

### CATEE'S GRACE

Book I

The Vigilant Series

By Keith Holmes

Copyright © Keith Holmes 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Note: This is a work of fiction. While some of the locations in the series describe actual locations this is intended only to lend a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This work is intended for entertainment purposes only. The Author, Publisher, nor anyone associated with this work assumes any responsibility or liability for the use or improper use of any information contained herein.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Jeremy Feign for his patience in editing, to Caleb Scott White for his guidance, to Dennis James Chesser for encouraging me to dream, to Craig Eddy for being my secret agent and rock n' roll guide, to my patient, loving wife Amy Michele Holmes for reading every iteration and being my idea-board. Thank you to God for my gifts and His encouragement, and thank you to the readers, for whom this was written.
Foreword

The Vigilant Series is a work of love, a study in research in my rather obsessive/compulsive desire to lend authenticity and realism to a modern, fantastic setting where ancient dragons rule the world in secret, and a sect of supernatural knights wage war against them.

This is a book of secrets, of conspiracy theories and spirituality, and though it is told from the point of view of Holy Knights, there's room within for every paradigm. This is a book of the trappings of mankind, spiritual, societal, where the good and evil within the human heart can be as heroic or villainous as the actions of any knight or dragon.

In this book you'll meet Catee Moyer, a little girl who can miraculously heal. Throughout the Vigilant Series you'll be presented with the various beliefs that her existence represents. None of them are absolutely right, nor are any completely wrong, just as no one presenting those theories is completely good or absolutely malevolent. Good people do bad things and sometimes bad people serve a greater purpose. Redemption abides for all.

I invite you to keep your eyes open as you never know when some seemingly inconsequential moment proves to be a keystone later, or when you'll find greater meaning in something mundane.

Catee's Grace is the story of what happens when a blue collar, hard working, American family is thrust into a secret war between the servants of darkness and the creatures of light by a single act of love. This book is the beginning of Catee's journey toward a destiny that she can't even define, let alone understand.

I hope you find this work entertaining first and foremost, but also compelling and thought provoking. I hope you read it twice, that it inspires you to search. I hope that you read it a third time, and say, "ah-ha".

I am grateful to you for this opportunity to share a bit of me.

Keith Holmes - Author

### PROLOGUE

Tara fidgeted as she waited for one of the nurses at the station to notice her. Catee twisted in her arms, reflecting her mom's discomfort. The smell of antiseptic mixed with the warmth of the nursing home's hallways put a sickly feeling in her belly and had the young mother on edge. The quiet, interrupted only by an occasional hushed voice or cough or moan made her want to run. After several moments of waiting her turn, she decided to do just that. The young mother turned to leave when someone finally paid her more than a moment's heed.

"I'm sorry, can I help you ma'am?" came the kindly voice of a nurse who'd just finished giving report. Tara turned and grinned nervously. "Whatcha got there?" the nurse beamed, moving toward the pair and taking a peak at little Catee.

"She's here to meet her Mimi," Tara explained sheepishly.

"She's beautiful. Pretty, like her momma," the nurse said, running a knuckle gently over Catee's cheek. Tara blushed a bit but before she could offer thanks for the compliment the nurse continued. "She's Anna's grandbaby I'll bet."

"How did you...?" Tara asked, cut off again by a nurse who knew far more than the young mother realized.

"She talks about wanting to see her. And if this is Catee, then you must be Tara. She talks about you too."

Tara's face filled with shame. She'd meant to visit her ailing grandmother a hundred times but she always found a reason not to. She didn't deal well with sickness. Anna was dying, awaiting a liver transplant that'd likely never come.

"Can I see her?" Tara's voice cracked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel...."

Tara shook her head and smiled politely.

"She's in room 118. If you want to go on in, I'll be by there shortly," the nurse said before heading off behind the station.

Tara took a breath and turned down the hallway. The lighting felt cold and harsh darkening the interiors of each room. She watched door numbers until she found 118.

Inside, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. There was a medicinal tinge to the overly warm air. Anna lay sleeping in her bed. Even from afar, Tara could see the yellow color of her skin and how her cheeks and eyes had sunken. She inched forward, shifting Catee from one arm to the other. Anna was sleeping so still and peacefully that for a moment Tara feared the worst. She leaned over and watched her grandmother's chest for signs of movement.

"She's out. She's in a lot of pain today so I gave her something to help her sleep." The voice startled Tara and she wheeled around to find the nurse she'd met earlier, reading a chart she'd taken from Anna's door.

"Oh," Tara nodded, glad the nurse hadn't seen her jump.

The nurse fetched an ink pen from the large pockets of her pink smock and glanced up. "You can still visit with her. She _might_ wake up."

"Thanks," Tara nodded.

The nurse headed out of the room, leaving the three of them alone again. Tara pressed closer to her grandmother's bedside and gently stroked the back of her hand with her fingertips. Then she glanced to Catee who was napping in her arms.

"Hi Mimi," she smiled, sad that Anna wasn't awake for this. "This is Catee. She's named after you, Mimi. Her middle name is Anna," Tara explained, trying to stave off a swell of emotions.

Her eyes averted, feeling foolish talking to a sleeping person. She glanced toward the door to make sure that no one had seen it and then she looked to Anna's face. Cirrhosis had taken it's cruel toll. Tara's eyes traced the spider web patterns skittered across her grandmother's skin and frowned. She considered leaving, wanted to. Then she remembered what the nurse had told her. Anna wanted to meet Catee. There might not be another chance. So the young mother forced herself to smile again.

"Would you like to hold her?" she asked, knowing that no answer would come. Slowly Tara lowered Catee onto the bed beside her grandmother, laying the child between her ribs and her arm. Catee perked up, opened her big blue eyes. Tara watched as Anna's fingers wrapped lazily around the little one's foot and the emotions inside her roiled. She put a hand to her lips and turned to let her tears flow free.

Suddenly a 'pop' burst through the quiet and a flash of light filled the room. Catee began to wail. Tara wheeled around and scooped the baby into her arms. Horror knotted belly as she looked to her little girl. Catee's skin was yellow. A spider web pattern sat atop the apple of her cheek.

"HELP!" Tara screamed, fumbling toward the door.

The thunder of hurried footsteps echoed down the halls as an orderly burst through the door, nearly bowling her over. "What's going on?" he asked, taking the young mother by the shoulders.

"My baby!" she fumbled, nearly hyperventilating. Tara and the orderly looked to Catee. She'd begun to calm down and her skin was as pristine and perfect as it usually was. The little girl stopped crying, replaced with a wide-mouthed yawn. The confused orderly looked to the young mother.

"I...?"

Anna's nurse scurried through the door to interrupt. She shuffled past the trio and moved to her patient's bedside, checking her pulse. Then, confused, she turned to Tara. "Is everything okay?" she questioned.

Tara just stared at Catee for the longest time. The nurse and the orderly exchanged a concerned glance. Finally the young mother looked up. "There was a pop and a flash and..." she began.

"Oh honey," Anna's nurse interrupted, "it's the overhead. I've been trying to get maintenance to replace that light for weeks," She explained. She stepped to the switch and flicked it a few times but nothing happened. "Guess it finally went shot," she shrugged, turning back to Tara and offering a consoling smile. "I'm sorry it scared you two. I should have warned you."

Tara's brow was heavy as she glanced up to the light fixture, then to Catee's face. The nurse had addressed the sound, the flash, but there was one final part of the mystery that remained unsolved. But it was far too extraordinary to bring up much less explain.

"Is Mimi okay?" Tara asked, stepping back toward her bedside. Satisfied that the emergency was over, the orderly rubbed Tara's shoulder and left the room. The nurse turned and flicked on the light mounted above Anna's headboard.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, surprised. "She looks great!"

Tara looked to her grandmother. She did look great. Her skin had taken on a healthy, peach hue, her spider webs faded. Tara's bewilderment deepened.

"I'll have to let Dr. White know that she's really responding to the new meds."

Tara faked a smile as the nurse turned to her. "That's good," she said.

"All right, if you're sure you're okay I'll leave you three alone."

Tara nodded and watched her go. Then she sat down in a bedside chair and laid Catee into her lap. The baby was sleeping hard, practically snoring. The young mother sat, pondering what she'd seen, trying to convince herself that it was just the bad lighting. A familiar voice took her attention.

"Tara?" the sleepy voice asked. Anna was sitting up in bed. "Tara!" Anna repeated excitedly, reaching out for a hug.

Tara smiled as she stepped over into those arms, Catee in between.

"And this is Catee?" she asked. "I've heard so much about this beautiful little girl!" As the hug broke, Anna scooped the still sleeping baby into her arms and placed her upon her lap.

"How are you feeling?" Tara questioned, a bit out of cadence for a greeting.

"Oh I felt bad this morning," she paused, considering. "But I feel wonderful now. It must be your visit and this little angel!" she exclaimed.

Tara laughed, happy. _There was no mystery_ , she decided, _simply a misunderstanding_.

The three of them spent the afternoon together, chatting and laughing. It wasn't until Tara was on the bus headed for home that she allowed her mind to revisit the potential miracle she'd witnessed. She let her thumb gently roll over the apple of Catee's cheek, the place where the spider web had been. And then she shook her head and chuckled at herself. Her husband Ethan would be quick to tell her that there was a perfectly acceptable explanation for what she'd seen. She agreed.

### CHAPTER ONE

Chicago winters could be brutal but Ethan Moyer didn't let it get him down. He loved the town, whatever the weather or challenge. Chicago was a family member, defined as much by him as he was by it. He was born there, met his wife there. His daughter was brought into the world at South Shore. Everything Ethan loved could be found within the city limits. He'd live, work, love, and die in town. And that's the way he wanted it to be.

"Hey Moyer, you good for that remodel this weekend?"

Ethan finished ripping out a piece of molded sheetrock before he turned to his boss and pulled his dust mask from his face. "Sure thing Mr. G.," he nodded trying to mask his enthusiasm. He needed the money, but he'd consider working for free when it got him inside Wrigley Field.

"Good man. Do this right and we might finally get that contract."

"You got it," Ethan said, wiping his dust-covered face against the arm of his shirt.

"You look tired. Everything okay?"

"I'm good. Didn't sleep well last night," he lied. The truth was that his boss had called him at eleven o'clock the night before to have him on the job site at five a.m. for 'prep'. But Ethan wasn't the kind to complain about hard work. Since he'd been given his shot at foreman, he vowed to do whatever it took to keep the job.

"Well let's call it lunch," Mr. Gavone instructed. On cue Ethan turned to his crew.

"Lunch guys," he shouted.

"Hour boss?" one of his coworkers asked. Ethan checked his watch.

"Yeah, okay," he nodded, glancing to his boss to make sure he noticed that the worker had come to Ethan rather than him.

"Superdawg?" the worker asked.

"Nah. Brought mine," Ethan explained, lamenting missing out on the institution that was the venerated hot dog stand.As the worker walked away Ethan lifted his hammer from his tool belt and squared himself to the wall he'd been working on.

"Not going to lunch?" his boss questioned.

"I'll wait for them to get back," Ethan explained. Many foremen spent the bulk of their time in their trucks, but Ethan preferred to work shoulder-to-shoulder with his crew.

"You're doing good kid. Keep it up," Mr. Gavone said, patting him on the back.

"Might want to clear out. This stuff is just crumbling apart," Ethan said, proud of the compliment. Mr. Gavone turned to go but a stray thought caused him to turn.

"Hey. Can you go by the supply and place the order for the Wrigley job after work?"

Ethan had already worked seven consecutive twelve-hour days and it was beginning to wear him down, but he wouldn't deny his boss. "Sure thing."

Ethan had finished the tear down of the entire wall by the time the crew rolled in, Superdawg bags in hand. He holstered his hammer as they began filtering in, walking past them to retrieve his lunchbox from the truck. And then he returned and took a seat among them, atop a stack of sheetrock. He worked the latches on his lunchbox with little enthusiasm, the smell of Viennas in the air. Tara wasn't a great cook, so lunch didn't feel like much of a break for him.

"Hey. You wanna say grace before we eat?" a coworker, Randy, grinned.

"You guys do whatever you want. I'm eating," Ethan replied, confused.

"We just thought you'd wanna lead us in the prayer Father," Randy chuckled, waiting for his foreman to catch on.

Ethan's brow drew downward in confusion, and then it hit him. Closing the latches on his lunchbox, he slowly spun it to find a pink glitter 'Jesus Fish' painted across the back. His jaw squared briefly as the group shared a laugh.

"Hey you got any water in there? I don't think Randy's been Baptized yet!" they laughed.

Ethan knew he'd only one recourse with this bunch. And so he shook it off and laughed with them. "What? Like your kids don't draw shit on your lunchboxes?" he accused.

"Not every friggin' week!" Randy laughed. "Jesus Ethan, I'd like to have what you spend on new ones!"

