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The Y-Files

Case File #1Y8-1064: Blood Bond

Part I

Featuring the following agents in order of appearance:  ASAC Kiwiphile Malone, SAC Jadzia Reyes, Special Agent Fox Mulder, SAC Samantha Jaythree, Special Agent Craig Willmore, SAC Sara Zeuty, SAC Elisheva Toews, Assistant Director Walter Skinner, Special Agent Scham Padilla, Special Agent Sabalore Smith

****

MESSAGE TO Y-FILES PERSONNEL
FROM: ASAC KIWI MALONE
CC: SAC JADZIA

SAC Jadzia Reyes has forwarded the following case file to me. All Agents wishing to
report for assignment should post their intentions in this folder, for SAC Jadzia's approval.

ATTENTION SPECIAL AGENTS!

The following is the eighth in a series of cases that have been designated "Y-Files". Special Agents Fox William Mulder & Dana Katherine Scully have referred these cases to us via the office of Assistant Director Walter Sergei Skinner. These are X-File cases that Agents Mulder & Scully have not been able to investigate due to time constraints or other extenuating circumstances. Agents who are interested in participating in this investigation should post a message stating that they are en route to New York City where they will rendezvous with their fellow agents to begin the investigation. Please report in regularly.

* Please note that this case is classified as an MOTW/stand-alone case. We'll be giving certain cases this designation to indicate that they are not mytharc cases. *
* Additional note: This case is open to villains, so please feel free to join us in that role if you wish…

Sincerely,
SAC Jadzia

CASE FILE #Y-1064: Blood Bond (MOTW) (with villains)

JACKSON HEIGHTS: NEW YORK, N.Y.

The following APB was filed with the N.Y. City Field Office.

*************************APB*******************************
APB*****************************************************APB
********************KEEP AN EYE OUT*************************
************************************************************

MISSING: TONY ALEXANDER ELSTREE

SEX: MALE
AGE: 22
ETHNICITY: CAUCASIAN
HEIGHT: 6'1"
WEIGHT: 160lbs
EYE COLOR: BROWN
HAIR COLOR: LIGHT BROWN

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Piercing: left eyebrow, tongue, right ear, (five). Tattoos: left arm: 'Sandman' comic character, Back: angels wings, covering upper back and both shoulder blades.

Last seen at his place of employment, 'Pop Culture', a comic and games store, 225a Christopher St. Wearing a blue T-shirt with 'Barbie’ is a slut' on the front. Black cargo style pants. Black boots. Please forward all information to SA Green, N.Y. Field Office.

*************************************************************

The young man above was reported missing by a friend, Matthew James Fenton. The desk sergeant at the precinct referred the matter to the FBI, after observing that Mr. Fenton seemed emotionally unstable. Mr. Fenton described his involvement in a role playing game called 'Blood Bond', which he said Tony Elstree was also playing.

A subsequent visit to Mr. Fenton by NYPD officers has resulted in this being treated as a possible homicide. Mr. Fenton again reiterated that the 'game' he and Mr. Elstree had been involved in, was responsible for his friend's absence.; however, he was able to provide no evidence of this game, its members, nor any means of contacting the aforementioned.

He stated that he believed that he was being followed, and that 'People are signaling to each other, I can see them doing it.'

It is the opinion of Sergeant Morton that Mr. Fenton is most likely responsible for the disappearance of his friend himself. If not, there could be some form of cult activity.

Subsequent interviews have proved unhelpful, and it is suggested that an investigation into Mr. Fenton be pursued. Also, a friend of Mr. Fenton's and Mr. Elstree's, Rachel Ann Montgomery, may have an involvement in this matter. So far she is the only other witness to offer corroboration to Matthew Fenton's story.

Your assignment, Agents, is to re-interview Matthew Fenton, and pursue all possible leads to Mr. Elstree's whereabouts. Please report in regularly.

Sincerely,

SAC Jadzia Reyes

************

ASAC Kiwi Malone raced through the door of the sub-basement in a minor panic. She was over an hour late, and her head was killing her. ‘I will never, never drink tequila again.’  she chanted. As a mantra, it was fairly useless; her tongue kept retreating to the top of her mouth and refusing to come down. She wondered where Sara was; she must be feeling worse than Kiwi right now. Willmore had the morning off, lucky sod.

Kiwi was still trying to gulp down a coffee when the phone rang on her desk.  “Kiwi,”  she croaked.

“Good morning, ASAC Kiwi, its SAC Jadzia here.” 

Kiwi held the receiver away from her ear. Was she yelling? she thought. “How can I help?”

“I have a case I'd like to assign you to. Agent Mulder and I would like to see you in my office about it, now.”

Oh, happy day. Kiwi really, really hoped it involved somewhere quiet and restful, like the moon.  She stalked into the office. “Morning, everyone.”

Agent Mulder laughed. “Looks like you had a late night.”

She grimaced. “Yeah, look, SAC Jadzia, I have to apologize for being late. We had a little wake for Gunson when we got back and--”

Jadzia cut her off,  “No need. I think you'll be suffering enough by the looks of it. Besides, nothing wrong with a blow out after a case like that.”

Mulder seemed eager to talk about it.  “I read the report, I was hoping to have a meeting with you and some of the others. That 'atua' thing, it's similar to-”  He must have noticed Kiwi’s  squeezing the bridge of her nose, because he stood up.  Pouring a coffee he handed it to Kiwi  with a sympathetic gaze. “I guess today isn't convenient.”

“Try tomorrow, I think I left my brain at the bar.” She looked at Jadzia. “So, what's the case?”

“A missing person, in New York.  The friend who reported him gone is currently the main suspect, although he doesn't know it yet.”

As Jadzia spoke, Kiwi flipped through the file.  She looked from Mulder to Jadzia and back again.  “And this is a Y-file because…?”  Although she suspected that she already knew the answer.

Mulder replied, “Because there's a possibility that Matthew Fenton is telling the truth.  I don't believe that he had anything to do with Tony's disappearance.”

Kiwi nodded, and turned to Jadzia. “I'll let Willmore know when he arrives.”  Was it Agent Malone’s imagination, or did those two flick a glance at each other when she said that?  “If they're free, I think Samantha and Sara would be interested.  Can I use them?  I'll notify the rest of the office, see if anyone else wants on it.”

Jadzia nodded, and Mulder stood up to leave with Agent Malone.  Just before he returned up to the basement level, he said softly. “Let me know if you need any help.”

“Sure.”

Kiwi sat down at her desk. Missing friend. Vampire games. Cults. She could hardly wait…

************

SAC Samantha Jaythree walked down to the sub-basement level where the Y-Files offices were located.  She had already had her early morning meeting with AD Skinner.  As a result, she now had a stack of new papers and file folders demanding her attention.

The previous evening, Samantha had also been at the same bar with some of her fellow agents from the J2H case. She had left earlier than many of them, though, as she had a dinner engagement later in the evening. It was just a casual dinner between two friends of the opposite sex, but still -- Sam hated to show up at one of Washington's finer restaurants while soused.

Since Samantha almost always took the stairs unless she was with someone else, she was startled when exiting the stairwell to nearly bump into a tall man.  Looking up, she smiled at Agent Mulder. "You're bored on the X-Files, and you're looking for excitement, right?" she joked up at him.

"If the X-Files become any more exciting, I'll be sending more cases to you that your entire department can handle," he smiled in return.  Sam couldn't tell if he were joking in reply or serious. "I just handed off a case to Jadzia who passed it along to Kiwi. I believe your name was mentioned as well."

Mulder held the door open, and Sam walked very quickly underneath his arm. "Scully can do that, too," he observed. "What is it with the Bureau hiring such short women?"

"That, Agent Mulder, is part of the Bureau's policy of hiring only the finest of the available candidates," she winked. "Besides, when I worked for the DEA, nobody ever suspected someone of my size to be an undercover agent."

Mulder nodded, but did not comment further. Instead, he disappeared into the stairwell, and Sam headed towards Kiwi's desk.

"Agent Malone," Samantha called cheerfully, unable to resist the small laugh as Kiwi clamped her hands to her ears. "What's the matter?" Sam lowered her voice, but she was still smiling. "Late night?" Sam winked and pushed aside some papers so that she could lean against Kiwi’s desk. "So what's the case, and do *I* get to go to Hawaii this time?"

"Forget the tan and the beach," Kiwi's voice sounded a little less vibrant than usual. "How was your date last night?"

"It wasn't a date," Sam spoke a little too quickly. "It was just dinner." She smiled. "A nice dinner. It went well, but maybe it's just me. We had a nice time. The food was great. The conversation was terrific." Samantha leaned in more closely. "Nathan said all the right things and didn't make any inappropriate moves. So why do I feel like he's interested in me...and yet he's not really interested in me?"

Kiwi’s face was slowly recovering some of its normal color as she sipped her coffee. "And where does Nathan ---? work? Third floor? Fifth?"

"McKay. Dr. Nathan McKay. He's not in the Bureau. He's not even in law enforcement. He's a doctor involved in organ transplant research in a private lab in Virginia."

"Ohhh, a doctor," Kiwi teased.

"Shut up," a comment which Sam knew wouldn't be taken seriously. "So where did you say this case is taking us?"

“New York, New York,” Kiwi replied, cracking open a bottle of Tylenol. “The city that never sleeps.”  Kiwi handed the files to Samantha.

“Luckily the first available flight is tomorrow a.m., so I get to go home, pack and rest.'“  Kiwi read the label and doubled the dosage.

“This could be cult activity, Fenton sounds rattled.” Samantha was chewing her bottom lip absently, reading the transcript of his interview.

Willmore walked in, followed by a very pale Sara.  They spotted the huddle and immediately came over.

“What’s up?” said Willmore. He was looking too damned perky, Kiwi thought.

“New case, New York, missing youth, cult, possible vampire thing.”

'“Lost the use of verbs, Kiwi?”  Willmore raised an eyebrow, reading the file as he spoke.

'“No, just keeping noise to minimum.”

Sara groaned.  “Count me in, I feel like one of the undead already. I can blend in.”

Samantha looked at both Sara and Kiwi. “I'm beginning to realize that I made the right decision to leave early last night.” She glanced at Craig. “You seem to have survived intact.”

He grinned as Kiwi answered from under her arm, leaning back in the chair. “I arm wrestled him for my half day. I lost. He had the sleep in. He is not a gentleman. A gentleman wouldn't have taken advantage of me that way.”

“What? You practically tore my arm off,”  He spoke to Sam, “She cheated.”

“Go to hell,”  Kiwi whispered, poking him fitfully in the ribs.

“I'm already there,” Sara mumbled.

Kiwi handed out forms, “Fill out these and leave them on Jadzia’s desk. That is, if you want on the case. I don't know who the SAC is, Jadzia will decide and let us know.”

Kiwi was pleased when they each grabbed one. She wanted a solid team to start, no matter who was in charge. Cult investigations were often complex and draining. She knew there were a couple of less experienced agents who wanted in on this case, and she was loathe to drag them into anything too dangerous.

As Willmore wandered off to the coffee machine, and Sara snored lightly at her desk, Samantha leaned in towards Kiwi.  “How are things? Personally, I mean?”

Kiwi knew the question was about Gunson, but she suspected Samantha meant something else as well. Kiwi was still a little confused herself. So she let the second part slide, answering the obvious. “I still feel a little ache, here,”  she indicated her heart.  “But, you know...work...” She trailed off.  “Thanks.”

Sam let her off the hook, giving Willmore a long considering gaze.  Kiwi knew that one of Samantha’s patented heart to heart’s was coming up, and soon.

