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The Y-Files

Case File #1Y8-1064: Blood Bond

Part II

Back in the car, Sara turned her face towards the driver‘s seat.  "Scham, stop the car," she said. "I want to have a little chat with Craig, here."

Det. Ives spoke up. "We don't have time to waste. Keep driving."

"ma'am," Scham said.

"Scham, STOP the CAR. I outrank you, that's an order."

Scham kept driving, without so much as an acknowledgement to what she'd said. Craig's voice was raising in the front seat. Sara unbuckled the seat belt, crawled over Ives, and twisted his free ear while grabbing the phone.

She was starting to get a little edgy.

Sara spoke briefly to Kiwi, not wanting to give anything away to the witch-woman in the back seat. Kiwi asked her to stall. Sara hung up. She was sure as hell trying, but she didn't know what else to do short of pulling her gun.

Sara took a few deep breaths, to calm herself.

Finally, Sara began lecturing Craig. She had gotten all of six words out before he turned around and told Sara to shut up.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. What the hell was going on? Sara resisted the urge to slap him. Glancing at Katherine, Sara noticed a slight smirk on the other woman’s face.

"Alright. That's it. Stop the car, I'm getting out. Is that alright with everyone?" They were still about half a mile from the warehouse.

"Fine by me, though I thought you would want to be present for this," Det. Ives said. Scham stopped the car, and Sara got out. Then she shot one front tire out, and started walking to the other side of the car to shoot the other tire out.

Willmore jumped out.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted.

"I should ask you the same question!" she said. Det. Ives made to get out of the car. Kiwi had better damn well know what she was talking about, Sara thought to herself. Someone was going to have SAC Zeuty’s badge for this one. Sara pointed her gun at Det. Ives.

"Detective, I really don't want to alarm you, but until I figure out just what in the hell is going on here, I suggest you stay in the car. I'm terribly sorry about this, but something has gotten into my agents here, and I want to know what it is."

Katherine put her hands up. "Fine." she said, "Just calm down..."

"I am perfectly calm. Please get back into the car."

Katherine made to get back in, and Sara turned toward Craig. He glanced over Sara’s shoulder, and she turned just in time to meet with Det. Ives' fist connecting with her face.

"What the..' Sara said, stumbling backward a few steps. She righted herself, and looked at the other woman. "Detective, Katherine, dear, when someone hits me, they only do it once." Sara  hauled off and punched her hard. She fell easily.

Craig stared at Sara. "Do you realize that you just hit a police officer?"

Sara shrugged. "She hit me first."

"You had a GUN pointed at her."  By now Scham was getting out of the car. They both stared at her in stunned silence.

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

Back at the warehouse, Kiwi had just finished describing Craig's call to Samantha when Kiwi’s phone rang again. Leaving Sam to ponder over Willmore's unusual behavior, she surveyed the scene before them as Kiwi answered.  “Kiwi.”

“Ah, Kiwi? It's Scham.” He sounded strained.

The lab boys were combing the warehouse, and the coroner had arrived to take
Tony's remains. “Scham? Where are you guys?”

Matthew Fenton was being bundled into the back of an ambulance. Samantha was going with him, so that the FBI had first dibs when he awoke.

“Well, I think you should come out--” There was shouting in the background. “--there's a...situation here.”

“Situation? What kind of situation?” Kiwi was heading for the car, waving to Martinez and mouthing 3 p.m. to him. He nodded and put his hand up to his ear miming a phone.

“Sara just shot the tires out on the car--” more shouting, and scuffling sounds. “--ah, and then she pointed her gun at Detective Ives--”

“She what?” Kiwi was driving now. What the hell had Sara thought Kiwi had meant when she said stall?

“And then there was a, an altercation.”

“Altercation?”

“Yes, fists were thrown. At faces.”

Kiwi groaned inwardly. “Who?”

“Det. Ives punched Sara. Then Sara punched Det, Ives. Now Willmore is yelling, and-- oh my!”

“What, what is it?”

“I have to go, we are on the main highway, I don't think you'll miss us.”

Kiwi sped down the highway, and after five minutes she saw the car. It was like a scene from the Jerry Springer Show. Great. Absolutely bloody marvelous, she thought. All they needed  now were some bystanders and journalists, and they’d get their fifteen minutes of prime-time fame. Willmore was shielding Katherine Ives from Sara, who was bleeding from her nose. Scham was holding Sara by the upper arms, as she kicked and flailed around.

“Right!”  Kiwi shouted. “Sara, in my car. Now.”  She didn't pause, but Kiwi heard her muttering as she went past. “Willmore?”

He ignored Kiwi, concentrating on trying to clean up Ives’ cheek. “Agent Willmore!”

Craig looked at Kiwi, his expression unreadable. “Please allow me to talk to Det Ives, I would like you to wait in my car. And I will not tolerate any raised voices, you are to refrain from entering into any discussion with Sara. Understood?”

He did as she asked, but he looked unhappy about it.

“Scham, please call change the tire, and make sure you take it somewhere other than the police shop to have it fixed.”  He nodded, and Kiwi turned to Ives. She didn't look too bad, Kiwi thought. Sara must have pulled her punch. Kiwi sat the other woman down and knelt in front of her. Time to make nice, Kiwi thought.

“Are you alright?”

Detective Ives gave Kiwi a cool gaze. “I'll live.”

“Care to give me your version?”

“Look, I'm not going to press charges. But keep her away from me, she's crazy.”

“No problem. I'll get her to tell me what happened.”  Kiwi decided to improvise. “We lost a good friend on our last case. There was some inside involvement. It's taken some of us longer to iron out the wrinkles than others.”

Kiwi watched Katherine relax. She had to let the detective think she was still in the loop. Kiwi  wanted to keep her close, the best place for enemies. Kiwi squinted a little, the sun was lowering and bouncing off the windows of the car. “I know I seemed a little heavy, taking the collar back there. But its a kidnapping, and Marston insisted. I'll make sure your name is on the file. And I still assume you'll be working the case.”

“Will you keep me informed?”

“Sure. Look, I like you. If you picked up on any tension its just that--”

She cut Kiwi off. “Oh, I know about you and your partner. He told me what a mistake it was.”

Kiwi kept her eyes cool. Inside she was seething. “Yeah, well sometimes we make mistakes. We'll get over it.”  Cow, she added silently.

Detective Ives seemed to be mollified. “I thought maybe you were jealous, about me...”

Oh, she was good, Kiwi thought as she watched Katherine slump delicately and shrug her shoulders. But maybe it was because Kiwi knew, or maybe Gabriel had given her some kind of shield. Kiwi felt Katherine’s eyes boring into her, and was able to fill her head with what Kiwi wanted Katherine to see.

“No, not at all,” Kiwi lied, “I was involved, with the man that died.” (Please forgive me Gunson, Kiwi thought, I still need your help) “And it’s made me a little hypersensitive.”

Katherine swallowed the bait.

“Why don't you come back to the station with us? Or we can drop you home?”

“No, I'll wait with Scham, then if it’s OK, I'd like to check out that warehouse.”

Of course you do, Kiwi thought. Still. It gave her at least an hour without Katherine Ives in her hair.

“Sure, call me if you need anything, OK?”

Kiwi went back to her car. Willmore was in the back, Sara in the front. The silence was thicker than chowder. She started the car and drove to the motel. Kiwi wanted to clean Sara up and find out what the hell was going on with her agents.

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

Sara followed Kiwi silently into the hotel. Kiwi was pissed.

She sat Sara down in a chair, and went into the bathroom. Sara heard water running. Kiwi came back a few moments later and handed her a wet washcloth. Then she sat on the bed facing Sara while she cleaned up her face.

Finally Kiwi spoke. "What the hell were you trying to pull out there?"

"She hit me first." Sara felt like a five year old.

"You had a gun on her. You shot out the tires. That is *not* what I meant when I said to stall."

"I know that, but you weren't there, it's like she was casting a spell on the two of them or something. Craig was screaming at you, you heard it. That's not him. Scham completely ignored me. And she sat there smiling to herself the whole time."

Kiwi pinched the bridge of her nose. It made Sara feel like she was in AD Skinner's office. She wondered if Kiwi had done that on purpose.

"I still don't understand what got into *you*," she said. "You can't just go around pointing guns at police detectives. You know that. I shouldn't have to be telling you this."

"I'm telling you, something is going on, and whatever it is centers around that.. Det. Ives."

"And what is that?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe next time you should find out before you act."

Sara sighed, and nodded. She made a promise to herself to find out what the hell was going on.

“Now I'm going to go back to my room, go over some notes, and make a few calls. I don't want to hear a peep out of you until we leave for the club. Got it?"

Sara nodded again. Kiwi got up and opened the door, standing in the doorframe for a moment, her back to Sara. "I do wish I could have seen that punch," she said, before walking out.

Sara couldn't help grinning.

After sorting things out with Sara, Kiwi headed back to her room. She wanted to call Mulder. She was hoping he might have some pointers on this case. Emotions were running too high, and she felt like getting an objective opinion.

On impulse Kiwi tapped on Willmore’s door, she wanted to check in on him. He opened it and stayed in the doorway, clearly Kiwi wasn't going to be invited in. He was all stony silence. Despite her suspicions that it had something to do with Detective Ives’ manipulation, Kiwi was still hurt.

She thought about what Katherine had said, about Willmore telling her that it had been 'a big mistake.' And Kiwi wondered about the call she had supposedly made to Katherine.

“What?” He finally spat out.

“Is everything OK? you seem kind of--”

“Just drop it. OK. I'm getting a little tired of making excuses for you.”

She tried another approach. “Excuses for what?”

“That call you made, Katherine said that you had told her to back off. To 'get her claws off me'.”  He looked Kiwi in the eyes coldly. “When the hell did you decide to run my life?”

“I didn't. I--”  There was no point accusing Ives of lying. He would take her side, that much was clear. “I'm sorry, I think there's been a misunderstanding of some kin--”

“Yeah, there has. I thought you were a nice person. My mistake.” The door slammed in Kiwi’s  face.

Gosh, that went well, she thought. Her eyes stung. She went to her room, telling herself over and over that this was not the Willmore she knew.

She turned on one lamp, leaving the room in semi-darkness. It was an hour before they were all due to meet at the club, just enough time to shower, change, and make a call. She decided to get the work out of the way first.

A sleepy Mulder answered. “Hello?”

“Mulder, it’s Kiwi.”

“Hey, what time is it?” There was a thud. “Man, sorry, I was asleep on the sofa, I just knocked over a drink.”

“Look, I can call back tomorrow if its--”

“Nah, you got me now. What's up?”

“I think. No, I know, that we are dealing with some serious things out here. I pretty much met a vampire last night. At least, he told me he was.”

“Vampire, huh? Did he give you a name?”

“Yes, but I can't tell you on this line.”

“Oh. So why'd you call?”

“To see if you could give me an opinion on some problems I'm having with the team. There's, well I think we have a problem with peoples loyalties.”

“Entrancement?”

“What?”

“Entrancement. Some vampires are said to have the ability to manipulate and control others by entrancing them. You have to look into their eyes.”

A pair of green eyes came to mind. “But vampires can't come out in the daylight, can they?” As Kiwi listened to herself, she thought how odd it was, to be having a perfectly reasonable conversation regarding mythical monsters.