"What was it last time?" another worker reminisced. "A umm... whadyacallit?"

"Chi Roh," somebody added. Ethan hated this. He was as irreligious as any of them. Probably more so.

"Okay you humps," he said, sitting his lunchbox aside and standing, "let's get back to work."

A protest went up, quickly devolving into laughter and pleas for him to sit. Reluctantly he did.

"Shut up and eat," Ethan chuckled, glancing to the latest lunchbox his daughter had _ruined_. As each man began their lunch he fished a bologna sandwich from it trying not to stew. She was just a little girl after all. She didn't know any better. As he took a bite he tried to tune out the snickers but he knew he'd hear about his pink, glitter, Jesus fish for the rest of the week. Construction workers could be relentless.

"Hey, I like the color," someone said, as if on cue. "Really matches your purse."

### CHAPTER TWO

"Mommy, I has dat sword?" Catee asked pointing to her mother's kitchen knife. The little girl had put on her favorite cloak - blue, and a plastic dagger scribbled with crayon symbols was tucked in a costume belt her mother had helped her don. Tara shook her head and glanced to her daughter. She knew precisely which 'sword' the little girl wanted.

"No baby. I told you already. This is mommy's sword. She uses it for making supper. Besides, you already have one," she said, turning and kneeling before the little one and touching the dagger at Catee's side.

"I not need it. Carrot need it," the little girl explained. It was the first mention of a new imaginary friend.

"Who's Carrot?" Tara asked, looking to the 'runes' Catee had adorned her trusty blade with.

"Him's a mouse-man," she explained. Tara grinned, running her finger over a red crayon cross, the kind you'd see on a motorcycle helmet.

"Like Mickey?" her mother asked. Catee shook her head.

"No," she said, cocking her hip. "Him drinks beer."

Tara chuckled and shook her head. "Well no sword for Carrot. Go play. Daddy will be home soon."

"Okay Mommy," the little girl replied, charging off to her room.

Catee was an imaginative child. She was very bright, able to read most anything. Her two favorite books were a child's Bible her late grandmother had given her and a book on Faeries. She was unusual in other ways too: she preferred dragons to princesses, swords more than dolls. Socially she was introverted and didn't like large crowds. Tara figured it was because she was so empathetic, marvelously so. It was difficult to hide a mood from the little girl.

The young mother looked through the kitchen window as ice pellets tinkled against it. It wasn't unusual for Ethan to be late since he became site foreman but it didn't keep her from worrying especially when the weather was bad. Of course, most of the time he was grabbing a beer or two before heading home. She decided that if that was the case this time, he'd hear about it.

She'd just closed the oven door when he finally made it home. She turned to him, her hands on her hips when she saw the frustration on his face. "What is it?" she asked.

"Where's Catee?" he growled. He didn't wait for an answer. His lunchbox clutched in his fist, he marched to the little girl's room, Tara following behind. He found his daughter atop her bed looking through one of her favorite books.

"Hi Daddy!" she chirped before the smile left her face. Ethan stepped to her, set her book aside and lifted his lunchbox.

"Did you do this?" he asked, knowing the answer. He pointed to the Icthys - a symbol she'd seen in one of her favorite books. Admonished, Catee lowered her head and put her hands in her lap as she frowned. Ethan's anger deepened at her lack of answer. "I told you to stop this, didn't I?" he asked, his tone deep and angry. Catee didn't answer. She just sat quietly.

"ANSWER ME!" Ethan demanded, shaking his lunchbox, more force to his voice than he'd intended. Catee jumped and began to cry.

"Ethan!" Tara protested, stepping between them, ready for a fight.

He glanced away, knowing he was handling this poorly. It was the way he was raised - he who shouted loudest won - and though he'd never lift a finger to his daughter, his anger was more than enough to intimidate her. He shook his head and took a deep breath to calm down, then he stomped out of the room.

Tara watched him go and then spent a moment consoling her daughter. Satisfied that Catee was calm, she headed for the kitchen where she found him at the table, staring at the artwork, stewing.

"Hey," Tara cooed before taking a seat at his side. She reached out and put her hand atop his. "She just wanted to draw something for you with her new art set."

"I know," Ethan said, defeat in his voice. "I shouldn't have yelled at her but..." he added, turning the lunchbox until Tara could see the Icthys. She didn't know what it was.

"Why are you pissed off about a fish?" she asked. Ethan rolled his eyes.

"It's a Jesus Fish," he explained, waiting for her to get it. She didn't.

"So? Why do you worry about that stuff?"

"You work with the guys I work with and see if you worry about that stuff," he explained. "You break out your pink glitter Jesus-fish lunchbox on the jobsite and see what everyone thinks of you. They already call me Father Ethan thanks to all the other crazy shit she's drawn."

"So?" Tara repeated. "Their little girls don't draw things for them?"

"Big friggin' surprise... you don't get it," Ethan grumbled, shaking his head as he pushed from the table. But Tara wouldn't let this set the tone for the evening. She squeezed his hand and looked into his deep set eyes.

"Hey, I don't have to get it. You say it causes you trouble at work so I'll make sure she doesn't do it anymore." She waited until his muscles released and the tension left his brow. Softly he nodded.

"I just don't get it, that's all. We go to Christmas Mass and Easter Services to keep peace with Ma', and that's it. Why's it have to be the Bible? Why can't she love ponies or dolls or... anything else? Why dragons and swords and Jesus fish and...," he paused and sighed.

"Why can't she just be a normal little girl?"

"Mimi gave her that Bible. That's all. It's the last thing she's got to remember her by," Tara figured.

Ethan chewed his lip for a moment before shaking his head.

"Hey. This is supposed to be a secret but... she wants to have her picture made with Santa for you," she said, trying to cheer him up.

Ethan's face brightened a bit. His daughter had never allowed such a picture since before she could speak. Initially her method was thrashing and crying but later, once she could speak, she let everyone know that the jolly old elf wasn't real.

"You're making her," he doubted.

Tara shook her head. "Nope. Her idea. For _you_."

Ethan grinned as he looked around the kitchen, finally lifting his nose to the aromas. "What're we eating?"

"I'm trying to make Nana's pasties again."

Ethan tried not to chuckle but he couldn't help himself. "Should I order pizza now or...."

"Let me at least get'em to the plate?" she laughed. He nodded and pushed himself from the table.

"I'm gonna get a shower," he said, moving toward the bathroom. Tara's eyes followed him, shaking her head as she watched him go.

### CHAPTER THREE

Tara lay cuddling in bed with Catee as she fell asleep. It was a part of their nightly ritual, sometimes reciting the alphabet or counting. But tonight Catee had other things on her mind and to her mother's chagrin, needed to talk more than she wanted to sleep.

"Mommy, does Daddy hate God?" she asked quietly.

"No," Tara explained. "Daddy and God just... aren't good friends."

"Why not?"

Tara sighed softly as she sought the answer. Ethan had never been much for religion. His father taught him that a man made his own way in the world and that Jesus was for shysters and lazy people.

"You know when you see a new word you can't pronounce and I try to help you?" She could feel Catee's head nodding against her chin. "You don't always want my help right? That's kind of how Daddy sees God. Daddy wants to do it himself."

Catee grew still for a moment before finally turning to her mother, glancing over her shoulder. "But.... what if him not know how?"

Tara glanced at the clock. "Shh... time for sleep little one," she instructed.

Begrudgingly, Catee nuzzled into her mother's chest.

Tara opened her eyes and lifted her head to check the clock. Satisfied that the little one was asleep, she quietly and carefully pushed herself from the bed and then made her way to the living room.

Ethan was stewing, angry at himself for losing his temper with his daughter. Two empty beer bottles sat on the end table at his side, another - half-full - between his legs. A football game was on the tube but he wasn't really watching. She dressed the doorway and shook her head. Nobody beat up Ethan like Ethan. Stepping to the side of his chair, Tara slowly lowered herself to his lap and, using his half bent knees as a prop for her back, looked into his face. Her lips were drawn in empathetically. She opened her mouth to speak.

"Don't," he demanded, his voice hard and low as he tossed a hand up before her.

"Don't what?" she asked, knowing full well what it was he didn't want for her to do.

"You _know_ what," he replied softly.

Tara held her tongue for the moment, considering what to say."Baby, I don't know why this stuff is her 'thing'. I just know that it is, and that it's harmless."

Ethan shot her a glance.

"Except for the lunchbox art," she added quickly, "but she's your girl and she worries about... weird things. Accept it. Let her be herself?"

Ethan rolled his eyes.

"You're right, she is my girl. She's yours too and I thought we were supposed to teach her about the important stuff in life so that she can grow up and be normal."

"Like beer and football?" Tara asked. "You know every stat from every Bear's player for the past fifteen years. How's that different from dragon teeth or Excalibur or Bible verses?"

"Oh my god," he chuckled. "You know stats are real, right?"

Tara sighed and lowered her chin as she leaned forward and pressed her fingertips into his chest. "To her they're all real. She's little Ethan. Give her some room to be silly for awhile. I know you never got to be but don't you want that for her?"

Ethan wriggled a bit and placed his hands atop her thighs as he considered. It was true. His oldest memories were from the kitchen and back alley of his father's sports bar and grill. His gifts were ball gloves and pads and cleats - never the superheroes he asked for. Softly he nodded and then looked up into her eyes.

"Okay," he said, the tension finally leaving his brow, "but not on my lunchbox."

"I'll make sure," she smiled, leaning in to claim a kiss.

### CHAPTER FOUR

Tara loved the mall. She loved everything about it, the sights and the smells, the shiny, new things displayed in shop windows. She didn't have to buy a thing - she grew up poor and never had two dimes to her name - but it never discouraged her love for shopping.

Catee's hand was in hers as they approached Tara's Nirvana. The smile on the young mother's face was extra wide, fortified by the fact that Ethan's bonus was in her purse. The walk from the bus stop was short but cold. A throng in the parking lot filtered toward the festive entranceway as the distant sound of Christmas music burgeoned. But with each step little Catee's grip on her mother's fingers tightened. Tara pretended not to notice, hoping that there wouldn't be a problem this time. Finally, near the poster-covered glass doors she took pause and bent down to check on her daughter.

"You okay baby?" Catee nodded softly but her eyes belayed the tension in her body. Tara spoke in her softest coo as she tried to encourage her daughter. "We have to get Daddy a present baby. It'll be okay, I promise."

Again Catee nodded and touched her mother's cheek. Since she was a baby she bemoaned a trip to the mall. She'd cry and cry until she felt outside air enter her lungs. Things hadn't changed a great deal as she grew - she still hated the crowds - but she would endure for her mother's sake.

"You've got this," Tara assured, gently pinching Catee's chin.

Inside Tara inhaled a breath of the sweet air, laced with the smell of roasted almonds and cinnamon. But Catee's head began bobbling to and fro, taking in this massive place and particularly the people that whisked by. She was searching faces looking for smiles and when she found one, she'd let her eyes follow them until they were gone or until her mother straightened her faced-backward steps. So few people smiled anymore and hardly any made eye contact.

As they meandered forward on their shopping trip, crowd noise mixed with soft Christmas Carols made any distinct sound all but unperceivable but something caught Tara's ear. It was a rare sound, one she cherished. Glancing in the little one's direction, Tara strained to lend an ear to the song softly spilling from jabbering lips. Catee was still firmly entrenched in her search for smiles but as a way to distract herself from the anxiety in the pit of her belly, she was singing.

"God rest ye merry gentlemen let nothing you dismay..."

In an instant the plastic euphoria that just 'being there' had given to Tara was melted away as a real, sweet smile spread across her face. For a moment she considered singing along but she didn't want to do anything that might cause Catee to stop. Her little girl very nearly finished the song by the time they reached the gathering in the center of the mall, cut short by the bellowing "Ho-Ho-Ho" of a jolly, obese man dressed all in red.

Catee's eyes leapt to the fat man and she re-cinched the grip she had on Tara's fingers. Tara squeezed back as she looked to the line that formed before Santa's throne. It was long, at least a half-hour's wait. Tara lowered to one knee, ready to deliver another pep talk, but Catee's full attention was glued to Santa.

"Baby?" Tara questioned, following Catee's glare.

"Him not feels good."

Something did seem amiss. Santa's face was flushed behind that furry, white beard and he was sweating. A mall administrator was checking on him but Santa shook his head and dismissed him. As he took his seat he leaned forward and seemed to struggle for breath for a moment. Then he straightened, looked to his teenaged elf-companions and waved the first child in line ahead.

Tara watched the child come and go before she decided everything was all right. Then she returned her attention to Catee. "Baby, it'll be okay, okay?"

Catee shrugged softly as she looked to her mother. "It make Daddy happy?"

Tara nodded softly as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind the little one's ear.