************

The Y-Files agents arrived in New York at 9 a.m. the next day; an hour before they had to meet with Matthew Fenton.

Willmore and Kiwi hailed a cab, deciding to let Samantha and Sara talk to Fenton’s girlfriend, Rachel Montgomery.  Apparently she had met Matthew at the bar when they started the game. So far their stories matched, but a dual interview should highlight any inconsistencies.

Matthew Fenton lived in a large brownstone apartment building in the Village. The lift was on the fritz, so Willmore and Kiwi took the stairs. “Ten floors, great,” she muttered.

“What's the matter, Kiwi? Still recovering?” Willmore was already almost a flight ahead of Kiwi who kept quiet and put one foot in front of the other doggedly.

They emerged into a dimly lit and narrow corridor. The building was teetering on the edge of Bohemian, heading for plain old seedy.  Kiwi noted that only one in three light bulbs were working. Paint curled in the upper corners of the hallway, and there was the distinct smell of urine in the air.

“Here it is,” he knocked at the door of Fenton's apartment. There was a delay, then a voice from behind the door.

“Who is it?”

“FBI,” said Craig.

“I need to see some ID.”

The two agents held up their badges to the pinhole. This guy was obviously security minded. The door opened a crack. A chain still stopped them from entering.

“Mr. Fenton, I'm ASAC Malone, and this is Special Agent Willmore. We need to talk to you about Tony Elstree.”

The door closed again and they heard the chain rattling. Finally the door swung open to reveal a pale young man, dressed mainly in black. Incongruously, he had on a long black overcoat. In a bizarre way it mimicked the agents’ trench coats. Except that his hair was bright red, neon almost. He looked tired, jumpy.

Kiwi and Craig followed him in, and Kiwi looked around. Willmore made eye contact and she nodded slightly; while Kiwi talked to Fenton, Craig would wander.

It was a fairly typical apartment for someone young and not too wealthy. Small and covered in posters. The furniture was old and run down. In the corner, Kiwi was thrilled to see a glass case containing a tarantula. Her eyes glued to it. She had a thing about spiders. Kiwi made a mental note that no matter what happened, she was not to shoot the pets of suspects. As long as it stayed in that case.

Matthew followed her gaze. Willmore was already leaning over the tank, examining it.

“That's Tabitha,” said Matthew.  “She's tame, you can touch her if you want, but be gentle. Tarantulas are very delicate.”

Kiwi’s skin crawled as Willmore put his hand in. “Um, Mr. Fenton--”

“Call me Matt.”

“OK.  Matt.  Do you think you could put something over that case? I, I have a... well in a nutshell, I have a huge phobia about spiders.”  He made as if to speak.  “Spare me the lecture on how gentle they are, I didn't claim it was rational. I'm just asking you to give me a break here.”

He smiled, and put a cover over the tank. Willmore grinned and started to look on the bookshelves.

Matt returned to the center of the room, his look shifting from Kiwi to Willmore to Kiwi again. “So, Matt. What can you tell us about this game you were playing?”

Kiwi sat down opposite him, so that he would be forced to face her and not Willmore, who was beginning to flick through papers.

“Um, well it was about five weeks ago. I was in the store, the one where Tony works, worked.”  He paused momentarily. “Is it being taken seriously now? Is that why the FBI are involved?”

“It was always serious, Matt. We just have more expertise in these matters, and the police referred it to us.”

“Oh, ok. This game. It was a notice, on the board at the store. It was asking for people to put down their name and number and said you'd be contacted about a meeting in a few days.”

“What did the notice say?”

“Ah, it was called 'Blood Bond'. And it said that the members role played vampires. It didn't say much else. But the artwork was cool, I dunno. Tony and I did it as a joke, we thought maybe we could have a laugh. You know.”

Kiwi watched him as he spoke. So far he seemed to be on the level. His fear was genuine, and it didn't appear to be masking any dissembling. “Go on.”

“Well, we waited for a while. Then I got a call. So did Tony. We were to meet at this place on Christopher, the Tool Box.  We went there and no one showed up. Except for Rachel.  We figured out she was waiting for the same group because she came up to us, thinking we were them.” He stopped, Kiwi could see that he was thinking back to that night. Kiwi saw Craig looking at the windows, opening it and leaning outside slightly.

“And then you went home?”

“Yeah, and then Tony disappeared. I spoke to him on the phone the next day, and after that I couldn't get hold of him. I went to his work, but they said he didn't show up, never called or nothin'.”

Craig moved up behind him, his voice calm. “What made you decide that the game had any connection?”

Fenton half turned, “I started to notice...things.”

“What things?” Kiwi said.

“People. Strange looking people. I would be walking down a street, or once I was in the hallway outside. And I'd feel someone looking at me. When I turned they'd disappear, you know, duck around a corner or something. And a couple of times I saw two people in a bar, they were using hand signals, and they kept looking at me. When I went up to them, they melted into the crowd.”

He was talking faster now, lighting a cigarette he drew deeply on it. “Rachel's seen them, too. Same type of people.”

“You said they looked strange?” Kiwi wanted details.   They would have to check Fenton’s  story against Rachel's.

“Yeah, tall. Intense eyes. Spooky looking.”

Kiwiphile looked at Willmore.   Fenton was describing half of New York.

“Could you work with an artist, maybe get us some pictures?”

“Sure.”

Craig sat down beside Kiwiphile.  “How about the game, did you try to get in contact with them?”

“I went back to the notice board. The poster was gone. No one else remembered it.”

Kiwi rose. “Thanks Matt. We'll arrange an artist and call you later today. If you remember anything, anything at all, give me a call, ok?”  She passed him a card.

Willmore and Kiwi walked a few blocks in the lunch-time crowds, looking for somewhere to get a coffee.

“He seems genuine,” she said.  Her gut instinct was working overtime. “But there’s something else he's not sharing yet.”

“I know,” said Craig, “did you see his walls?”

“What about them?”

“Above all the doors, and windows. He had garlic pinned up, and little symbols. And there was something else I noticed.”

A chill breeze suddenly cut through Kiwiphile, and she wrapped her coat around herself a little tighter.

Craig continued, “On the outside of his windows, the ones above the alleyway. The wooden sill frame is covered in scratches, gouged right in.” He steered  Kiwi into a Starbucks.  “It looked like something had been clawing at it.”

“Is there a fire escape? Could someone have done it with a screwdriver or something?”

“No, there’s nothing but a ten floor drop to the ground.”

“Then we better get a forensics team to check out his apartment. I'll organize a warrant.”

Kiwi pondered the details over coffee. It was possible that those marks had been made by Tony Elstree, if he had been desperate not to fall. But none of the evidence added up. Falling ten floors would leave one hell of a mess to clean up. And who had nails long enough to gouge deep into wood, even in panic?

“Maybe someone was trying to get away from that spider,”  Kiwi joked. But it was a disturbing image. What kind of burglar climbed ten floors on the outside of a brownstone to rob a guy like Fenton?

Kiwi pulled out her phone, time to call Samantha, and find out how their morning had gone.

************

Sara and Samantha climbed out of the taxi. While Sara paid the driver, Sam looked around the neighborhood. The sidewalks were busy, the street was congested, and the sounds, the sights, and the smells were classic New York City.

Three adolescent boys were staring at Sara as she stepped up onto the sidewalk. They whistled and shouted a rather obscene comment to her. Not even partially fazed, Sara shouted something equally graphic back to them which made them laugh and whistle again.

"C'mon, Agent Zeuty," Sam shook her head in mock dismay. "Business before pleasure."

"Shouldn't they be in school?" Sara asked  as the two women briskly climbed the dozen or so stairs to the front of the red brick apartment building.

"Oh, I'm sure such--" Sam paused and looked at the three youths who still seemed fixated on Sara's appearance. "Ah, such fine upstanding youths have a perfectly acceptable excuse for standing on a public street at a time when they should be in English class or math class or something like that."

Ringing the manager's bell, Sara and Sam were admitted to the building after identifying themselves as FBI agents. They stopped by the building superintendent's apartment on the first floor to show their IDs, but the man didn't seem too concerned about looking at their badges.

"There's no stiffs in my building?" The manager's name was Art Toscadeo, and he could have bench pressed half of New York. Despite the fact that Mr. Toscadeo was probably in his late 50's/early 60's, his build reminded Sam of their late friend Gunson. She wondered if she noted just a resemblance because she was still mourning a little for him.

"No, sir," Sara shook her head and showed him a photo of the missing young man. "Have you seen this man?"

"Man? Looks like a punk," Art replied flatly. "Haven't seen him, or if I have, he looks too much like lots of the other kids that hang our around here. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Samantha replied and smiled. "If you do see him, please call this number," she handed Art a card with her cell phone number. "We'd appreciate it."

Going towards the elevator, Sam looked over at Sara. "If this girl is about the same age as our missing man, do you want to conduct the interview? Being closer to her age and all?"

"Are you saying that you're feeling old, Agent Jaythree?" Sara smirked a little as they stepped onto the elevator.

"No," Sam replied as the elevator doors closed, and the elevator began to move upwards with a faint creaking sound. "It's just that I'm not old enough to be her mother, so that leaves you to be her 'friend' while we're questioning her."

"We'll see," Sara replied as she watched the numbers slowly rise with the progress in the elevator.

The elevator finally lurched to a halt. Sara nearly tripped getting off, as it stopped about two inches below the floor.

"Nice place,” she grumbled. Samantha chuckled to herself as she stepped gracefully off the elevator.

Sara knocked on Rachel's door.  No answer. She tried again. Finally she heard a faint voice, "Who's there?"

"FBI," Sara said, holding her badge up to the peephole, "We'd like to ask you a few questions regarding the disappearance of Tony Elstree. May we come in?"

A moment passed before the door opened a crack. "Can I see your ID again?" the girl asked. Sara showed it to her. "Yours too?" she said to Samantha. Once she was satisfied that the two women were who they said they were, she let the in.

"Are you Rachel Montgomery?" Sara asked.  She nodded. Sara glanced at Sam, who raised her eyebrows, then turned and started looking around the place.

The girl looked like death. She was about 5'5", and couldn't have been more than 100lbs. She had long, stringy black hair, and wore a lot of black eye shadow and dark red lipstick. Her skin was even paler than Sara’s own.

"So what do you want to know?" Rachel asked softly. "I already told the cops everything. They didn't listen to a thing I told 'em. They thought I was some kinda crazy freak."

Sara nodded. "What can I say. It's the NYPD. It's part of their training to treat everyone like a crazy freak."

That got a slight and quickly fading smile out of the girl. "I don't want to judge you, Rachel, I just want to know everything you can tell me."

Rachel Montgomery sat down on a chair, and took a deep breath. "Well it all started when I saw this poster, at the comic store. Some kinda vampire RPG. I don't know, it looked interesting. I like vampires, stuff like that."

Sara nodded, trying hard not to look at Samantha.

"Anyway, they sent me a letter. Telling me where to meet. And I went, and Tony and Matt was there. I was mad, at first, I thought it was a joke, that they were f-in with me. But they told me they were there for the same thing, they didn't start it. So anyway, nothin happens. We figured... I don't know. It was some kinda joke. We went home. Next thing, I hear Tony's gone. And people are following me, all the time."

"Who's following you?" Samantha chimed in.

Rachel looked up. "I dunno. I only ever see 'em outta the corner of my eye. But I know they're lookin at me, watchin me. Sometimes there's two or three, all at once. And, knocks on my door, and on my windows."

Sara raised her eyebrows. "On your windows?" she asked. Sam walked over to one, a sliding glass door, and pulled back the curtain. There was a small balcony with purple Christmas lights strung around the railings.