“No, unless they're really old, and powerful. But they can pass powers on to mortals. Usually for a certain period of time. They utilize these people to--”

“Walk abroad during the daylight hours and do their bidding?” Kiwi finished, quoting Gabriel.

“Yeah. Well, whoever your vampire is, his information is good.” She heard him switch ears. “I can look some stuff up, and fax it to you tomorrow.”

Kiwi felt a cool draft on her neck. “Great. Call me when you--” She looked around, unable to shake the feeling that someone was in the room with her. There, standing by the dresser, was Gabriel. “Uh, Mulder? I have to go. Talk to you tomorrow.”

She hung up the receiver and stayed on the spot. She tried not to notice that from where she was standing, he didn't appear to have a reflection in the dresser's mirror. Just the angle, Kiwi  told herself.

He smiled. “Sit down, please. You are in no danger from me.”

Kiwi sat. “How did you get in--” He waved her silent.

'You have had quite a day.'

I wondered how he knew. Katherine?

He answered my thought. 'No, not her. I have other pairs of eyes. She is not one of them. But you are right not to trust her.'

'Is she a-'

“No, she is alive, like you.”

“You know we found a body?”

“Yes, that was one of Adrian's displays. You quite ruined it I'm afraid, the intention was to have certain police officers discover the crime. And for you to pack up and go home.”

She knew it was the truth. That was why he sent them there.

“I have to get ready, to go to the club.” His presence was disturbing. He exerted a terrible attraction, but Kiwi sensed that underneath that cool and urbane exterior, there lurked a creature from her worst nightmares.

“I merely came to tell you something. Someone you will meet tonight, at the club.”

“Who?”

He stepped closer to her, his breath warm on Kiwi’s face, her throat. She saw his eyes flicker to the pulse in her neck, and suppressed a wild desire to offer it to him. “His name is Daniel. He will betray his master tonight. You must make sure he lives. He is important to me.”

Kiwi wanted to ask him why, but he leaned in close, and her head swam.  When she had recovered, he was gone.

Kiwi stood under the shower, letting her voice mail pick up the call to her cell phone. Whatever it was, it could wait five minutes.

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

Special Agent Sabalore Smith had volunteered to take assignment to this case earlier, but she was delayed in DC for awhile.

She had gotten a few updates from the agents in the field throughout the case to keep her posted.

"Vampires?" she muttered, scrolling down the email message.

 
"I hate vampires..." Sabalore said aloud, ruffling her dog’s fur.  She stared up at me with big brown eyes.

She glanced at the clock. 5:43 p.m.

 
Just then, the phone rang.  She glanced at the call display. Skinner, WS.

 
"Uh. Oh," she muttered.  "Hello?" I answered.

"Agent Sabalore, it's my understanding that you offered assistance to the New York case?"

 
"Yes, sir," she replied.

 
"I'm aware that you were originally staying here for the time being, due to personal matters, but I would like you to head out tonight."

Sabalore let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. At least she wasn't in trouble.
"Okay. I'll leave in an hour. Thanks." She hung up the phone.

 
Two more calls to go.

 
She dialed ASAC Kiwiphile’s phone and got the voice mail.  "Hi, Kiwiphile. It's Agent Sabalore. I'm leaving tonight, I guess I'll see you and the rest at the motel at some point late tonight or tomorrow... I'll bring my stake!"

Sabalore picked it up again(for the last time), and dialed.

"Hey, This Is Drake. Leave a message."

 
"Hi, Drake, it's me. I know it's so *boring* for you working in the office all year on counter fitting cases... So I know you'll have fun taking care of Jess, Truth, Eternity, and the guys, right? I'm off to New York Tonight. Thanks."

She hung up for the final time, and turned to her dog.  "My flight is scheduled for tonight, Jessie," Sabalore told her. "Drake is gonna take good care of you guys, okay?"

 
She barked, and Sabalore patted her head.

"SQUAWK! SQUAWK! SABA! SABA! SQUAWK! DRAKE! SQUAWK! SABA LEAVE! SQUAWK!" Eternity called from across the room.

Sabalore laughed, and padded across the room, sticking her fingers through the cage and rubbing her beak.

"Pretty bird." Sabalore told her.
"Pretty bird, pretty bird," she replied.

 
Sabalore turned, and went to pack.
~*~*~*~

New York City
10:16p.m.

Sabalore pulled into the parking lot of the motel. Dashing up to the desk, she checked in. She headed for her room and threw her stuff on the dresser. She checked the other agents’ rooms, but none were here. Sighing, Sabalore flopped down on the bed, and grabbed a book to read. Tomorrow, she'd talk with Samantha or Kiwiphile to find out what was going on.

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

Leaving the motel, Scham, Sara and Kiwi went in a cab together. Kiwi wondered where Jansson was, and had decided to call him when her phone rang.  “Kiwi”

“It’s Samantha. I have some bad news.”

“Oh, goody. What’s happened?”

“Matthew Fenton is gone.”

“Gone? But you were just there, his room is under guard.”

“I know, I just got the call. Ten minutes after I left the hospital the cop at the door looked in and he was gone... disappeared.”

“Call Jansson, then come meet us at the club. We have a lead.”

Kiwi hung up, then remembered the call on the voice-mail. It was Martinez. He had results on some of the tests and wanted to brief her on them as soon as possible. She called and got his machine. Great, phone tag.

The club was full, despite the relatively early hour. Willmore had left before them, to pick up Katherine, and it was clear that he didn't want either Kiwi or Sara to come along.

Kiwi looked around. Sara leaned over. “What's the plan?”

“I'm not sure.” She had to yell over the music. “I got the feeling he would find us.”

Sara nodded. “Why don't Scham and I make a circuit, see what’s out there?”

“OK, stay together. I'll wait here for the others.”

Samantha arrived a few moments later. Kiwi pointed out Sara and Scham, and answered the raised brow on instinct. “He's picking up Katherine.”

An hour crawled by. Kiwi hated the music in this club, bad thrash rock. Give me the Ramones or the Clash any day she thought, feeling older than time. Willmore arrived, Kiwi noted that he had his hand on the small of Katherine’s back. Proprietary, she thought. Kiwi wanted a drink, but she was working. She remembered that test, and felt a sudden stab of guilt. She had used it, and left without even checking.

Katherine smiled, like a Cheshire cat. Kiwi wished she would disappear behind it. “Anything happened? We're a little late, Craig and I had something to eat on the way.” Kiwi looked at Katherine’s bruise. On her own face, it would transform her into the elephant man, Kiwi mused. On Katherine, it added a charmingly vulnerable quality. Samantha and Kiwi pretended not to notice when Katherine leaned back on Willmore and draped his arm over her shoulder. He went with it.

“Nothing, so far.” Kiwi wanted Katherine away from her. If Det. Ives was known to this Daniel guy, he might get spooked. Kiwi surprised herself by suggesting that Katherine and Willmore go and mix a little. Sam looked at her like she was insane.

“Are you some kind of closet masochist?” Samantha asked Kiwi.

Kiwi watched as Katherine pulled Craig onto the dance floor. Almost on cue, the music changed to a more rhythmic, hypnotic sound. Of course, Kiwi thought, I bet rain even falls around her, and her mascara never ran when she cried. Not that she could picture Katherine Ives crying. Although it was comforting to imagine. They danced close, draped against each other.

Kiwi shifted her chair and faced Sam. “I just want her out of the way.”  She told Sam about Daniel. “I'm going to head towards the back of the club, on my own. Give me a half hour before you panic, OK?”

In the heart of the crowd, Kiwi felt better. She lost sight of the others and melted into the bodies around her. She had almost given up when she felt a tap on her back, and turned to face a young man. He was around six feet tall. Blue eyes, black hair, handsome. He nodded his head towards the bathrooms and Kiwi followed. Near the doors, there was a small corner alcove. Dark and smoky, it afforded some privacy.

“I have some information for you.”

“Are you Daniel?” Kiwi spotted Sara and she nodded. She and Scham kept their distance, glancing their way every so often.

“Yes. I know where he sleeps.”

Kiwi looked questioningly at him, shaking her head. He leaned in close to her ear.  “Adrian, I know where he sleeps, during the day.”

“Ah,” she said, not quite sure of the value of the information.

“I have to go, I can't risk being seen talking to you. Here.”

He shoved a note into her hand. Lacking anywhere else to put it, Kiwi shoved it into her bra. Not likely that anyone would be looking down there tonight, she thought. She hated putting stuff in her bag, she was always worried she'd lose it.

Daniel made a move to leave, and Kiwi noticed a couple of men walking their way. He followed her gaze and immediately tensed. She slipped her hand onto her gun.

In seconds, everything changed from light tension to mayhem. The two goons pounced at Daniel, and he ducked and ran towards the fire escape. The goons where hard on his heels, and Sara and Kiwi were right after them. Scham headed the opposite way, probably to alert the others.

The door must have been alarmed, and the club filled with the wailing of a siren. People started to shift, panic rising. Kiwi rushed out the door and saw Daniel in the alleyway, one of the thugs on either side. Sara and she raised their guns. “Stop there, get down on the ground, hands on your head. Federal Agents!” Sara's voice rang around the alley.

They turned on the two agents. Kiwi was aware of more people in the alley. Some were club goers, fleeing the imagined fire. Others lingered. Kiwi hoped back-up would arrive soon. She suspected they weren't just rubberneckers.

The men advanced, Kiwi heard steps behind her. They grinned, and their mouths were all wrong, the teeth huge and sharply pointed. Daniel called out, “Behind you!”

“I got it!” Kiwi called to Sara as she whirled. They both fired. There were three behind Kiwi and she hit the first one full in the chest. He fell, then another fell, then the third. Then they all started to stand and come forwards again. Holy crap, she thought. What now?

"Son of a..." Sara mumbled, as the men she shot got back up.

Sara couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her mind flashed to the dowel rods she had in her bag, a small trendy-ish backpack that all the teenagers seemed to be wearing. Sara had picked it up at one of the shops in the city when she had a couple hours free time, so that she'd be able to carry stuff while keeping her hands free. Of course she couldn't jam a dowel rod into someone's heart, they'd throw her in jail. Wait, Sara thought,  here she was shooting at them. She supposed it didn't make much of a difference.

"Kiwi, my backpack! Hurry!" Kiwi turned around and quickly opened it, not questioning Sara‘s command. Pulling out the dowel rods, which Sara had snapped into about 10-inch pieces, Kiwi looked at her. Sara shrugged and grabbed them. She noticed the seemingly immortal men with fangs stop for a moment.

"Ha-ha!" Sara shouted. "Yeah... you, er, weren't expecting that, were you!" She was making this up as she went along. Sara shot her remaining two bullets, which did nothing. One of the men ran at her.

Sara screamed, raising her hand, and plunged the makeshift stake into his chest. Most of the momentum actually came from him, as she was a bit too weirded-out to do much. The others stepped back, and scattered. A couple went back into the club, the rest disappeared around corners.

Kiwi looked at her. "Go Buffy," she said. Sara looked up, still not believe what had just happened. "This is going to be some interesting paperwork."

Sara turned back around to see if the man she had just staked through the heart was still alive, only to see that he had vanished. "Where did he..."

