quickly.  He could sense her pulse throbbing.  She
seemed more confused than apprehensive.
      "Miss Porter, where were you this evening?" he asked.
      "I was working late," she said, frowning herself
as if trying to recall.  "I -- I left work."  She hesitated.
Her eyes went blank and she continued in an almost 
mechanical voice.  "I decided to try the new Metro station,
but there was an accident on the tracks, the train was 
delayed.  I went outside.  Someone, I don't know who, took 
my purse and knocked me down."  She indicated the bandage 
on her head.  "A cab driver saw me fall.  He helped me to 
get home."
      "Why did you go outside?"  Nick asked quickly, 
beginning to feel a little suspicious of how promptly the 
story spilled out.  Like it had been rehearsed -- or 
*programmed*.
      "I beg your pardon?"
      "Why did you leave the train station?"  Knight 
repeated.
      "I - I don't remember," she floundered.  "I don't
remember."
      "Miss Porter, there was a man killed tonight in the 
sub-basement of the Hudson-Cambridge building, a Mr. 
Theodore Renquist."  
      "Mr. Renquist?" Anji exclaimed.
      "You know him?"
      "He's my supervisor, he..."  She froze in place, her 
eyes staring.  "No!" she gasped.
      "Miss Porter?"
      "I --" she was breathing hard.  "I don't remember."
      The husky rubbed against her, licking her hand.
      "Miss Porter, where were you tonight?"
      "I was working late..." the same story cranked out in
much the same manner, but there was an edge of almost
desperation in it.  Her brow furrowed and she bit her lip.
As if she wanted to say something different -- but couldn't.
      Nick sat down on one corner of the table.  He was
now firmly convinced Javier Vachon was involved in this up
to his black eyebrows.  The Porter woman had been programmed
with none of the finesse an older or a more cautious 
vampire would have done, but her responses were correct if
the vampire in question had done a slap-dash make-it-up-as
-you-go-along hypnosis.
     Captain Reese motioned to him from the doorway.  An
offer of tea became an excuse for him to leave the room.
     "The Lab came up with the prints from the gun," Reese
said quietly.  "They match."
     Nick looked back at Anji Porter, nervously stroking
the dog's fur.  'Wonderful,' he thought.  'Thank you, 
Vachon.'
      Now the question was, how did he de-program her 
without raising a few too many questions about 
*himself*?

******

      Anji wasn't sure whether to cry or not.  She *wanted*
to tell the detective what happened -- if only because by
telling it, it might fade into nothing but a bad dream.
She had tried -- and it was as if something had taken 
over her voice.  The story she was telling wasn't *right*,
she was sure of that but there was a wall between her and the
truth that she couldn't break through.  She remembered Mr. 
Carlise's cold eyes...  Val licked her hands and whined 
softly as she began to cry.
      'Why is this happening to me?' she wanted to scream,
but that same outside force was holding her silent. 'Oh,
God I don't want to believe any of this!'

******

      Chad gnawed on the plastic-wrapped hamburger with a 
faintly disgusted expression.  "This thing tastes like it's
been dead for months," he complained.
      "Considering it came out of a gas station micro-
wave case, that thing's probably been dead for *years*,"
Vachon remarked.
      Chad wrinkled his nose.
      "Don't look like that, at least *you're* getting a
full stomach."  Vachon picked up a blanket.
      "Had to do a 'suck and run', eh?" Chad grinned.
      Vachon glared.  "I'm sleeping over there.  Don't
wake me up."

*******

      Tracy called the vampire's name as she stood in
the deserted chapel.   After a moment, she left.  She
didn't see the old woman who followed her in the shadows
with a grace that belied her years.

******

     A rat, startled by the presence of a stranger
scuttled past the sleeping Weyr.  Chad sat up, 
listening intently as he hugged the blanket around
him.  Someone was coming.  His nostrils flared, 
catching a faint metallic hint of gun oil.  He growled
softly.
     "Is that any way to greet me?" demanded the white
-haired woman as she walked out of the shadows.
     "Grandmother!" Chad embraced her, nuzzling her hair
and whining faintly like a small puppy.  Mayra licked
his cheek.
     "Oh, look at you," she clucked, cupping his
battered face in her hands.  "Look what they *did* to 
you!  What happened?"
     "Nothing a song can't heal," Chad reassured her.
"Oh, Grandmother, you should have seen the woman who
answered my Call.  She shines like a candle and she's
as brave as a she-wolf, for all the sight of me 
scared her straight to her soul!"  He held up his hand.
"We've been marked and..."
     "Shh," Mayra placed a finger on Chad's lips.  Both
Weyr listened intently.
      "I thought someone else was coming," Chad breathed.
      "A woman, she's looking for the night walker."
      "Grandmother, she's carrying a gun."
      "Does she?  Well, I have an old nose.  Come then," 
said Mayra.  "I will help you hide." 

******  

      Tracy kept one hand on her gun as she picked her
way through the underground maze of pipes.  She'd been
to this lair twice, once when Vachon was trying to figure
out what to do with her when she proved resistant to 
vampiric hypnosis and again when she was trying to find 
out what Screed knew about a dead laboratory rat.  When 
she hadn't found Vachon at the church, she decided to check 
here.
      "Vachon?" she called.  It was just after dawn, but he 
might still be awake.  A rat scuttled out and ran between 
her feet, causing her to grimace and do a disgusted stamping 
dance guaranteed to scare off any other rodents.
      Rats were one of the reasons she refused to visit
more often.
      The narrow tunnel widened into a cleared area.
A tangled blanket curled next to a box.  The remains of 
a roll of bandages and a blood smeared gauze pad gleamed
white on the dark floor.  Tracy frowned and bent forward,
slipping a plastic bag from her pocket over her hand as 
she retrieved a pad, automatically folding the bag around
it as if it were evidence.
      She straightened abruptly as soon as she heard the
snarl.  A lean, grey-muzzled dog leaped from behind the
box and advanced, baring teeth.  Tracy backed away, 
making soothing noises. 
      There was the barest intake of breath behind her.
A figure sprang from the shadows.  She dove sideways 
to avoid the swipe from gleaming claws.  Claws?
The shock barely registered as she yanked out her gun,
screaming "Police!" into a nightmare's face.  White
fangs greeted her cry.  The older dog collided with her
legs, snapping at her gun, trying to knock her off her 
feet.
      "Tracy!" Vachon shouted, literally flying into the
conflict.  He landed between her and the -- the --
      "Oh, God, what is it?" Tracy exclaimed, the muzzle
of her gun trembling a little.  The older animal backed
away, growling.
      "Back off, Chad!" Vachon was saying to the fanged
beast on two legs.  "Back off!  Mayra, is that you?"
      "Why should *I* back off?" came the snarled demand.
"*She's* got the gun!"  The old dog barked agreement.
      "Tracy, put your gun away."  Vachon ordered.
      "No!"  Tracy refused to look away from the 
nightmare and its companion.
      "This is no time to be stubborn, Tracy. *Put it 
away*!"  His eyes locked on hers, glowing golden.
She could feel the strength of his will testing hers.
She heard her gun clatter to the floor as everything 
spun away black.