"Okay Mommy," came a reluctant reply.

Tara smiled and the two found the end of the line. They'd been waiting for fifteen minutes or so, switching between holding and being held to circling Mommy's legs nervously as they inched forward one Christmas wish at a time.

It was nearly their turn when, a child ushered from his lap, Santa's face froze. His glued-on, bushy, white eyebrows pulled inward. His left arm went limp. His right clutched across his chest, bunching the fur-lined, red parka that he wore into a ball just above his heart. A guttural sound from his obfuscated mouth went for the most part unheard - most had set their eyes on any point of interest to help pass the time in the long line - but when the fat man came crashing down from his throne, tumbling down the red carpet steps before him the crowd gasped.

He landed with his back upon the cold floor, his limbs laid out, spread-eagle. Empty eyes stared into the high ceiling and perhaps beyond. His faux-beard had twisted in the fall so that it rested atop his painted rosy cheek, an elastic string stretched tight across his gaping lips. A few feet from the top of a muss of sweat soaked, thinning red hair lay his elf's hat; mottled, silver strands in a pile just beneath it finalized the revelation of the ruse. This man was not Santa; that much was all too apparent but this deception registered in nary a mind as the frightened gasps of mothers fueled the rapidly growing fears of their children.

Tara was among the gasps, her hand tossed to her lips as she looked on at the surreal scene: the businessman tripping over himself to come to the aid of the fallen false-elf, the confused lunges of the teenaged assistants that knew they were powerless to help. The uniformity of the line to Santa's Throne was slowly falling apart as Mother's swooped stunned children into their arms, trying to decide to stay or go, remaining out of morbid curiosity.

"Is there a doctor here?" the mall administrator shouted as he huddled over Santa.

Tara locked onto the man's desperate face, unable to look away. She wanted so badly to help him but she didn't know how. Blindly she reached down and took her daughter's hand and then slowly backed away from the railing, letting the crowd fill in around her in hopes that it would block her Catee's view.

A flash of light drew her eyes. A cameraman - originally there to film some holiday b-roll - had pushed through the burgeoning crowd and begun to film.

The mall administrator flung his walkie talkie toward the teens.

"CALL FOR HELP!" he barked, desperate. And then he began performing CPR as best he could remember. He was about to begin chest compressions when a pair of pink Ked's standing at Santa's head, caught his attention.

"Somebody get this kid!" he growled.

At once he stopped, when Catee smiled at him. There was a glow around the girl, a presence of peace that calmed him to his soul. As she lowered to her knees, he sat up and watched as she pressed her little hand to his forehead.

" _What's she doing?"_

" _Why is he stopping?"_

" _Somebody get that little girl away from him!"_

A pop resounded, a sound that Tara hadn't heard in many years and her stomach sank. A unified gasp seemed to draw the air from the room as the mob froze in disbelief. From her mostly blocked vantage, Tara could see only a white-blue light. Instantly she knew. Her brow drew down as she jerked her head to the side to see that it wasn't Catee's hand she was holding.

"Catee!" she gasped, releasing the girl's hand and pushing through the crowd. Catee was whispering to Santa as her hands began to burn with a white-blue shine. Tara froze in disbelief and fear. She scanned the huge crowd that had gathered, each face awe-struck... except one. An unassuming man looked on with his hand over his mouth, his hazel eyes filled with worry. His gaze found Tara's and he nodded toward Catee, urgency in the silent communication.

Tara understood. She slipped under the railing and dashed to her daughter's side, dropping to her knees and skidding to a halt. She wrapped her arms around her daughter just as the lifeless body before them jerked, gasped, and shot upright. Bewildered, Santa turned to the little girl in her mother's arms and reached for her.

"Thank you! Thank you!" he spat. It frightened Tara and she spun, rising to her feet.

" _Oh my god! She healed him_!" someone screamed. Tara wheeled around to the shout. And then she felt Catee's body convulse in her arms. The little girl was clutching her chest with her right hand, her left arm limp and dangling. "Oh no!" Tara lamented. She'd seen this before. "No baby... oh no!" she said, shaking her head as she watched her daughter have a heart attack in her arms. Suddenly voices rang out, calls of miracles and of the promises of healing. Tara's head bolted upright. They were staring at her and Catee, moving slowly toward them, driven by the promise of their own personal miracles. Tara began backpedaling, feeling slowly compressed.

"Get away from us!" she demanded, trying to intimidate them. But for her attempts, the circle kept constricting, as though the people had become a mindless horde.

"Please... I have to have a surgery soon," came one faceless plea. "My mom, she's so sick!" went another. Soon a dozen soft pleas melded into a burgeoning, incomprehensible noise as each began trying to shout over the other. Tara's eyes were as wide as saucers and as wild as a lioness trying to protect her cub. But as the circle tightened, she found that even a tiny step sent her bumping into someone as unwelcome hands reached out for Catee. She was about to scream, to fight her way free when suddenly the piercing howl of a fire alarm burst through the mall. The mob paused to look around. Tara felt a hand upon her forearm.

***

Asa had no idea what was happening when he saw the gathering. He'd come to the mall for a treat, a hot pretzel and cheese. Ordinarily he'd have avoided the place, a dislike for the materialism that had been attached to one of his Order's most Holy observances and he was ready to pass the mob by. Then he saw that light.

The half-eaten pretzel fell from his hands as his jaw dropped open. He pressed forward for a better look. It was easy to get one. The entire crowd was frozen as a tiny girl glowed with light before them. A chill ran the monk's spine and he stood in awe for a moment. Then his visage filled with angst. He knew what would come to try to extinguish that light.

His hurried gaze passed through the awe-struck mob, looking for whom this little girl belonged. There was Tara. A sense of duty welled up in the monk as his eyes met the young mother's. They needed a distraction. His neck craned as he searched for an idea. When he found the red lever of a fire alarm, he knew what he'd do. He ran to it, yanked it down and then dashed back into the crowd.

***

"Come on!"

Asa and Tara began pushing through the mob, darting around the confused shoppers. They'd broken its edge when Tara felt a hand on her wrist.

"Please lady..." A man in a wheelchair had a tight grip on her arm. He looked up to her, a plea in his eyes. "Please ma'am.... please let her heal me? Please?" he begged. Tara shook her head, tears glistening as she tried to pull away. Catee was nearly lifeless in her arms now.

"Let me go!" she insisted, trying to tug herself free.

Desperate, the man locked the wheel of his chair and grabbed her with his other hand.

"Please lady! I... I want to walk again!" he begged.

Tara was pulling with all her might. Asa was making his way back to her to help when suddenly two white-gloved hands took the man by the wrists and pried them free.

"Go!" the man playing Santa said. "Get her out of here!"

She didn't hesitate. The trio was dashing toward the mall's exit when a shout went up, the man in the wheelchair angrily betraying them.

"THEY'RE GETTING AWAY!"

Asa glanced over his shoulder and then looked away, wide-eyed.

Tara could hear the thunder of footsteps behind them, calls for them to stop. She pushed on. Asa flung a door open and held it. As Tara passed through, she stopped and turned to him. But the mob was coming.

"Go!" Asa instructed. "I'll slow them down!" Tara nodded and bolted away.

The sprint across the massive parking lot took everything inside her. Whether by luck or divine providence, the CTA Bus was at the stop and she leapt inside. She looked quite a mess as she stepped onto the nearly empty bus, her eyes filled with tears, make-up streamed down her face, hair wind blown and wild with a child tugged to her body. The driver didn't even ask for her pass.

Quickly she moved to an empty seat, far from the sparse passengers, and fell into it. The bus lurched forward and Tara watched as the bewildered mob burst through the doors, searching for her. As the scenery began to move by, a renewed fear crept into her belly and slowly she released Catee from her steel-grip and lowered the child into her lap.

Catee was motionless and utterly peaceful, her breathing unperceivable to frightened eyes. Tara burst into tears once more, sniffling as her body bounced silently, her fingers grasping at her little girl as the only words she knew at that moment tripped from her lips.

"No... oh no."

She lifted her daughter to her chest and hugged her tight. As despair began overtaking the young mother, a tiny voice pushed it all away in an instant.

"I sleepy Mommy."

Tara gasped as she lowered Catee once more to look to her face. There before her were those tired, beautiful blue eyes: a mirror of her own. Catee's face filled with worry as she sat up in her mother's lap and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Why you're crying?" Tara couldn't answer. Instead she pulled Catee into a long, cleansing embrace.

"It's okay Mommy. You just needa cry a little minute."

### CHAPTER FIVE

Ethan stood in line at the Contractor's Supply, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket. The wait was unusually long as a new sales clerk was being trained. Ethan had been in line for about ten minutes when the owner, Sal, happened by behind the counter. Ethan grinned when he saw his old friend and shouted at him.

"Hey Sal, I think the Lowe's up the street has self check-out now!" Sal stopped and offered Ethan a glare before it melted into a smile.

"Then go up there pal. See how long they wait for ya to pay your tab."

Ethan stepped out of the line and made his way to the ex-contractor for a chat.

"Bears gonna do it this year?"

"You kiddin' me? Get outta here with that," Sal replied, extending his hand to Ethan. Sal believed 'da Bears' were going to do it every year. "You guys still on that grocery store job?"

"Month three," Ethan nodded. " That place was a total wreck. Can't wait to see how the boss expenses this one out."

"I'm sure it'll be _creative_. Amazing Mike ain't in jail already!" Sal chuckled. Ethan laughed but the sound of the TV behind the counter took his attention.

"Something goin' on at the mall?" he asked, concerned for his wife and daughter.

"Ahh, some kinda publicity stunt," Sal explained.

Relieved, Ethan prepared to move on when the still image of Catee, her body surrounded by light captured his attention.

"Hey, turn that up," he muttered. A reporter's voice filled the store.

What people are calling a Christmas Miracle took place today in the Woodfield Mall and our Channel 7 cameras were there to capture this exclusive footage. Richard Eubanks, one of the Mall's Santas had complained earlier in the day of what he thought was a bout of gas but turned out to be something more...

Ethan stood there frozen, glued to the television pleading that his eyes had lied to him - that it wasn't Catee that he saw - as he looked at a picture of Richard Eubanks posing with a bowling trophy.

Mr. Eubanks was just twenty-minutes into his shift when suddenly, he collapsed. What you are about to see is raw video footage shot by our own Michael Carr, on the scene. Bear in mind that this station can offer no explanation for the events that unfold on this videotape. We bring it to you in the interest of breaking news. What you see next, you may find shocking.

As the footage rolled Ethan's heart raced. He was numb and electrified at the same time, a tingle running through his body that demanded he shiver. Sal spoke to him as he poured his focus on the vision before him.

"Ethan? You okay?" The supply owner looked between a paralyzed Ethan and the television as they pulled tight on a shot of Catee, her hands aglow. And then Sal began to understand. He swallowed hard.

"Jeezuz Ethan! Is that your little girl?"

The statement ripped Ethan's attention to Sal, fright in his eyes as he fumbled through a reply. "N... no... I gotta go."

Ethan stared at the television as he began to back out of the store, nearly falling over some boxes. Sal called to him but the young father's mind was racing. Once he'd reached the door, he turned and bolted through it. Sal watched him go and considered giving chase when the reporter's voice took his attention.

The identity of the little girl or her mother aren't known at this time. If anyone recognizes either of these individuals please contact us immediately at 555-1212.

***

Adrenaline was still coursing through Asa's veins as he sat in his computer chair and watched Channel 7 on his small television set. The moment the reporter asked for help identifying the little girl, he spun toward his monitor. He'd already initiated a call-for-aid, a secret network of Chronica from around the world checking in one by one, agreeing to begin searching for her identity. Quickly he launched his phreaking software and punched in the number he wanted to monitor. (708) 555-1212. Then he put his headset on as the phone began to ring. "Channel 7, how may I direct your call." He input a quick code 'hooking' the number. But he needed the extension as well. "I have information about the little girl's identity," he lied.

"One moment."

He waited, barely audible chatter from his modem working it's 'magic' just above the silence.

"News desk."

Again he input his coding. A number appeared on screen, the one to which, he was currently connected. "Wrong number. Sorry," Asa said, waiting for them to hang up and complete his 'phreak'. Satisfied that he'd now get a feed from both lines, he tugged his headset down around his neck.

"Have you found her?" Elihu's voice startled the monk and he wheeled around. He'd been this knight's Chronica for three years but he still hadn't gotten used to how silently the Vigilant could move.

"I'm about to... I pray," the monk said, still frustrated with himself for letting she and her mother get away without learning who they were.

"You helped them escape," Elihu encouraged.

"To win a battle, not the war."

The knight fell silent. Asa was right. He'd helped Catee and Tara escape a mob of mortals. But what would come for them now would be much worse than that. "The dragons won't have this one," Elihu guaranteed.