Kiwi looked equally shocked. He couldn't have gotten up and ran away in the two seconds that their eyes were averted.

"I have a feeling they're going to be back," Sara said.

Kiwi nodded. "Yes, I think that the shock value of us knowing what they are will wear off rather quickly."

"And what, exactly, are they?" Sara said.

Kiwi raised an eyebrow. "Hey, you're the one who brought the stakes."

It was, at that point, that Sara decided she would never really be sane again.

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

Samantha had lost Kiwiphile in the thick of the crowd, but she managed to keep an eye on Willmore and Det. Ives. Katherine Ives reminded Sam of an old story which she had heard as a child, but her mind was straining to remember all of the details.

Without warning, an alarm sounded throughout the building, and the music died almost instantly - replaced with rising voices to compliment the automated wail. A fire alarm? Maybe, or the sound of someone opening a rear door with an alarm.

The crowd seemed to flow towards the exits, and Sam realized that she would have to move with it or be crushed in the melee.

Over the rush of excited voices, she heard an unmistakable sound. Gunfire. Sam was wedged between several tall men, but adrenaline took over and she threw my shoulder into one of them. "Move it!" she shouted, "Federal agent!"

Sam was working her way towards the rear of the club where the alarm seemed to have originated. Finding herself by the restrooms, she slid into the doorway of one and hit speed dial for the local field office. "Special Agent Samantha Jaythree," she identified myself, rattled off my badge number, and gave the pertinent information, "Shots fired at this location. Requesting immediate assistance."

She couldn't really hear what the voice on the other end was saying. She did  hear screams, more shots, and if anything, the voices remaining inside the club seemed to have risen in intensity. Samantha repeated the information again, closed the connection, and shoved her way back through the crowd. She didn't know where their people were, but Sam thought she heard sirens in the distance. Then Samantha heard a male voice shouting which she distinctly recognized as Willmore's.

Fighting her way back into the middle of the club, Sam struggled to reach the place where she had heard Willmore’s voice.  Through a moment’s convenient timing in the crowd, there was an opening in the bodies, and she saw Willmore kneeling on the ground, Scham with his gun drawn, and a pair of feet wearing high heels resting on the ground.

“What happened?” Samantha asked as soon as she reached them.

“Somebody attacked us,” Scham filled her in.  His gun was sufficient to clear a space for them, plus the club was rapidly emptying.  Across the room, Samantha saw the first uniforms piling through the door.

"Drop the weapon!" They were shouting.

Sam had her ID ready, and she extended it towards them. "Federal agents."

After a moment's tense inspection, the officers acknowledged that they were also law enforcement officials. "What happened here?" the closest uniform asked.

"We need an ambulance!" Craig's voice startled Sam into looking down at him,.  She saw Katherine Ives lying helplessly in his arms.

"Is she hurt?" Sam asked as she knelt down beside them. "What happened?"

"I'll be fine," Ives murmured weakly. "These men attacked us, and I was shoved into Craig and Scham. I fell over a table, I think --" she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of several overturned pieces of furniture.

"Did you see these men?" Sam asked Willmore as paramedics appeared out of nowhere and started checking out the New York City detective.

"Are you accusing Katherine of lying?" Willmore was suddenly in Sam’s face, and she remembered him doing the same thing about Kiwi just...was it only a couple of days ago?

Samantha looked at the woman now sitting up and speaking to the paramedics. Her own first impression said that the woman wasn't seriously injured. Possibly she had had the wind knocked out of her. Sam focused her own dark green eyes on Agent Willmore's face. "Hold that thought, Agent," she rose to my feet. "Scham, locate the others."

To Scham's credit, he reacted quickly and headed towards the back of the club, his ID flashing as he made his way through the growing new crowd of uniforms.

"Agent Willmore," Samantha pulled Craig to one side. "I asked you for a description of the men who attacked you and Detective Ives. I did not accuse or imply that anyone was guilty of anything other than poor timing." Willmore simply stared at her for a moment, before his dark head nodded. "Furthermore, I resent the implication in your question, Agent."

"You're right, SAC Jaythree. I - I wasn't thinking straight. Katherine was injured and --"

"The paramedics are attending to Detective Ives, Agent Willmore. I expect you to act like a Federal agent and assist the local law enforcement teams in their investigation of what just happened here. If you can give a description of the men who attacked you, do it. If not, make yourself useful."

"Yes, ma'am." Willmore headed back over to where Detective Ives was now sitting in a chair, but Sam noticed that he seemed to be speaking with the other police officers.

She saw Scham at the back of the club. He waved for her to join him, so she started heading in that direction. Just then, her cell phone rang. "Jaythree," she was walking and talking at the same time.

"Agent Jaythree, hold for Assistant Director Skinner."

Damn. She stepped outside with Scham and saw a body. It wasn't Sara or Kiwiphile. Samantha saw them standing to one side, but before she could reach them, she heard Skinner's voice in her ear.

"Agent Jaythree? What the hell is going on there?"

Sam had to pull the phone away from her ear so that the next few moments of conversation did not permanently damage her hearing.

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

As suddenly as it had started, it was over. Sara and Kiwi were standing, breathless, in the alleyway. Facing them was Daniel. Sara gave him a long appraising gaze. That's not the death glare, Kiwi thought. She noticed that he was returning the look.

He stepped forwards.  “We have to leave. Now. They won't be far away.”

Sara looked at Kiwi. “Hey, are you hurt?” She indicated the blood covering Kiwi.

“No, I think its mainly theirs.” Then she noticed a long scratch on her arm. She must have got it when she raised it to protect her face. Kiwi remembered one of the ghouls leaping towards her, hands clawed. “Uh, there is this, I think that's mine.”

Sara examined it. “You need stitches.”

Daniel was standing with them now. “You are a doctor as well as a warrior?” His tone was warm.

Sara blushed ever so slightly, and brushed off the compliment. “Yeah, well. Jack of all trades, that's me.”

“Sara, this is Daniel. Daniel, SAC Sara Zeuty.” Kiwi shut up, as they were both ignoring her.

“Mission control to SAC Sara.”

“Huh?” She turned to Kiwi, still half looking at their new friend.

“I think you should take Daniel back to the motel. Don't go through the club. I'd rather Katherine Ives didn't get a look at him.”

She nodded and led him out of the alleyway to find a cab. Kiwi noticed Samantha and Scham approaching, and knelt down to examine the body lying to one side. It was a young woman, maybe twenty or so. Samantha knelt opposite, and Scham remained alert, his gun still in his hands.

Kiwi looked at the girl, “She's not one of the...things...that attacked us. She must be a bystander.” Wrong place at the wrong time Kiwi thought, her heart heavy suddenly at the waste.

“Things?” Samantha was looking at her.

“Well, put it this way, if they were human, they must have been wearing vests. And their dental work had been inventively changed. They hand mouths full of, of fangs.”

Samantha took it in and pondered it. “I just spoke with Skinner. He's taking our side, for now. I explained the whole situation. Leaving out a few minor details.”

“Thanks. We should make a move.” Kiwi looked around. “Where's Craig?”

Samantha pointed to the club, “In there. Ives was knocked over. I think she broke a nail.”

“Call the paramedics,” Kiwi joked. Actually, she needed to see them herself. “I wondered why back up was delayed. We came close to being on the losers’ side just then.”

Scham replied. “I'm so sorry Kiwi, there were so many people. And then Willmore stopped to help Katherine--”

“Hey, forget it. I'm fine. You guys did what was necessary.”

His face lightened. Samantha looked at my arm. “Is that fresh--  Oh, Kiwi. Damn it, will you stop acting like an ASAC and get that checked out?”

Kiwi’s arm was aching, and she just nodded and went inside. The club was empty apart from police and a few staff. Samantha went to inform them of the body in the alleyway, and Kiwi walked over to the paramedics.

Katherine was seated on a chair, surrounded by EMTs, while Craig hovered nervously. For a broken nail, she was getting the full ER treatment. Kiwi wondered if she had been hurt.

“Hey, Ives. Are you OK?” Kiwi forced her voice into a concerned tone.

She nodded slightly. Craig moved in. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said, helping her to stand.

The paramedics went to follow, and Kiwi raised her arm. “Excuse me, fellas, I could do with some help here.” Waving the arm wasn't a good idea, as the blood began to flow freely again.

One of the paramedics turned and his eyes widened. “Chris! We got a serious cut here!” The other one, whom  Kiwi supposed to be Chris, turned and came back. She saw Willmore turn as well, his face registering some concern. So you're still in there, she thought. Then Katherine gripped his arm, and they exited.

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

Kiwi got back to the hotel at eleven. Samantha was staying until the scene was sealed, but she had insisted that Kiwi get some rest. They were planning a midnight strategy meeting. Kiwi lay on the bed, then noticed that the red light on the telephone was blinking.

It was SA Sabalore, newly arrived in town. Kiwi punched in the number

.

“Sabalore.”

“Hey, it’s the boss.”

“ASAC Kiwiphile? How’s it going? When's our briefing? AD Skinner told me to come out and help--”

Kiwi interrupted her before she continued. She sounded disgustingly bright and chirpy. Two days with the rest of them would change that, Kiwi thought wryly. “Not now, Sab. I just called to say hi, and to tell you we can meet for breakfast downstairs at eight.”

“What happened tonight? You sound tired.”

“Long story, big fight, must sleep.” She laughed, and Kiwi hung up, suddenly dreading the fact that she had at least another two hours of work. She decided to shower. That would help.

The small card Daniel had handed to her fell out as she undressed. The address on it was Central. She didn't recognize it. 'The Bledisoe Building, 223, 191st street, Washington Heights.' There was a hand drawn map on the other side. She called Sara.

“Yeah?”

“Just checking you got home safe,” Kiwi said.

“Everything’s fine here. You still got that note?” Sara was avoiding details, these lines could well be insecure.

“Yes, we'll go tomorrow. I guess that...our friend can't help? During the day?”

“Correct. This is pretty strange, isn't it?”

“Yeah, but strange suits us, don't you think?” That got a chuckle. Kiwi wished her goodnight and went to the bathroom.

She stood under the hot water and strung together the facts so far. Gabriel, supposedly a vampire, and asking them to help him avert a bloody war. Matthew Fenton, framed for murdering his friend and now missing from the hospital. Rachel Montgomery, possibly a member of a registered vampire religion, and definitely hiding something. Daniel, a rouge player who was betraying his boss for...what? And Detective Ives, someone whom they could absolutely count as being on the other side.

Kiwi turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Gabriel was using them, she thought suddenly. Like pawns. She was angry at him for pushing them deeper into a situation that was rapidly turning deadly. Next time he turned up, Kiwi was determined to get some real answers.

It was when she was dressed in pjs and a robe that she saw it. The plastic wand had been sitting on the side of the hand basin since she left earlier that evening. She sat on the toilet seat and gripped it tightly.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, girl.” She hissed at herself, fighting back tears.

The indicator had turned into a little pink cross. Positive.

There was a tap at the door.  “Kiwi? It's Sam.”

Kiwi put the test-strip in her pocket, and wiped her face. Timing, Sam, she thought. Then Kiwi realized that it might be good to have her around right now.