******

      Chad and Mayra were so surprised, they shifted 
back to human form.  
      "What the hell did you do to her?" Chad asked,
coming forward to touch her temples.
      "I have no idea," said Vachon, just as surprised.
He stopped and thought about it.  When she had discovered
him in among the crash victims, he had hoped to make her
forget what she was seeing -- and she had fainted.  After
the Aztec attacked, he had known she was a Resister, but
had hoped her resistance could be overcome -- and down
she went again.  Now, he had tried to make her put her 
gun away -- and there she was on the floor again.
      'It must be tied in to her resistance,' he thought.
'Her mind shuts down rather than surrender.  Wonder why
no one else has ever talked about something like this?'
      The answer, he realized, was obvious.  Most other
vampires when a human fainted in front of them considered
it a free lunch.
      He sighed and helped Chad and Mayra arrange her into
a more comfortable position.  After a moment, she sat up, 
glaring indignantly. 
      "You did that!" she accused him.
      "It seems so," Vachon rubbed his eyes.
      "Your pardon, miss," said Chad gravely.  "We've 
learned caution in a hard school when it comes to guns."
      "What --" Tracy began, but hastily amended, "I mean who
are you?"
      "You were right the first time," Vachon grumbled.
      "I am Mayra," said the older woman calmly as she 
dressed.  "This is my grandson."
      "I see..."  Tracy paused.  Turning to the younger 
weyr, she said "I saw you in the subway tunnel, with Vachon
and a woman."
      "Yes?" Chad folded his arms.
      "The woman's wanted for questioning about a shooting
in the Hudson - Cambridge building." 
      "She saved my life."  Chad's jaw stuck out stubbornly.
"Besides, your *friend* has made her forget all about it."
      "What?" Tracy turned to Vachon.  "You made her 
forget?"
      "I didn't know she was going to be wanted by the 
police!" Vachon snapped, "and I thought it was better than 
having her knowing about vampires and werewolves."
      "*Werewolves*?" Tracy spun around, jaw dropping.  
"They're  *werewolves*?"
      Vachon groaned and put a hand on his forehead. 'I'm 
more tired than I thought.'
      "How carefully you keep our secrets," Mayra commented
sarcastically.
      "Not *always* wolves," Chad pointed out.  "The dog 
who was with the cab driver was weyr."
      "He was a weyr?" Vachon exclaimed.
      "What cab driver?" Tracy demanded.  "What dog?"
      "Oh, he made the cab driver forget too."
      "*What* cab driver?  Forget *what*?"
      Vachon grimaced.  He was getting a headache.
      "I think you've over-reached yourself, Night Walker," 
remarked Mayra.
      "Vachon, just what have you ---"
      "I haven't done anything?" Vachon shouted.  "All *I* 
want is to get some sleep."
      "This isn't funny!"  Tracy sputtered.  "I have to 
find her."
      "Well, don't ask me," Chad shrugged.  "Ask *him*."
      "No!  You don't ask *me* anything.  Mayra," Vachon 
pointed with his chin.  "Get your grandson and take him 
home.  My debt to you is canceled as of right now!"
      "But ours to you has begun," Mayra whispered as the 
two trotted off.  Vachon pretended he hadn't heard.
      "I suppose this is something *else* I have to keep 
quiet about?" Tracy demanded crossly.
      "Yes, that would be extremely convenient," Vachon 
sighed.  "And don't get *that* look on your face.  I told 
the cab driver to take her home -- I don't know her name, I
don't know the cab driver's name, I don't know where she is
and right now, *I don't care*."
      "Vampires, werewolves," Tracy complained.  "Next I 
suppose it's witches."
      "As a matter of fact, I've met a witch," Vachon 
rubbed his eyes. "Very nice woman.  Makes jewelry out of 
rat skulls.  Screed was her best supplier."
      "And--?" asked Tracy in the hard tone of a woman 
hearing about an old girl friend.
      "And nothing," Vachon snapped.  "She's still alive if
you insist -- want her name and address?  Look, I'm *tired*.
Go home.  Tell Nick I didn't know anything."
      Tracy made a furious sound and stomped off.
      "Two weeks," Vachon muttered.  "I'm going to hear 
about this for the next two weeks."
      At least he knew what his plans for tomorrow night
were to be -- he had to find that cab driver or he would
not only have Tracy on his case, he'd have Nicholas as 
well.
      Maybe he should have walked away when he had the 
chance...

******

      Rick returned to the rooming house where he and Val
lived.  He shoved Val into the room and went to the shared
washroom.  He slapped cold water on his face.  Anji Porter
was in a cell right now, accused of murder.  Rick stared
into the cracked, darkened mirror, seeking answers.
      What had happened last night?
      He was walking Val, when he saw a tall figure grab
the woman and push her into the alley...
      No.  That wasn't right.
      He was walking Val.
      No.  Val was pulling him.
      Ok, Val was pulling him when he saw.
      He saw...
      Two figures in the alley.
      Three figures in the alley.
      Rick's eyes blazed topaz as he ruthlessly hunted down
the false memories and shredded each one until the truth 
emerged.  He splashed his face one more time and returned
to the room.  Val was already sprawled on the bed, panting.
      "I'm tired too," Rick sympathized, locking the door
before stripping off his shirt.  "Think Metro will let us 
call in sick tonight?"
      Val sighed.
      "Yeah, you're right, they won't."  He sat down. 
"Well?  Move over.  Don't grumble at me, you're the one
who keeps growing."
      Val shifted back to human form, sitting at the foot
of the bed.
      //Help Anji,// he signed.
      "How?" asked Rick.  "I know what happened, but if
that other weyr and that nightwalker are involved in
the shooting, I don't see what we can do."
      //Tell truth Vampire// Val signed.
      "Val, I just said, if he's involved that won't 
help besides, how are we going to find one 
nightwalking --"  Val shook his head and repeated 
himself, adding details.  "*What* other vampire?"  Val 
continued.  Rick's jaw dropped.  "Holy --!  The 
*detective's* a vampire?  How many nightwalkers *are* 
there in this city?"   He sprawled backwards on the bed.
"Oh, God, why me *again*?"
      //Good man.  Good heart.  Always give.// Val signed.
      "Thanks kid," Rick sighed.  "Get your fur coat on and
we'll get some sleep.  This can wait until tomorrow night."

******

      The sun crossed the sky in its eternal cycle.  Setting
in crimson glory to release the cool darkness of the night.
The streets stirred as the populace overturned, from those
who walked by day to those that prowled by night.

******

      Towel around his neck, Nick pressed the button of his
recorder.
      *Beep* "Nick, it's Trace.  Vachon wasn't any help.  I'll
see you tonight."
      *Beep* "Reese here, Nick, we can't shake Porter's story.
We're bringing in the cab driver for questioning.  Be there."
      *Beep* "Nick, it's Natalie.  Stop by the morgue.  I'm
going to do that subway victim and I think I may need you to be 
here.  There's been a guy around.  *Said* he was a Doctor Lukas,
forensics from Vancouver.  He was lying, almost lost it during a
routine.  He's left, but he may be back."
      Nick dressed quickly and used the skylight.

******* 

Personal Journal, Aristotle Lukas:

      I fear Dr. Lambert has penatrated my disguise.
My own fault, apparently there is more to the interior
of humans than I thought.  I found it -- disturbing.
Suffiently so that I'm actually having *cooked* steak
for dinner tonight insted of my usual tartare.  Father
would laugh at me.
      Dr. Lambert is a very intense, very intelligent
woman; this makes her a greater danger than an easily
distracted dullard.
      I shall regret having to kill her.

*******

      It took some persuasion, but Natalie managed to
shoo her assistant Grace out of the room.  Steeling
herself, she unzipped the body bag a second time.
Drawing a deep breath, she stepped over the threshold.
      "Right," Natalie clicked on her portable 
recorder.  "Subject is female, approximately five feet 
seven inches tall, weighing approximately sixty to 
sixty-two kilos.  Cause of death:  massive bodily 
trauma sustained from being run over by a train.  
Subject also had severe deformities of the hands." She 
lifted one and measured the claws, "point seven five 
centimeters on the nails, I wouldn't want to have been 
hit by those.  Similar deformities on the feet
and most of the epidermis is covered by an extraordinary
amount of hair."  She bagged a sample, "very coarse in 
texture, almost like short fur.  The face also appears
distorted -- elongated."  She rolled back the upper lip 
and gave a soundless whistle at the canines.
      She was aware a presence behind her.  She turned.
His black eyes were as cold as LaCroix's and his full 
mouth was set in a tight line.  He kept one hand hidden
in the jacket of his dark blue suit.  A silver medallion
in the shape of a wolf's head gleamed on his black shirt.
      "Lukas," she said.  "I thought you'd be back."
      "I'm sorry, Doctor," he said.  "I can not allow this 
examination to continue."
      "Oh, no," Natalie shook her head.  "You can't just 
walk in here and stop an official autopsy..."
      He pulled out a black pistol with a silencer.
      "Yes, Doctor, I can."
      Natalie drew a breath and stepped back against the
sink.
      "I cannot allow you to discover our secrets, Doctor."
Lukas clicked off the safety.  "I'm sorry."  He fired once.
      Nick burst through the doors.  Faster than thought,
he was in front of her.  The impact as the bullet struck 
Nick slammed Natalie against the sink.  She grabbed it for 
support and tried to catch her breath.  Lukas stepped back 
in surprise.  Nick went for his throat.
      Lukas dodged around the operating table, dropping the
gun.  His eyes went golden and his fangs lengthened.  He 
growled.  Nick hissed.  Lukas dove under the table as Nick 
leaped over.  Natalie grabbed an aluminum basin from the sink.
Lukas tried to regain his feet.  She hit him on the head with 
it.  He sat down again.  Nick grabbed him by the throat and 
slammed him against the wall.
      "What the hell's going on--" Grace began, entering on the
run.  Natalie grabbed her arm and dragged her out the door, 
chattering incoherently.
      Nick and Lukas faced each other, fangs bared.
      "Who are you?" Nick demanded, "why were you trying to
kill her?"
      "I am Fenris," Lukas retorted.  "We protect the Pack.
She will *not* have our secrets."
      Nick lowered him to the ground.  "So, our victim is
one of your Pack?"
      "All Weyr are our Pack."  Lukas folded his arms.
      "Does she have a name?"
      "What is it to you?"
      "I'm a police officer."
      "The Doctor has more secrets than I thought," Lukas
blinked.
      "More than you can imagine," Nick retorted, his eyes
returning to blue.  Lukas frowned thoughtfully.
      "Golden his hair     Blue his eyes
      He values honor more than he knows," Lukas quoted.
      "Of all the night breed   Remember his name
      Only he has stood friend to the Pack."
      Nicholas shuddered.  "So, it was remembered."
      "We are not known for forgetting."