Asa looked to him, praying he was right. An Argent Child was a rare gift to the world.

"This one," Asa repeated, pausing in thought. How many had there been? Nary one avoided a gruesome fate. He looked to Elihu and could tell that they shared the concern.

"Channel 7 News. How may I direct your call?" The sound of the receptionist's voice through his headset speakers took his attention. Quickly he turned and put them back to his ears.

"Yeah, is there a reward or somethin' for the identity of that little girl?" came a female voice with a thick Chicago accent. Asa spun to Elihu, excitement in his features.

"One moment ma'am. I'll transfer you."

The wait was excruciating for the monk, the anticipation slowing the queue to a crawl. He held his breath.

"News desk."

"Yeah, are you guys paying a reward for the Santa Girl's identity?"

"No ma'am, there's no reward. You know who she is?"

"Oh. Well, can I get my name on TV or something then?"

"If your information proves credible we can mention you. Sure. Who is she?"

"Well my info is good. My husband shops at the same building supply as her dad. Her name is Catee Moyer."

"I see. What's his name?"

"Ethan. Ethan Moyer. Her ma's name is Tara I think. My husband don't know her."

"Okay, well thank you for the tip ma'am. Merry Christmas."

"Hey.. you forgot to take my name! Hello? Hello? Oh well screw you guys! I'm calling CNN!"

Asa finally let himself breath again. He tugged his headset from his ears and looked to Elihu. "I think we've got her!" He turned and launched a browser and navigated to the white pages. There was only one listing for Ethan Moyer on the south side of Chicago. Elihu stepped up behind his Chronica to catch a glimpse of the address.

"This has to be them. It has to be. Please Empyrean, let it be the one," Asa prayed.

"It will be," Elihu reassured. "What do you want to do?"

"You need to get over there right away and keep watch," he explained. "As for me, I'll contact the Knight-Master for instructions, then I'll go over and talk to them."

Asa turned to find that, as he'd come Elihu had gone: silently. It made him chuckle and shake his head. He wasn't sure which, would be the greatest task: Elihu and the infernal blood he'd no doubt shed, or trying to explain to an average family that dragons wanted to eat their daughter.

***

The engine of Ethan's work truck screamed as he tore through the Chicago streets on his way home. He was dialing his cell phone furiously but got only busy signals from his home. "FUCK!" he spat, tossing the phone across his cluttered dashboard and tugged the wheel hard to make the final corner into his apartment complex. His parking space was occupied by a news van. His first instinct was to fight for the spot but then it hit him.

They knew.

Ethan slowed down and drove past the van. There were two people hanging out at its open door. He recognized the reporter from television. Trying to play it cool, his truck's engine sizzling, he parked several spaces down. He was calmly but quickly making his way to the building's stoop when the reporter moved to intercept him.

"Sir? Excuse me sir?"

Ethan glanced to her and frowned, then averted his eyes. But she didn't get 'the story' by being intimidated. She glanced over her shoulder and motioned for her cameraman to follow.

"Sandra Hartley, Channel 7 News. Do you know the Moyers?"

Ethan didn't break stride and dipped his head, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Nope, no comment. I don't wanna be on TV," he offered dismissively. He reached for the door when she stepped in front of him. He lifted angry eyes to her.

"What floor do you live on? Have you ever met their daughter?"

"I said no comment lady." With that he shoved past her, quickly making his way up the staircase.

Sandra pressed her hand against her cameraman's chest and glanced to him. As soon as Ethan made the first flight of steps, the duo began to follow. Ethan knew she was following him and hurried his steps. As he walked down the hallway toward his door he glanced back to her, she watching from the stairwell. A few paces from his door, he sighed and tugged his keys from his pocket. He was tempted to keep going, to try to throw them off, but Ethan didn't like playing games. And so, angry and ready to fight if he had to, he stepped to his door and began opening it.

"Shit Frank! It's the father!"

Like an ambushing soldier Sandra charged into the hallway calling out Ethan's name, the cameraman following her lead. "Ethan! Ethan Moyer! We just want to talk to you for a moment about Catee!"

Ethan ignored her as he twisted his keys and opened his door. Sandra raced forward only to have it slam shut in her face.

Tara, disheveled still and frightened, rushed into his arms. It was clear that she'd been crying, the television in the living room tuned to the miraculous tale of their daughter's gift to Santa Claus. Ethan held her tight but frustration filled his face as he noticed that the phone was off the hook.

"Why didn't you call me?" he questioned, pushing her back a bit to look into her eyes.

"The phone's been ringing off the hook Ethan. First it was your mom, then mine, then the neighbors... people from work, I couldn't pick it up without somebody being on it. I took it off the hook when Channel Seven started calling."

"What happened?" he asked.

"She healed him," Tara said softly, her face reflecting the disbelief laced in her voice.

"I think you'd better explain," he said, as he wiped a tear from her cheek.

Tara stretched across the kitchen table to put her hands in his. She'd explained to him everything she witnessed at the mall and told him about what had happened with her Mimi so long ago. Ethan's eyes shifted side-to-side as he tried to make sense of it. But he couldn't. It was just too fantastic.

"Why didn't you tell me about your grandma?" he asked, feeling a bit betrayed.

"Would you have believed me? I'm not sure I believed it."

Ethan nodded. He knew she was right.

"So what are we gonna do?" he asked solemnly. Tara shook her head when a knock came to their door. A voice filtered through it.

"Hello? Mrs. Moyer?"

Ethan turned to the door, disgust on his face.

"I'm going to check on Catee. Don't answer it. It's just more reporters." But as he disappeared down the hallway, the knocking became more insistent. Frustrated, Tara stood and stepped to the door.

"We're not giving interviews!" she shouted.

"Mrs. Moyer? My name is Asa. I'm the man that helped you at the mall."

Tara put her hand to her mouth. This man knew something about Catee, she was sure of it. But Ethan had said not to allow anyone in. She considered for a moment, glancing over her shoulder to be sure that Ethan wasn't watching, then she opened the door a crack. Asa peered at her through the sliver.

"Mrs. Moyer, it's urgent that I speak to you. You're in terrible danger. Catee is in terrible danger."

Tara's face grew wary. "What kind of danger?"

Asa looked over his shoulder before speaking in a quieter tone.

"I can't explain through the door. Please, let me inside. I mean you no harm."

Tara believed that Asa meant no harm. The only thing staying her hand was Ethan's missive. She glanced over her shoulder again and then closed the door and removed the chain.

### CHAPTER SIX

Tara fidgeted, her eyes darting back and forth between Asa and Ethan as she fumbled through an introduction.

"Ethan, this is Asa. He's the man that helped us at the mall today."

Ethan eyed the monk, thankful for his help but also sizing him up. Asa was ordinarily a neat, humble man. But since he'd met Tara and Catee, his life had been suddenly filled with apprehension and the burden of duty. He was still a bit frayed.

"Thanks for your help." Ethan's tone was wary. "Have a seat."

"You're welcome. It was my duty," Asa said, kindly taking the offer. Tara was too nervous to sit, instead hovering in the background, leaning against the stove.

"We appreciate it," Ethan said, tugging his wallet from his back pocket and opening it.

Asa shook his head. "Oh... no Mr. Moyer. I don't want money," he explained.

Ethan stared at him for a moment before putting his wallet away. "Well, forgive me for being direct but it's been a really long day so... what _do_ you want?"

Asa considered how to answer that. He'd never had to have a conversation such as this. "I want for your family to be safe," he said, not displeased with the opener.

"Okay," Ethan said, obviously tired. He nodded to direct Asa to continue.

"Mr. Moyer, I am a monk. I serve the Chronica du Militia Christi."

Ethan rolled his eyes fearing this was about to get preachy.

"I am able to provide you and your family with certain _protections_. You see, my Order believes that Catee is..."

"Are you like... one of those kung-fu monks?" Ethan interrupted.

"Wha... no," Asa shook his head.

The young father began to push himself from his seat. "We've got plenty of prayers so unless you can kick some reporter ass, then we're good. Thanks for coming by though." Ethan stepped toward the door and put a hand on the knob. Frustratingly he could hear voices and footsteps just beyond it.

"Mr. Moyer, please," Asa appealed.

"Save it," Ethan said, paying more attention to the sound of the crowd than his visitor. "I know how you people work. My little girl isn't going to join your dog and pony show so some guy in a dress can get rich. We're grateful for the help today. Have a great life. Dominus Ominus and all that."

"I assure you...," Asa began.

Ethan gritted his teeth and gave the monk his full attention. "You're leaving now," he guaranteed.

Asa glanced to Tara as he began to stand. Reluctantly she piped up.

"Please Ethan, he knows _something_ ," she explained, "and that's more than we know."

"Tara this is stupid," he began in retort, but she interrupted him.

"He knew at the mall."

Ethan went silent for a moment. Letting his eyes pass between the two he calmed down. Then he made his way to the refrigerator, opened it and grabbed a beer. "You want a beer?" he asked, glancing to Asa whose relief shown in his face.

"No, thank you."

The young father took a long drink before stomping back to his seat and dropping into it.

"All right," he offered as he looked to Asa, "I'm listening."

***

Sandra Hartley paced beside her news van, disbelief in her eyes and a cell phone to her ear.

"There's fifty people here and more coming," she explained, pacing, a finger in her ear. "Yes, Channel 3 is here - Ted, CNN is here - _everyone_ is here!" It was hyperbole, but only just. The parking lot had suddenly filled, people moving to and fro and a line of cars stretched well outside and into the street. "I don't know how they found out. Maybe we've got a leak? It doesn't really matter now, looks like all of Chicago knows!"

A poorly dressed young woman ran just before the news van, her head tilted toward the Moyer's building holding a sign that read: "The Crystal Child is Come!" From the back of a Volkswagen, people were unloading and setting up a tent, each with Rosaries dangling from their necks.

"Oh my God Ted... they're... they're setting up tents out here... the religious freaks are actually camping in the parking lot! Okay. Well can I say her name now?" she questioned. "What about the name of the apartment complex?"

"Okay." With that she ended the call, banging on the side of the van to get her cameraman's attention. "Frank get out here... we're rolling!" On cue Frank the cameraman rolled open the door of the van and stepped out, slinging his camera atop his shoulder. Sandra took up a position before him so that the tents would be in the frame as Ritchie counted down her cue. Three Fingers...Two...

"This is Sandra Hartley reporting to you from the parking lot of the Lakehaven Apartment Complex, home of the Miracle Girl and her family where a number of Chicago's Spiritual Community have begun to gather..."

### CHAPTER SEVEN

Asa folded his hands as he looked to Ethan and steadied himself. "As I told you, I am a monk. I know I don't look the part but that is the way of my particular Order: the Chronica du Militia Christi." He paused, checking Ethan's face to see if any of this meant anything to him. It didn't. "One of the charges of our Order is watching for... 'Miracles amongst the Masses'. After what I've seen today, I know that Catee is one such miracle. She is what we call an _Argent Child_. The Bible..."

Ethan slapped at the table top and twisted his mouth. "Just...," Ethan paused to check his anger. "Okay, g'head."

Asa eyed him for a moment. He wasn't sure why the ice was so thin with Ethan but he'd picked up on the young father's disdain for religion. He'd try to edit himself. "Catee has the power to heal by taking another's suffering upon herself."

Tara's eyes lit up when he said it and her memory fired within her. She'd seen precisely that twice now. "Like with Mimi and that man today," she said breathlessly recalling.

"She's done this before?" Asa asked.

"A long time ago. Her great grandmother. She was just a baby," Tara nodded, "but not since then. Not until today."

"Their gifts can be mysterious," Asa explained.

"Their? Are there other Argent Children?"

Asa tried to hide his discomfort with the question. "She is very rare. There have been a few others. There are probably more today. Some believe there's never more than one or two, but that's just conjecture."

"Well, where are they? Why aren't they on TV?"

"One of them is in her room," Asa smiled. "We try to protect them as best we can."

"Protect them from what?" Ethan interjected. He put his hands to his face as if to wipe the frustration from his eyes before he continued. "Could you please cut to the chase and tell me why my little girl is in danger?"

"Of course," Asa nodded, clearing his throat. "While we are to watch for Miracles, it isn't our primary charge. We are here to support those that fight a war against the minions of darkness; the Vigilant."

The answer lifted the corners of Ethan's mouth in a sarcastic grin. As Asa parted his lips to speak again, Ethan purposefully interrupted, having some fun at the monk's expense.

"Why are we in danger?" Ethan nipped, his eyes locked with Asa's who grew more nervous the longer he looked back.

"I'm trying to explain Mr. Moyer. There are... _groups_ of people that want to..." Again Asa was cut off.

"Who's coming to get us Mr. Monk?"

"These... _people_ are quite dangero..."

"What _people_ are dangerous? Just spit it out!"