“Just a second,” she called out. Kiwi flipped the chain of the door and opened it, turning and heading into the room as she did.

Kiwi wanted to do something, before she ran out of courage. Holding up a hand to stop Samantha from talking, Kiwi picked up the phone and dialed Craig's room. They could meet tomorrow, before breakfast, she thought. There were some things best gotten out in the open, before too much time passed.

Kiwi listened to the telephone ring, and she was about to give up when he answered.

“Hello?” She must have woken him, his voice sounded slow and soft. Her stomach fluttered, she was so nervous suddenly. She twisted the cord in her hands as she stood there.

“Craig, it's me.”

“Who?”

“Kiwi.” She was absurdly upset that he hadn't known.

“Oh, what time is it? Has something come up on the case?”

“No, I need to talk to you, about something important--”

She heard a slight shuffling, the sound of the plastic receiver being shifted. “Craig? Are you there?”

Somehow, Kiwi had expected it, but when the voice came on the line, the blood drained from her heart and flew to a far away place.

“I'm afraid Agent Willmore is busy right now, he'll call you back.”  Kiwi heard soft laughter, and then Katherine Ives hung up the handset.

“Oh, OK,” she replied, the dial tone already beeping in her ear.

"Kiwi?" Samantha thought she was going to faint. Pushing Kiwi -- more or less -- gently to a sitting position on the bed, Sam pried the telephone receiver loose from her fingertips. Putting it close to her ear, Sam heard nothing but a dial tone.

"Is there a problem with Craig?" Sam looked at Kiwi’s pale face as she shook her head.

"Then what's the matter?" she demanded. Sam walked over to the small table beside the window, grabbed a chair, and dragged it towards the bed where Kiwiphile now lay flat on her back. "I know you didn't faint. Your eyes are still open. So talk to me. What gives?"

Samantha sat down, kicked off her flat dress pumps, and propped her feet up on the bedspread. "We'll keep this completely off the record, because frankly, I don't think AD Skinner wants a complete record of everything which has happened so far on this case. Talk to me."

She wasn't in the mood to talk, Kiwi realized. She wanted to keep her mouth shut until she had sorted things out on my own. Besides, Kiwi had the feeling that if she started, she wouldn't stop.

Samantha sat opposite, her eyes regarding Kiwi who pulled her hand out of her pocket and showed the plastic wand. Sam looked at it, her expression unreadable, then compassionate.

“Oh. I take it Craig knows then?” She indicated the phone. “Is that why he's not talking?”

Kiwi shook her head, it must be like talking to a muppet, she thought, and stifled a laugh.

“No, I haven't told him.” She stood and looked out the window. The city looked like a Christmas card, she wondered how many people were fighting for their lives down there right now.

“He was, he's....” She considered it, wondering if she should tell anyone else about it. If it was her place. “He has company in his room.” It was the best compromise Kiwi could think of.

She heard Samantha sigh. Then there was an inaudible mutter. Kiwi thought it best not to ask her to repeat it. It sounded pretty strong. “What did Fenton have to say?”

“Kiwi.” It was a plea. She wasn't getting off that easily then.

 
“What are you planning to do? have you even considered the--”

“I'll have to leave.”

“Wha--?”

“I'll finish this case, and then I'll transfer out of the Y-files. I may go home for a while.” As she said it, Kiwi felt a sudden urgent need to be there. To feel sand under her toes and see blue skies and be the only person on an entire beach for miles and miles. A small voice in her mind taunted. <you can run but you can't hide>. She silenced it.

Samantha was carefully regarding her. “I think you're overreacting. I want you to promise me you will sleep on this. For a few nights.”

“I know. I want to finish this case first. So, let’s talk some shop. What did Fenton say?”

Kiwi switched on the coffee machine, and grabbed her laptop. Hoping against hope that Sam would give her a little space with this one.

"What did Matthew Fenton say?" Samantha nearly laughed out loud. Kiwi stared. "He was barely coherent even when he did regain consciousness," she began. "Then he rambled about gargoyles and vampires and --" Sam held up a hand and started counting off the points on her fingers. "Mr. Fenton told me to beware anything with claws, teeth, blood, large eyes, or furry shapes -- in roughly that order."

Kiwiphile poured coffee for both of them and handed a cup to Sam. "Was he able to say how he reached the warehouse or any details that could actually help us?"

"Thanks," Sam replied as she accepted the coffee. "You should watch how much of that you drink in your condition. Mr. Fenton could not remember anything of his movements over the past few hours. The only thing he *did* say which was at all connected to this case was that he thought Rachel had come to see him. He wasn't clear on a time or date. He also begged me for some garlic and some salt.

"I'm not a doctor," she continued, "but if I had to guess, I'd say he had been given a powerful hypnotic drug with some serious side effects. He reminded me of those early films of kids on LSD. One minute he knew I was talking with him. The next minute he was lost inside the horror of his own mind."

Sam sipped her coffee. "They did draw blood samples before he disappeared, so at least we can retrieve some information from his blood work. Unless it disappears, too."

Kiwi sipped her coffee guiltily, wondering how many other things she was doing that weren't recommended. She should buy a book, she thought. Then had to stop herself from crying again.

Samantha was looking at her kindly. “You OK?”

“No.”

“What do you want to do? Get some sleep? Talk?”

“Keep working.” She headed Sam off at the pass. “Just some ideas for tomorrow. I want to be discreet around Craig, I think things are going from my mouth straight to her ears at the moment.” Kiwi hated doing this, she wondered if it might be best just to get him reassigned. But then Katherine would probably just settle herself on Scham, or whoever replaced Willmore.

“All right, but let’s make it quick, I could do with some sleep myself.”

Kiwi shoved her hands in her robe pockets and paced. “Tomorrow, we meet at 8am. Sara and I will check out this address, see what we can see. I want you and Scham to find Rachel Montgomery. I'll get Sabalore onto starting a search for Fenton. He's possibly hiding somewhere. Keep an eye on her, I think maybe you should partner up with her for a day or two, along with Willmore.”

“He'll want Katherine along.”

“I know, I don't have a problem with her tagging along on a missing persons hunt. I want to keep her away from Daniel, and anything to do with that address. If she asks where I am, tell her I'm getting a manicure.”

Sam laughed, “I'll tell her you're with Marston, playing boss.”

“Good thinking, I'll call him in the morning and ask him to cover.”  Kiwi’s phone rang. They both looked at the clock. Midnight.

“The city that never sleeps,” said Samantha.

It was Martinez. “I'm sorry, I know its late. I got your message and I didn't want to call when the office was full of people.”

“I was awake. Shoot.”

“The blood work came back on Elstree. I was curious about something, and I went down to the morgue locker to check on something. You'll never believe what I found.”

“Try me, I'm getting used to surprises.”

“Well, I had photographed him, and I noticed two puncture wounds in his neck. I thought that if he was involved in some kind of vampire game, maybe there was a way to identify the weapon used. So I went to get his body, and it had totally decayed. Radically. In five hours.”

“What are you saying?”

“I mean, when we picked him up and bagged him, I put the time of death at maybe four to twelve hours before you found him. Now, I would say that the time of death was at least three weeks ago.”

“That's when he went missing.”

“I know.”

“So, he has been dead for three weeks, but somehow avoided decaying until he was put in a freezer?”

“That's not all, his teeth were unusually elongated. And his blood type was a mixture of A+ and B-. That's impossible. So I ran the tests again and it was confirmed. Then I had a DNA test done, and the two blood types are from different individuals. Neither of them Tony Elstree.”

There was silence.

“What kind of a case are you investigating, Agent Malone?”

“You'd rather not know. Bag up those samples and results would you? And forward them to an Agent Fox Mulder in DC.” She gave him the address.

“There was a Detective Ives in here earlier. When I was at dinner. I haven't spoken to her.”

“Don't. And I suggest that you write something believable on your report. You don't want to attract her attention, trust me.”

“I'll have the analysis on that fingernail tomorrow. I'll call you then. You know what?”

“What?”

“It looked to me like Elstree had been desanguinated, then he'd had someone else's blood pumped into him, and THEN they had cut his throat. Why would anyone do that?”

“Monsters,” Kiwi said. “the kind of people that do that are monsters.”

She hung up and filled Samantha in.

“I have to turn in. Promise me you'll go to sleep? Not stay up worrying?”

“Yeah, its just that--” Kiwi started and then stopped.

“What?”

“Willmore. Right now he's sharing his bed with someone that I have good reason to believe wants this investigation stopped. At any cost.”

“Well, let him take care of himself for now. I want you to do the same. 'Night.”

Sam left, and Kiwi crossed to the window again, opening it wide. She put her hands on her stomach and thought about the unreal prospect of becoming a mother. She'd been afraid in the past, fear kept you on your toes, it was your friend. But all she'd ever worried about was getting herself home in one piece. For the first time, Kiwi found herself wishing she could just walk away from a case, and stay safe.

Sara, Samantha and Kiwi all arrived at the lift at the same time.

Sabalore had called early and said she would meet us in the restaurant. Kiwi could only think of coffee, but knew she shouldn't be drinking it. She tried to imagine how nice a cup of hot water would make her feel. Willmore called out for them to hold the lift, and bounced in wearing Detective Ives. They pushed their way to the back of the lift. The rest of the agents  tried not to look in the mirror while Willmore and Ives acted like a couple of teenagers.

Kiwi decided to can breakfast, she'd lost any appetite she had.

“Samantha, can you keep tabs on lover boy there, and keep her looking in the right direction? And if you could get a hold of Jansson. He must have some real detective work for her to do.
I'll call you later, in a couple of hours.”

Sam nodded and followed them into the dining room.

Kiwi stood on the freezing New York sidewalk and Sara said she'd go get some bagels or something. Kiwi called Scham, his voice mail was on so she left him a message telling him to stick with Samantha and Sabalore for the day. Sara returned, and they walked to the parking garage.

It was only 8:15, but already the morning felt like it had dragged on forever.

“This building,” said Sara as she negotiated the icy roads. “Daniel said it’s not going to be possible to waltz right in. We have to stake it out for a while first.”

“How was he? Did you talk to him much?” Kiwi watched Sara in the mirror and saw a smile creep onto her face.

“Yeah, we talked. He's pretty cool. For a creature of the night.”

They both laughed. “So this map he drew, it won't get us in?”

“Yeah, it will. But he said we should try to get familiar with the comings and goings. He said we might be surprised at who we saw there. There’s a run down tenement across the road, he gave me a tip on a good spot to watch the doors from.”

“So we aren't going to just run in and stake a whole bunch of sleeping vampires this morning then?”

“No, but I did bring those dowelling rods, just in case.”

The Bledisoe Building was old, large and in pretty good order considering the area. The building Kiwi and Sara were in was a kind of downscale crack house.

They set up in a rat infested, tumble-down room with a good view of the street. Kiwi put a chair against the door. She didn't want any unexpected visitors high on drugs to come stumbling in. It smelled of urine and several other worse things. There was the sharp aroma of solvents in the air.

“Nice neighborhood,” said Sara.  Kiwi tried not to think about throwing up.

Sara settled into a chair by the window and pulled out her binoculars. “Hey, Daniel said that Katherine Ives is a regular visitor to this place. And that Mueller guy, 'Pig-Pen'.”