******

      Transylvania, 1918

      Nicholas paused in the night, listening to the shouts
and screams.  The bolsheviks had murdered the Czar and were
now out to murder anyone remotely connected with the upper 
class.  A long, low howl cut through the madness.  Wolves?
A second howl sounded almost directly behind him.  He 
turned as the half-human figure hurtled the tree.
      "Out of my way!" It snarled.  "Those are my people!"
      "Your people?" Nicholas asked.
      "Since the days of Ivan, my people were sworn to protect
these woods and all who dwell there!" A third howl echoed.
"They call for help, get out of my way!"
      Nicholas stepped aside, then followed.  "Your fight may
be mine."
      Perhaps it wasn't, but he made it so as the weyr swept
down on the men who intended to massacre the small village.
It was short, nasty and bloody.
      Nicholas, his mouth smeared red, broke the gun barrel
over his knee.  The werewolf who had spoken to him before
now came to him in human form, naked and unconcerned.
      "Stay here," he offered.  "We can use a good fighter in
our pack."
      "You don't want me to stay," Nicholas argued.  "You see
what I am.  The people you protect would be in danger."
      "Perhaps you are right," the werewolf shrugged.  "But I 
promise this.  You will be remembered."

******

      "No," agreed Nick.  "Your people are not known to forget."
      "Her name was Tanya Corriman," Lukas offered.  "She was
also Fenris, sent to infiltrate the Hudson - Cambridge building.
Three years ago she was appointed secretary to the head of their
Records Department.  Her reports became suspect.  The Elders
recieved an unsatisfactory answer from her Alpha, and so I was
sent to investigate."
      "The head of Hudson - Cambridge Records Department was
Theodore Renquist," said Nick.  "He was shot last night.  We 
have a woman in custody who is a suspect."
      Lukas frowned again.  "Interesting."
      "Especially since their security personel told us this
Miss Corriman was accounted for."
      "*Most* interesting," Lukas licked his lips.  "I should 
like to speak to this woman, if I can."  he paused.  "But the 
body..."
      "I'll speak to Natalie," Nick stepped back.
      "There may be something in this hunt for both of us."  Lukas
shrugged.  He uncrossed his arms, almost casually displaying
a thin wooden daggar.  He slid it into his sleeve.  Nick blinked.
The Fenris could have easily slid that between his ribs.  While
it wouldn't have killed him, it would have incapacitated him long
enough for the weyr to take the body and probably kill Natalie 
if that was what the Fenris really wanted to do.
      Lukas gave him an enigmatic smile.
      Nick returned it.


*******

Chapter 4.

      Rick ran his hands through his hair and sighed.  Val, in
human form, shifted uneasily in the chair.  On the other side of
the table, Detective Tracy Vetter waited with her arms folded.
      "Detective Vetter," Rick finally said.  "It's not that we
don't want to answer your questions...."
      "They're the exact same questions my partner would ask,"
Tracy's voice was liquid nitrogen politeness.
      Rick winced.  He'd opened his mouth and stuck his foot
in it proper this time.
      "I'm ... not sure I can give you the same answers I could
give Detective Knight."
      "Try me."  She said in the same frigid tone.
      Val shrugged. //Not all truth.// he signed.
      Tracy blinked.  "Is your brother deaf?"
      "No, ma'am," Rick shook his head, feeling on safer ground.
"He's mute.  Auto accident, his head went through the windshield
severing his vocal cords; they said he was lucky to be alive."  
The old lies rolled off his tongue with the ease of two years
practice.
      "Oh, I'm sorry."
      Val shrugged again.
      Rick looked at his interlaced fingers.  "Detective Vetter,
the reason I stopped at the Metro Station...  Have you ever done
something because you felt...compelled?  Like there was some 
force outside you pushing you or calling you, even though it 
makes no sense at all what you're doing?"
      "No," said Tracy.  "I can't say as I have."
      "I was afraid of that," Rick sighed.


******

      "Who's this?" asked Reese.
      Nick turned to the Fenris.  "Captain Reese, this is --" 
he hesitated.
     "Aristotle Lukas," the other man smiled.  "Private 
Investigator with the Fenris Agency."  He reached into his 
jacket and pulled out credentials.  Nick raised an eyebrow.
     "Mr. Lukas thinks he can give us some assistance on the
Renquist case," Nick explained to Captain Reese.
     "I'll be glad of that," Reese nodded.  "That lady acts
like she's in a trance or something.  You get the same answers 
every time, or she doesn't remember."
     "She may be blocking her memories, Captain," said Lukas. "I
was called in to investigate her background for the Hudson -
Cambridge personnel department.  If I trigger some of her
background memories, it may give the other, more recent memories 
a chance to rise from her subconscious."
      "Huh," Reese looked skeptical.  "All right, give it a try."
      Nick felt a combined stab of guilt and pity as the young 
woman was brought into Interrogation Room 2.  Dark circles lay like
bruises under her eyes and she was trembling as the policewoman 
escorted her in.  Perhaps he should have risked more and broken
Vachon's compulsion last night -- 
      "Miss Porter," he held the chair for her.  "Do you understand
what's happened to you?"
      "Yes," her voice shook.  "You think I shot Mr. Renquist."
      "Miss Porter..."
      "I don't remember," her eyes filled up with tears.  "I don't 
remember."
      Nick took her hands very gently in his own.  "Let me help you
remember," he commanded softly.  "You were working late at the
Hudson - Cambridge building, down in Inactive Files..."
      "I don't --"
      "The truth," said Lukas.  "You know what is the truth."
      "I can't --"
      "You can," Nick ordered, his eyes glinting yellow.  "You
can remember *everything*."
      She yanked her hands away and put them over her eyes.  "No,"
she whimpered, cowering in the chair, her body racked with 
shudders.  "He was going to kill me."
      "Miss Porter, look at me," Nick pulled her hands away from
her face.
      She screamed -- a high, piercing shriek of total terror and
threw herself from the chair.  "No!" she shrilled.  "You're one
of them!  You're just like *him*!  No!"  She flattened herself
against the wall.
      "Miss Porter," Nick reached for her in alarm.
      "Get away!"  Her voice rose higher in hysteria.  "You're 
one of them!  You're one of them!"  She covered her eyes with 
her crossed arms and screamed again.
      "Stop her before --" Lukas began.
      The door flew open.  Captain Reese started to enter, 
demanding to know what was going on, but Tracy pushed past him.
Without hesitating, she swept the hysterical woman into her arms.
      "Back off!" she shouted.  "Get back!  Damn it, Nick, haven't
you ever seen a rape victim flip out?  You're all *men*!  Get
out of here!  Janice!"  This to the policewoman.  "Get some of
the others."  Her voice dropped to a soft croon.  "It's all
right.  It's all right."
      "He's one of them," Anji Porter sobbed.
      "I know.  He won't hurt you," Tracy promised.  "I won't 
let him hurt you.  Nick, get *out* of here."
      Nick was left with his mouth hanging open.  Quickly 
grabbing the excuse Tracy had just handed him on a silver 
platter (well, maybe it was more flung at his head, but now 
was no time to quibble)  he backed Lukas out as five other 
policewomen came in to help calm Anji.  Natalie was coming 
on the run.
      "What happened?"  she demanded.
      "I seemed to have handled things very badly," Nick could
feel his face getting warm.  "Mr. Lukas and I were trying
to see if Miss Porter might be blocking memories of last 
night's shooting and discovered that she apparently was 
attacked."
      "Attacked?" Natalie was already rooting in her bag.
      "And she thinks I'm 'one of them'," he said 
significantly.
      "Ah," said Natalie, coming up with a sedative.  "And
does she think Mr. Lukas is also 'one of them'?"
      "She might," remarked Lukas dryly.
      "I'm *not* surprised," Natalie's remark dropped the room
temperature ten degrees.
      "I don't think she likes me," Lukas remarked cheerfully.
      "I can't imagine why," Nick commented.
      "Lukas!" exclaimed a thin, blond man in a black leather
jacket.  A pale, nervous youth accompanied him. Nick frowned.  
     The Fenris turned, puzzled.  His brow furrowed. "Have we 
met, Mr. -- ?"
     "Lowen.  Rick Lowen," Rick said flatly.
     "Oh,"  Lukas sighed.  "I see."
     "I'm afraid I don't," Nick interrupted.
     "A family matter, Detective Knight; it has no baring on the
present circumstance," Lukas looked significantly at Rick.  
      Rick Lowen stood warily, his hands clenched at his sides to
hide their shaking.  The youth touched his arm. 
     "I was driving the cab that took Miss Porter home last night. 
Detective Vetter was questioning me on the Renquist case," Rick
explained in a low voice. "She was getting annoyed because I 
couldn't give her the same answers I can give *you*."  Rick 
turned and looked the vampire in the eye.  Nick blinked.
      'Good God, how many werewolves *are* there in this city?'
he thought.