Ethan's game had nearly the same effect on Asa as it had on everyone; utter frustration. As his aggravation grew he began to shift in his seat, unable to look into Ethan's eyes any longer until finally he spit out a word as though it were a cough.

"Dragons."

It had the effect that Asa expected. A shocked hush fell across the husband and wife as Asa looked to each one of them. Tara's face was painted in confusion, a hint of betrayal in her eyes having heard his words. Ethan was all the more pleased as he moved to open the door for their new, eccentric friend.

"Dragons Mr. Moyer... Monsters... Occultists... and many more who serve them... they will all want your daughter because they believe that she holds within her the power to take theirs away."

"We're done now," Ethan announced calmly as he stood by the door. Tara turned to him, wanting to protest, knowing better. She turned back to Asa with an embarrassed glance. She was embarrassed for herself for letting him in, embarrassed for Ethan and his rude little game and embarrassed for Asa and his fantastic story.

Defeated, the monk stood and moved across the kitchen. He paused beside Ethan as he readied to open the door, one last bit of information imparted before being evicted. "I know it sounds mad Mr. Moyer, but it's true. The Vigilant and I will be here to help you regardless."

"You do that," Ethan replied. Then unceremoniously, he opened the door. Both men realized the growing depth of their problem. Just beyond was a hallway filled with neighbors and newsmen, all launching questions the moment they saw the father. With a palm in his back, Asa found himself shoved into the crowd, a shockwave thumped into his backside as Ethan slammed the door.

### CHAPTER EIGHT

Ethan pressed his back to the door as he looked to Tara who mirrored his shock. The conversation with Asa had been whisked from their minds by the throng of people that Ethan had fed the monk to. With a shared thought, the two quickly made their way to the living room window and together their hearts sank. Below them, throughout the parking lot and spilling into the playground nearby, camped a growing crowd. Tara lifted her hands to her mouth.

"Oh my god Ethan, what are we going to do?"

Ethan lifted his eyes to her, narrowed slightly to reflect the frustration tightening his chest. His face soured as his hackles rose along with his voice. "Why'd you let her _do_ that?!" he demanded, his body turning to face his wife.

She wasn't ready for this to be her fault. Tears spilled from her blue eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She retreated to the recliner and curled into a ball. Ethan lowered his chin, ashamed that he'd lashed out at her. This wasn't her fault and he knew that. He moved toward her but before he could apologize, a tiny voice took their attentions.

"Why 'dose people outside?" the tiny girl's question came as she padded, barefoot into the living room. She had a terrible case of 'Bed-Head'. She waddled over to the recliner and climbed into her mother's lap. Then she eyed her father. "What's wrong Daddy?"

He called upon the softest tone he'd managed all day. "At the mall today... why'd you do that baby?"

She searched the sadness in his face for a moment before answering. "Because Daddy, dat man needed me to."

Tara bit her lip as she heard the reply and looked to Ethan as he dipped his head. "Catee, do you realize what you've done? Those people outside, they all want to see you. They want for you to do for them what you did for Santa Claus today."

"Oh," she said, as she gave the statement a moment of contemplation. "I need my shoes on."

"No Catee. We don't know those people. They might try to hurt you... or take you away."

Her little brow deepened. "Why?" she wondered.

Tara turned Catee to face her. "Listen to me Catee. You have a very special gift, a gift that lots of people in the world want. Some of those people want it so bad that they'll do anything to get it. Those people outside might all be very good people but sometimes good people do bad things when they want something enough."

"Like at the mall?" she interrupted.

Tara nodded as she remembered the feeling of that mob closing in on her and her little girl. "Yes baby, just like those people at the mall. They get too excited and they want to be first in line. Me and Daddy are afraid that if we let them see you, they'll do what those people in the mall did. You don't want that do you?"

Catee shook her head. "How long are they stay Mommy?" she asked.

Hugging Catee to her chest, Tara rested her chin on the little one's shoulder and looked to Ethan as she replied. "I don't know baby. I don't know."

### CHAPTER NINE

It was six o'clock in the evening when Tara took Catee for her bath. The house had gone quiet, the mob outside the door finally giving up on anyone answering their knocks. Ethan stood with his forehead against the cool window of the living room, his eyes affixed on the crowd below as snow began to fall. They weren't leaving. Given the tents and camping supplies, it was clear they intended to stay for a long time.

Ethan pondered his family's future as he watched the snow lilt down upon the masses. His eyes searched for the old, familiar scene from his window... a parking lot with a few kids playing, people moving in and out of the building... the usual, same-old-same-old. Eventually something familiar did catch his eye.

The contrast in Asa's motion is what first drew Ethan's attention. He walked without lifting his head toward the apartment, without the exuberance that others held. Instead he moved like a man with a mission, his hands tucked in his coat pockets. Ethan locked onto Asa's sand colored head as he weaved his way solemnly through the crowd until finally he arrived before a much larger man. The big fellow had his hands shoved into his pockets and a dark hood over his head. He looked menacing. The man and Asa exchanged a few words and then they each glanced toward the window. Never one to back down from a fight, Ethan met their stares.

"What are they up to?" he muttered. "This is nuts! Where the hell are the cops?"

Ethan turned on his heel and quickly paced to the phone which, was still off the hook. He quickly swooped up the receiver and clicked it down on the cradle a time or two in order to get a dial tone but all he heard was silence. "Hello?" he spoke.

"Ethan? It's Mom. What on _earth_ is going on?" his mother asked, fear in her voice. "I've been trying to reach you for hours!"

"Hey Mom. It's... everything's really weird right now. There's a million fu...," he caught himself. To this day he didn't swear in front of his mother. He cleared his throat and continued.

"There's a million people outside Ma. They're all sayin' Catee is some kind of miracle."

"I know! It's all over the news! What happened at the mall Ethan? Are you guys okay? Your father and I are coming over there." Ethan's mother was ready with a hundred more rapid-fire statements and questions as Ethan cut her off.

"No Ma. You probably can't even get in here right now. We're fine. You and Dad just sit tight and I'll call you after the police clear these idiots outta here. I love you. Bye."

~click~

Before she could call back, he dialed out.

"87th Precinct," greeted a hurried voice, "This is Sgt. Boyd."

"Yeah Sgt. Boyd, this is Ethan Moyer..."

"Mr. Moyer, we been tryin' to reach you. Hang on, I'm gonna put you through to the Captain."

Before Ethan could reply there was a click on the phone and a new voice spoke.

"Mr. Moyer, this is Captain Harris. We've been trying to reach you for some time sir."

"Yeah, I know. The phone's been off the hook. What are you gonna do about all these people?" Ethan questioned.

"We're going to bring you and your family down to the precinct Mr. Moyer, to move you guys so we can get the crowd under control and better protect you," came the official sounding reply. Ethan didn't take kindly to the command.

"Move US?!" Ethan huffed.

"Mr. Moyer, hear me out please. We'll put you up in a hotel for a few nights and..."

"No!" he grunted. "No, no, no! Where the hell are you guys? Why aren't you here moving these crazy fuckers out of my parking spot? WHY AREN'T YOU DOING YOUR GODDAMN JOBS?!"

"MR. MOYER!" the Captain growled back. Ethan paused.

"Listen, this is the best way to do this. Sure we can send the riot squad in, spend the tax payers money getting those people to move along, but it'd be much easier and much faster if you'd just let us move you and your family for awhile. If you're not there, they'll go."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "One: I'm one of those tax payers and I've never asked you goons for anything. Two: This is my home. Me and my family aren't going to change a damned thing because some nut jobs decided to camp out in my parking lot."

"Mr. Moyer please...," the Captain began but Ethan cut him off.

"No sir... Look. This building is private property and so is its parking lot. There's a group of trespassers illegally gathered here. I need for you to wipe the doughnut glaze off your chin, get your fat asses out of your chairs and do your fucking JOB!"

Ethan slammed the receiver into its cradle before tugging it off and letting it hit the floor. That's when Catee felt it was time to interject, her voice echoing off the walls of the bathtub in the bathroom a few paces away.

"Daddy? We don't say bad words," she sing-songed, her mother's 'shhh' a moment behind it.

Ethan was stationed at the window again as night fell across the city block. He watched as propane grills and nightlights began to shine below but it was another kind of light that lifted his spirits. Down the street police cars began to emerge, lights flashing to announce their arrival. A grin lifted the corners of Ethan's mouth as a weight left his chest.

Asa was watching as one of the news people interviewed a woman dressed in Hippie Fashion. "Oh no," she explained, "I don't believe in all that religious nonsense. Catee is one of the first Crystal Children."

"The Crystal Children?" the reporter asked.

"Yeah," the woman continued. "She's a product of evolution. We all knew that eventually she'd turn up! This is a very exciting time to be alive!"

The reporter was about to continue when the red and blue lights caught everyone's attention. Over a loudspeaker attached to the top of the lead car came the even-toned command.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, This is the Chicago Police Department. Due to complaints from the residents and the owner of this building, we must ask you to pack up your things and leave this area immediately."

Asa began sinking into the background. He had expected this hours earlier. Taking one last glimpse toward the apartment window, he began to comply.

Ethan turned as a sleepy-eyed Tara wandered into the living room dressed in a pair of thick socks and an oversized t-shirt. "What's going on?" she asked as she fumbled toward Ethan.

"Cops showed up," he said, turning to her with a smile.

"Thank God," she whispered as she pushed her cheek into his chest.

"Thank somebody," he offered, finishing off his last beer of the night.

### CHAPTER TEN

Ethan found himself awakening every fifteen minutes with a start. The current time was 2:45 a.m. He sat up and looked at Tara who was sound asleep. One more time, he rose and softly padded to Catee's room, using the doorframe to steady himself as he looked in on her. She was sound asleep too.

He rubbed his eyes, realizing that he'd have to be up for work in only a few more hours. And then he turned toward the kitchen. Suddenly fright shot through him and he jolted awake as he laid eyes on a very large man in a dark coat, the same man that he'd seen conversing with Asa through his window. That man was twice as intimidating now, towering near seven-feet tall; his big frame all but filling the narrow hallway. In his hand was a sword, a long glint of steel. Ethan, dressed only in a pair of briefs, filled his lungs with air as he unleashed a war cry.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN' IN MY HOUSE?!"

Ethan crouched in a posture divided between retreat and a charge. Half of him feared that sword. The other half knew that only a few steps in reverse would put him past his baby girl's doorway and _that_ he would defend with his life. But Elihu wasn't paying Ethan much heed. The man's dark eyes shifted back and forth, his head tilted slightly as though he were listening for a sound. Without turning eyes toward Ethan he spoke, his voice a soothing whisper.

"I am called Elihu Mr. Moyer. In a moment you'll know why I am here."

Ethan stared, confused by the introduction. He was about to demand answers when Elihu suddenly spun about. A sound had begun to resonate through the apartment, like the sound of skittering insects filling the home to its ceilings. The noise started in low and it sent chills through Ethan's body as it droned higher.

The young father steadied himself and noted that Elihu had turned his back on him. If there was a time to attack, it was now... but the growing sound had set him on edge. In the dim light, bodiless shadows began to form, seeping in as though they were bleeding through the walls.

Elihu clutched the grip of his sword so tightly that his knuckles cracked. Ethan wondered at the insidious silhouettes. The insect sound grew closer and he realized they were whispers of some language he didn't know. Suddenly Elihu spun around and shouted.

"The Child!"

The moment the words left his lips, shadowy arms, Leper-white and crooked, burst from one of the shadows on the wall and grabbed Elihu by the throat. Still his eyes were upon Ethan, pleading that he go check on his daughter. As Elihu clawed at the limbs about his collar he swung an arm toward Catee's room. Somehow Ethan snapped from his frozen dread and threw himself into his little girl's doorway.

She was sleeping, completely unaware of the horror that clung to the ceiling above her. It snapped its head toward Ethan when he arrived and pulled back thin, wormlike lips to reveal rows of needle-teeth. The thing was pale-white and gaunt. It was nude and resembled a small man in some ways, though its facial features were far from anything human.

Sickly yellow eyes dotted with black, sunken deep in its hairless skull so that they looked larger than they should. Its mouth was a maw, its long, spindly fingers and toes tipped in nasty, yellow claws. As if by some dark miracle, it stood, feet planted against the wall above Catee's bed. In its hands it held a large, black, silk bag that it was trying to place over the sleeping child.

"HEY!" Ethan screamed, pushing aside the horror in his heart to quell the threat against his daughter. The creature's slavering head made paces between he and Catee before deciding to continue with its work. Ethan charged.