"Anything else?" Sara asked. Rachel shook her head, and Sam's cell phone rang. She went out into the hallway to take the call.

"Do you, Matt or Tony have any enemies?"

Rachel shook her head again. "Well no, we all pretty much hang out together, the three of us. Hung out, anyway."

"You've never joined up with any other groups of people?"

"No, what do you mean? I already told the cops we weren't a part of no cult."

Sara nodded. "Do you still have the letter that was sent to you in regards of this game?"

The girl nodded, getting up and pulling it out of a drawer. It was written in red ink, calligraphy style, on a piece of stationary that looked like parchment paper.

"Was there an envelope?" Sara asked.

Rachel shook her head. "No, this was it. Just like this, in the mailbox."

"Okay. Thank you, Rachel. I'm going to give you my cell phone number, if you need anything, or if you remember anything else, call. Anytime, day or night."

Rachel nodded and stood to see Sara out. She met Sam in the hall, and showed her the note.

"That's odd." Sam said.

"What is?"

"That was Kiwi on the phone. She just finished interviewing Fenton. According to him, both he and Tony received phone calls, not notes."

Back on the bottom floor, Sara looked at the mailboxes. They were the type you needed a key to get into - to take things out, or to put things in.

************

Back in Washington:

It was Friday morning, and SAC Elisheva Toews made her way down the halls of the J. Edgar Hoover Building to the sub-basement, the new and less than glorious location of the Y-Files division. None of the agents assigned there seemed to mind that they had been located BELOW the FBI's most unwanted.

There was more than enough room in the bull pen, and as she opened the door to her new office, Elisheva ran a finger across the new brass name plate that now adorned it. 'S.A.C. Elisheva A. Toews'...it looked official and all of a sudden Ellie felt very grown up.

Knowing everything was quiet because all available agents were assigned to cases, she hoped it would be a highly productive day. Maybe she would have lunch with FoxPhile, who never seemed to leave the building.

The view that met her eyes as she walked into the office was a little unsettling. Apparently maintenance was not too thrilled about lugging the new furniture down stairs and just left *everything* in the middle of the room. Did they think Elisheva was Hercules or what? Was she suppose to arrange this stuff herself? Peeling off her jacket, she made a quick call to the maintenance department.

"Hi, this SAC Toews. I need some help rearranging some furniture down here. Could you spare a couple of..."

There was a light tapping at her half opened door and as she turned, she was greeted by the sight of A.D. Skinner filling the door frame. He had a wry grin on his face as he surveyed the chaos of Elisheva’s office. She held up an index finger to indicate she wanted him to wait a moment.

"After lunch! I don't want to wait until after lunch! Look, I haven't been in DC for over four weeks and my office is a disaster. I need..." Skinner walked over and took the phone from her hand.

"This is Assistant Director Skinner. Will you please send someone down to Agent Toews office now." His voice conveyed it's usual terseness. "...five minutes, that would be fine." He placed the receiver back into its cradle while Elisheva stared at him blankly. "It's a perk that goes with being known as a hard@$$.   People just *respond*."

Elisheva tired to stifle a laugh but was unsuccessful. "We'll you always had a way of getting people to listen, expect me perhaps." She flashed him a smile, and then looked around the room. "This place actually looks better than my condo." 

"Now that's a frightening thought."

 "Yea, tell me about it! I just couldn't go on living this way, so I decided to stay in DC for a few days, finish up the paperwork from the last couple of cases and get my life in order."

Skinner started removing his jacket as he nodded his head in the direction of her desk. "Okay, where do you want this?"

"Sir, the maintenance people are on their way down as we speak..."

He was making it a habit of cutting her off mid sentence this morning. "I have," he glanced down at his watch and then back at Elisheva, "approximately twenty eight minutes until my next meeting. Let's see how much we can get done in the mean time."

They spent the better part of the next half hour moving, shoving and generally rearranging the entire office. The fact she was enjoying herself far too much which made the time fly too quickly.

She glanced at her watch. "Sir, you should be leaving. You're already five minutes late." Elisheva picked up his jacket and handed it to him. She noticed a smudge of dust on his chin and carefully rubbed it away with her thumb. "Wouldn't want you to show up looking like you just came out of the trenches, sir." Their eyes met momentarily before she nervously turned to grab a dusting rag the workers had brought and moved towards the filing cabinets. Did she just do what she thought she did?

Elisheva heard the rustling of his jacket as he slipped it on while she feigned an intense interested in the layer of dust that was covering the filing cabinet in front of her.

"Agent Toews." His flat authoritative voice quickly caught her attention.

She looked up from her task. "Yes, sir?"

"Do I look presentable?" He didn't even crack a grin.

"Yes, sir, no one would ever suspect you spent your morning as a humble maintenance worker." It took great effort to keep a straight face. "And if I can ever return the favor..."

He turned to walk out the door but stopped himself, placing his hand on the door frame then half turned to face her.

"Lunch." He said nothing else.

"Lunch...Sir?"

"You owe me lunch."

"Ummm...lunch. Okay, I can do that," Elisheva said, trying her best to sound professional and dignified. "About 12:30?"

He nodded and left the room. Oh my gosh, Elisheva’s thoughts raced,  she was having lunch with Skinner. Her knees half buckled as she let myself drop into her chair.

'No big deal, no big deal.' That pesky inner voice kept repeating. 'Just old friends, having lunch, a simple boss/employee meeting, shop talk, nothing more...not a big deal.'

Yea, sure whatever.

************

At the New York City police precinct, the Y-Files agents reassembled. Time to start 'bonding' with local PD. ASAC Kiwi  immediately sensed that it wouldn't be as easy as it had been in Boston. For a start, the Detectives’ workload made Knox's and Peterson's look like summer camp. Then there was the kafuffle caused by us taking over a small room as our base.

Kiwi tried not to lose her temper, she really did. But one big brute, a tired old racist and misogynist named Randy Mueller took about ten minutes to raise her dial. He was as surly and uncooperative as he could manage.

It started when Kiwi informed him that a forensics team was heading over to Matthew Fenton’s place to check it out. “Waste of goddamned resources,” he called it. Then he had a nice line of patronizing insults on the value of an artist 'taking time out to draw pictures of spooks for that freak Fenton.'

The red line was hit when he pinned his beady eyes on Kiwi and said, “Where'd you say you were from? Noo Zeeland?”

Kiwi nodded in reply, hoping that silence would invite his departure. No such luck.

“Where the heck is that? You Dutch?”

Sara rose to the bait, “It's in the South Pacific, South East of Australia. And its New Zealand”

“Like I give a damn. You oughta go back home, let an American do your job.”

The room stilled. Kiwi noticed that apart from Mueller, everyone else was frozen, awaiting her  response. As her grandmother would have said, he had well and truly gotten her Irish up.

She stared him down, her mouth clamped shut. He wasn't worth it, Kiwi thought, picturing the satisfying crunch of her fist contacting his pudgy nose. He snorted and left, hitching his pants as he wandered back to the bullpen.

Kiwi cut off any responses by getting straight to work. People like Mueller were everywhere, she didn't need to spend time figuring him out. She spread the file, such as it was, on the table.

“OK, we have a missing guy, two friends who say they know who's responsible. Only they don't 'know' who's responsible. He had no money to speak of, so we need to check on the usual stuff; gambling debts, drugs, unsafe sex.”

She was interrupted by the arrival of two Detectives. Jansson and Ives. Jansson was short and stocky, blonde hair peppered with gray and thinning on the top. He had a good smile, and Kiwi relaxed slightly.

Ives was younger, maybe 28. She was a an inch and a half or so taller than Kiwi, at least five ten. And she was drop dead beautiful. Long thick brown hair, straight from a Pantene commercial. Fit, toned and tan. Green eyes, and a mouth so full it was just...wrong. Everyone must have been staring, the woman looked out of place in the dingy precinct.

If there is a god, Kiwiphile thought, this woman will be a complete dope, or a bitch, or both.

Detective Ives was neither.

“I see you met pig-pen,” Det. Ives said, after the round of handshakes.

Kiwi noticed the female detective checking out Willmore, and Kiwi tried to ignore the burning feeling it gave her. If there was one fight she was always afraid of joining, it was this kind.

Agent Willmore, in turn, was giving Det. Ives an appraising look.

“The name suits him, if you mean Mueller,” Kiwi said.

“That’s him,” replied Jansson. “Listen, we just got a couple of John Does that match your guy, thought you'd like to check them out. Bodies are pretty bad, but one of them could be Elstree. County coroner's only a few blocks from here and Ives and I can drive you.”

Kiwi was about to open her mouth and ask who wanted to go when Willmore stepped forward. “I'll go.”

“Sure,”  Kiwi replied. And she watched him fall into step with Katherine Ives as they left the office. Genetics, Kiwi thought, was a bitch.

Samantha and Sara were busying themselves by filling the pin-boards. The remainder of the team spent the next hour making a list of all the evidence so far.

“We need to interview his workmates, and try to track his family,” Kiwi said, a strange kind of heaviness had settled on her. She was paying for her mistakes, she guessed, and should be keeping work and play separate. “Sam, why don't we run his social security through the database, and then we can all head down to the store together.”

“Should we wait for Willmore?”

“Nah, he can catch up, if he wants to.”

Was it just Samantha‘s imagination, or was Kiwi straining a little too hard to maintain her casual attitude at that moment? Sam mentally bumped up the time table for their little heart-to-heart chat, but she turned towards Sara. "What was your impression of Rachel Montgomery?" Sam asked. "Did you show Kiwi the sheet we picked up from her?"

"Do you think she's behind it?" Sara retrieved their copy of the document. The paper had been sent to forensics, but the FBI team didn't believe they'd get much information from it. Anyone with a printer could make a unique-looking announcement.

"My first instinct is that she's telling us the truth," Samantha replied, "that she IS frightened. I don't think she's telling us every blessed thing she knows, though."

"What do you think about the vampire aspect?" Kiwi pursued as they were checking the address for the store.

"Well, we can't overlook the fact that since Tony, our missing suspect, worked at the store where the notice was posted, it's possible that he is responsible for posting the notice and arranging his own disappearance."

Sara and Kiwi just looked at Sam. "I didn't say I believed that," Samantha quickly defended her statement. "I just said it was possible. A lot of things are possible right now."

Before they had a chance to leave the station, Kiwi's cell phone rang. "Kiwi."

"Hey, sweetheart. You're in my city and didn't phone me to say hi?" Kiwi knew the voice on the other end at once, and she also knew he was just sarcastic-kidding.

"Scham, hey."

"Information about this case came directly to my office. Don't tell me you forgot I'm the only Agent assigned to the Y Files who lives in New York."

"Well, so many things have happened... By the way, that liquor from your country... I had a time with it!"

"Tequila? I must say I'm proud of it. You know something?, in Mexico you can buy a bottle for less than 5 dollars... Here it's about 20. Anyway I just wanted you to know that you can count me in."

"Well, you know the city and that will be useful," Kiwi replied.

"Role playing game says here... I know something about it... God, this transition is driving me crazy. Look there's a situation in Brooklyn I have to handle. A religious fanatic seems to be storing some kinda toys. Give me a call later and let me know what I can do."

"Sounds nice to me."

"By the way, is Sam here?"

"Well, she was assigned, but don't dream. She's going out with a Doctor in D.C. You had your chance back in Boston, man!"

"Never mind. May be I'll be able to invite her to a nice restaurant here... OK You've got my number. I'll contact Washington to tell SAC Jadzia I'll help you."

"Fine Scham, see ya."

"Bye," Kiwi closed the connection. 