******

      "He was going to kill me," Anji sobbed as Natalie gently
tried to coax her to take the sedative.  "I couldn't stop him.
I couldn't *move*.  Oh, God, those eyes, those awful golden 
eyes..."
      Tracy's face paled.  Natalie steeled herself to keep
expressionless.
      "It wasn't your fault," said Natalie.  "*None* of it
was your fault."  Anji refused the sedative again.
      "If she shot the bastard after he raped her, she ought
to get a medal," commented one of the policewomen.
      "Did she, Doctor?" asked another.
      "I ... didn't do a specific test for that," Natalie
lied quickly.  As far as she had been able to determine, 
Theodore Renquist had not been engaged in any form of sexual
activity before his death.  "Miss Porter should probably be
examined by a gynecologist."
      "Danielle and I can take her to General in a squad 
car," offered Janice.
      "I'll call ahead," offered one of the dispatchers.
      "I'll go with her," offered Tracy quickly.  A little
too quickly, Natalie thought.  'Uh, oh, Tracy's going to see
her to the hospital and then go head to head with her
vampire.  I'd better drop a word in Nick's ear.
      She just might push too hard -- not every vampire's 
such a softy as Nick is.'

******

      Vachon had been quite pleased when he discovered the 
cab driver had been taken to the station.  'One less load 
off my back,' he thought and turned to go when a crackle
of static from a parked car caught his ear.
      "Roger, dispatch, this is One Delta Fifteen.  We are 
transporting the suspect to General for examination. 
Detective Vetter is accompanying suspect."
      Vachon frowned.  The car was an unremarkable beige 
four-door.  The man behind the seat was also unremarkable,
until he raised his cellular phone to his ear.
      "Mr. Carlise, this is Lon.  Your Fenris is at the
Metro Precinct House.  The Porter woman is being taken to
General.  Yes, sir, I'll stay here."
      Vachon moved swiftly, yanking open the driver's door
before his finger left the 'off' button.  He plucked
the man from behind the wheel like a toy and leaned him 
over the hood of the car.
      "Now, why," he asked in a reasonable tone of voice.
"Would you have a police band radio tuned to the frequency
of this particular station?  And why are you so interested
in this Porter woman?"
      "**** yourself, Spick," the man unwisely growled in
Vachon's face, trying to knee him in the groin.  Vachon 
held him up in the air until his face turned blue, then the 
Spaniard sat him down on the hood of the car until he got 
his breath back and fixed on him glowing golden eyes.
      "Let's try this again, shall we?" Vachon asked, 

showing his teeth.  "Before I really lose my temper."
      The man gurgled.  "M-Mr. Carlise wanted the Fenris
trailed.  He -- he also wants to get his hands on Porter."
      "Why?"
      "Because she shot him."
      "Ah," Vachon nodded.  "And Chad?"
      "Who?"
      "The Earthsinger.  Why did Carlise want the Earthsinger?"
      "I don't know.  The Circle wants him dead."
      "What's your name?" Vachon asked, putting the man on his
feet.
      "L-" he coughed.  "Lon."
      "Ok, Lon, you see that nice green car with the big fins 
over there in the police parking lot?  You go sit in that car 
and when the owner of that car; a blond guy, comes to it, you
are to tell him everything you told me."  Vachon patted Lon's
head and sent him on his way.
      He stood on the sidewalk a moment, debating.  He could
just walk away.  It was all out of his hands.  If this
Carlise was stupid enough to go after a woman in a city 
hospital being watched by two patrol officers and a detective --
well, that was *his* stupidity, not Vachon's.
      Except the detective was Tracy.
      And there was a Fenris involved, and if the Fenris were
even *remotely* like the Enforcers...
      "Tracy, the things I go through for you," Vachon sighed.
He launched himself into the sky.