Kiwi picked at her bagel, wondering who else worked the dayshift at Methuselah's house of horrors.

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

Back at the diner, Special Agent Sabalore entered and glanced around. She quickly spotted Samantha. She wandered over, and grabbed a vacant seat at their table.

 
"Hi, Samantha, Willmore,” she said, sitting down.

 
"Good morning Sabalore," Samantha replied, smiling.

 
Willmore mumbled a hello, not taking his eyes off the girl who seemed to have permanently attached herself to his side.

"Sabalore, This is Agent Scham," Samantha said, gesturing to the man who sat at her right.

 
"Hi," Sabalore said, smiling at him.

 
"And this," Sam gestured to the girl, "Is Katherine Ives. She's with the NYPD."

Sabalore nodded, and opened her mouth to say something when the waiter came.

They all ordered, and Sabalore turned to Samantha. "Are ASAC Kiwiphile and SAC Sara not coming?" she asked.

"No, they decided to get an early start this morning," Sam informed her.

 
"Oh, Okay." Sabalore smiled.

 
She bubbled on about an assortment of stuff for a few minutes, then came to a stop, noticing Samantha and Scham's wearied looks.

 
"I guess this case is tiring," Sabalore said and grinned evilly.  "I know I seem way too  cheerfully happy right now, but I have something to tell you." She paused, and looked downward. "It's something not a lot of people know about me, and I think you should know before this case goes any further." Sabalore paused again, then glanced up, face solemn. "I was... A cheerleader in high school," she finished, breaking into a grin.

 
Samantha rolled her eyes, and Scham chuckled.

 
Willmore and Ives were in their own little world.

 
The waiter delivered the food, and everyone was silent for a minute, except for the murmurs of Ives and Willmore.

Sabalore raised an eyebrow. After the Valentines Day party, she had thought Willmore and Kiwiphile were... together. Hmm. She guessed something had happened. She decided against asking anyone.  It was really none of her business.

 
"Do you really think it's vampires?" she asked, poking at her pancake.

 
"We're certain," Samantha answered.

 
"Great..." Sabalore sighed. "I hate vampires."

 
Samantha raised an eyebrow at her.

 
"I don't know if you know this, but I worked as an Intern for a year at the Office Of Scientific Investigation And Research in Canada." she smiled. "Actually, before joining the FBI, my plan was to become a scientist and work there. While I was there, I actually ended up working as if I was really working there, not as an intern.

“I stayed towards more of the... paranormal cases. I ended up working with a vampire one - in the field and the office - for almost a month." She grimaced slightly. "They're not very pleasant creatures. They especially don't take anything to heart when they eat. They're cold, soul less creatures. I was not anxious to run into another." Sabalore fell silent and turned back to her breakfast.

As they were preparing to leave the restaurant, Samantha started drawing up the day's workload of who would be doing what and with whom. Det. Ives looked at her rather narrowly. Craig missed it, and Sam assumed that Scham did as well. Sabalore looked at the woman with partially disguised curiosity.

"So, we're looking for Matthew Fenton," Sam concluded. "If he left the hospital of his own accord, or whether he was removed against his wishes. Either way, he disappeared with armed police officers less than 100 feet away from his room, and he is at the very least a material witness in this case."

She took one more sip of her coffee and thought about Kiwiphile and her present situation. Sam stared across at Agent Willmore whose behavior was impressing her less and less. His arm was draped tightly around Det. Ives, and there wasn't so much as a glimmer of daylight between them.

"And we need to interview Rachel Montgomery again." Sam nodded to Det. Ives. "I assume the NYPD are actively searching for Matthew Fenton.”

"Of course," Katherine smiled at her, an amused expression whose precise meaning escaped Sam.

"Has his apartment been searched again? Does he have any family? Other friends? Job? Lovers? Whatever?"

Det. Ives shrugged. "I wasn't working last night, and I haven't received all of the latest updates from my partner at the precinct." She smiled at Sam again, but the smile did not reach her eyes which were boring into Samantha. "Of course, if your department had followed proper procedures instead of trying to take credit for the case..."

 Craig nodded. "I never thought Kiwiphile would go that far to advance her own career." As he started into a monologue about how he thought Kiwiphile should have handled the investigation, Samantha saw Scham and Sabalore staring at him, mouths almost falling open at his rather rude analysis.

"Agent Willmore," she stood. "A word in private, if you don't mind."

She turned to Scham. "Do you have your car?" He nodded in reply. "Good. Be right with you. Sabalore, you're with us today." Sam dropped some money on the table. "Will one of you take care of the check?"

"What's the problem?" Willmore had followed Samantha to a discreet distance from the others.

"The problem, Agent Willmore," her voice was cold, and her eyes were furious. "The problem at the moment is your lack of respect for the chain of command." Craig stared at her, and Sam  continued. "You are entitled to your opinion. In the future, though, if you have a problem with the agent in charge of an investigation, you will direct your comments to that agent, or you will keep your mouth closed. Tearing apart the acting agent in charge is not productive, is not professional, and is not good for the team morale."

Craig's expression was a startled one, as if he weren't quite sure what they were discussing. "I -- I didn't think -- Katherine said --"

"And that's another thing," Sam stepped very close to Agent Willmore. She had to look way up to him, but it forced him to look straight down at her and pay attention to both her manner which never wavered and her voice which never rose above an intense low tone.

"Your personal activities should be just that. Personal. Anything else is a reflection on the Bureau and jeopardizes the integrity of our investigation. You *will* conduct yourself in a professional manner at all times when in the presence of your fellow agents, or you will be conducting yourself back to D.C. This is not a high school treasure hunt. This is a murder investigation. DO I make myself clear, Agent Willmore?"

Craig blinked several times, and then nodded his head. "Yes, ma'am, SAC Jaythree. I will conduct myself appropriately for the rest of this investigation."

"See that you do," Sam nodded to close the matter. She went back to the table where Sabalore was waiting alone. "Where are Scham and Ives?" She looked about the restaurant.

"Scham went to get our car, and Det. Ives went to get hers," Sabalore replied as she tried not to stare at Willmore. They all donned their coats and went outside to the street. Before Sam could say anything, Katherine Ives had pulled to the curb.

"Craig!" she called and then waved in Samantha’s direction. "I have a lead on Fenton. We'll track it down and keep you informed."

Craig walked around to the passenger door, as if he were her willing puppet on a string. They

drove off into the morning rush of traffic just as Scham pulled up to the curb. Sabalore climbed into the back, and Samantha took the passenger seat. She gave him the address of Rachel Montgomery's apartment, and they headed off as well.

Sam leaned back against the seat, sighing heavily. There were times when having power and authority were simply no fun at all. Scham threw a glance in her direction, but Sabalore asked a question about New York City from the backseat. Suddenly, Scham was doing his best to act as tour guide for her, and Samantha had to smile.

Scham turned and shot her a broad grin in return, and Sam found myself relaxing one small notch.

Then her cell phone rang.

She pulled it free from her coat pocket and answered on the second ring. It was probably either Sara or Kiwiphile. "Samantha."

There was a pause. "Is this SAC Jaythree?" Male voice which sounded slightly familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"This is she," Sam sat up straighter without realizing it. Back to work, obviously. Sabalore was instantly silent, and Scham threw a glance in Sam’s direction as he barely missed being sideswiped by a cab.

"This is Detective Jansson. We met at the precinct, the first day you guys were here on the case?"

A mental image of an older man, blond hair mixed with some gray, sprang into Sam’s mind. "Yes, Detective. What can I do for you?"

There was another pause. "SAC Jaythree, this may sound slightly unorthodox, but ---"

"But what?" She asked as the pause continued for a long moment.

"How well do you trust your fellow agents?"

That question caught Samantha completely off guard. She felt her green eyes growing huge from the implications of that one question. She started reviewing everyone's behavior on this case, her own included. Kiwiphile - not herself. Sara - herself, but even a bit farther than normal on the edge. Willmore -- so unlike himself as to be confused for a total stranger. Scham and Sabalore -- Sam resisted the urge to turn and stare at them. Herself -- stressed and developing a tension headache.

Finally she replied, "I trust them with my life. Why do you ask?"

"Because that would have been my own reply about my fellow detectives until a month ago."

"Really?" She swallowed hard. "What happened then?"

"My partner, a man with twenty years on the force, was gunned down in broad daylight, under mysterious circumstances. His killers were never caught."

"I'm sorry," Sam automatically replied. "I don't see what that has to do with --"

"My new partner at that time became Detective Katherine Ives."

Sam nodded and then realized that Jansson couldn't see her. "Yes, sir? Are you going somewhere with this train of thought, Detective?"

There was a heavy sigh at the other end. "This morning, when I came into the office, I saw the report that Matthew Fenton had disappeared from the hospital. Forensics said that the evidence was being transferred to the FBI labs, which is fine. I don't care. You have the resources available. Use them. So I went to check on the composite drawings that were made. Mueller had buried them rather quickly, insisting they were a waste of time, but I retrieved them. Agent Jaythree?"

"Yes, sir?" Something told her that the news wasn't going to be good.

"One of the drawings -- Fenton described several people that he thought were following him. Guy was obviously afraid of something. But one of the drawings strongly resembles someone we've already seen on this case."

"Who?" They had just pulled up in front of the building where Rachel Montgomery lived. Scham turned off the motor, and he and Sabalore sat waiting for Sam to finish her conversation. "Whom does the composite drawing resemble?"

Another long pause, and then Detective Jansson's voice came across sounding extremely old and tired. "The composite drawing strongly resembles my new partner, Detective Katherine Ives."

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

"Hey Kiwi," Sara said, spotting someone through the binoculars.

 
"Take a look, do we know this guy? He looks awfully familiar."

Kiwi looked at the man walking toward the building, and lowered the binoculars as he entered. "He does look familiar," she said. "Wait, isn't that the ME? From last night. He showed up with the police. I remember him because I thought it was kind of odd that he would come with them, instead of leaving it to the paramedics. He personally attended to the girl who was killed."

They looked at each other. Why was it they were always having problems with Medical Examiner's on their cases?

After quite some time, they saw him leave the building. Over the next hour, two other people entered. We got license numbers on both the vehicles.

More time of waiting, watching. Sara would have bet Samantha was glad she wasn't with them. She hated stakeouts.

"Oh my God," Sara said, sitting up straight in her chair. "It's her. Ives." She lowered her  binoculars. "With Willmore."

Kiwi paled very quickly. Sara stood up. "We have to go in there, what if he's in danger?"

Kiwi stood up and began pacing. Sara could tell that she wanted to go in to. "We can't," she said. "The two of us, against an FBI Agent, a police detective, and God knows what else. He's fine for now. But from now on, *no* important information gets told to him. None. We can't trust him anymore. But make him think we do."

Sara nodded, and sat back down, more than a little worried.

Kiwi’s mouth had suddenly filled with saliva, and she suppressed an urge to be sick. Sara looked at her in open concern as she waited for Kiwi to come up with some brilliant plan for keeping the case closed for one of the team, without openly accusing him of wrongdoing.