He took hold of the creature's arm and it hissed. Adrenaline pumped through the young construction worker's veins as he took hold of clammy flesh, ripped it from the wall and threw the heavy _thing_ across the room. A flimsy bookshelf crumbled as it slammed into it but the creature was unfazed. It found its feet with supernatural speed and before Ethan could focus fully on the blur of movement, he felt it spear him to the ground. His head met the square leg of Catee's bed, and gashed open. The wind left him instantly and in that same instant the monster was atop him, ripping and tearing. Somehow Ethan managed to take it by the wrists to avoid its slashing claws but the beast was like a feral dog, its neck stretching toward the young father's face to snap his throat in its filthy maw. Ethan twisted and fought, but even as strong as he was, he realized that he was facing a strength far beyond anything he'd ever known. It pinned his hands by his head and then paused to look into his eyes. Its lips curled back and it spoke.

"Ngliech d' trybthe," it rumbled, the massive rows of teeth in its mouth causing the words to twist and strain against the ear.

Ethan looked up to the monster, horrified and struggling with all his might when suddenly the creature grew still and began to smile. Its maw opened wide and a thick, black, segmented tendril, the monster's tongue, writhed from behind those rows of needles. Then it leaned slowly forward.

The monster released Ethan's hand and grasped his jaw, wedging it open. Ethan balled his fist and launched a punch into the side of his captor's head only to meet with the bottom row of teeth, ripping the flesh from his knuckles. As the pain of the cut began to register in his mind the monster's sickening tongue darted forward. Ethan tried to close his jaw, bearing his own teeth as a threat but at the last moment, that disgusting 'tongue' darted forward and punched into the center of his forehead instead. It was as if it were a bore, drilling through his already sundered skin and into his skull.

Ethan's eyes rolled back into his head and he felt darkness closing in. His body tensed as the tendril dug deep and in vain he convulsed against the monster's weight. Out of breath, in pain, his eyes grew heavy until finally he couldn't open them anymore.

"DADDY!!!!"

Catee was on her knees, upon her bed, reaching to him as though she were on an island and he was a drowning man. He looked up to see Elihu standing over him, the monster's throat in his big hand. A sickening crack echoed through the room as he dislocated the creature's neck. He discarded the lifeless thing across the room before taking a knee over the young father and grasped Ethan's cheek as the monster had, inspecting.

Ethan quickly slapped the hand away and twisted from Elihu's grip. The big man left his stare on the young father for a moment more before shaking his head.

"LEAVE NOW!"

Ethan leapt to his feet and swooped Catee into his arms. Two more shadows emerged from the wall to block the doorway. Elihu charged and cleared a path. Ethan burst into the hallway and down it.

"TARA!" he cried. Catee wrapped in his arms, he found his wife, frightened and cowering in a corner. He ran to her and snatched her up by the wrist.

"Ethan what's going on?" she pleaded.

"We have to go!" he hurried and then burst back into the hallway. Elihu's battle had pushed back into Catee's room. The way was clear save for what seemed like a thousand disembodied shadows skittering across the walls. Ethan took a deep breath. The distance was short. The apartment wasn't big. But at that moment it seemed a thousand miles to the front door.

"COME ON!" Ethan shouted, more to motivate himself than his wife or daughter. And then he threw himself forward. The whispers grew louder as they jetted down the hallway, the shadows just corporeal enough to rake across their flesh, like running through spider webs, leaving behind the irritating clinging.

Ethan flung open the front door to the apartment and was about to run through it when a great crash thundered behind him. He turned to see Elihu wrapped in a mass of the horrible _things_ , gnawing and chewing and ripping at his flesh. The big man looked to the young father and shouted.

"GO! ASA IS WAITING FOR YOU!"

Ethan gasped when he saw one of those creatures sink its disgusting teeth into Elihu's throat. The fighter in him beckoned him to go back and help. But the little girl in his arms and the beautiful woman at his side demanded they escape.

He saw Elihu take the creature by the head, ripping it away before they raced to the stairs. Ethan flung open the door only to find that the stairwell was beginning to 'bleed' with shadows as the apartment had. They descended, wiping at their faces as they charged through invisible webs, but at the final landing Tara lost her feet.

The young mother fell forward. She was moving so fast that she cleared every step and caught herself with her hands just before the exit door. A sickening crunch sounded as the bones in her wrist gave way and her hand folded awkwardly under. She howled with pain as Ethan and Catee caught up, but she'd have no time to nurse the wound. Ethan dipped a hand around her waist and helped her back to her feet. In the same movement he kicked the door open and they raced out into the cold.

### CHAPTER ELEVEN

"HERE!" Asa shouted, waving the family toward the open side door of an old work van. Quickly they filed in and Asa slammed it closed then sprinted around the front of the van and leapt inside; ripping it down into gear.

"Is everyone okay?" he blurted.

The trio looked to him for a moment, huddled in the back of his van like refugees of some war-torn home. Assessing that they were alive; the important part really, Asa turned to make the sharp corner that exited their apartment complex.

"Hold on!" He issued the warning already halfway through the curve. Braced as best they could, the Moyer's slid into the van's cold wall and clung to each other.

After a few more sharp, body-slinging turns the road became more forgiving and Ethan and Tara's hearts began to calm. Catee sat atop her knees in her father's lap. Ethan, knuckles still bleeding, looked to Tara who cradled her broken wrist and whimpered. But Catee, usually keen to anyone's pain, paid her mother's no heed. Instead she took her father's face in her hands and her little brow drew down.

"You be okay daddy," she promised. Ethan shook his head a little before he realized that the little girl was starting to glow. Once he recognized what she was doing he quickly twisted his face from her palms.

"No!" he spat, harsher than he'd intended. He softened his squared jaw as he looked to his little girl. "No baby."

"You hurt Daddy," she pointed out. He looked to his knuckles which, had finally stopped bleeding.

"I'll be fine," he promised and then sat her at her mother's side. Then he knee-crawled to the driver's seat and leaned in to speak with Asa.

"There are some clothes back there for you. I didn't know your size so I got sweats," Asa offered.

"Where are you taking us?" Ethan asked. Both were suddenly distracted by a soft glow from the back and a little girl whimpering. Ethan gritted his teeth. Their conversation paused until the light had passed.

"Someplace safe," Asa replied.

"Bullshit!" he spat. "You tell me where you're taking us!"

An apologetic look filled Asa's face. "Of course... I'm sorry. We're going to the airport Mr. Moyer. We have to get you and your family to safety."

"Whoa...," Ethan protested, "We're not leaving Chicago."

"You _have to_ leave Chicago," Asa replied, exasperated. "I don't think you understand."

"Then make me understand."

Asa's head knelt forward a bit. But as he opened his mouth to speak, a 'THUMP' fell heavy upon the roof of the van. Both men's heads darted upward as Asa groped after the heavy pistol in the passenger seat. "They're following us!"

"YA THINK!?" Ethan quipped.

He darted to the back of the van and drew his family into his protective arms. Asa struggled with the large caliber pistol he'd finally captured while trying to drive. Whatever was atop the truck had begun pounding and scraping at its roof like an animal, mad with hunger. Long striations began forming in the thin steel above them as Ethan, Tara and Catee huddled together. The accidental discharge of Asa's firearm into the dashboard jolted each of them even more than his erratic driving had done.

"I... I... I... 'm not very good with...," Asa stuttered.

Ethan scurried forward and snatched the gun from him. Tara quickly put her hands over Catee's ears as he aimed the gun toward the striations and fired several rounds.

All fell silent. Catee wrapped her arms in a vice around Tara's neck. Asa checked the mirrors. Ethan scanned the roof line left to right, listening for a clue. Finally someone spoke.

"I think you got it."

Suddenly the windshield of the van exploded, a creature bursting through it feet first. Shards of glass showered through the van as the monster rocketed through. Its flailing arms sliced Asa's head open diagonally across his eye. The rest of the motion was a darkened blur that ended with Ethan pinned against the back door.

Nearly unconscious, Ethan found that the monster was in his lap, faced away. Instinct brought his arms up, and somehow he locked the creature in a wrestling hold. Before the creature could resist, the van lurched to one side, sending the two of them into the wall. Ethan's head snapped up to find that Asa's head had rolled forward. He was out, his foot mindlessly pressing the accelerator.

"TARA! DRIVE!" Ethan shouted. Tara looked to him through wide, frightened eyes, and once the command registered, she cupped Catee to her body and stretched across Asa to take the wheel.

The monster was clawing forward, Ethan on its back. He knew that he wouldn't overpower it for long. And so he released his hold and began pounding at the back of its head. He felt helpless, his strongest blows not even enough to make the monster turn to deal with him. Rather the thing had one goal; to take the Argent Child.

"YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY LITTLE GIRL!" Ethan growled.

Tiny lips flitted against her mother's neck as Catee muttered a nearly inaudible reply.

"Dorsta."

Tara slipped an arm beneath Catee as the little one tried to wriggle herself free but she couldn't hold her and drive too. Catee's naked feet hit the floor softly; she fell to her knees, training her eyes on the struggle between the monster and her father. And then she spoke again, louder this time but with the same calm that almost always filled her tiny voice.

"Dorsta."

The monster shrieked and began to writhe beneath Ethan as though it had been set ablaze.

"Anamtheya, dorsta. Lecea!"

Ethan continued his struggle to contain it, but it had become the fiercest of rodeo bulls, bucking him off as though he weighed nothing at all. Plumes of smoke began to rise from its suddenly sizzling flesh. As soon as the beast had risen to a crouch, it turned and thrust itself through the rear doors, screaming as it skidded down the asphalt.

"Misericordia, pia puella! Concedo!" It gurgled in pain.

Ethan watched in disbelief as the monster disappeared into an alley. He turned quickly to find that Tara was looking on stymied, a hand resting lazily at the wheel.

"DRIVE!" he screeched, but to his relief, Asa turned and looked back to him.

Catee was still upon her knees in the center of the van, a solemn look on her face. Quietly she made her way to her mother's lap and climbed into it. Ethan turned, tried to slam the van's doors closed but one was hopelessly sprung. A column of frigid air poured through the windshield and out it. And so the young father slid to the pile of clothes in the back of the van and began rifling through them. When he found a pair of sweats he thought might fit, he called to his daughter.

"C'mere baby. Put this on." It was as close to something normal as he'd experienced in the past several hours.

### CHAPTER TWELVE

Gushing wind and chattering teeth filled the quiet van. Ethan hugged his family tight to share his warmth. He finally looked to Asa and spoke for the first time since the monster had come crashing in.

"How much farther?" Ethan asked.

"Almost there," Asa said, shivering.

Ethan's chin quivered atop Tara's head as the family huddled together. "What were they?"

"Faeries," Asa said bluntly.

"What, like Disney?" Ethan replied.

"No. Not like Disney." He paused, his head aching as he tried to figure out how to encapsulate the hidden history of the Earth. "Long ago there was a war in Heaven."

Ethan shook his head instinctively but quieted himself. "Lucifer and his army fell. Some of them became dragons. Others saw the hubris of their ways and chose their own paths. They are the faeries: fantastic creatures neither good nor evil."

"So those _things_ were faeries?"

"Yes. Corrupted faeries. Boggans twisted by dragon magic," Suddenly Asa sat up remembering something. "Make sure no one was bitten by one."

"Why?"

"They're 'sewers'. They can corrupt flesh," Asa explained.

"Meaning..."

"Like vampires or werewolves in the movies... if they bite you...." Asa explained.

Ethan gently touched his forehead and leaned back as the van began to slow.

"You said faeries didn't serve dragons," Ethan reminded as they made a turn through the gate of a security fence.

"They're called Unseelie: creatures who pay a tithe to Hell." He knew he was using terms only familiar to people like him and shook his head. "Faeries don't have to serve evil but their lives on earth are much easier if they do. Some of them capture humans and feed them to the dragons as a tithe - like when you put money in the offering at church. Some serve in their armies." He navigated the van into a small airfield and pointed it toward the hangars near the end of the airstrip.

A sickening feeling returned to Ethan's stomach as he looked to the airplanes. He still didn't want to leave. "And the ones that don't?"

"They're still fallen angels. And fallen angels..., " Asa pulled the van to a stop and turned in his seat to look to Ethan. He found that Tara had joined in his audience.

"... are demons," she added breathlessly.

Asa nodded as he looked to Catee who was struggling to return to sleep, her face buried in her mother's bosom. His voice softened as Ethan turned to eye the small jet sitting inside the hangar they'd parked in.

"To some Catee is power, wealth, control. To others, like the dragons, her very existence offends them. She is the light to their darkness, a reminder that their enemy is still the one with all the true power and control. She is a balm to the world. And the infection doesn't like it one bit." He was thankful that he finally found the words.

Tara wasn't ready for the truth that Asa offered. She was quick to her question. "How do you know for certain that Catee is an _Argent Child_ "?

Asa smiled. "I don't think there's any doubt now, is there?"

Tara frowned, ready to wake up from this nightmare. Ethan quickly changed the subject.

"So, where are we going?"