As the agents headed downstairs, Samantha found herself warming to the topic. "I'll be interested to see if one of the bodies does belong to Tony. That way we can see what kind of vampires we're dealing with."

"What *kind* of vampires?" Sara looked at her curiously.

"You know," Sam paused to smile at the plainclothes officer who held open an outer door for them. She knew he was a police officer just as she was certain he knew they were also law enforcement professionals. She turned back to look at Sara and Kiwi. "Whether these vampires are blood-drinkers, psychic vampires, or full-fledged psychotics. If one of the bodies does turn out to belong to Tony Elstree, and the body has visible cuts or puncture marks, that could help identify the mindset of the killer or killers."

On the street Sam flagged down a passing cab. "C'mon, guys. I know we're going to need to pick up a rental car pretty soon, but I hate driving in New York City. Can we take a taxi until then?"

Climbing into the cab, Kiwi’s mind was preoccupied.  Right now, all that mattered was the case, and finding Tony Elstree. To avoid having to make friendly chit-chat, she decided to make some calls.

Kiwi hated calling him with such a mundane job, but she knew Scham would be glad to make contact with them, and he had offered to help...

“Hi Scham, its Kiwi again.”

“Hi, want do you want?”

“I wondered if you could organize us some cars from the local office. We need two at least. By the end of today.”

“Sure, sure, shall I call you to come pick them up?”

“Uh-huh. Samantha and Sara can get them. I have a lot of paperwork to do.”

“Oh, well in that case, I'll make sure I'm here to deliver the keys myself.” He laughed warmly and hung up. Kiwi hoped he did ask Sam out to dinner. One of them should have something resembling a normal personal life, she thought.

Kiwi had hardly pressed the 'end' button when the phone rang again. “Kiwi.”

“I have to meet with you.”

“Pardon?” The voice was low, and talking fast. She could hardly make out the words. Kiwi put a finger in one ear and turned her head away from the cab driver’s insane music.

“I have to see you. I can't talk long.”

“Who is this?” Kiwi kept her voice calm, but firm.

“Meet me tonight. Jimmy’s Bar, 53 Christopher, 9 p.m. You must come alone.”

“I can't do that, I have to bring some-”

“Alone. And try not to look like a cop.”

“Who is this? What is this regarding?”

“I have some information about Tony--” He stopped, and she heard a static sound, then the line went dead.

“Hello? Hello?” No good, Kiwi hoped it was just her cell phone reception. They could do with some information right now. She looked at her watch. 3 p.m.

Sara and Samantha were still waiting to hear what that was. Kiwi smiled, but it could wait. They would have to talk shop soon enough. She was just about to say as much when her phone rang again. This time, Sara tapped on the glass divider and got the music turned off. Flashing her badge helped.

“Kiwi.”

“Hey, its Ives.”

“Oh, you have a result already?”

“Not conclusive. Willmore is going over the main stuff with the medical examiner now. I get kind of queasy in these places. The only thing we know is that its unlikely that either of these are Tony. Once what was left of the skin was cleaned up, there weren't enough tattoos.”

“Well, that’s one good thing for Tony. Any idea how they died?”

“That'll take a while. They'd been under a turned over dumpster for a few days. It kind of acted like an...oven. It's pretty gross.”

Kiwi sympathized. She was about to tell Ives that she'd come over after 4 and check out the bodies herself, when Det. Ives broke into Kiwi’s thoughts.

“Hey, this Willmore guy, is he married?”

Oh crap. Was it some kind of disease? “Uh, well as his SAC I don't really think-”

“Oh god, you're his boss?” Ives was laughing. “Sorry, you seemed a little young to be. Oh heck. I just insulted you. I meant you look young, but you don't seem immature. I'd ask him, but married guys sometimes can be a little flexible on the subject, y'know?”

“Well, Agent Willmore is completely honest-”

“Forget about it, I'm not going to run away with him. I was just curious. Detectives you know, always interrogating.”

Despite herself, Kiwi liked Katherine Ives. She was friendly, and considering the job she had, she wasn't cynical. Kiwi had put her hand to my head, shielding her eyes from the sun. It also acted as a handy barrier from the others. “That’s fine.” Kiwi paused. “Is Willmore there?”

“Hang on.”  Kiwi heard Ives yelling, “Hey, Willmore! Boss wants a word.” Kiwi heard him reply. A muffled conversation. Then Ives was back on the line. “He said he'll call in a couple of minutes. He needs to wash up his hands.”

When the call ended Kiwi felt a little strange. It was probably nothing, it was definitely nothing. But why did she feel like she was just kept from talking to him? Kiwi shivered a little. There was something off kilter about this case already. She felt like it was slipping through her fingers. It was unlike her to be overly concerned about personal matters, no matter how urgent. Kiwi made a note to take a moment to herself this evening. She had a feeling that whatever it was, it would find her in silence.

The cab dropped the FBI agents off outside the store, and they filed in. The crowd parted like the red sea, ahhh: the power of suits and trench coats in multiple formation.

The shop was busy, and even though most of the staff were willing to help Kiwi could see that it was going to take a long time to interview them all. She pulled Samantha to one side after about an hour.

“Listen, I hate to leave you two in the lurch, but I have to get back to the hotel. I want to catch up with some work, and leave myself enough time to get ready for my meeting.”

She nodded, “Sure, Sara & I will pick up the cars from Scham on the way. We should meet later, before you go to Jimmy’s.”

“Definitely. How about Dwyer's Brothers pub? Its not far from the station, and I heard Jansson mention it had good cheap meals. Say around seven?” Samantha was noting the address down as Kiwi looked around. “Tell Willmore for me, could you?”

Kiwi left and went straight to the motel. No Comity this time. But it was pretty much the same; kind of like an up market 'Y'. Kiwi punched the seventh floor button and leaned back onto the wall. She had to get her s**t together.

Seeing herself in the mirror on the doors, she realized that she looked pale, tired. It had been five weeks since Johnny Two hands had wrapped up. She had spent that time flying between DC and Boston, making court appearances, tidying up evidence. Her body was rebelling. The night before had been the first time they had all managed to be together since Gunson's funeral, and Kiwi had been disturbed at how quickly she had managed to let the impromptu wake turn into a fairly major drinking session.

Kiwi walked into the room, throwing her coat on the bed and sitting down. She flicked on the TV for company, and spread the contents of her case around herself. Kicking off her shoes, Kiwi closed her eyes and just let her mind settle. All that was wrong, she told herself, was stress. Kiwi needed to make sure she dealt with things more clearly. Before they crept up on her.

She looked at her diary, flipping back through the weeks since Gunson’s death. Give yourself a break, Kiwi, she admonished. She should take Dr Schuman's advice and get away for a while. After this case, Kiwi answered myself. The dates were tickling at her mind. She wondered if there was some appointment she had forgotten, and had started to read back through when the news came on. Damn, it was 6 p.m. already, and she had to change.

Kiwi pulled out her case and flipped the lid. Try not to look like a cop he had said. She surveyed the clothes in despair. Suit, suit and suit. All of them screaming 'hello, I work for the FBI'. She didn't know what kind of a bar Jimmy's was, so she rejected the jeans. Kiwiphile had one dress with me, a red shift thing with a black mesh over-dress. She pulled it out. It was probably too fancy, and she wasn't sure why she had bought it. She never went anywhere where she wore this kind of stuff.

 
Kiwiphile had half planned to take in a show while she was in town, and had thrown it in the case at the last minute. She pulled it on, and put on evening make-up. Kiwi gave herself a glance in the mirror. Not bad, she was no Katherine Ives, but she scrubbed up OK. The dress clung to her, and she threw on a long soft black jacket. Kiwi wasn't in the mood for pick up lines at the bar.

She walked to the elevator, adjusting her gait to the heels. She knew they made her legs look better, but they were the most impractical things on the earth. Heels and snap teddys. God’s revenge on woman-kind. Kiwi was halfway to ground floor when she remembered why dates were important. There was something she had missed. Something so mundane and obvious that she couldn't believe it. Kiwi watched her face turn even paler in the mirror, and pushed the discovery to the very bottom of her mind. ‘Time for work,’ she thought, ‘I can deal with this bombshell later.’

Dwyer’s was on West 42nd Street. It was a cozy and bustling Irish 'pub'; although to Kiwi it looked nothing like the pubs she was familiar with. More like a big cafe style restaurant with brick walls, booths an a bar at one end. Kiwi felt homesick suddenly. For a quiet old pub with a fire and a glass of beer, a couple of friends to play cards with. She spotted Samantha waving at her and wandered over.

Samantha and Sara looked Kiwi up and down. “Well,” said Samantha, “Just who is it that you said you were meeting?”

Kiwiphile shrugged, noting that Willmore wasn't there yet. “Mystery man. Am I overdressed? He said not to look like a cop.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, apart from the gun in your bag, you do *not* look like a cop.”

Samantha shoved a menu across. “We ordered already.”

Kiwi looked at it. “No, thanks. I'm not really feeling hungry.”

Sara looked at her. “You OK? You look sick.”

“Yeah, I'm just tired. I'm not used to drinking that much. I must be getting old I guess.”

Sara nodded in agreement. “Oh yeah, you are ancient--”

Sam dug her in the ribs, and suggested that they fill Kiwi in on the afternoons interviews. Kiwiphile half listened to them, the facts bouncing in and then straight out of her head. “I think you should shove a file under my door tonight. I can't seem to retain all this.”

It was just after 8:00 Willmore arrived. “Hey. Sorry I'm late. Did I miss anything?”

Sam had nearly finished her meal, “We ordered already.”

He sat down. “That’s OK, Katherine and I had something to eat earlier.”

*Katherine and I* the voice in Kiwi’s head was petty. She squashed it and stood up suddenly, “Time to go, I'll see you guys later.”

He looked at Kiwi in surprise. “Where to? And why are you dressed like that?”

“It pays to be on time for meetings, Agent.” She was already walking out and threw a reply over her shoulder, “Fill him in, will you Sam?”

Samantha watched Kiwi leave the bar with a slow, deliberate walk which caught not only Willmore's eye, but the serious stare of several other male patrons as well.

Sara and Sam exchanged amused glances as Craig continued to stare after Kiwi's departing backside. "Agent Willmore," Samantha spoke in a teasing manner. "Earth to Agent Willmore."

"Yeah, right," he turned back around and then stared at Sam. "Is she mad at me?"

"Well, you were late," Sara replied after a long moment.

Sam didn't add what Sara and she both already understood. Craig had been late to arrive for their meeting because he had been with 'Katherine' -- not even bothering to refer to her as Detective Ives. Both women also both knew that Willmore would never understand the basic concept involved, so neither of them attempted an explanation.

"Late for what?" Craig protested. "I didn't realize this was a formal meeting."

"What did you learn from the bodies?" Sam changed the subject.

"Neither body belonged to our missing man. Katherine says that the homicide rate here in New York City is incredible, but sometimes due to the high influx of tourists and indigents, it's easy to increase the total for awhile before anyone files a missing persons report. So while they couldn't ID the bodies while I was there, they are positive that neither man was Tony Elstree."

"We went to the shop where Tony worked," Sara replied. As she started to go into a list of what little information we had learned from Tony's co-workers, Sam spotted a familiar face entering the bar.

"There's Scham," she waved him over.

"I didn't realize he was on the case," Willmore half turned and then slid over to make room for Scham to join them.

"Hello everyone," Scham nodded as he sat down. "Where's Kiwi?"

"She had a meeting with a potential informant," Samantha replied.