“I have to say this Kiwi, I think you may have some kind of bug, either that or that cut on your arm is infected. You've been looking like hell the last two days, and--”

“Its this room,”  Kiwi said, trying not to breathe the fetid air in too deeply. “And there is something else, but its neither the time or the place to--”

Kiwi was cut off by her phone ringing, and she flipped it open. It was Samantha, with some disturbing news about Detective Ives.

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

After hanging up from her conversation with Det. Jansson, Samantha turned to face Scham and Sabalore.

"Sam, are you okay?" Scham leaned towards her slightly, his expression concerned.

"You look a little pale there," Sabalore also leaned forward from the backseat.

Sam looked at both of them. She trusted them both. She had to trust them, or she'd end up second guessing herself and those around her. "That was Detective Jansson," she replied. "You haven't met him yet, Sabalore, but he's on this case with Det. Ives."

"Oh," Sabalore muttered darkly. "Her." Samantha had to smile in spite of herself. She suspected that Sabalore might be developing the same dislike for the female detective that the rest of them were having. Well, all of them except for Willmore, and possibly Scham.

"Hold on and just listen while I call Kiwiphile," Sam replied. "Keep an eye on the front door of Rachel Montgomery's building as long as we're here."

She hit the autodial button for Kiwi. It rang, and Kiwi answered on the first ring. "Kiwiphile." Was it Sam’s imagination, or did Kiwi sound even more tense than she had earlier this morning?

"Do you remember Detective Jansson? Ives' partner?"

"What? Did he call to tell you how wonderful he thinks she is, too? Listen, Sara and I--"

"Kiwi! Listen to me. Jansson is having a problem with her. He didn't come right out and say this, but he implied heavily that he doesn't trust her."

"Join the club. Sam--"

Scham lightly touched Samantha’s arm with his hand and nodded towards the front door of the apartment building. Rachel Montgomery was leaving the building. Alone. Sam nodded and gestured for him to start the car. They would tail her from a discreet distance.

"Kiwi, Jansson says that Ives is a strong match for one of the composite drawings."

"What composite drawings?"

"The ones that their artist drew after talking to Michael Fenton? The drawings of the people who were following him? One of them 'strongly resembles' Katherine Ives."

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

Kiwi hurriedly filled Sara in, and she resumed her watch on the building while Kiwi called Jansson.

“Jansson.”

“Det, Jansson, its ASAC Malone here, I just spoke with SAC Samantha--”

“Listen, I can't talk here. I have the composite, and I intend to run it over to you guys. Where are you?”

“On stakeout, Katherine Ives just entered the building we have under surveillance with one of my agents. I don't want to talk to you on this line, can you get to the FBI field office? Talk to an ASAC Marston. You can trust him.”

“Sure, I'll call you when I get there.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and one more thing?” Kiwi heard him pause, as though looking around. When he came on the line his voice was quieter. “The rat squad are looking into her, about that shooting. You may want to give your agent a heads up, they won't think twice about tumbling him as well.”

“Will do.”

Kiwi sighed heavily. What to do? “Sara?”

“Yeah?” She kept her gaze fixed on the Bledisoe.

“The IAD are investigating Ives. They won't take long to find Willmore, and put him in the picture.”

“Should we warn him? Tell him about her?”

“We have to try, but one thing worries me.”

“What?”

“If she gets cornered, she'll do something desperate. We have to be careful, and fast.”

“Are we going in?”

“Yes, but as far as we know that building is Vampire Grand Central. We have to get her out first. I have an idea.”

Kiwi pulled out her phone and dialed Craig.

“Willmore.”

“Willmore, It's Kiwi. I need you and Detective Ives to get down to the Jelcich Fisheries Warehouse. Some evidence turned up that IDs a killer.”

“What, what is it?”

“Just go there.” She hung up before he could pump her for more information. Se hoped that Ives was at least partly involved in the set-up, and that she wouldn't want to delay in getting down there.

Sara had an eyebrow raised. “Ah, does this plan include any idea of what we do when we get them there?”

“Nope.”

“And who's going to keep an eye on this building?”

“We are, I'll call Jansson. Get him to go down there with a bogus story. You and I are going into that building before it gets dark.”

Kiwi looked at her watch, midday already, it would be dark by 4 p.m. She called Jansson and he said he was on it. He figured he could give them an hour, tops.

“There they go,“ said Sara.

Kiwi looked out the window as Willmore and Ives hurriedly left.  Craig,  she thought, what the hell are you doing?

Once Ives' car had pulled away, Sara and Kiwi crossed the road and walked swiftly down an alley way.

“Daniel gave me pretty good directions, there's a window... there it is.” She was pointing to a small window at ground level. It was no more than three feet wide, and not much taller. Kiwi  leaned in and peered through it.

“It looks like a basement level corridor, but there are bars on it.”

Sara shook her head, “Daniel said he cut them loose, we should be able to slide them out, once we break the window.”

“That's going to make a noise, we may attract attention to ourselves.”

“No problem.” Sara pulled a roll of tape out of her backpack, and a towel from the hotel, and a brick.

“Not exactly standard issue Federal equipment, Agent.” Kiwi was amazed at the things Sara carried in that thing.

“Don't worry, I'll return the towel. I got the brick at the hardware store, I was gonna use it as a paperweight , honest.” She was putting tape on the window as she spoke.

“OK, I guess we aren't going to find anything in here that we can put in an official report anyway.” Kiwi was keeping an eye out up the alleyway as she spoke.

Sara smashed the window and used the brick to knock out the jagged edges. The bars slid out easily, and they placed them on the ground. It was a seven foot drop to the floor.

Once they were down, Kiwi looked up ruefully. “I hope we don't need to get out in a hurry.”

“Which way?” Sara asked, pulling her gun.

Kiwi nodded to the left, towards the back of the building. Once they were a few feet away from the window, it was fairly dark. They walked slowly, brushing their fingertips against the brick walls as they went.

They came to the end of the corridor, and there was a door to our right. Kiwi tried it, it was locked. Time to break another rule, she thought, pulling out her lock-pick. They opened it and were faced with a long, low ceilinged stairway that stretched out of sight into darkness.

“Is it too late to change my mind about coming in here?” whispered Sara.

They moved at an agonizingly slow pace, the stairs were damp and slimy. Kiwi’s sense of smell seemed to be more acute, maybe a side effect of pregnancy. She wrinkled her nose against the foul air. “It smells like a crypt,” she whispered, then immediately regretted saying it. It reminded her of who 'lived' here. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, it settled on the back of her neck and clung there doggedly.

After five minutes of half stumbling down the stairs they hit the bottom. There was a low archway in front of them. Kiwi moved forwards, her arms outstretched, and felt nothing. She tried standing upright, and realized that the air was moving slowly around her. It was pitch black. It must be  a large room of some kind, she thought. Sara bumped into her softly.

 
Instinctively, they both kept silent. There was no point standing here in the dark doing nothing, so Kiwi got out her lighter. A hangover from her smoking days, she found it handy to keep, as the light was more discrete than their Mag-lites. She flicked it on and raised it above her head.

It was difficult not to make a noise. Kiwi heard Sara's sharp intake of breath match her own.

Thirty feet above them, hanging from the rafters like oversized bats, were at least fifty bodies. Then Kiwi looked a little closer. They weren't bodies, she thought as an eye opened and glittered in the faint light. They were vampires.

She flicked out the light, and simultaneously they started to step backwards, towards the stairway. Above them, in the impenetrable gloom, there was the distinct sound of movement.

Sara stood there, frozen. To run, or not to run. Until last night, she didn't know vampires even existed. In fact, she still had some doubts. How was she supposed to know whether they could attack when the sun was still up, as long as they weren't actually *in* the sun? The sun. They needed to run for the sunlight.

"Kiwi," Sara whispered, "Run like you have never run before."

In an instant they took off. It was pitch black, and Sara didn't want to use a flashlight that would allow their attackers to pinpoint a position.

As if they couldn't smell them.

Sara could hear Kiwi a few feet ahead. Then Sara ran into a wall. It was hard to keep your bearings in the darkness. She fell over backwards, scrambling to get up, and felt a flutter of air next to her ear. She clawed at it, her hands finding nothing. Then, at her other ear, a soft voice, barely a whisper, "We'll find you... when the sun sets..."

Sara screamed and got up, grabbing one of her makeshift stakes from her backpack. She then continued running like hell. She heard a yelp form Kiwi ahead, and then tripped over someone. Sara flailed her stake around wildly before she realized it was Kiwi. "Something tripped me," Kiwi said. They got up and ran again. Finally they made it to the window, where a stream of sunlight was pouring in. They stood in it, looking back at the dark hallway. Sara could see many pairs of glinting eyes.

"It's okay," Sara said, "we're okay. They can't come into the light. Only the very oldest ones."

"And what if there's an old one here?!" Kiwi said. "Let's go. I'll boost you up, then you pull me out."

Sara crawled through the small space, then held out her hand for Kiwi who had to jump to reach it. Sara started pulling, in time to see one of these creatures step into the room. He seemed to glide, rather than walk. Kiwi's hand slipped out of Sara‘s, and she fell.

"Come on!" Sara yelled, as Kiwi jumped for her hand again.

Kiwi jumped for Sara's hand and caught it firmly. Kiwi was aware of a movement out of the corner of her eye, and she struggled to get a grip on the wall with her feet. Kiwi tried pushing with her left hand. Big mistake.

She felt the new stitches pop and a sharp stab of pain made her jerk involuntarily. Sara's grip was broken, and Kiwi tumbled back to the floor. She landed hard, half twisting her ankle. She looked up at Sara who was yelling at her. A figure was at Kiwi’s side, and she swept her right arm against it.

“Sara! Get the hell out of here!”

Sara hesitated, and Kiwi felt herself lifted up.

“Run, goddamnit!” Kiwi hoped Sara would return to the hotel, get Daniel. Maybe he would contact Gabriel. If Kiwi was lucky, she would be a hostage. If not, she hoped it would be a quick end.

Kiwi saw Sara disappear as she was taken back down into the foul pit they had just left.

Kiwi closed her eyes, her heart hammering. Whoever had her in their grip was strong, impossibly strong. He moved silently, and the others seemed to part for him. She opened her eyes again but could see nothing more than an inch in front of her. There was a thin trickle of blood oozing from her wound, she hoped it didn't start a feeding frenzy.

Kiwi was put down on something solid, and blinked as a candle was lit. Several candles in fact. She looked about and saw that she was surrounded by a crowd of what could only be described as creatures. Each one was different, some normal looking, some grotesque. But all of them had the same fell eyes, yawning chasms of evil.

She eyed her abductor. Like Gabriel, he was handsome. But his looks were marred by a disfiguring scar that ran from his left eye to his mouth, pulling his lip up into a perpetual sneer.

“Who are you, to disturb our slumber?”

His voice was at once outside her and inside. It had the quality of gravel, scraping its way around the inside of Kiwi’s skull, and causing the fine hairs on her neck to stiffen.

“I'm looking for a missing boy. Matthew Fenton.”

“You are here for much more than that. I know who sent you. Daniel.” When he said the name, the surrounding pack murmured and shifted. “I will give you a chance to save yourself, mortal. Tell me where he is, and I will let you live.”

“I can't do that.” Kiwi was hoping to come up with a good reason, but words were failing her.