******

      The third floor men's room wasn't the first choice Nick 
would have made for a conference site, but it was under repair
so he and the three weyrs could count on being undisturbed for
awhile.
      "All right," he said, folding his arms.  "What's going on?"
      "Detective,"  Rick paused, shoved his hands into his 
pockets and glanced over at Lukas.  Lukas shrugged.  "Detective,
last night on of our people made a Calling.  It's a -- a call,
not on a physical level but a psychic, a spiritual level if you
prefer.  It's never done lightly and in this case, the weyr
doing it was an Earthsinger, someone who has a certain power.
Anji Porter answered that Call.  If this man who was shot was
endangering the Earthsinger, she may very well have killed him 
without fully understanding what she was doing."
      "I'm not sure I understand."
      Rick shook his head.
      "As Mr. Lowen said," Lukas took up the cord.  "The Call 
comes on a psychic level, it binds the closest kindred -- er --
sympathetic mind to the weyr Calling.  If the weyr is strong 
enough, the kindred may react exactly the way the weyr want 
it to."
      "Some sort of long distance hypnosis?" Nick ventured.
      "Yes," Lukas said, "but only a kindred could be so 
hypnotized."
      "You find yourself doing things you've never dreamed of,"
Rick sighed, then grimaced.  "Things you don't *want* to dream of."
      "You sound like you know something about it," Nick turned.
      Rick indicated the silent young man standing beside him.
"Two years ago I answered a Calling.  An Earthsinger Called for
help."  He patted the young man's shoulder.  "I couldn't save 
Val's father, but I did what he Called me to do.  I saved his
son."
      "You are the son of an Earthsinger?" Lukas exclaimed, looking
at the boy for the first time.  "But the Fenris were never informed
of this incident."
      Val bit his lip, shivering.  //Circle. Bad things.//  He
signed.
      "What?" Lukas turned to Rick.
      "It was the Circle that killed his father." Rick explained.
      "Why doesn't he speak?"  Lukas frowned at Val.
      "He can't."  Rick shook his head.
      "What is this Circle?" Nick interrupted.
      "They call themselves the Circle of Skoll," Lukas balanced
on hip on the edge of a sink.
      "Skoll?" 
      "From Norse Mythology," explained Lukas.  "Skoll is the 
corrupted son of the Great Wolf, Fenris, who devours the sun to
signal the last battle of Ragnarok that destroys the Earth."
      "Really?"  Nick pulled the dagger from under his jacket.  The
pommel depicted a wolf's head gripping a golden sphere.  "This was
found at the crime scene."
      Lukas handled it grimly.  "Oh, yes, that is a Skoll dagger. 
At the crime scene?  Hmm."
      Val suddenly whimpered and turned his back to the others, 
trembling violently.  Rick gripped his shoulders to comfort him.
      "A dagger like that killed his father," he said.
      "You were explaining about this Circle of Skoll," Nick
prompted.
      "Their philosophy is: 'the meek can inherit the earth when we
are finished with it'.  To them, the Earth is neither a living
being to be cherished or an inheritance to be passed on, but a dead
thing to be used and exploited for their own benefit."  Lukas
scowled darkly, "and they have been known to use whatever means
possible to get their own way."  He handed the dagger back to Nick.
      "Most of *our* people tend to support the Green Movement,"
Rick continued.
      "Mr. Lowen, the weyr *originated* the movement," retorted
Lukas.
      "You said this Circle would use any means possible," Nick
rubbed the back of his neck.  "Including murder?"
      "Or worse," said Rick Lowen flatly, he turned Val around to
face the two lawmen.  "Show them."
      Val crossed his arms tightly and shook his head.
      "Yes," Rick said firmly.  "They have to understand, Val. 
Show them!"
      Val bit his lips, looked at Rick, then slowly raised his
shirt and stripped it off.  Lukas gasped and Nick's face froze at
the ugly pattern of scars that adorned the young man's chest.  They
formed the scarlet head of a wolf gripping a sphere.
      "Turn around," Rick gently turned the youth to show the thin 
scars that crisscrossed in fine, pink lines from Val's shoulders 
down to the waistband of his jeans.
      Rick turned Val back and gently prompted him to lift his
head.  "They severed his vocal cords.  I've been telling people it
was an auto accident.  He doesn't usually take off his clothes
except in front of me.  I'm sorry, Val.  It had to be done."  He
helped the younger weyr dress.  Val shook his head, his eyes were
full of tears.
      "I've never..." Lukas began shakily.
      "I have," said Nick in a voice old and bleak with the weight
of ages.  "He's lucky to be alive."
      Lukas blinked and stared at Nick a moment.
      "I'm wondering how deeply the management of the Hudson - 
Cambridge corporation is involved with this Circle," the vampire 
continued.  "It's possible that Miss Porter could still be in
danger."
      "Not only her," said Lukas.  "The Earthsinger will be in
danger too."
      "Well, I know how to find *him*," said Nick grimly.  "I
suggest *you* go to the hospital and guard Miss Porter."
      "Good," Lukas nodded.   Nick left the men's room at a gallop.
      After a moment, Lukas turned to face Rick Lowen, who was
still comforting Val with the tenderness of a father.
      "Will you come with me?" he asked.
      Rick faced him squarely, growling a little in his throat.
      "Sofia lied to you about so many things," Lukas said calmly.
"Can you consider that she might have lied about me as well?"
      Rick stared at him a moment, then turned his head.
      "Maybe," he said shortly.
      Val pulled away from Rick.  //Help Anji.  Good heart.  
Bright light.  Help Anji.// he signed.
      "All right," Rick said.
      "Come then," Lukas gestured.

******

     Chad Roberts calmly finished drawing the line on the wooden
floor with a mixture of salt and white sand.  He stepped inside
the figure.  The room was a little chilly and gooseflesh rose 
on his bare skin as he sat cross-legged within the circle.
     He took a deep breath, the bandage constricting his chest,
then another.  Eyes closed, Chad picked up the pitch-pipe he had
placed there earlier and blew a single note.  He answered it with
his voice.  
     He felt the energy rise from the ground and fill him with
a white glow as he sang in wordless tones.  He turned his left 
palm upward.  The half-circle of his own bite marks seared
into a white crescent scar he would have the rest of his life.
He pictured the energy rising in a white spiral from his chest,
reaching out, seeking out, to touch the woman he had marked.
     He gasped.  His eyes opened wide.
     "Oh," he breathed.  "So much fear, so much confusion 
-- so off-balance.  Little sister, what have I done
to you?"

******

      Whatever annoyance Nicholas experienced when he found
Lon sitting in his Cadillac turned to apprehension when the
hypnotized man repeated his story.  Nick laid a compulsion
on the watcher to go home and forget everything he'd seen,
adding that tomorrow Lon was going to quit his job at 
Hudson-Cambridge and go work for a security agency in
Manitoba.

******

     The sedative the gynecologist had given her after the pelvic
examination was taking effect.  Anji still clutched Tracy's hand 
but the blonde woman's voice was fading into a barely audible
buzz.
      "You're safe, Anji, safe."
      Anji stared at the palm of her hand.  The bite mark had
somehow become a white, circular scar that pulsed warmly in
rhythm with her heart.
      'No,' she thought hazily.  'I'll never be safe again...'

      Greyness filled her mind.
      Golden eyes pierced her soul.  "You will forget," ordered
a dark baritone voice.
     "You will remember," ordered a golden tenor.
     A thin, cold stream of air eddied around her ankles.
     There was a light at the bottom of the stairs.
     Ice-cold eyes froze her in place.  "Sorry, Miss Porter." 
The world filled with the sight of the silver barrel and the 
black, smoking muzzle of the gun...
     A shot rang in the air.
     Crimson erupted on a white shirt front.
     Scarlet bloomed on uniform khaki.
     Pain shot through her left hand.  "My mark is upon you."
     Grandmother Tomoe patted her shoulder.  "Your gifts lie
in other areas, Anji.  Who knows?  Maybe you have my healing
gift in a way no one suspects?"
     A howl echoed in the tunnel.
     The humming turned to a roar.  The world was filled with a 
thundering white light and a blaring horn that mingled with a
short, sudden scream and a heavy thud.  
     Vachon turned her head to his shoulder, exposing her throat.

      "He's going to kill me!"  Anji screamed, sitting up.
      "Anji," a blonde woman gripped her hands.  Anji blinked, 
memory hazed, then returned.  Detective Tracy Vetter, she'd 
come in when that other...  that other...     
      Anji began to giggle, a bubble of hysteria bursting in  
her throat.  "Grandmother-san said when I came to Toronto I'd 
see things they never had in Fort Erie," she couldn't stop 
giggling.  "I bet --" the giggles became hiccups, "I bet -- bet 
she never meant -- were -- werewolves -- and vampires!"
      "Shh," Tracy crooned.  "It's all right."
       "You -- don't believe -- me."
       "Yes, I do, Anji.  Yes, I do."
       "You -- c-can't -- I -- I d-don't believe me."
       She pressed her head into the detectives shoulder and 
began to cry again.

******

      "Grandmother," Chad called.
       Mayra came from the kitchen, bringing the smell of 
cooking with her.  "What is it?"
      "Bring me the sweater I was wearing when you found 
me, please."
       He buried his face in it, breathing deep of her scent 
that still clung to its folds.  'Plum blossoms,' he thought. 
'Vanilla and apples.'
       Chad began to sing, turning the song into a shining 
silver line that would find Anji Porter and give her strength 
until he could reach her.
       *"Come my way into the garden home, come raise the cup
       All Children of Brave Hunter, the song we raise will
       never end,
       Come my way.

      *"If you're lost, I will find you for my visions know
       your fears,
       And if you break, I will bind with my songs
       And if you're hurt, I will heal you
       If you're bound, I will free you
       And drive away the demons did you harm.

      *"Come my way, I'll find you diamonds in coal
       Come my way, I'll carry you in from the cold,

      *"And if you're down, I'll convert you with a
        missionary's zeal,
       Guard your heart with a mercenary's cool
       And if you're drained I will fill you with my love
       until you know the glory of this other-worldly fool

      *"Come my way, I'll promise I'll lead you back home
       Come my way, I'll give you new dreams for old,
       Come my way into the garden home, come taste the cup
       All will be forgiven, everyone will live in love   
       Come my way.