"Kiwi? A meeting? Who was it?" Craig's head turned back towards Samantha, his eyes staring  at her intently.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "She was contacted by an man claiming to have informa--"

"And you just let her go?" Craig was almost in Sam’s face. "Alone? What if it's the same guy who's responsible for our missing person?"

"Agent Malone is quite capable of taking care of herself," Scham observed as he tried to get the attention of a passing waiter. "I've always been impressed with her ability to handle any situation."

Craig didn't reply.

"So what do you think?" Samantha turned towards Scham after he ordered a drink. "What kinds of vampires haunt the Big Apple?"

"There are all kinds of cults and groups in this city," Scham replied seriously. "There's a significant Goth element as well as every variation on that theme which you can imagine." He thought for a moment. "There are a couple of groups which might bear investigating in connection with this case."

"Wonderful," Sara replied.

The waiter brought Scham's drink. Craig ordered another beer, and Sara did the same. Sam asked for a refill on her coffee, and they sat for awhile, comparing notes and observations on the case and its suspects thus far.

When the waiter came by again, Sam passed on another refill and started to slide out of the table. Scham instantly rose to his feet just as she stood. "Leaving so soon?" he inquired as she reached for her coat.

"Yes, I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day." Samantha shrugged. "Don't ask me why. Hunch, maybe," she smiled as Scham held her coat. "A gentleman. Thanks."

"Do you want a ride back to your hotel?" Scham inquired, still looking at her.

"I'll walk, but thanks," Sam smiled again and turned to Sara. "If you guys want to map out a plan for us for tomorrow, that would be great. I need to think through the information which we have so far. See you all at breakfast?"

"Nahh, let's go," Sara suddenly slid out of her seat as well. "I'll drive, come on."

As I pulled back into the parking lot of the motel, Sara turned to Sam.  "Hey, I'm just going to drop you guys off. I'll be back in a few minutes, there's an errand I want to run."

Samantha gave Sara an odd look before stepping out of the car along with everyone else.  Sam  said good night to everyone and headed for the elevator. Reaching the floor where their rooms were located, Samantha knocked when she reached Kiwi's room, but there was no reply. She wrote a quick note for Kiwi to call when she got in, and she slipped it beneath the door.

Walking along the carpeted hallway, Samantha reached her own room and went inside. She turned up the heat slightly and then took off her coat. Pulling her laptop computer over to the bed, Sam flipped on the television and then sat down to start working on her case notes thus far.

About 20 minutes later, Sara returned, knocking on Samantha's door.  "Look what I got!" Sara exclaimed, quite proud of herself.

Sam stared at her as she dumped an armful of dowel rods on the bed. "Uh, what are those for?"

"Wooden stakes! You know, for the vampires!" Sara grinned.

Sam shook her head and sighed. "You don't *really* believe we're going to find vampires, do you?"

"Well, no,” Sara said, sitting down. "But I thought they'd cheer Kiwi up. She seems a bit down after meeting Miss what's-her-face."

Samantha nodded.

"And besides, you can never be *too* careful, right?" Sara said, getting up.

"Sara," Sam started, picking up one of the flimsy and not sharp rods, "First of all... ugh. Never mind."

"Here, keep a couple. Just in case." Sara, grinning like an idiot,  handed Samantha a fistful of rods, before heading back to her own room.

"Hey," the voice came from behind Sara in the hallway.

Sara turned, aiming her stake so quickly, that Scham had to make an acrobatic effort to avoid the attack.

"Easy girl, It's just me, Scham your teammate! I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh, sorry Scham," Sara said with a little smile on her face.

"Hey" he heard Sam's voice.

"Hi,” Scham replied. "What's this?"  He examined one of Sam's stakes. "You're not telling me that..." Both women were firmly looking at him, specially Sara. "Is this for what I think it...?"

Sara nodded.

"Yeah, I should've guessed." Scham finally said.

"Sara wants to cheer Kiwi up," Sam said. "She's been a little... different."

"Yes. I haven't seen her since Boston, but she didn't sound nice on the phone."

"Well," Sara suddenly said. "I must continue my way back to my room, see ya guys."

Sara left Scham alone with Sam.

 -Great, now what? You've better had a plan-  Scham said to his insides. "Sam, would you...?" He was nervous, he wasn't able to finish his phrase.

"Yes?"

"Would you... do you have some of those forms used every time a gun is fired?"  - What??? What was that???-  he thought. He couldn't believe what he’d just said.

"Sure." She entered her room and appeared a few seconds later. “Here.”

"Thanks. Well, phone me if you need anything, OK?" he said before he began his way to the parking lot and then to the Hudson River to commit suicide. Suddenly he stopped. "Hey, Sam!" he said at last.

"Yes, Scham?"

"When this thing comes to an end... a happy end I mean... Would you like to come and have dinner with me?" Scham couldn't believe he’d finally managed to said that. He made his best effort to hide his blushes.

"Well... Sure. Why not?"

"OK, see you later."  - God I need a beer -  Scham said to himself while opening the car's door.

He fast dialed Kiwi.

"Kiwi."

"Hi, Kiwi."

"Scham, where are you?"

"At the motel. There's this thing... I'll tell you about it later. And you, have you made any progress in this?"

"Well, it's certainly an obscure case," Kiwi replied.

"Yeah, I've seen the stakes Sara has."

"Sara has what???"

"Oh, never mind, you'll see later. Look, if you have time why don't you meet me at my office. There are some pictures I would like you to see. I think these disappearances might be connected with some killings from an early unsolved case here in the big apple."

"Well, I've to do some things first, but I would like to check those files."

"OK, boss, see you there."

After hanging up Scham started driving towards the field office, singing "I want to be a part of it..."

*************

As soon as Sara heard Scham leave, she raced back to Samantha's room. "Well?" Sara asked.

"What?" Samantha said, looking up at her nonchalantly.

Sara balled her fists, held them close to her chest, and looked up at the ceiling while jumping around and screaming exasperatedly. Samantha seemed unfazed.

"What?" Sam said, a little more crossly this time.

"You know what! Did he ask you out or not? You know he's been dying to for about a million years."

Samantha tried to pull off the nonchalance some more, but she let a small smile slip.

"He did!" Sara shouted, jumping onto the bed and nearly knocking Sam over. "I knew it! What did you say? You said yes, you did or you wouldn't be smiling!" Samantha smiled a tiny bit more, putting her laptop on the nightstand before Sara knocked it over. "What about Mr. Doctor guy? Jeez, you have *two* guys going after you, and I can't even get one!"

Sara fell backward on the bed, laying down in a great heap. "Well, I bet I coulda had one of those 14 year olds on the street today, but you know."

"You know, Agent Zeuty," Sam said, "some of us are trying to work."

Sara rolled over onto her stomach and flipped through the file Sam was holding. "Want some help?" Sara offered.

Samantha shook her head. "No, I want to go through this myself, in my own mind. I have a little better clarity that way."

Sara nodded. "Alright. Have fun. I suppose I ought to be doing the same thing."

She padded softly back to her own room, and unlocked the door. It was absolutely freezing. And the TV was on. "Huh." She mumbled to myself, "That's odd." Sara hadn't turned the television on since she'd came in.

She found the remote on the floor, under the bed. The only thing I could think of was that a very large rat had crawled over the power button, thereby turning on the television. Sara shuddered. She didn't mind rodents, as long as they weren't loose and waiting to surprise her somewhere. She just hoped it wasn't a large cockroach. "Or a vampire." She chuckled to herself. Then she stopped. Actually she'd rather it be a vampire than a large cockroach.

Then Sara noticed that the window was open. "What the hell?" she said out loud. She double checked to make sure she was even in the right room. She must have left it open, or something...

Sara shut the window, turned up the heat a bit, and changed out of her work clothes. She looked at her watch, hoping Kiwi would be back soon. She decided to leave Kiwi a message to call when she got back, only to notice Sam had done the same thing. Kiwi had turned them both into worry warts.

Going back into her own room, Sara crawled under the covers, and got online to do a little research. She came across several vampire cults. The basis of most of them seemed to be that by drinking the lifeblood of other creatures, they would increase their own lifetimes. There were several instances of human blood drinking, but most seemed to center around animals. A lot took it to the extreme: sleeping in coffins and having their canines capped and sharpened. Sleeping during the day. Weird stuff.

Sara also came across one rather amusing case in which a bunch of students were tripping on acid, decided that they were in fact vampires, and began attacking people on the streets trying to bite their necks. They were arrested after about an hour, no serious injuries were incurred.

"Kids," she sighed, shaking her head. Sara started back on thinking about Rachel Montgomery, wondering if she had told them everything.

************

Jimmy's was packed. A mostly well dressed crowd of men. Agent Kiwi Malone guessed pretty fast that it was a gay bar. She laughed inwardly, and took off her jacket. At least she didn't have to worry about pick-up lines in here. Kiwi found a seat by the bar and ordered a drivers special. It arrived, a mixture of fruit juices in a waisted glass incongruously topped with an umbrella. She guessed that her appointment would know her, since she had no idea what he looked like.

She felt rather than saw someone slide onto the stool beside her. “Lets go.”

Kiwi turned as he put an arm on hers, gripping it firmly and gazing into her eyes. She stared back. He had beautiful eyes, ice blue. Almost violet in the light from the bars lamps. His hair was long, hanging loose on his shoulders. White hair. He was dressed in an expensive black suit, high collared. Armani. Kiwi let him steer her out of the bar and into a waiting car. This was not like her, she thought, and she tensed at the door. Kiwiphile didn't intend getting into a shaded black Mercedes with a complete stranger right now.

“Trust me,” was all he said. And for some unknown reason, she did.

 The car pulled away from the curb, and Kiwi surveyed her 'abductor' more fully as he sat opposite. He was pale, but not unnaturally so. Tall, refined features, smooth skin. His coloring made him look young, but his eyes told a different story. Each time Kiwi looked at those eyes, she would find herself mesmerized.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. The lenses were shaded blue, allowing enough light through to see his eyes, but diminishing the distracting effect they were having on Kiwi. She sat and waited, content to let him tell her why she was here. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice told her that she shouldn't be content, that she should open the door and roll out of the car now. Kiwi ignored it.

“My name is Gabriel.”

She started somewhat at his voice. Deep and melodious, he spoke with no effort, his diction perfect. She couldn't place the accent, perhaps European, with a covering of American.

“I have something to tell you. Something that concerns your investigations. You must undertake to tell no-one about these matters. I will not allow myself to become implicated. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but I will have to tell my-”

“If you would trust them with your life, then do so. But the consequences of them passing it on to another, and they to another...These are things you do not wish to know of. I can promise you that it would be a mistake.”

“Fair enough. I will be circumspect.”

“Good. There is currently a power struggle in motion. A certain number of groups are involved. I am trying to prevent it from going further. It would not be good for...my people...if it continued. You are involved in something beyond your understanding. These groups and factions are as old as civilization, and will not hesitate to wipe you from the face of the earth if you confront them. One such group has Mr. Elstree. I have no feelings one way or the other about his fate. However the method of his recruitment has been too open. This group risks exposure. It is impossible to maintain order in a society if anarchy if given rein.”

Kiwi was confused, what the hell was this guy saying? “I'm afraid you've lost me, are we talking about some kind of gang activity?”

“Yes, and no. There are certain...leaders...in this city. Each of them is responsible for a number of minions. These underlings hunt for them, provide for them, obey them. One such leader has gone too far, and is attracting unwanted attention. I want you to help me destroy this man. Methusula. He calls himself Adrian.”

“Ah, OK. So you're telling me that there is a massive unknown group of rival gangs and tribes operating in the city. Each one lead by someone who acts as a kind of 'king' and the rest do their bidding? And that one of them, Adrian, has started advertising for members and getting  noticed?”