He stared into Kiwi’s eyes, she felt him push against her mind, and then a gentle thud as he met the same resistance Ives had.

“Who has protected you?” He leaned in, drawing air from around her with his breath, his mouth horribly close to the racing pulse in her neck.

“GABRIEL!” The name came out as an ear shattering scream. Kiwi began to shake violently. His hand gripped her face, the nails cutting into the skin.

“So, he is alive after all. And he has an interest in you. You will be my magnet, my talisman. I will draw him to me with you, and you will watch him die.”

He looked to Kiwi’s belly. “Then I will kill you, and his child.”

Kiwi was tied up, and left to lie on the stone bench they had put her on. She gathered that he assumed she was Gabriel's lover. She decided not to correct him.

“Are you Adrian? Methuselah?”

He turned and gazed at her, his eyes black and unfathomable. “I am the very thing your nightmares are made of.”

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

Previously, in Washington, D.C.

Liebestraum, one of Elisheva’s favorite pieces composed by Franz Liszt, and one of the few of her repertoire which she had committed to memory. It seemed to reflect the mood she was in...relaxed and peaceful. The feel of the cool ivories under her fingertips was a welcomed sensation. It had been ages since she had had the chance to practice, and to finally be sitting at her beloved Yamaha upright was the final reward for a long weekend of unpacking and organizing her new home.

Elisheva’s fingers instinctively found their keys, her inner voice reminding her fingers, dolce...legato. As she played the final two measures, they slowed to emphasize the rit., her foot pressing the pedal to resonate the final notes. She took a deep breath and smiled to herself. Although it sounded cliche, moving to DC had felt like coming home...and it was a very pleasant feeling indeed.

As she released the pedal, Elisheva reached for one of her well-worn piano books and began thumbing through it looking for another piece to fit the mood. Her concentration was broken by the sound of someone knocking at the door. Great, she thought to herself, neighbors already complaining about my piano playing.

She looked through the peephole to see a familiar figure standing at her front door. She unlocked and opened the door, her smile reflecting the genuine happiness Elisheva felt as she welcomed an old friend into her new home.

“Director Skinner, what a welcome surprise.” She waved a hand as she gestured for him to come in. Elisheva made a mental note of the fact he was actually dressed casually, for a change of pace, with jeans, a simple long sleeved dark green t-shirt, and his favorite leather jacket.

She took his jacket and hung it in the closet as he said, “I wanted to stop by to give you this.” She shut the closet door and turned to find him extending a small package in her direction.

“Consider it a house warming present.” He smiled as Elisheva took it from him. They walked to the sofa and sat down, each at an opposite end.

“I came across it a few years ago and I thought of you. I considered sending it to you, but for some reason I held onto it. I must have hoped I’d have the chance to give it to you in person.” His voice was calm and relaxed. He nodded at the gift and said, “Go ahead, open it Ellie.”

She fingered the small pale yellow bow, wondering when the last time had been he had called her Ellie.

Judging by the weight and size, she guessed it was a book. She remember the endless boxes of books she had just unpacked and laughed to herself. The thought of adding one more to the hundreds she already had, struck Elisheva as funny somehow. She gently flipped open the card and read it. “Welcome home. W”  Again, a smile flashed across her face. She pulled the loose end of the ribbon, untying the bow and carefully opened the matching pale yellow wrapping paper.

Elisheva stared down at the book which she held in her hand. It was an old and worn copy of Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables.  Of all the books she had read, it was still her favorite and he knew it. It was still in reasonably good shape, and as she gingerly opened the cover Elisheva  astonished to discover it was a French text first edition.

She looked up at him, then back at the book and once again at him. “Walt, I can’t accept this. I don’t want to appear ungrateful, but it must have cost you a fortune and I ...” Her eyes fell on the book as she closed it and let her fingertips trace the letters of the title.

 
“I want you to have it, Ellie.” His voice was kind but firm.

Her eyes began to burn as she forced back the tears she could feel trying to make their way to the surface. Elisheva took a deep breath and let her gaze fall upon her friend sitting on the other end of the sofa. She could only manage a voice something slightly above a whisper, “Thank you Walter, it’s beautiful.”

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

Two days later, Elisheva found herself standing at Assistant Director Skinner’s office door. When she had walked into the outer office, Kimberly gave her look of warning. The look that says, ‘Whosoever ventures beyond this point, does so at their own risk. Consider yourself warned.’

“He’s waiting for you. You can go right in.”

“Thanks, Kimberly.” The statement having more than one meaning. Although Elisheva knew he was expecting her, she knocked firmly before entering. He had his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, glasses off , pacing behind his desk with one hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose. Individually, each was a warning sign of impending doom, but to witness them all at once was an sure sign that all hell was about to break loose.

“Sir, you wanted to see me?”

He picked up his glasses and put them on. His jaw was working double time and as he spoke, it appeared as if his teeth never separated as he formed his words. “Agent Toews, take a seat,” and almost as an after thought he threw in, “please.”

She took the seat farthest from the door, probably as a subconscious indicator that no matter how ugly it was going to get, she was not going to make a mad dash for the door to escape his obvious foul mood. He continued to pace as he began his explanation for their meeting. “Agent Toews, are you aware of the case Agent Kiwiphile is currently working on?”

“Yes, Sir, I am. She contacted me just yesterday requesting additional manpower. She gave me a brief overview at the time, so I am familiar with the basic details. Agent Sabalore joined their investigative team and I assumed all was going well since I had not heard back from her. Is there a problem, Sir?”

That was the wrong question to ask. He stopped his pacing. He leaned over his desk, placing his clenched fists on the desktop and letting his angry glare fall on Elisheva. She met his glare with her own look of calmness as she silently braced herself for the storm that was about to hit her with full fury.

“Is there a problem?” He let out a mocking chuckle. “Well, Agent Toews, let me fill you in on the latest developments on this case. This morning I received a phone call from my superior who proceeded to chew my ass out regarding the behavior of two of my agents on this case.” His voice had become a growl, his anger voiced in every syllable he uttered. “It appears he received a very nasty phone call from a Detective Katherine Ives, of the New York Police Department. According to Det. Ives, it appears that SA Zeuty, while accompanying her on the way to investigate a crime scene, ordered her fellow agent to pull off the road and stop the car. Agent Zeuty then proceeded to shoot out the tires of the car and then held Det. Ives at gun point for a period of time for no damned apparent reason.”

Skinner pulled his chair out from behind his desk and sat down. He began to massage his left temple with his index and middle fingers and absent mindedly picking up his pen with the other hand. After several pulses of his clenched jaw, he continued. “Det. Ives also led my superior to believe Agent Kiwi purposely delayed her inclusion in the investigation of a crime scene where the primary subject of the case, a Tony Elstree, was found murdered. She did not make any direct allegations against Agent Kiwi, but it was very clear that she was not happy with the way the case was being handled.”

Elisheva watched him, waiting to see if there was anything else he wanted to add to his tirade. He looked at her from behind his glasses, a nonverbal challenge having been issued. If he was looking for a debate regarding her fellow agents’ behavior, he was not going to find it with her.

“Sir, I do not know the circumstances under which Agent Zeuty and Agent Kiwiphile acted, but I trust their judgment. Perhaps you should too.” Although she must admit she was intensely curious to know what Sara’s explanation would be for pulling a gun on a NYPD officer. It promised to be a good story.

“It is not a matter of trust, Agent Toews.” His voice was now a low rumble. “There is a matter of protocol and decorum that must be followed. There are more than a few people within the Bureau, and without for that matter, who are not pleased with the fact the Y-Files division has been approved. You know that first hand Agent Toews.” His eyes reflected his unspoken warning. “I want you to contact Agent Kiwi and let her know you are joining this investigation, effective immediately.”

She looked at him with an expression that was both puzzled and annoyed. “Forgive me, Sir, but what the hell am I suppose do. Show up and say ‘Hi guys, now you all play nice with the local law enforcement. They say you’re not playing fair.’ And then continue to recite Bureau procedure?”

“Quite frankly, Agent Toews, I don’t care how you handle the situation, but I want you out in the field by lunch time today. And I damn well better not get any more phone calls regarding my agents conduct during this investigation.”

Elisheva stood up, fighting to control her own anger now. “If that is all Sir, it appears I have a plane to catch.” She turned and with resolute calmness, walked towards the door. As she reached for the knob, she turned to face him, her eyes meeting his with a steady gaze and tone of sincere earnestness in her voice. “It *IS* a matter of trust... Sir.”

As Elisheva shut the door behind her, she could hear Skinner push his chair back to stand and the sound of his pen as it impacted his desktop, as he threw it down in a final act of frustration. He was pi$$ed, and so was she. She was NOT about to walk into an ongoing investigation and play referee between the Bureau and the NYPD. Regardless of Skinner’s ‘indirect’ order, Elisheva’s full intention was to help Kiwi solve this case, nothing more...nothing less.

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

Agents Jaythree, Scham and Sabalore were still following Rachel Montgomery from a discreet distance. New York City's traffic did not always make surveillance from an automobile feasible, but at least it usually provided some cover. There were always trade offs in situations like this.

Rachel had not made any movements which suggested she knew that she was being followed. Traffic had cooperated to the point that they were even able to find a parking spot where they  could sit and wait for Ms. Montgomery to finish her visit to the neighborhood market. The sun was shining. Samantha felt positive about the morning's work so far.

Her cell phone rang.

She answered it on the first ring. "Jaythree."

"Is this FBI Special Agent Samantha Jaythree?" Another male voice, but this one was completely unfamiliar. How was it that all these people knew her cell phone number??

"This is she," Sam slumped down in the seat slightly as Rachel walked out of the store. Rachel  probably couldn't see Samantha, but there was no point in taking an unnecessary risk.

"This is Lieutenant Mark Do of the NYPD. I have this lady here who claims she's one of your agents, and she asked me to call you."

This didn't sound good at all. "Does this person have a name?"

"Her ID reads Special Agent Sara Zeuty. Is she one of yours?"

"Yes. Is Agent Zeuty okay?"

There was a muffled sound. It could have been either a sneeze, a cough, or a suppressed laugh. Sam couldn't tell over the phone. "Ma'am, Agent Zeuty was just stopped by an officer on traffic patrol. She was driving along a sidewalk, and when the officer managed to force her car to stop, Agent Zeuty shouted at the officer to move his --- " A rather long and inventive stream of profanity ended the quote.

Samantha closed her eyes and  felt her head throbbing painfully against the right temple. She  felt the car moving, and she assumed that Scham was maintaining their watch on Rachel Montgomery. "Yes, Lt. Do? Then what happened?"

"Then she waved her ID and claimed that a fellow agent was being held hostage by vampires in a building --"

Sam’s eyes flew open.

"-- and that she had to go get another vampire to help her. Is she on medication?"

"Where are you?" Samantha waved at Scham to pull the car over to the curb. He looked for a parking space, but the fates which had so benevolently aided their efforts just moments before now seemed to have turned their backs. Traffic ahead of them was suddenly snarled, and even Rachel Montgomery was about to disappear from our view along the sidewalk.

Lt. Do gave directions to where Sara was being detained. "She's a Federal Agent, but I am on my way to your location," Sam replied. "If you require any further assistance in the meantime, call the New York FBI field office and ask for ASAC Marston." She closed the connection and turned to Scham. "Get out of the car."