Asa looked to Ethan, afraid that he might back out of this trip at any moment. "First to New York, then probably London. We have an ally there, a group of Priests that aid the Vigilant."

Ethan's lips tightened. everyone in the van was breathless for a moment as they awaited his decision. Without a word he simply opened the door and stepped out before extending a hand to help Tara. "Let's go," he offered.

Tara and Asa shared a glance as each exited the van and headed toward the plane.

### CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The family welcomed the comfort the small jet provided, easing into warm seats as they drew quickly skyward. Tara and Catee had fallen asleep almost as soon as the plane leveled off, but Ethan's mind couldn't rest. He stood and checked on his family fighting the urge to pick Catee up to hold her.

Next he glanced out the window to view the darkened earth below. The lights of some small town were passing beneath them. He wondered where they were. Circumstance had lead him to this plane; had forced him to trust this stranger. A part of him still wanted to believe that this was all just a terrible nightmare.

The sound of the cockpit door opening drew his attention. Asa was making his way through it, his wound bandaged as best it could be with the contents of a small jet's first aid kit. He nodded to Ethan with a tired look upon his face and made his way to the young father. Then he took a seat across from him, pulling the first aid kit into his lap.

"We'll be in New York in another hour or so. Let's get you bandaged up?" he offered.

"How long will we be in New York?" Ethan questioned.

"Not long. A few hours." Asa turned his attention to the wound on Ethan's head.

"And those 'things', we won't see any more of them right?"

"I've arranged for some protection while we wait," he said, studying Ethan's wound.

"That's nasty. What happened?"

"Hit my head on Catee's bed," Ethan explained. The monk pulled gauze from the box to cut it to size.

"I've been thinking, you know, about those _things_ ," he said. "Why is it, we've never seen them before? Why hasn't anyone ever captured one? Why is it, they showed up after we met you?"

Asa tried to hide his anger. He'd nearly died getting this man to safety. Elihu may have given his life protecting him and his family and still he questioned their motives. _Patience Asa_ , he thought to himself. "They _have_ been seen," Asa explained. "Do you not look at the tabloids at the supermarket? There's even a scientific community that studies them: Cryptozoology."

Ethan chuckled. And then he realized that what Asa said was true. He turned that over in his mind for a moment. "So who was that guy - Elihu?"

"Elihu is Chicago's Vigilant, in charge of keeping the city safe from things like you saw tonight."

"Chicago? There's only one of'em?"

Asa patched up Ethan's forehead and nodded. "If there could be more there would be. Elihu is a rare breed. They're called Elohim. It means _One Who is Mighty_. They're like us but also, well, not. They're stronger, faster, they heal more quickly..."

Ethan watched as worry filled Asa's face and his thoughts wandered. The young father looked down to his wounded knuckles and let his mind rewind to the fierceness and strength the knight had displayed. "Is he.... are you two... what are you?" Ethan asked. The monk looked to Ethan's hand as he explained.

"I am his Chronica. I get him the things that he needs, provide him with information, report his activities."

"So you're like his wife," Ethan grinned. Asa didn't appreciate the humor and it shown on his face.

"Sorry," Ethan offered. "Are you _one who is mighty_?"

"Not at all. I'm mortal, like you. My order is born of the tradition of the Knight's Templar. We support the Vigilant but our swords are purely ceremonial nowadays," he said, applying a bandage to Ethan's knuckles. "I probably wouldn't be any better at fighting those things than you were."

Ethan tugged his hand back at the shot to his pride and he twisted his mouth to let the monk know about it. But the grin on Asa's face disarmed him. Ethan chuckled. Just then Asa's cell phone began to ring. He quickly fished it from his pocket and answered it.

"Asa... Paris? Are you sure? I... I... I... Yes. Will there be a safe house?" Asa tried not frown as he stammered. "I understand. Thank you." Clicking his cell phone closed, Asa looked to Ethan and stood, excusing himself as he made his way toward the cockpit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there," Ethan exclaimed, "What's up?" The rise in Ethan's voice brought Tara out of her sleep and she began to sit up and take notice.

"Oh," Asa stated, taking a few steps back toward Ethan. "A change of plans. The situation in London... isn't safe. We're flying to Paris instead. It's safe there, I assure you."

Tara grinned when she heard the change of venue. She had always dreamed of seeing Paris.

"You didn't sound so sure on the phone," he pointed out.

"I don't know the Parisian Chronica like I know the one from London, but I'm sure he'll take good care of you."

Ethan stood as he raised his voice. "You mean you're leaving us?"

Asa closed his eyes and drooped his head in frustration. "Yes Ethan," he stated softly.

"You are the only guy we know in all of this _shit_! You are the only guy we trust! There is no way in Hell we're going anywhere without _you_!" A growl had lifted the corner of his upper lip.

Asa narrowed his eyes. "I have a job to do. I am on this plane right now and I don't know if the knight that I've known for three years, a man I consider my friend, is alive or dead. Tell me Ethan, when you escaped your apartment, did it look like Elihu was winning or losing?"

Ethan averted his eyes as he remembered his last vision of Elihu.

"I promise you that the Chronica in Paris will be a good man. He _will_ help you. The Templars and our Knight's Vigil will protect you... or we'll die trying."

Somehow Ethan had managed to fall asleep but he woke with a start. The light of dawn was breaking through the tiny window at his shoulder. He could see that they were on the ground. It frustrated him that he'd allowed himself to sleep through it. He stood and stretched. The movement roused Tara but Catee was fast asleep.

"Where's Asa?" she asked in a sleepy tone. Ethan turned to confirm that there was no sign of the monk.

"Asa?" he called, moving toward an open cockpit door but heard only silence. Apprehension welled up inside as he reached the debarking door when suddenly it opened. Ethan froze as feet thumped up the short flight of steps and then Asa emerged a large figure behind him.

"I didn't think you'd wake up," Asa greeted.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ethan barked. Asa nodded his head toward a piece of paper still clinging to the young father's shirt. Ethan ripped it free and read it. _Meeting Vigilant in Hangar A_. The young father calmed down. "Who leaves notes like that?" he grumbled.

Asa grinned and stepped down the aisle. A muscular man shadowed him. He had piercing gray eyes and cropped blonde hair. Ethan knew at once this man must be a knight. It wasn't the tell-tale swords strapped to his sides. Rather it was an aura, an inexplicable intensity that these _Vigilant_ exuded.

"Tara, Ethan, this is Isaiah. He is New York's Vigilant."

Isaiah nodded to each, looking at little Catee with reverence. The little one was still sleeping but Tara seemed to perk up, smitten by the handsome knight. Ethan groused at her and rolled his eyes.

"You have a beautiful child," The knight's voice seemed mismatched to his body. It was soft like a whisper yet somehow commanding. Catee stirred, then sat up groggily. Her gaze found Isaiah and she grinned a 'morning grin' as she addressed him. "You are a dream," she offered, without further explanation. It wasn't at all what it sounded like but Tara, whose mind had already made a similar distinction, flushed red. She pulled the little one into her lap.

"You gotta go?" Ethan asked, turning to Asa.

The monk nodded. "A colleague is outside. He's agreed to help me get back to Chicago." Asa was very worried about Elihu, but a part of him wanted to stay with them.

"Know that you will all be in my prayers for the rest of my life. So long as I have breath in me a part of it will be reserved for blessing you and your family." He extended a handshake to Ethan who quickly took it.

"You too," Ethan said, squaring his jaw to keep his emotions in check. He squeezed Asa's hand just a little harder and put a hand on his shoulder.

Asa turned to offer Tara and Catee a smile. The little girl opened her arms wide and demanded a hug. The monk bent to scoop her into his arms. The embrace lasted longer than Asa had expected, coming from a child who hardly knew him. But when it broke he knew it was exactly as long as it needed to be, to lift his sad heart. Catee looked to his bandaged face.

"You got a boo-boo?" she asked.

Asa shook his head. "You've felt enough pain little one. This will heal, all on its own," he said as he retuned her to her seat.

Asa and Tara's eyes met finally. Though they'd known each other for little better than a day, the two of them shared a bond, one born of hardship. Hers was a cheerless grin as she opened her arms to hug him. He stepped into the embrace and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Be as strong as you have been and all will be well."

"I'll never be able to thank you enough Asa. Say we'll meet again."

"If God is willing," he said, leaving her arms, reflecting for a moment. "Well," he began, "I'll get out of here now. God bless you all." With that Asa took one last look at them and turned to go.

### CHAPTER FOURTEEN

As the sun rose higher Tara took a seat by her husband, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Holding his hand, she followed his stare to the back of Isaiah's head. Catee had gone up to sit beside the knight.

"She's fine. Asa wouldn't have sent someone who would hurt us," she whispered.

"I don't know that," Ethan huffed.

Squeezing his fingers she continued. "Well I trust them. Asa's done nothing but help us."

"Do you trust them because they're trustworthy or because they're sending us to Paris?" Ethan asked. She didn't answer. "I mean, this is some Twilight Zone shit Tara, a bad episode of Svengoolie. How do we know these guys aren't just going to take Catee from us when we get to wherever-it-is we're going?" Tara's smile passed as she considered Ethan's insinuation.

"You won't let that happen, _will you_?" she asked rhetorically.

"Hell no," he replied.

"Well, neither will I. Maybe they are up to more than they're saying, but I know this: Wherever we're going will be better than where we just came from. I mean, even if we went to your parent's..." Ethan stopped her short and he jolted upright.

"Mom and Dad!" he exclaimed. "We gotta call Mom and Dad!"

Ethan stood. Tara tightened her grip on his hand. Isaiah looked back toward the disturbance.

"Ethan no... wait until someone gets here to tell us what to do!"

"I'll just get off for a second, find a phone and make sure they're okay. I'll call your mom too," he offered, hoping that the mention of her mother might sway her.

"But what are you going to tell them?" she asked, loosening her grip a little.

"I... I'll tell'em the truth... kind of," he replied as he paused to concoct a story in his head. "I'll tell them we're going to Paris. That the police are footing the bill to get us out of town for awhile until this dies down."

Tara smiled at the answer. She was sure they'd buy it. "Okay," she agreed, "but hurry up."

Ethan was bounding down the aisle with ever-quickening steps when Isaiah arose to block his path. Ethan prepared for a confrontation. "Are we going to have a problem?" Ethan asked.

"No," Isaiah shook his head but before he could continue the young father stepped forward, ready to shove by the knight.

"Good. Because we aren't prisoners last I checked," he challenged. Isaiah planted his strong hand against Ethan's chest. The young father swatted at it. He'd intended to knock it away but it didn't budge.

"Mr. Moyer..."

"It doesn't have to be like this!" Ethan growled, his fist clinching.

Isaiah pointed toward a skyphone in the adjacent aisle. "No, it doesn't," he explained.

"Oh," Ethan managed. "I thought... sorry."

"Tell them you're going to London. The less they know, the safer they are," Isaiah instructed before removing his hand from Ethan's chest and returning to his seat.

### CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Catee was admiring one of Isaiah's swords.

"Are you special?" she asked. He turned to her. The low light in the cabin had made his eyes take on a strange glow. Softly he shook his head.

"How come you get 'dem?" she asked.

"I'm a knight. Knight's have swords," he explained.

Catee grew quiet for a moment and then looked out the window. "In my dream we watch squirrels," she added. "Do you like squirrels?"

"I never gave them much thought," the young knight answered.

"Oh," she said with a frown. "Well you should lik'em. They're fuzzy."

"I'll try to pay more attention," he said softly.

Ethan had just finished feeding the story he'd designed to Tara's mom when two men boarded the plane. The first turned quickly into the cockpit but the second, clad in tie-dye, made his way down the aisle. He wore his hair long and accompanied it with a beard and mustache, a slight man with gold wire framed glasses that caught the dim lights of the cabin above. His arms were filled with fast food bags and a drink carrier jutted before him as he carefully balanced it with the tips of his fingers. Isaiah arose and greeted the man with a nod, helping bear some of the load.

"Thank you Isaiah," the man said before addressing Ethan and Tara. "Hello Moyers. My name is Cyrus. I thought you might be hungry." Tara chimed in, thankful for the food but more interested in other topics.

"Are we still going to Paris?" she asked, accepting a child-sized juice he had extended to her.

"Yes you are," he said. Ethan opened a breakfast sandwich before raising it in the air, toasting Cyrus.

"Thanks. I was starved," the young father said, but before his second bite he paused to stare at his sandwich. Right about now he'd be gathered around the tailgate of his truck, sharing a breakfast with his crew and planning the day's work. Ethan had worked hard everyday of his life, even when most kids were just trying to get through high school. There were no vacations, no plane trips. He had become a creature of such intrinsic habit, so firmly planted in Chicago's pavement, that he felt as though he'd wither if he were ever plucked from it. A knot twisted in his belly, but his apprehension went unnoticed for the moment.