      *"And if you come, I'll will dream you to the place
        you always knew
       And if you hope, you will wake and find it's real life 
       But if you run, I won't spurn you
       If you turn, love won't burn you       
      And you'll come and know the story of my songs

      *"Come my way, we'll grow roses from weeds
       Come my way, we'll plant it all with new seeds,
       Come my way into the garden home, come drink the cup
       Everything forgiven, everyone will live in love      
        Come my way."*

       In his mind's eye, he could almost see her crystalline, 
white light.  Next to her was another white light, another kindred
spirit to comfort her until he arrived.
       Chad rose slowly.  He hummed a single clear note, raising
his arms to shoulder-height, then dropping his hands  abruptly in
a chopping gesture.  "With honor to Gaia, who nurtures all."  He
stepped out of the circle.
       Mayra hovered outside the circle.
       "What is it, Chad?"
       "The one who answered my Calling, the woman I have marked," 
Chad shook his head.  "Grandmother, she needs me." 
      "You can't go to her, the Circle --"
       "I can't keep hiding from the Circle all my life."
         Mayra stepped in front of him and stared into his eyes.  
"You can't go, Chad."
       "I haven't any choice," he dressed quickly.
       "A human!"
       "A child of Brave Hunter!" Chad ducked his head and faced
her down, a slight growl hovering in his throat.
       Mayra did growl.  Chad refused to back down.  Finally, her 
eyes dropped.  Chad picked up a Yellow Pages and flipped it open to
the section on Hospitals.  He ran the first finger of his left hand
down the columns until it stopped on a listing.
       "What is she to you?" Mayra demanded.
       Chad paused, one arm in a denim jacket.  "I don't know," 
he confessed.  "Not yet, anyway."
       Mayra shook her head.  "Changes."
       Chad came over and kissed her forehead.  "Bless me."
       "As if I wouldn't!"  Mayra kissed him.  "Bring her here 
and I'll bless her too."

******

      Carlise clenched his teeth and forced his arm into the 
sleeve of his shirt.
       "Mr. Carlise," exclaimed one of his female officers.  "You
shouldn't move like that -- your wound..."
       "Damn my wound," Carlise snapped.  He went to a cabinet and 
pulled out a gun.  "Lon called again.  That Fenris was at the
police station.  The bitch was taken to General.  I want a squad to
meet me in the parking garage two blocks from it."
       "B-But Morgan said..."     
       "That damned animal isn't running this department, *I am*! 
Do as I say!" Carlise slammed a clip into the gun. 


******

       "You should try to rest," Tracy eased Anji back to the
pillow.
       "I can't," whispered the pale woman gripping her hand
in the darkness.  "I keep seeing..."
       "Seeing...?"
       "Nightmares,"  Anji closed her eyes and shivered.  "I don't 
know who to trust.  Who to tell."
       "You can tell me," Tracy patted her hand.  "One of the men 
you were with, his name is Vachon.  I know him."
       Anji opened her eyes.  "You know *what* he is?"
       "Yes," Tracy gripped her hand.  "I know what he is."
      "No," said Anji.  "You don't know what he is.  You know
only what you *think* he is."
      "I'm not going to argue," said Tracy.  "Would you like a 
cup of coffee?"
      "Yes.  Thank you."  Anji giggled again.  "All I did was 
try to find out where a draft was coming from." 
      "All *I* did was surprise someone I thought was looting  
dead bodies," Tracy countered.  "Once you get over the shock ... 
well, then again, you don't really get over the shock.  Your life 
can be," she paused, trying to find the right word. "Interesting." 
'As in the Chinese curse,' she thought.  Smiling encouragingly, she
left for the coffee.
      "Tracy," said Vachon behind her at the coffee machine in the
deserted doctor's lounge.  She jumped and dropped the cup.
      "Look what you made me -- *why* do you keep doing this?"
she demanded furiously.
      "Because I can," he retorted.  "Tracy, it's about Anji."
      Tracy retrieved the second cup.  "Oh, yes, Anji," she
said sharply.  "That was quite a nice performance."
      "I've done better," Vachon shrugged.
      "I should hope so," Tracy fumbled the plastic lid on
to the paper cup, shaking scalded fingers in the process.  "You
have that poor woman so turned around, she actually thinks Nick 
is a vampire!"
      Vachon turned his back and cleared his throat so he wouldn't
burst out laughing.  He turned back.  Tracy was standing, staring
off into space.  Vachon blinked.  He could read it in her face --
little pieces suddenly going click-click-click into a whole. 
      "Nick is a vampire."  She repeated softly.
      "Tracy, don't," Vachon reached for her anxiously.
      "Nick *is* a vampire!" Her eyes blazed.  "Damn you! I 
suppose you've been *laughing* at me all these months!"
      "No we haven't!  Lower your voice!" Vachon scanned the
room.  "For one thing, Nick doesn't have that great a sense
of humor.  For another, there's a good reason why he hasn't
told you -- Tracy, you're a Resister.  You know about me.  
You knew about Screed.  Some would say that's too much for 
a mortal to know.  Tracy," he grabbed her shoulders,
gripping tighter than he normally would for emphasis.  "He's
*protecting* you!  If anyone suspected you knew about *him* 
too -- there are those who would say you'd have to be 
eliminated as a threat!"
      "You're hurting me," Tracy stepped back as he let go. She
rubbed her shoulder with her free.  "More secrets -- anymore
my life is nothing *but* secrets.  Now I know how Anji feels.
She said she didn't know who to talk to -- who to trust."
      "I'm sorry," said Vachon, rubbing her shoulders gently
this time.  "I came because Anji's in danger.  Someone named
Carlise is after her."
      "Carlise?  Carlise is the head of Hudson - Cambridge
security."  Tracy started out the corridor.
      "Well, he had someone watching the precinct house for her."
Vachon trailed her quickly.  "The guy said she shot him."
      "She shot *him* -- but that's..." Tracy stopped in front
of the door.  "Unless she shot them *both* -- the gun had been
fired twice and we didn't find another bullet... Anji," Tracy
entered.  "I need to..." she stopped dead.
      The room was empty.
      Tracy turned to Vachon, who shook his head.
      "She may have gone to find Chad."
      "We have to find her!" Tracy set the coffee cup down 
on the nightstand.
      "Whoa, what do you mean *we*?" Vachon started to back off.
      "It's your fault!"
      Vachon shrugged and gave in with a sigh.

******

     With a discontented sigh, Morgan turned from the old 
woman's body.  One of his followers handed him a towel to 
wipe the blood off his hands.
      "Foolish old wolf," he said sadly.
      "She died protecting her kin," said one of the women.
      Morgan glared at her until she dropped her eyes.  His
cellular phone chirped.  "Morgan."  His eyes widened.  "*What*? 
The fool! The stupid human *idiot*!"  He hung up the phone. 
"Carlise is going after the woman.  He's going to destroy 
*everything*.  You and you -- dispose of the body, the rest 
of you follow me!"     
      His eyes blazed yellow.


*******

Chapter 5


      Rick drove in silence.  Val was fidgeting in the back seat. 
Lukas sat and looked at his hands. "You're a hard man to find," he
said finally. "We lost you for two years."
      The blond weyr flung him a single, wide-eyed glance.
      "I wanted to be lost."  Rick turned into the hospital
parking garage.
      Lukas nodded, "I see, something must be done about that." 
Suddenly, his head snapped up.  "The Earthsinger is nearby."  
Val gave a breathy gasp from the back seat.

*********

      "Mr. Carlise," whispered one of the men holding the small
woman's arm.  "Are you all right?"
      Carlise ground his teeth together.  "Yes!" he snarled, 
yanking the sleeve of his jacket over the spreading red stain 
at his shoulder.  "Do as you're told!"
      The four men exchanged nervous glances.
      Anji shuddered, hugging the stolen green scrubs tunic as 
she rode down in the elevator.   Her stomach was churning
and she had to fight to keep from closing her eyes and
giving in to the sedative.  *Get out.  Get away.*  The
sensation prodded her but she could do nothing about it.
      She had been nearly asleep when the men came in.  They
had seized her with brutal efficiency and Carlise had kept
her silent with a threat to start shooting up the wards if
she screamed.
        She had never felt so helpless in her life.  'Why
is this happening to me?' she kept thinking.  A part of her
wanted to shriek *help me!* as two doctors in conversation 
entered and stood with their backs to the group.  Her throat 
was dry and paralyzed, holding her silent until they got off.
The round scar in her left palm began to throb again, feeling
warm.  She curled her fingers around it.
      It was like a door opened in her mind. 'Chad's here!'
She bit her lip hard.
      Finally, the doors opened to the lower floor of the parking
garage and she stumbled out, held upright only by the hands at her
elbows.
      "What now?" asked another of her captors.
      "We go to ground and we wait," Carlise snapped.  He glared at
Anji.  "You're the key.  You'll bring *him* to us.  *He'll* bring
the Fenris.  It ends here for *all* the animals."   
      Anji felt a chill pass through her, followed by a white burst
of anger.  "They aren't the animals."  She said in a low voice. 
"You are."
      He slapped her across the face. 