"What?"

"Do it." She unfastened my seat belt. "Both of you get out of the car, and follow Rachel Montgomery on foot. Observe her movements, but do not let her know you're trailing her. Do not attempt to apprehend her. If she returns to her apartment, knock on the door and ask about Fenton...if she's seen him, the last time she saw him, whatever you think of."

"What's wrong?" Sabalore asked as she climbed out of the backseat. Scham had vacated the driver's seat,  and Sam climbed over the center console to take the driver's seat herself.

"The NYPD just picked up Sara. Something about vampires holding Kiwiphile hostage." She shook her head at them. "Just follow Rachel Montgomery. I expect a report from you guys every hour on the hour."

Samantha watched them disappear into the throng along the sidewalk. They should be fine, she told herself. Scham knew the city, and as far as Sam knew, Rachel had never seen either agent before.

Fighting the urge to swing the car onto the sidewalk and imitate Sara's attempts to reach help -- Sam knew she must have been going back to the motel for Daniel -- she pushed the car as fast as she could through the busy New York City streets.

Samantha was within a few blocks of the location where Lt. Do had told her they were detaining Sara. She had stopped at a traffic light when she felt a strange chill overtake her  without warning. Her hands were on the steering wheel. The sunshine was full on her face through the car's windshield. Sam knew perfectly well where she was, and what she was doing there. Yet the pain inside her head increased, and Sam felt as if she had stepped inside a dark room which was colder than any freezer.

She heard a horn honking, but her eyes could not focus on the road in front of her. Sam couldn't remember if she should go forward, backward, or simply sit and do nothing. She  realized dimly that her foot must have pressed against the gas pedal. She was aware that the car was in the middle of an intersection. Another horn honked, blared, grew louder, and then she felt as if she were slipping beneath an icy blanket which covered a soft yet colder bed.

Samantha’s body relaxed just seconds before the other car struck her own vehicle which was smack in the middle of the intersection. The other car had the green light. She could not have explained how her car had reached the middle of the street. Sam couldn't have explained very much at all. Her body was inside the car -- her head impacting the air bag which forcibly exploded in front of her face. Sam’s left ankle was twisted and trapped beneath the metal of the car as it crunched and folded from being struck by a minivan.

...Her mind - or was it her spirit? - was miles, years, realities away from the present moment on a busy city intersection where a borrowed car was sitting, folded slightly from the impact. She  felt as if she were floating between dimensions of space, time, and reality, and she saw a face before her own. Sam didn't recognize the face. She had never seen this face. Yet she knew instinctively that this was Gabriel. Kiwiphile's informant, Gabriel...

Outside the car, people were stopping, gathering, looking at the unconscious woman who was trapped inside the vehicle. The wail of police and emergency vehicles could be clearly heard by them.

...Gabriel's face was calmly reposed in an expression of sleep. His mouth never moved. His voice was charming and melodious as it resonated within my mind. "I apologize for this manner of making your acquaintance, Samantha. I am unable to appear to you in daylight, but a dark presence has invaded my slumber. Your friend needs your help, but you cannot help her alone....

Outside the car, paramedics and police were forcing open the car door to remove the injured woman. "Blood pressure has bottomed out," one of the paramedics called to the other. "I can barely get any vitals." His gloved hand felt the shocking cold which radiated up from the woman's body. "What the hell?" he muttered and pulled something from his open kit. "Her body temp is at 88 degrees, dropping rapidly! Respiration shallow."

...Gabriel's voice was soothing despite the serious nature of his message. "Come to me tonight," his voice was growing fainter. "I must leave before I hurt your physical body. This method of communication draws you inside my resting period, and if I remain, your body will die suddenly and horribly. Do not try to rescue your friend with your guns and badges. Come to me tonight." The voice disappeared, but the words remained inside Samantha’s head...

The paramedics lifted the woman onto the waiting gurney and into the waiting ambulance. The policeman who was on the scene, helping to redirect traffic, turned when a cell phone rang from inside the mangled car. He walked over and picked it up. "Yes?"

A pause, followed by a woman's voice. "Who is this?"

"This if Officer Reed of the NYPD. Who's this?"

"This is FBI Special Agent Elisheva Toews. This number belongs to an FBI agent."

"If you mean a woman named Jaythree, she was just involved in an auto accident."

"Is she okay? Where was she taken?"

"She should be at St. Michaels. It's the closest ER for trauma victims."

"Thank you." The voice was replaced by a click and a dial tone.

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

Samantha almost destroyed Scham’s left foot while she was leaving them. Only a few inches, he thought, and he would have needed a miracle to walk again.

"Hey Sam, don't forget is my Mustan-" Scham had to stop shouting. She tried to swing onto the sidewalk, but clearly she decided not to do that at the last second... but that didn't avoid the car from suffering a little hit from a fireplug. Scham was sure the tire was damaged.

"See, Agent?" He told his new female partner. "That's why FBI agents shouldn't use their own cars for missions. That's the purpose of the rentals."

They were in his own car because he wanted to impress Sam... Well, the one impressed was himself.

"Now what, Agent?" Sabalore said to him.

"Well... we have to-" bip-bip-bip That was his pager. "The number of Anthony Hubbard; strange, what would Hub want now?"

"Who's Hub?"

"Eh?, Oh, Hubbard, he's my boss at the anti-terrorist division here in New York."

"So you don't actually live in DC like the others?"

"No," Scham said while trying to stop a cab. "No, there are a few tasks I've got to finish here before I dedicate my complete time to the Y Files. Besides I'm thinking of staying; I like here better than Washington." Finally a yellow car stopped.

"26 Federal Plaza, please," he said to the driver.

"Where are we going?" Sabalore’s look was odd.

"My office. C'mon, Agent Sabalore, you'll meet interesting people there, I promise."

"Alright." She finally stepped into the car and began their way.

While in the cab Scham dialed the FBI central: "Yes, this is Special Agent Samuel Padilla P-A-D-I-L-L-A ID MSMX-060177, there's a message for me..." He waited.  "Alright, thank you."

"And?"

"There's someone in the Field Office asking for us."

"Got any idea?"

"He said is someone from DC."

After a moment of silence, Sabalore said, "I didn't know your name, why do everybody call you Scham?"

"Long story."

They finally arrived after almost half an hour.   Scham  fastdialed Samantha. "Sam?... It's me... I can't hear you... look we're in my office..." He couldn't hear anything but the dial tone again.

Standing a few feet from them Scham saw someone he didn't recognized talking with Hubbard.  "Agent Padilla, meet Agent Fox Mulder."

"See, Agent Sabalore?" Scham told his partner "I told you that you would meet interesting people here."

Sabalore smiled.

 
"Actually, Agent Scham, Mulder and I have already met," she told him.

 
"Hey, Agent Sabalore, Agent Scham," Mulder said, smiling at them. Sabalore raised an eyebrow.  He hadn't put 'Agent' in front of her name since they first met.

 
"Hubbard, This is Agent Sabalore. She just came in from DC. Agent, this is Anthony Hubbard." Scham introduced us.

 
She shook his hand, and turned to Mulder.  "What brings you out here, Mulder?"

 
"I got a call awhile ago from ASAC Kiwiphile," he began.

Scham nodded.

"She informed me that she'd spoken with a vampire-"

"She WHAT?" Sabalore broke in, looking shocked.

 
Scham glanced at her.

 
"Yeah, Kiwi was approached by a vampire, and given information in regards to the case." He told her.

 
"Ohhh..." Sabalore sighed, rolling her eyes, "I never knew that. I knew we were dealing with them, but--" She stopped, realizing she had completely cut Mulder off.

 
"Sorry," she grinned. "Continue."

 
"Anyway, she wanted information about a vampire. Later, I got a call from Skinner. He'd asked if I was contacted. Apparently, he hadn't heard about the 'Vampire' theory. So anyway," Mulder paused, "I came down to see if you needed any help."

 
"Any help we can get is appreciated, Agent Mulder," Scham told him.

 
Sabalore noticed that Hubbard had left.

 
"I suppose we should go back to following Montgomery," she said.

 
"In a cab?" Scham asked.

"We could take a cab back to the motel," she suggested, "I drove down here, So I have my car."

Scham smirked. "Are you sure you want to use it after seeing what happened to mine?" he asked.

She laughed. "I've only had it for awhile, yet my insurance company is probably ready to raise my rates."

 
"Okay," Mulder broke in. "Did I miss something?"

 
Scham and Sabalore quickly filled him in on what had been going on.

 
"To the motel, I guess," Sabalore declared, following Scham out of the NY field office.  He quickly flagged down a cab, and they all got in.

 
They rode the rest of the way in near silence, as Sabalore tried to process all this new information about the case.  "Vampires..." she muttered for the fourth time in only a day, shaking her head as they pulled into the motel.

 
Mulder got out first, followed by Scham, then Sabalore.

 
"Which one's yours, Sab?" Mulder asked, glancing around the parking lot.

"That one," she said, pointing to the silver Infiniti near the front entrance.

 
She headed to the car, and hit the unlock button on the key ring. Sabalore tossed her keys to Scham, and he looked surprised, but caught them with ease.

 
"You drive," she told him. "I've only been here once; I stayed with a friend for a shopping trip. I have no idea where I'm going or how to get anywhere... Unless, of course," she smiled, climbing into the passenger seat as Mulder slid into the back, "You wanna find a Starbucks. I seem to have a radar for those."

Special Agent Scham was sitting in the driver's seat of Agent Sabalore's car when his cell phone rang. "Scham," he answered.

"This is SAC Elisheva Toews," a female voice answered. "I'm trying to locate either SAC Zeuty or Special Agent Kiwiphile. Neither seems to be answering their cell phone at the moment."

"SAC Toews," Scham was conscious of Sabalore and Mulder, and he hoped they wouldn't think he was crazy for what he was about to say. "It was my understanding that Kiwiphile was being held hostage --"

"Hostage?!"

"Yes, ma'am, supposedly by vampires."

"Vampires?"

"Yes, ma'am. Sara was having some difficulty with the local police. I'm not sure what happened, but Sam took my car and was on her way to straighten it out."

Small sigh, long pause, deep breath. "Scham, Samantha was in a car accident. I guess it was your car. I'm at St. Michael's in the emergency room right now, trying to find out how she is. Oh, wait, there's her doctor. I'll call you back."

Scham was left with a dial tone in his ear.

Sabalore turned to Scham.

"What was that about?" she asked, curious to why Scham suddenly was gripping the steering wheel like he was about to strangle it.

"Sam was in a car accident," he told them, glancing to Sabalore and then Mulder.

"Oh, god..." she breathed.

Mulder leaned forward, as a car honked furiously for them to move. Scham pulled the car up further.

"Is she alright?" Sabalore asked.

"I- I don't know," he replied. "SAC Toews said she'd call back; The doctor arrived, She went to speak with him.”

 
Sabalore nodded.

"Since she said we'd stay in touch," Mulder piped up from the backseat, "I suggest we continue our search for Montgomery. If we need to, we can get to the hospital."

 
"What about Kiwi?" Scham asked.

 
He glanced in the rearview mirror at Mulder, and Sabalore twisted around to see his response.

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