“Yes, but you have left out the important part.”

“What, that none of this makes any sense?”

“No, that the leaders I have talked of are all Nosferatu.”

“Vampires?” Kiwi was starting to think that she had stumbled into the RPG myself. “So, are you a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don't you stop all this yourself? Change into a bat and sneak up on them?” She was getting exasperated. Charismatic or not, this man talked like a raving lunatic.

“Because it must not be known that I have helped you, or become involved.”

“Or you'll be in trouble?”

“No, they think that I am dead. And I prefer to keep it that way, for now.”

“Well, I need more information. A lot more.”

“I will contact you. For now, try this address.” He passed her a card. It looked like an address for a warehouse. Jelcich Fisheries, Brooklyn. “Go during the day. And do not go alone.”

The car stopped, and Kiwi watched as it sped away. Whoever he was, at the moment he was the only solid lead they had. She made a note of the plate, and seeing a drugstore open she went in to grab some paper. The pharmacist gave her an odd look. Kiwi guessed a gun toting Federal Agent in a short red dress was fairly odd.

He gave Kiwi a scrap of paper, and she remembered something else she needed.

“Do you have any-” She stopped, seeing what she was looking for. “Never mind, I see them.”

“Six ninety.” His face was impassive. Kiwi guessed he dealt with awkward customers every night.

She made her purchase and shoved the paper bag as deep into her purse as she could. Better to keep this little transaction secret. Kiwi looked at her watch. Eleven thirty. My god, she had spent two and a half hours in that car, but she could only remember a thirty minute conversation, at most.

Kiwi pulled her jacket hard around herself and got her bearings, her heels clicking against the pavements as she walked home for the night. Vampires. She shook my head. This game, if that's what it was, seemed to be bigger than they had imagined. It may be a good time to give Mulder a call.

Kiwi returned to the motel, arriving just after midnight. Too late to call Scham she thought, so she simply left him a message on his office voicemail, telling him to meet for breakfast. Then Kiwi dialed Samantha’s room.

“Hello?” She sounded awake, but sleepy.

“Hi, Sam, it’s Kiwi.”

“Do you know what time it is? I was starting to worry. How did it go?”

“Well, I think.” Kiwi sat on the bed, uncertain of what she wanted to say. “I can tell you about it in the morning, if you prefer...” She let it trail off, thinking about the time she couldn't account for in the car. It was worrying her. She put her bag on the table and the package from the drugstore fell out.

Another worry.

“.....you still there? What's up?”

“Sorry, I have a....I've got something on my mind...”  This was lame Kiwi thought. She should get some sleep.

“Hang on, I'll come to your room. I want to give you the interview transcript anyway, I just finished it.”

Kiwi kicked off her shoes and fell back on the bed. Not one of her better days. There was a tap at the door. She let Samantha in, and Sam threw the case file down on the table, turning to Kiwi. “OK, you and I are going to talk.” Sam looked firm, and Kiwi sat down.

Samantha pulled up a chair and leaned forward. “Why don't you start by telling me what's wrong? You're not usually this quiet, or serious, or distracted.”

“Oh, I guess its just...everything. Gunson. That case.” Kiwi leaned back and sighed. “I'm tired I suppose.”

“That's enough, you've been using Gunson as your conversation stopper for a while now, and I don't buy it. There’s something else going on, isn't there? Something personal.”

Kiwi didn't answer, but she must have flushed a little. She wasn't about to lie outright, and she didn't want to let Sam lead it out of her.

Samantha stood up and paced, the way she always did when she was working. Kiwi was doomed, she realized. Sam would figure it all out and there was no way to stop her.

Sensing that Kiwiphile was having difficulty speaking about the matter, Sam decided to approach it the old fashioned way...in small steps. "So what did you talk about with your informant? Who is he? He must have told you a ton of stuff as long as you were gone."

Kiwiphile shook her head. "That's another thing! I know I was gone for some time, but..."

"But what?" Sam prompted gently.

"But I can't remember --" Kiwi looked at Sam, a confusing blend of emotions fighting for control on her face. "It's as if I just can't remember having been there for part of the meeting."

Sam looked at her sharply, but she listened attentively as Kiwi filled her in on the details which she could remember. "Damn," Samantha whispered as Kiwi finished. "I was hoping that this case would just involve a little case of college-age kids thinking that they want to try something new and bizarre."

Samantha stood still for a moment, and then turned. "At least these rooms are larger than the Comity's for pacing."

Normally, that would have been a cue for Kiwiphile to make a comment about Sam’s work habits, but Kiwi was still silent and somewhat withdrawn. Okay.  Time for the next step.

"I'm glad that Scham's on the case with us. He seems like he knows a lot about the city and some of its darker subcultures." Sam paused and then continued. "He's a bit different from Craig, though, don't you think?"

Kiwi looked up, and Sam could just see her expression as it changed. Sam continued. "Of course, I don't know Craig that well--"

"I do," Kiwi suddenly blurted out.

"Well, yes, I know you've worked more closely with Craig on cases than I have, but I was thinking on a more personal level --"

"So was I."

Samantha paused. "Well, I didn't quite mean having drinks at the bar, although I suppose that is more personal than some of us ever get within the Bureau. I meant --"

"I wasn't talking about just having drinks or dinner." Kiwi hesitated and then plunged ahead. "That last night we were in Boston, when Craig and I were together..."

Kiwiphile looked straight at her, and Sam had to think for a moment. AD Skinner would probably never have a conversation like this with any of his agents, but Samantha wasn't AD Skinner. She felt her forehead wrinkling slightly as she continued, "So, you're saying that you two have--"

"Yes." Kiwi was suddenly staring hard at the floor, but Sam couldn't interpret the part of her expression which she could see. Was Kiwi happy about the relationship? Was she embarrassed that she felt the need to confide in someone?

"OK, well you're both consenting adults. If you need to talk about it, about what it might mean officiall--”

'There are some things you don't pack, y'know?" Kiwi cut into her words abruptly. "Stuff that in the heat of the...' Her voice trailed off as Sam looked really confused now.

"I'm late."

Samantha automatically looked at her watch. "You've got another meeting? At this hour? Is that---"

"No, I mean 'I'm Late''. Kiwi was staring at Sam’s face, and suddenly the meaning dawned on her.

"Oh brother." For the first time in a long time, Samantha was at a complete loss for what to say. She stopped pacing, though, and sat down beside Kiwi. "Well, don't worry." Kiwi looked at her, but Sam nodded her head firmly. "I mean it. You know your secret is safe with me, and perhaps you're just--"

::knock, knock, knock::

Samantha nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected sound. "I'll get it," she gave Kiwi a little squeeze on the arm before she rose to walk to the door.

"It's probably just Sara. You know she's a regular night owl sometimes
and --" Samantha opened the door and there stood Craig Willmore.

"Why, Agent Willmore," she nearly gasped, but Sam tried to cover her surprise as best she could. She looked from Craig to Kiwi and back to Craig.

"Is she back?" Craig looked down at Samantha.

"She's here," Sam nodded and stepped aside as Craig entered the room and seemed to forget the SAC’s presence.

"Are we finished?" Sam gestured towards Kiwi who gave her a slight wave of the hand. "We'll talk more tomorrow, Kiwi. Okay?"

"Thanks, Sam," Kiwi suddenly smiled at her, despite the fact that Willmore was already reciting chapter and verse to her about departmental procedures when meeting unknown informants.

"Anytime." Sam closed the door gently behind her as she left.

Craig continued his lecture for another five minutes after Samantha left. Kiwi was surprised, he must have memorized the entire rules book, including the index.

“Another thing,” he said as he paced, “I'm your partner. You should have called me. Arranged to have someone nearby.” He stopped, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

At least he had stopped pacing, Kiwi was worried that between him and Samantha, the carpet would be worn bare.

“I did call you,” she said. Kiwi was truly tired now, and she rested her head in her hand as she spoke. “At least, I tried to talk to you, but you were busy. And you never returned the call. And,” she held up a hand to stop him from interrupting, “I asked Samantha to fill you in. You were an hour late for the meeting. I had to go.”

He was looking at her, confused. “I didn't say I'd call you.”

“Yes you did, when I was talking to Ives. She called right after I spoke with the informant, and she said you were busy. I heard her talk to you.”

He shook his head. “I don't remember.” He sat on the end of the bed. “Strange.”

Kiwi looked at him. In five weeks they had hardly seen each other. There was an awkwardness between them. “Not to worry, I'm fine, as you can see.”

“Well you don't look fine to me. You look tired. What was your meeting with Jaythree about?”

Kiwiphile yawned. “Stuff, I'll tell everyone tomorrow. There's been a break in the case, of sorts.”

He nodded, still not moving. Kiwi thought about the test kit in her purse, wondered if she should say anything, and then decided that at one in the morning she wasn't about to trust her judgment. It was time for sleep.

Craig was still watching, making her nervous. “We have a lot of things to talk about.”

“Not now, I need to sleep. Tomorrow, all will be revealed tomorrow.”

 
Kiwi stifled another yawn and stood up. She wasn't going to do anything but crawl into bed and collapse.

He stood as well, stepping a little closer. “That's not what I meant.”

She put her arm on his. “I know. Just...not now, OK? Partner?”

“OK, partner.” He gave her a light kiss on the forehead.

When he was gone, Kiwi wished that she'd been more forthcoming. But it was better to wait until she was sure. Tomorrow, she thought, they had to go to that warehouse. Kiwi wanted to make sure she was able to keep focused. She threw the test kit in the bathroom, and crashed.

The bed felt empty, and Kiwi fell asleep hugging the pillow.

************

Early the next day Kiwiphile called everyone, including Scham, and asked them to grab breakfast to go and meet her at the office. She walked there herself, feeling like a breath of fresh air would do her good. She should have known better in New York. By the time Kiwi arrived at the Station, she felt worse than she had when she woke. She clutched her coffee, it was all she could face.

She was relieved that Pig Pen was nowhere to be seen, nor Jansson and Ives. They weren't on her list of people to trust yet, but she didn't want to have to tell them so. The others arrived together, and Kiwi stood at one end of the large table.

She told them all that she knew of the conversation in the car with Gabriel. By the time Kiwi had finished, they had abandoned their food and were staring at her.

Sara was first, “Do you think that this Gabriel guy really is...”

“A Vampire?” Kiwi finished for her. “I don't know. Whatever he is, he's certainly got access to money, and power. And we are dealing with a highly organized set of groups here. They may simply think that they are vampires and be behaving as such. That’s enough to make them a dangerous cult. And its clear that they have a hierarchy that's Byzantine in its complexity. We should need to learn as much as we can about the various factions to stay out of trouble. I think we may need to call in some more Agents, I'll get in touch with Elisheva today, see if anyone’s free to come out.”

Kiwi paused for a moment, rubbing her face. “I want to reiterate that Gabriel told me I should only tell people to whom I would trust my life.”

She looked around. “It goes without saying that each one of you in this room have that trust. However, it must go no further. No one else, and I mean no one, is to be told any of this.”

Craig sat forward, then back again. “That could be a problem.”

“Why?” asked Samantha, her face serious.

“I met Ives for breakfast this morning. She called me at the hotel.” He looked around at the assembled agents, “I only told her what I knew. Which wasn't much. She knows there was an informant, and that you have a lead on Elstree. Anyway, they are working the case with us.”

He looked down at the table. Sara, Scham and Samantha were open mouthed. Sara put hers to use first.  “You just blabbed to her? Like she was one of us? What were you thinking with, your--”

Kiwi interrupted her lecture. “Hey, hey, hey. Its early days. She doesn't know any details yet, so give the guy a break, huh?”