*******

      Carlise slapped Anji across the face.  From his hiding place,
Chad growled low in his throat.  He whirled at the flash of
movement behind him -- but the blond vampire caught his arm easily
and forced him to stand still.  "Calmly, my friend, calmly," he
said softly.
      "Who are you?" Chad demanded.
      "A friend," said the vampire. 
      "Nightwalkers are no friends to the weyr."
      "Call me an exception to the rule," he frowned.  "We have to
draw them into the open."
      "How?"

*******

      Tracy paused in the stairwell, stamping her foot with
frustration.
      "We're getting nowhere this way!"  she complained.
      "Well, you're only human," remarked her companion.  "Don't
look at me like that!  What would you suggest?"
      "I don't know!  I can't think!" Tracy sat down on the stairs,
beating her fist against her thigh.  "If she went on her own it's
one thing.  If she was taken...  You said this Carlise was after
her.  She'd be too groggy from the sedative to run far, but if he
took her."
      "If he took her, he's better than I thought."  Vachon rapped
his knuckles on the metal handrail, "and he just might be. *Damn.*"
      "If she's been kidnapped, they wouldn't take her through the
lobby -- or the service elevator."  Tracy mused aloud.  "The
elevator to the underground parking -- they'd have transportation
ready."  She jumped to her feet.  "Come on, we don't have much
time."
      "There's a faster way," Vachon remarked.
      "Just what do you have in mind?"  Tracy turned, he walked
until he was a stair below her.  He turned his back.
      "Ever ride piggy-back?" Vachon asked.
      "You're kidding, right?"
      "Try me."

******

     Nick gritted his teeth and clamped his hands over his ears
as the howl echoed wildly.  He had suggested that the weyr come
up with a distraction -- so the young fool howled at the top of
his lungs.
     The men holding Anji Porter were certainly distracted.  They
had swung back to back, staring wildly into the shadows.  By
contrast, the small woman seemed to break out of her trance and 
struggled fiercely.  "Chad!" she shrieked. "Get out of here!  Get
away!"
     "Shut up!" shouted a man with his arm in a sling.  "Come out,
Earthsinger or she dies."
     Nick grabbed Chad's shoulder, holding him in place and
whispering directions in his ear even as he drew his own gun.
     "Let her go," Chad called as Nick had instructed him.  "I'll
come out when she's safe."
     "You'll do as I say, animal!" the leader snapped.  "I'm in
charge here."
      A black van roared up from the depths of the garage.
      "Do as they say," Nick directed, explaining his plan quickly.
Chad stepped out warily.  He was quickly seized, his arms pinned
behind his back and shoved into the van.  Nick waited until it
pulled away, then jumped for the top and hung on.

*******

     "Not so tight," Vachon muttered as the two swooped down the
staircase.
     "I think I'm going to be sick."
     "Don't you *dare* --"
     A howl echoed up the well.  
     "Oh my God," Tracy gasped.
     "Hang on."  Vachon twisted to hit the fire door feet first.
     The door next to the elevator flew open with a crash.
     A black van accelerated with a screech.
     Nick suddenly dove out from behind a car, gave an impossible
jump and swung himself to the top of the vehicle.
      "Nick!" Tracy shouted, racing after the van.

*******

      Rick pulled to the curb and the three weyr piled out.  Val 
gave a low, raspy growl.
      "What is it?" demanded Lukas.
      //Bad weyr.  Bad men.  Circle.  Father kill. Close.// Val
signed rapidly.
      "He thinks the ones who killed his father are nearby."  Rick
translated.  "Bad Weyr?  What do you mean, Val?"
      "What the Elders suspected," Lukas said flatly.  "The Alpha
of the Toronto Fenris has joined the Circle."
      "Is that possible?"
      "We'll soon find out."  Lukas tilted back his head and
howled.  It was a long, eery moan that echoed off the concrete
buildings with a strange ring.
      From the shadows at the mouth of the parking garage a lean
dark figure emerged, followed by ten others.
      "Who dares howl?" shouted Morgan, swinging a golden wolf's
head medallion out from under his black turtleneck.
      "I do," said Lukas, stepping into the light and bringing out
his silver pendant.  
      "I am Morgan Ulfram, Alpha of the Toronto Fenris."
      "And I am Aristotle Lukas."
      "Lukas!  A Lukas!" whispered the pack behind him.  "Fenris
of the Elders."
      "Thank Gaia, our messages got through!"
      "Who said that?"  Morgan glared them to silence.  "You have 
no business here."  He turned back to Lukas.
      "One Earthsinger is dead, another is endangered, did you
think we would do nothing?"
      Morgan laughed.  "You have no proof..." the words died in
his throat as Val stepped out.  He whirled on his followers.
"I told you to kill that pup!"
      "We don't kill children," came the growled answer.  "Even
for an Alpha."
      "Traitors!"
      "It is you who are the traitor."
      "Stand down!" Lukas shouted.  "Your own words condemn you.  
Your pack condemns you!"
      "No."  Morgan snarled.  "I challenge!  It is my right!"
      "Very well," Lukas folded his arms, "but not here."
      A second howl split the night.
      "The Earthsinger!" exclaimed Rick.
      "Get out of our way," ordered Lukas.
      Morgan could only watch in frustration as his pack parted
to let Lukas and his companions by.  He bared teeth at them, but
was greeted by only sullen glares.  He was an Alpha under
Challenge.  He could give them no orders until the fight.  He might
win the right to order them  again -- or he might not.  He was also
chewing on the bitter knowledge that his pack had worked against
him covertly.  They knew they could not Challenge him, but one or
more had sent messages to the Elders, who had sent someone who
could.
      A black van roared out of the garage, passing the weyr and
vanishing into the streets.  For an instant, they all saw a blond
man clinging grimly to its roof.  Vachon and Tracy ran down the
ramp.
      "Was that Carlise?" Lukas demanded.
      "Who the hell are you?  Never mind, yes!" Vachon answered. 
"That's Carlise, he's got the Earthsinger."
      "He's also has a woman hostage," Tracy added.
      "Anji?" cried Rick.
      "Yes, and my partner!  Where will they take them?"
      The other weyr all focused on Morgan.
      "This hunt is yours, Fenris," he growled.
      "They may take them to the underground Skoll-lair," offered
one of the men.  Morgan glared at him.
      "Huh?" Tracy blinked.
      "The sub-basement of the Hudson-Cambridge Building," added
another.  Morgan bared his teeth at this one.  They ignored him.
      "Come on," Rick yanked open the door of his cab.
      "You go with them," Vachon directed Tracy.  "I've got my own
transportation."  Tracy gave him a sharp look, but crawled into the
back of the cab with Val.
      They drove off.  Vachon raised an eyebrow at the other weyr
and launched himself into the night.
      "I go to help the Earthsinger," declared one of the women.
      "I'm with you, Claire," said one of the men.
      "And I!"  One by one, the pack turned away.
      Morgan could only grind his teeth in frustration.