Just then Kiwi spotted the two Detectives coming into the office. Jansson went straight to his desk, but Ives waved, heading towards the room.

Kiwi snapped at Craig, “For gods sake delay her from coming in will you? And don't tell her anything else.” Kiwi knew they were working the case, but she wasn't about to hand them her life on a plate. When he had left, Samantha could contain herself no longer.

“What about that unaccounted for time? The time you were in the car with Gabriel?”

Kiwi didn't have an answer. It was as though a veil had been pulled over her mind. That thought gave her an idea, and she paced again. “You know, I think I may have been hypnotized at some point. I feel like there are things I know, but its not the right time to ...know them. I have these vague memories--” She stopped. Scham asked what was wrong.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I just had a flash. Gabriel telling me that a lot of the people who work for the leaders of these clans were humans. People in all walks of life. But especially people in positions of usefulness.”

Sara nodded, “Like people in hospitals for instance, or police stations?” She was looking out the window and they all followed her gaze. Willmore was sitting on the edge of Ives' desk, and they were laughing. Kiwi saw Ives’ hand rest on Craig’s thigh for a moment and Kiwi’s stomach clenched. There was something wrong here. Kiwi was acting like a crazy woman. And Craig never, never would've told anyone information willingly. She thought back to 48 hours before, and realized that she didn't know him anymore, as if a curtain had closed between them. Somehow Katherine had something to do with that, and Kiwi didn't believe it was just jealousy talking. She remembered the call yesterday. Ives had lied to her. Trouble was, Kiwi didn't know if anyone else would believe that. Especially not Sam, after what Kiwi had told her last night.

“I hate to say this guys, but there’s a potential problem brewing out there.” Samantha shot her a careful look. “I don't want anyone sharing anything with the PD until we know its safe.”

Craig and Ives were heading to the room now, Kiwi smiled as they came in, and made an effort to smile at Craig as well.

“Well, good morning,” Detective Ives said cheerily. “I hear there’s been a break on the case.”

Kiwi took a breath. “Yes, but I'm afraid that I can't tell you much more right now. Agent Willmore shouldn't have--”

She cut Kiwi off. “I know, he just explained. It's OK. But I wanted you all to know that you can trust me.” She was smiling that brilliant white smile, and Kiwi found myself drawn to Ives’ eyes. Green eyes. Without warning, Kiwi had another memory, and Gabriel’s voice came back to me.

<You will know them when you see them, but others may not be so fortunate. They have the power to control, but they are not of the undead. They can serve their masters better by walking abroad in daylight. You should not underestimate them. They have been selected for their ruthlessness.>

Kiwi shook my head, the way Ives was looking at her was disturbing. Kiwi put her hand on the table, to reach for her coffee, but spilled it instead. Sweat broke out on her upper lip, her heart was hammering. She saw a mental image of Katherine Ives and Craig together; naked. She closed her mind’s eye against it. Kiwi stared back at her, she had no intention of letting Ives into any of her secrets. There was a moment’s impasse and then Kiwi was aware when Ives pulled away, when she stopped whatever the hell it was she was doing.

Perhaps ten seconds had passed. Kiwi had no idea if anyone else had noticed. Samantha was approaching with a paper towel to clean up the coffee. Scham and Sara were looking at

Willmore suspiciously as he gazed at Katherine.

Katherine looked at Kiwi, and spoke.  “Are you all right Agent Malone? You look very pale.”

“Yes, I'm fine...  She stopped, suddenly wanting to be sick. She took a step forward and her  knees buckled. Samantha and Scham made to help and Kiwi waved them away. She made it into the bathroom just in time.

After she had finished throwing up, Kiwi bathed her face in water and looked in the mirror. Whatever Katherine Ives' game was, she would regret messing with Kiwi. Big time.

"Is Agent Malone feeling okay?" Detective Ives was suddenly at Samantha’s side, the picture of concerned friendliness. Sam found herself looking up at Ives and having a normal moment of rebellious thought -- WHY was everyone in the entire universe taller than Samantha Jaythree, except Agent Scully and maybe Frohike? -- when Sam found herself staring into Det. Ives' green eyes.

They were very much the same as Sam’s own, large green eyes, but where Sam’s were usually wide and watching everything that happened around her, Det. Ives' very expressive eyes seemed to have a mesmerizing force all their own. Sam almost felt as if the female detective  were trying to peer inside Sam’s mind for a moment, and she arched one eyebrow at the absurdity of the thought. The feeling persisted, and Sam suddenly felt chilled. She returned the  gaze in the same, steady manner in which Ives was staring at her. One second in time seemed to last an eternity, and then the spell was broken as Det. Ives looked away.

Samantha felt as if she had just won an Olympic medal. Whatever had happened, she had definitely mastered the moment, but there wasn’t time to analyze the strange experience. Instead she put on her best public relations face and replied, "Agent Malone has been putting in a lot of hours lately." Sam shrugged and said nothing further, turning slightly away from the New York police detective.

"Well, if you are going anywhere this morning which pertains to this case, I insist on coming along." Det. Ives still avoided looking at Samantha. "Craig, what was this location you mentioned?" Sam watched Ives turn towards Agent Willmore. Even Scham seemed mesmerized by this woman.

Sam exchanged a quick glance with Sara who spoke up before Craig could open his mouth.

"I'm afraid at this point that would reveal to much information from a confidential source," Sara replied flatly, and since she outranked both Craig and Scham there was little they could say in reply without provoking charges of insubordination.

Samantha added, "Agent Scham was telling us that there are possible cases within the Bureau's files of unsolved murders in New York City that might be related to our present investigation."

She started to turn and head towards the small bathroom off the meeting room. The retching noises had stopped, and Sam wanted to check on Kiwi. She sent Sara a look which Sam hoped Sara would interpret as 'please run interference for me' and without the slightest hesitation, Sara picked up on the silent plea.

"I just had a brilliant idea," Sara slapped one hand against her other palm. "Why didn't I think of it before?"

"What?" Scham asked, and as Samantha heard the others echoing his question, she quietly headed towards the bathroom. "Kiwi," she knocked softly on the door. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," came the reply.

Sam laughed softly. "Should I believe you?"

"Sam!" Sara's voice made Samantha turn back to look at her fellow SAC. "We're all headed out now, so you and Kiwi can have first look at the -- ah -- other place."

"Great," Sam nodded. "Be careful out there, guys, and please check in on a regular basis. AD Skinner would really love to have a case where his agents managed to follow procedure and protocol.

"Scham," Samantha added as she walked back towards the group, "what's a good spot where we could all meet? Say about 4pm?"

Scham seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then he replied, "There's a kind of club over in the Village where a lot of younger people meet. It's called Dark Moon, and it attracts a lot of the elements who could be involved in this case."

"I know it," Detective Ives nodded instantly. "It usually doesn't open until after sunset."

"Figures," Sara mumbled just loud enough to be heard.

"Okay, we meet at the Dark Moon about when? Half an hour after the sun goes down?"

"Remind me to change into a turtleneck," Sara commented to no one in particular as the others left the meeting room.

**************

"I think Katherine should come with us," Willmore said, as they left the building. He was glancing over his shoulder at Sara.

She turned around slowly to face him. "And why, Agent Willmore, do you think that?"

"Because when it comes down to it, it's her case."

Sara rolled her eyes. "What are you talking about? This case was assigned to us, in case you've forgotten."

"Yes, but I really think--"  Sara’s glare of death cut him off.  She glared over his shoulder at Katherine who turned and walked away. Sara didn't know what it was about that woman which had both Willmore and Scham hanging on her every word, and every glance, but it was really starting to piss Sara off.

"I.  Hate.  Everyone." Sara mumbled exasperatedly to herself.

Katherine Ives may have been captivating, but Sara’s death-glares hit people where they lived. Willmore and Scham followed silently behind SAC Zeuty to the car.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Scham asked.

"We're going back to talk to a witness. Ms. Montgomery. She was wearing a ring, and I just realized where I've seen the symbol on it before. Or should I say sigil. Then we're going to look into these unsolved cases of Scham's. Scham, you drive, I want to look some stuff up on my laptop."

They slid into the car, and Sara gave Scham the directions. He started driving, as she looked some stuff up, to make sure she was right before questioning Rachel again. As a picture loaded on my screen, Sara realized that I was. The ring she had been wearing was the sigil for the Temple of the Vampire, the only authentic, federally recognized vampire religion. So Rachel hadn't been telling them everything, after all. It may have just been what made her respond to the game, or it may have signaled some sort of involvement in the disappearance of our 'victim.'

Willmore's cell phone rang in the front seat, and he answered it. "Okay, we'll be right there." He said into it, hanging up.

"We'll be right where?" Sara asked, "What happened?"

"We're going to get Katherine. Apparently there's been a break in the case, that Kiwi didn't see fit to mention. Turn back, Scham."

Sara had a slightly sick feeling in her stomach. She wasn't sure exactly why. They had only gotten a few blocks away from the station, and were back in a couple minutes. Detective Ives was waiting for them, and she slid into the backseat next to Sara.

"What's going on?" Sara asked.

"Apparently your friend has found our missing person." Ives said.

"My friend? Oh, you must be referring to the SAC on this case." Sara said. Ives smiled at her. It pissed Sara off. In the front seat, Willmore was dialing his cell phone.

"Anyway. Looks like a murder,” Ives said. "Which means I have jurisdiction."

"You? Oh, you must mean the NYPD. Well, we certainly wouldn't mind helping out,” Sara said. Ives smiled at her again. Sara wanted to smack it off her face. Sara was in a very, very bad mood. Then she noticed Craig in the front seat, yelling at Kiwi.

**************

"Kiwi?" Sam knocked on the door of the precinct bathroom again. "All clear." She picked up the small, unopened carton of orange juice from her own breakfast and waved it in Kiwi's direction as she appeared. "And for Pete's sake, we've got to get something nutritional inside of you, regardless of what the situation may be."

Kiwiphile emerged from the bathroom only to be faced by a carton of juice being waved in her face. “Ugh,” was all she thought, but she knew that Sam was right, so Kiwi chugged it down dutifully.

“Thanks, Mum,” she managed to joke.

“That's enough of that,” Samantha replied in mock seriousness, before her face lightened. “But its good to hear a bit of the old you coming out.”

Kiwi grabbed her coat from the office. “Are we headed to the warehouse?”

“Yes, Sara has corralled Willmore, Scham and Ives. They're going to check on those 'related cases' of Scham's.”

They were driving through the midtown snarl when Samantha finally got around to asking what had happened.  “So, care to tell me what all that was about?”

“Ah, yes. Except I'm not sure myself. I just...” Kiwi wanted to make sure she sounded rational, so she phrased her words carefully, “call it a hunch, but Katherine Ives is bothering me. A lot.”

“She does seem to be quite a man-magnet. But I get the feeling that you don't mean that.”

“No, I won't deny that it sticks in my throat the way she fawns over Willmore. But that’s hardly surprising. It's not like we're...” Kiwi floundered, waving her hands futilely. “I recalled something else that Gabriel told me. While she was staring at me. He had said that sometimes we would encounter people who worked for the clan leaders. And that these people had certain...abilities. For persuasion, of a sort. He also said that they were usually ruthless, and quite dangerous to cross.”

“You think that Ives is one of these people?” Samantha braked and hit the horn as a taxi swerved in front of them. Kiwi felt sick again. She wished the ride was over suddenly.

“I do. Don't ask me how. But she seemed to be exerting some kind of- I don't know, it was like she was trying to read my thoughts. It was creepy.” She didn't mention the image she had seen of Ives and Craig together. Kiwi was busily trying to put it out of her head.

“I felt something similar. In fact I think Scham and Craig are the only two who didn't notice anything unusual about her, apart from her looks.”

“Figures.”  Kiwi said, rolling down the window and letting the cold air blow on her face.

Samantha was just pulling into the warehouse lot. “Did you use that test?” She busied herself with locking the car as she asked.

“No.”

“Want some advice?”

“No.”

“Well here it comes anyway. Take the test. You can't move forward until you have the facts. And talk to Craig.”

“Yes, I will take the test when I have time. And no, I won't talk to Craig.”

“But he has a right to--”

“I don't trust him, Sam.” They were heading towards the building now. Sam looked surprised at the vehemence with which Kiwi had said it. “I think that right now, anything he knows, Katherine Ives will find out pretty soon after. And there are some things I don't want her to have privy to. Especially things about me.”

There was no more time to talk. They were facing a large, apparently abandoned warehouse. The sign was barely legible. "Jelcich & Sons Fisheries". They scouted around. There were several broken windows, but no way in as far as they could see, without using a lock pick.

Kiwi’s phone rang and they both jumped a little. Kiwi wondered how they would be at night, ifthey were this bad in broad daylight.

“Kiwi.”

“ASAC Malone, it’s John Martinez from the forensics team here.”

“You finished at Fenton's place?'“

“Yes, the place was run of the mill. But I checked out those scratch marks. I managed to find a small fragment of nail. We're running through tests at the lab now.”

“Great, let me know as soon as you get those results.”

“There was one other thing, I took a cast of the window sill. It looked strange. Its just that...well, this is going to sound a little kooky, but those marks can't have been made by a person. The hand span is all off, and the pressure must have been immense. It looks like some kind of animal, maybe a dog? A really big dog.”

“A dog? Ten floors up on a windowsill?”

“I know, but I sent it over to a friend at the University. They say they can identify it by tomorrow. I hope that was OK.”

“Martinez, that was better than OK. Consider yourself owed a beer. By the way, there’s something I need to ask you to do.”

“Sure.”

“Can you direct all information to me, and me only. Please don't pass anything on to another investigating officer unless you clear it with me first.”

“Alright,” there was a long pause, “do you have a security issue?'“

“I can't answer that. Keep up the good work, John.”

“No problem, here’s my direct number, I'll hold you to that beer as well.”

Kiwi hung up, pleased to have at least one NY cop on their side. Samantha was waving her over. “There’s a loose padlock on here, it looks like someone broke in.”  They both pulled their guns, Kiwi looked around carefully.  The door was on the side of the building, out of sight of the main highway. Kiwi nodded once to Sam and moved into the warehouse, gun held high.

It took a couple of moments for their eyes to adjust, it was dark apart from a few sharp lines of light coming through broken skylights.  They both moved slowly in, keeping close together. After a few seconds, Kiwi’s eyes were caught by a movement and she swung around. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” she said softly, “Sam, I think we just found Tony Elstree.”

He was hanging upside down, in a gross parody of a crucifixion. He had been chained to the rafters, god knows how they had gotten that high, and his arms were tied each to one supporting pillar. His throat had been cut, and a large stain of blood flowered out on the floor beneath him.

Sam got out her phone, “I'll call the PD.” Kiwi stopped her and nodded in the direction she had been looking. There, apparently unconscious, and holding a knife covered in blood, was Matthew Fenton. They went over and checked him out, he seemed to be sleeping off drugs of some kind. He wasn't responsive.

Kiwi turned to Sam, keeping her voice low. 'There’s something wrong with this picture. Why the hell would he be sleeping at the crime scene? And how did he get Elstree strung up like that?”

“We have to call it in, and you know it.”

“Yes, and then its case closed, 'bye 'bye FBI.”

“Are you suggesting that we conceal a crime--”

“No, I'll call John Martinez. I suggest that we have Fenton taken to the bureau offices, and dealt with there. Trust me Sam, if Ives takes this collar, then the case will be shut tight. We won't be able to claim that we have information from a vampire of an impending blood feud, to justify continuing.”

She hoped Sam would see her point, the whole place was set up like a bad parlor room detective scene. All that was missing was a sign saying 'he did it.' Kiwi looked at Matthew. Apart from the knife, there was no blood on him at all. Apparently he was a very tidy psychopathic maniac, who cleaned himself up before waiting to be arrested.

Samantha stood and thought through the scenario for a moment. Normally she didn't have the luxury of having time to think through her decisions, but they had one dead body and one unconscious man who wasn't going anywhere in the immediate future.

Biting her lower lip, Sam was suddenly conscious of how dry her lips were. Winter weather in New York City. Charming as usual. "If we have Fenton taken to Bureau headquarters instead of the New York City police department, we are going to create friction between the two agencies."

Kiwi looked as if she were going to protest, and Sam held up her hand. "You're the ASAC responsible for this case. I am here merely in an advisory capacity at this point." Skinner was going to have Sam’s head on this one. "Are you sure, and I mean, 100% positive, that there is more going on here than what has been staged for us in this warehouse?"

Nodding her head slowly, Kiwiphile looked as serious as she ever did. "I'm sure of it, Sam. This is just the tip of the iceberg, and I *know* there's more than what's meeting our eyes."

Sam put the phone back into her coat pocket. "Call it into our field office, but try not to land it with Scham. If Ives is standing there, she'll create a scene. I'm sure of it."

Sam pulled out her flashlight and headed towards what looked like an office in the warehouse. "I'm going to secure the scene while you handle this matter in the appropriate manner." The old Kiwiphile smile flashed for a moment. "If I recall," Sam added as she headed towards the office, "one of the ASAC's in the New York field office is named Marston. You might ask for him if you have reason to call the office.

"Oh, and Kiwi --" she halted and stared at her, even as Kiwi was pulling her own phone from own pocket. "Your informant? Gabriel? He just became a suspect in this case, you know."

Samantha hurried on towards the open office door. She didn't really think that anyone would be foolish enough to remain at the scene of the crime, but she held her gun and her flashlight in a ready position. Just in case.

Kiwi knew that Samantha would have done whatever she asked, but it was good to know that Sam agreed. Kiwi punched in the number for the NY Field office and asked for ASAC Marston.  “Hello, ASAC Marston? It’s ASAC Malone here. From the DC office.”

“Oh, yes, SA Scham mentioned you were in town. How can I help?”

“Well, this may sound a little unorthodox, but here’s the thing...“ She filled him in on everything so far, leaving out the bits about clans of undead vampires and mind controlling detectives. Kiwi finished up with the only solid reason she had been able to come up with.

“Look, I know that this will cause friction between the PD and the Bureau, but I have reason to believe there is a security problem within the NYPD. Particularly regarding one of the Detectives on this case.”

“That's a serious allegation, Agent, care to back it up?”

“I'm afraid I have nothing more concrete than intuition right now, but I usually find a rat somewhere when I smell one.”

“OK. That's good enough for a short time. I'm prepared to back you on it, but we need something else to justify taking over the case entirely.”

“Well, the way I see it, this is a kidnapping/murder. And kidnapping is a--”

“Federal offense,” Marston finished. “Works for me, do you want me to call the detectives?”

“I need 30 minutes to arrange a forensics team I can trust. Can you play defense for me?”

“ASAC Malone, should you require it, I can play hardball.”

Kiwi laughed as she hung up, hopefully she'd get to meet him. He was a solid guy. Next, she dialed Martinez.

“Hey, Kiwi, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Well, we turned up a fairly nasty murder scene here. I need you to come down and do your magic.”

“I take it you want me to keep a low profile?”

“Yeah, I want to buy you some time before New York’s finest come down and do the can-can on my head.”

“See you in 15.”

She looked around for Samantha, and found her in the office, poking at the floor with her foot.

“Hey, they'll be here in fifteen minutes. Marston is stalling Ives and the others. But they'll be down here soon.”

“Good.” She tapped the floor again. “Does this sound hollow to you?”

It did. Kiwi went over and looked at it. Pulling out my leatherman she used the file to hook under a board and lever it up. A whole section of the floor came away, six feet by four. Below it was another level, and what looked like a door of some kind. It was covered in dust. Kiwi put on gloves and pulled the handle.

Samantha held her flashlight over Kiwi’s shoulder. “Looks like a storage cavity. maybe an old make-shift safe?”

Kiwi peered in. It had a strange odor. “You know what I think it looks like? It reminds me of a casket. Look.”  She hopped down and lay in it. “See?  Just the right size for a person.”

Samantha gave her an odd look. “Please get out of there, that's not funny.”

“Sorry.” They looked around some more, and found ten others exactly the same. All of them looked like they hadn't been open for months.

“We'll get Martinez to dust them.” Kiwi said. They wandered back out to Matthew, who was still out to lunch. “I think someone is trying to frame this kid.”

“Gabriel?” said Samantha.

“No, actually, I suspect that this is one of Gabriel’s enemies. Anyway, I don't think we'll get anywhere trying to find him. He said he'd contact me. And I know he will.”

“You have a lot of trust in him, considering he virtually abducted you last night.”

Kiwi pondered this, it was possible that she was as much under his spell as Willmore seemed to be under Katherine’s. But there was noting in her that said Gabriel meant ill. She knew he was dangerous, but he gave her the impression that if he wanted someone killed, he wouldn't do it in such an ugly way.

“You do have a point,” Kiwi said. “But the man I met last night wouldn't do this. Look at the body, this is text book ritual killing. Its too obvious. Gabriel struck me as the type that would use some rare and painful poison, and then make sure the body never turned up. Besides, he's a vampire right, he'd just fly up and suck their blood.” Kiwi put on a goofy hammer horror accent, which made Sam laugh.

“Well, your mood has improved.”

Martinez arrived and set to work with his team. Kiwi looked at her watch. They had maybe ten minutes before Ives knew. An assistant came over carrying cardboard tray. It was coffee. Kiwi would've hugged Martinez on the spot, but he was currently gowned and covered in blood.

 
She gave him a grateful smile instead.

Samantha looked at her, shaking her head. “You shouldn't live on coffee you know, try actual food for a change.”

Kiwi was feeling good. Really good. She even thought she might go grab a bite, when her phone rang. “Kiwi.”

“What are you doing?” It was Willmore, his voice cold.

“Huh?”

“I said, what are you doing?”

“Where are you?”

“I'm on my way to the warehouse with Scham and Sara, Marston just filled us in on your little escapade. Katherine is with me. She's really upset.”

“OK, well, I'll fill you in when you get here.”

“Yeah right, fill us in on how you're taking the biggest case she's had to work on all month and handing it off to another agency. That you're so uptight that you can't even co-operate with local law enforcement. You're really getting a big head, you know that?”

Kiwi was speechless. She listened in horrified fascination to him ranting, thinking that sooner or later Craig would let her get a word in. He was shouting now.

“Listen, you've been on Katherine's case since day one, she told me about that call you made to her, and I had no idea you could be such a bit--“ Kiwi heard a muffled exclamation, then Sara came on the line.

“Kiwi?”

“What the hell was that?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“What? What's going on? Has Craig lost his mind?”

“Of course, ma'am. I'll get right onto it. Thank-you.”

“Ok, so you can't talk?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Well get here as slowly as you can, and try to keep Ives occupied.”

“Goodbye.”

Kiwi put away the phone. Her mood had taken a nose-dive suddenly, and she wandered over to Samantha to fill her in. Kiwi checked the time. 11am. It was going to be a long day.

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