******

      "Mr. Carlise, shouldn't we--" began the driver.
      "No!" Carlise snapped, wiping the sweat off his forehead.  He
was pale and breathing hard, literally holding himself on his feet
with sheer will power.  "I'm going to finish this!"  He glared at
his two captives.
      Anji was seated next to Chad, carefully keeping both her
hands in her captor's sight.  The four men seemed more interested
in watching Carlise.  Chad, his arms tied behind his back, leaned
and gently bumped her shoulder with his.
      "I'm sorry, Anji," he whispered.  "This is my fault.  I
summoned more than I knew in Calling you."
      "I didn't have to answer," Anji rubbed her left palm.
      Carlise scowled at them.  "All this fuss over a stupid
animal and a half-gook bitch..." he began.
      Anji had been frightened until he said 'gook', then her
anger flared hot again.  She could feel the palm of her left hand
throbbing.  Suddenly, she leaped up and struck Carlise in the 
face.  A blaze of white light crackled from the scar, knocking him
into the other four men.  Chad lunged backwards, kicking at the 
rear of the van.  The doors flew open.
      Fast as thought, the blond vampire was swinging in through
the doors.  He grabbed Chad and Anji.  He flung himself backwards, 
dragging them with him.  Anji felt the crazy sensation of flying 
through the air before all three were landing on the sidewalk in 
front of the hospital.
      "I owe you an apology, Nightwalker," Chad panted as Nick 
freed him.
      "Accepted," said Nick dryly.
      "Oh, God," Anji put her hand to her head.  "I don't want to
believe this.  Chad, he's a cop!"
      "He is?" Chad looked stunned.
      "He is," Nick sighed.  "And I'm afraid I'll have to ask you
both to forget it --"
      "No!" Anji covered her eyes.  "Not again!"
      Chad sprang to Anji's side and crouched there, starting to
growl.  His eyes glowed topaz.
      "Don't you growl at *me*," Nick began sharply.  Brakes
screamed in the night.  The vampire threw a set of car keys at
Chad.
      "Get her out of here!" he ordered, pointing at an old green 
Cadillac waiting at the curb.
      Chad drove off.
      "Where are we going?" Anji demanded.
      "Grandmother's," Chad turned, heading towards the lake shore.
"You'll like her."

*****

      The small house guarded an abandoned gas station on
an earthen slope within a mile of Lake Ontario.  At the 
bottom of the slope, a fence protected the construction site 
of "New Waterfront Townhouse Development".
      Chad stopped the Cadillac in front of the old station.
"Grandmother?" he called as soon as he leaped from the car.
"Grandmother?"  A light was burning inside.  The door swung 
open as he touched it.
      "Something's wrong," he told Anji.  They stepped inside.
The smell of burning food hung in the air.  The couch lay
sprawled on its back.  Two chairs were tossed into a corner and
the coffee table on top of them.  Broken china and glass covered 
the stained carpet.
      "Be careful of the glass," Chad called to Anji. 
"Grandmother?  Grandmother!"  Then the smell of the carpet hit him.
He knelt and sniffed the rug.  He smelled blood.  Too much blood.
      "No," he moaned.  "NO - O - O - O - O - O!" he howled.  Anji 
ran over, heedless of the splinters and threw her arms around him,
trying to comfort him as he howled and howled and howled.
      "Chad, hush, sh, please!"  She grabbed his hand, pressing the
round scar on her left palm against the crescent-shaped scar on
his.  A door opened inside her and the same door opened inside him.
He was falling inside of her and she was falling inside of him. 
There was a jumble of images and emotions, ending in an explosion
of grief that left her in tears.
      "What have you done to me?" she shrieked.
      "I don't know," Chad sobbed.  "I swear to Gaia, *I don't
know*. I don't even know what I've done to *me*."
      The pair huddled together by the door, clinging to each
other. 

*****
      
      "I don't care!" Carlise was almost frothing at the mouth.
"They couldn't have just flown away!  They've got to be here
somewhere!"  The van circled the block a second time, passing 
the parked cab.
      "This doesn't make any sense," said Tracy in the back seat.
"They act like they're looking for something, and Nick's gone."
      Vachon walked over and knocked on the window.  "Give a 
guy a lift?" he asked.
      "I thought you had your own transportation," Lukas said
dryly.
      "Yeah, well, sometimes it's appropriate and sometimes it's
not, move over, kid," he said to Val.  Rick folded his arms.
      "I don't have to take you anywhere," he snapped.
      "Let me guess, you're still pissed about me hypnotizing you,
well, I'm sorry, it just seemed to be a better idea than taking
a bite out of your neck.  So, just drive, huh?"
      "I hope someone's paying for this," Rick complained.  
"Because I don't want to end up fired at the end of the night."
      "He's paying," said Tracy.
      "I am?" Vachon raised both eyebrows.  "With what?"
      "Oh, come on, I doubt you pay your bar bills with your good
looks."
      "Well, now that you mention it, the guy who owns the Raven 
happens to be quite *fond* of my looks and ..."
      Tracy glared at him.
      "You keep hanging around Knight and you are going to lose
your sense of humor."  He informed her while digging out his 
wallet.  "I suggest we track down Mayra."  He passed a series of
bills over to Rick.
      "Who?" asked Tracy.
      "Chad's grandmother," supplied Lukas.  "Good.  Where is
she?"
      "Don't *you* know?"  Vachon glared at Rick who still had his 
hand out.  "Isn't that enough?"
      "Don't I get a tip?"
      Vachon growled.  Rick growled back.
      "How many werewolves *are* there in Toronto?" asked Tracy.
      "A good question, Detective Vetter," grumbled Lukas. 
"Something *must* be done about this.  Well, I know how *I* 
can find out Mayra's address."  He left the cab, stood on the 
sidewalk and howled.
      "I *wish* he wouldn't do that," Vachon wiggled a finger in
one ear.  Two figures stepped out of the shadows.  Lukas went
to speak with them.  "And I'd like to know how he does *that*."
      "Oh," said Tracy.  "They've been following us since we left
the hospital."
      "How did you know?"
      "Val told me."
      Val grinned smugly at Vachon.  Vachon peeled another bill
out of his wallet at flipped it at Rick.  "That's his tip, not
yours."

******

      "Stop the van!" shouted Carlise as they circled the block one
more time.  The cab pulled away from the curb as they went past.
Morgan, walking with his shoulders hunched and his thoughts black,
scowled as the van stopped.  "Get in!" Carlise ordered.
      "Where is he?" Morgan demanded.
      "You tell me," Carlise snapped.
      "You should have killed him when you first had your hands on 
him."
      "I needed him to draw the Mage."
      Morgan scowled.  "What the hell are you talking about?"
      Carlise laughed.  "You mean I actually know one of your
damned prophecies better than you stupid animals?  Anji Porter,
under my ****ing nose the whole time.  *She's* why the 
Earthsingers have been drawn here!"
      "Drawn here?"
      Carlise shook his head.  "Yes, they've been Called, just like
the one we killed two years ago was Called.  *She's* why!  'By
the Lake Tower of the Red Leaf, Sun and Moon shall mark each other.
Their healing will turn back time itself!'  You animals call 
yourselves the children of Moon Woman, well, she's a child of Sun
Woman!"
      "Mage?  But that's --"
      "Impossible?  It should be, Skoll wiped out all the Mages
in Europe and the Middle East, but she's part gook and that's the
part that's Mage."  Carlise sneered, "but it won't do any good.  
This world belongs to true humans and we'll wipe you freaks off 
the face of the Earth."
      "Are you so sure of that?" growled Morgan.  Four henchmen 
surrounded the weyr.
      "Where would he go?" Carlise leaned forward.
      "To his grandmother's," Morgan shrugged.  "For all the good
it will do you."
      "He'd better be there, for your sake."

******

      The cab nearly struck a fire hydrant as the van roared 
past.
      "That's Carlise!" Tracy cried.
      Vachon kicked open the door and took off.

******

      Nick landed next to the Cadillac and rapidly checked it over.
His hand went to his gun when he saw the open door.  He had one
hand on his gun as he entered, to find Chad and Anji clutching each
other.
      "What happened?" he asked, bending down to help them to their
feet.
      "I don't know," Chad wiped at his eyes.  "Grandmother's dead.
The blood smell is all over.  Anji came to help me and ..."
      "Something's happened to us," Anji finished.  "We're -- God,
what is the word?  I feel his grief, he's feeling my fear and we
c-can't stop it..."
      "Well, you can't stay here," said Nick sternly.  His tone
seemed to snap them back from wherever they had gone.  "Come on."
   The black van screamed down the utility road.  Nick snapped the 
chain at the Waterfront Townhouse's gate and shouted, "Run!"
      Chad grabbed Anji's hand and fled into the construction
site.  Nick dove behind a barricade of steel drums as the
van tried to ram him.  The vehicle careened to a stop and six 
men bailed out.
      "Kill them!" screamed Carlise.  "Kill them all!"
      After a moment's conference, the men split up and began 
searching among the piles of materials.
      Two of the men searched among the steel drums.
      "I saw him run into here," the one complained.
      "Well, then where is he?" demanded the other.
      Nick popped up behind them.  "Right here," he said,
neatly knocking their heads together.  They fell unconscious.
      One man was searching alone through tall piles of
wood.