"Mommy, could you give me my breakfast up here? Isaiah needs me sit by him," came a little voice calling to a few rows back. Isaiah had said nothing of the kind and shook his head to refute the accusation but Tara thought little of it. Catee would occasionally take to someone. Tara struggled to stand, food in each hand but fell back into her seat.

"Let me help," Cyrus smiled, taking the food and delivering it. "Well, you folks are about to be on your way and so Isaiah and I should be also."

The casual way Cyrus made his announcement added insult to Ethan's injury. He was lost in contemplation, trying to make peace with the fact that he was about to not only leave his home city, but his country behind - no idea when he'd see either again - and the thought that someone could be chipper about that ran him through. His face set hard, he stood blocking Cyrus' way and extended his hand. Cyrus turned, surprised by the look on the young father's face and took his handshake, only to have it cinched tight. The inflection of Ethan's voice shook slightly and came in dark and low.

"I am trusting _you people_ with the most important things in my life. If I find out you're lying to me..."

The grin on Cyrus' face faded. He realized that he'd diminished the gravity of the situation with his attempt to be friendly. He looked into Ethan's eyes with candor.

"I understand Mr. Moyer. With God as my witness, you and your family will be protected." The sincerity in Cyrus' voice rang true with Ethan. He nodded and released the Monk's hand.

Isaiah was about to stand as Catee wrapped her arms around his neck. It was clearly awkward for the Knight even though he returned the gesture, lifting her into the air as her legs dangled beneath her. After hanging on for a moment she released his neck and looked into his eyes.

"It's okay to love Katie," she said, a statement that caused Isaiah's eyes to widen with surprise. Noticing the young knight's reaction, Tara stood to rescue him from her eccentric little girl. She gently plucked Catee from the seat before him.

"He knows it's okay to love you baby," she said, smiling to Isaiah. He nodded in thanks then silently, he turned away and headed up the aisle. Cyrus turned to go too.

"God speed," he offered, then he hurried his steps to catch the Vigilant.

It wasn't long before the jet was taxiing toward the runway. Ethan watched as Tara tickled Catee, both celebrating a trip as though they were going on vacation but he couldn't share their enthusiasm. Instead he moved to a window and rested his head against it. His eyes affixed on American soil as they burst down the runway, building speed in a shaking drag race into the sky. Tara and Catee's giggling voices were growing distant as the plane left the ground. Just after the landing gear thumped into place Ethan fell asleep.

### CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Asa walked quickly from the passenger loading area and toward a bank of phones. He snatched a receiver into his hand and fished in his pockets for change - wishing that he hadn't left his flip phone in the work van - before finally finding the quarter he needed. He dialed, forcing himself to slow to avoid a misdial with his only coin, and then he waited. Each ring caused his posture to sink a bit more. An anonymous voicemail greeting finally answered. He waited for the tone and then spoke hushed and hurried.

"Elihu, meet me at my house as soon as you can."

He sighed as he hung up and then marched toward the exit and hailed a cab. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. Asa bowed his head to say a silent prayer for his friend, and then he glued his attention to the streets hoping to see the Vigilant.

Asa paid the cabby and walked toward the front door of his tiny south side home. He paused as he opened it, turned to have one more look, then went inside. He took a soda from his refrigerator and then put it back. Then he paced his kitchen for a bit, moving from window to window, door to door, looking out. Finally exhaustion began to get the better of him. He told himself that Elihu would be along shortly, that his worry was no use, and then he moved to the living room and fell into his couch.

He clicked on the television, rifling through the channels. It wasn't time for the news and there weren't any special reports. He was thankful for that. He channel-surfed for a moment before coming to rest on an infomercial, his eyes growing heavier. And then he fell asleep.

"Elihu!" His home was dark when his eyes popped open. He gasped and sat upright. "Elihu?" he questioned, standing and walking through the tiny home once more, flicking on lights as he went. But Elihu hadn't come. The clock caught his eye, 6:00p.m., and then he darted to his living room and flipped the channel until he found local news.

Our Top Story - The Santa Miracle, a Ruse! Chicago Police have confirmed that the production was all a part of a media campaign for the re-release of Miracle on 34th Street. Drake Media Productions affirmed that the Moyers were paid for their part in the campaign. The media company apologized for any hysteria they might have inadvertently caused. Channel 5 was unable to reach Drake Media or the Moyer Family for comment.

Asa was momentarily relieved. He wasn't sure who told the lie. The church had been known to pull strings when they needed something glossed over, but then so did the enemy. He smiled, knowing neither of them had Catee just yet and they were both likely about to blow a gasket because of it. He clicked the news off and moved to his computer, then logged into his secret network.

First leg completed. Vigilant missing. Seeking.

Quickly he logged out and shut down the computer. When 'seeking' he was expected to report every two hours and he had a lot of ground to cover. Grabbing his heaviest winter coat, he stepped through his door and locked it. Then he paused. If Elihu was badly hurt, injured enough that he couldn't make it to Asa's, he'd seek food as quickly as he could. It helped him heal. The monk shoved his hands in his pocket and walked quickly down the street to the bus stop.

An hour had passed as Asa made his way through the Moyer's neighborhood, careful to avoid the apartments. He'd checked the local soup kitchen and was making his way to the shelter when the fear built in him again. An ambulance was parked at the entrance. He paused near a lamppost and looked on as three EMT's struggled with a massive, prone frame atop their gurney.

"Big bastard for a homeless guy," one announced. "What do you think did this?"

Asa took hold of the poll to keep his feet.

"Coyote's man," another answered matter-of-factly.

"In the city? Fuck you," the third said as the three lowered the gurney down the stoop.

"No, seriously man. They're a real problem. My cousin's boyfriend got bit by one. Poor bastard probably got hammered and passed out and they just..."

"Shut up man," the second EMT silenced. "Let's just get him to the morgue."

"I don't know what's worse," the talkative EMT continued. "Going out like that, or going out with no name."

Asa watched as the trio loaded his friend into the ambulance and then slammed closed the doors. He kept his feet as they drove by, but once they'd passed he couldn't take it anymore. "Elihu," Asa muttered before bowing his head. "His name was Elihu."

### CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ethan was fast asleep. Catee was napping. But Tara was wired. Slipping from her seat, she paced the small plane's aisle looking for entertainment. She'd helped herself to a soda, visited the tiny bathroom, and read everything she could find. In a storage area she even found a stack of magazines but none that she was interested in. No Vogue. No Cosmo. No People. No Stars.

Giving up her search, she took a seat on the front row and began to stare out the window. It had been an amazing view for several hours, a full moon causing the ocean's waves to glisten. But she was beginning to see tiny grids of light on the darkened Earth below. She peered off into the distance and began to daydream. Soon, _any moment now_ she figured, Paris would come into view and she'd be one step closer to the life she'd always dreamt of.

"If only your mom could see you now," Ethan chided sleepily. She turned quickly to the sound of his voice and smiled.

"She'll kill me when she finds out."

Ethan shook his head at what he thought was naivete'. He wondered if she'd even see her mother again.

"She knew I'd make it here someday," she said, turning back to her porthole to gaze out. Her mother had pushed Tara into modeling when she was younger, filled her head with myriad dreams. But her mother was notoriously flighty and more than a bit selfish. Although Tara had the face and the talent to pursue the career, her mom never had the money or drive to put in the work necessary to do so. Instead Tara's young life was spent being introduced to a hundred potential step-dads and left to her own devices.

"ETHAN!" she squealed, running back to leap into the seat beside him. She thrust her finger toward his window and watched with baited breath.

Slowly he turned, remembering his dread. There in the distance arose a spire that could only be the Eiffel Tower. "Welcome to Mars," he mono-toned, a bit disappointed in the wide smile that split his wife's face. He wanted for her to share his anxiety.

"Do you think we'll get to go shopping?" she giggled. It was all he could take.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She knew the inflection in his voice. It was 'serious time', and she was having too much fun. She wiped the smile from her face and sat down beside him, putting both hands on his arm.

"This isn't home. This isn't fun. We're running for our lives Tara... for Catee's life," he seethed, teeth gritted.

"I know," she said, scolded, "but... we're here.... we're in Paris. I've always..."

"Dreamed about it? Tell me, in your dream were you chased out of your home by a bunch of slimy friggin' shadow-monsters because you're little girl healed a Santa Claus?" he asked sarcastically. "I need for you to wake up. Because we have no clue what's coming next."

Tara pouted and pulled her hands away, then stood and plopped down in the seat across the aisle. He watched as she averted her eyes, twisting to look through the window of the seats in front of him so that she could see the city. He sighed a big, intentionally loud sigh before he spoke.

"Please baby. Let's just figure this out first."

She considered for a moment before softly nodding.

### CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The plane taxied into the hangar and stopped with a jerk. The family looked between each other, unsure of what to do next. Tara stood and then sat down again as the pilot emerged from the cockpit and quickly exited the plane. Ethan arose and stepped into the aisle when an aging Japanese man boarded and made his way to them.

The man was dressed better than Asa or Cyrus and seemed much more rigid and disciplined than either. His black pants were pressed and neat, his shirt a crisp, banded-collar, white button up. His dark hair was cropped short to his head, his body slim and athletic; in fact the only tell-tale sign of his age was in the pattern baldness that had claimed most of the top of his head. He smiled as he nodded to each of them and spoke.

"Hello Ethan, Tara, and Catee. I am Salim. If you would be so kind, please quickly come with me."

Reliably, Ethan provided resistance.

"Hold on. Where are we going? How do we know you are who you say?"

Salim turned to Ethan and nodded once more. "You are wise Mr. Moyer, but regrettably we do not have time for explanations. Customs officials will be here in a moment to inspect this plane and unless I am wrong, you do not have travel papers. I don't wish to see you and your family detained by the French Authorities."

Ethan's cheeks flushed red for a moment, tired of everyone telling him what he did and did not want but he'd been in jail a time or two. It was fine for him but not for his family. Nodding, he placed a hand on Tara's shoulder to usher her forward as she picked up Catee.

Salim lead the group quickly from the confines of the plane into the hangar where another man - obviously a knight - waited beside the opened door of a service van marked, "Entretien d'Avion". Ethan rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Don't you guys own anything with seats?" he asked snidely as Salim paused at the other side of the door.

"My apologies Mr. Moyer. This was the best way to get your family out of the airfield without notice," Salim offered, sincerely apologetic for the discomfort.

"Forget it. What now?"

"This is Jahleel, the Vigilant of Paris. He will take you to the safe house." Jahleel nodded and offered an "Ayup" as Salim introduced him.

Ethan took another moment they didn't have to eye the new fellow. Jahleel was young, far younger looking than any of the knights he'd met so far. He was born a "Pikey" whose family had roamed the British Isles for decades. He wasn't much taller than Salim though his presence evoked the same intimidating feeling that the other Knights had. He was small and wiry, unshaven and rather unkempt as dark hair jutted skyward in a conglomerate of 'cowlicks' and 'chicken feathers', his eyes wild yet laser focused, as though they were meant to fool others into believing him aloof. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a worn, brown leather jacket that he'd layered over a black hooded sweatshirt, his legs covered in denim jeans the cuffs of which rested atop the brown work boots he wore.

"Please, hurry," Salim urged glancing out of the large hangar doors nervously. Ethan and Jahleel exchanged nods before the family piled in.

"You're not coming with us?" Ethan asked.

Salim's eyes met Ethan and he offered a wink. "Someone has to have gotten off of this plane Mr. Moyer," The deceptive plan made Ethan grin a bit as he stepped up into the rear of the van.

Jahleel slammed it closed and headed for the driver's seat. Thrusting the van in gear brought a chirping of tires and with that the Moyers began their European Journey. The next few minutes were tense and jostling but Jahleel knew the airport well and, using a service entrance, had the van out of it without so much as a nerve-wracking checkpoint to drive through.

As soon as the quick turns smoothed, Ethan looked to Tara. She was craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the city she'd dreamed of. Unfortunately, thanks to a number of aircraft tools, site seeing was nearly impossible. Tara pouted as she looked to Ethan. He shook his head at her and managed a grin.

"We'll see it later baby. I promise." He wanted for her to be as serious and homesick as he already was but he knew that she wasn't. He knew this was her dream and for his entire gruff, curmudgeon exterior, he loved her completely.

His words caused her to smile, embarrassed for being so childlike in her enthusiasm for the place. To remind herself of the fact that she wasn't a child, she lifted Catee into a hug from behind and kissed her atop the head. "I know we will," she said and reached out to touch her husband's hand.

### CHAPTER NINETEEN

Beautiful, well lit streets gave way to darkened, dirty ones as the van twisted and turned through the City of Lights until finally it whipped into a parking space. Jahleel quickly opened the door and nodded to the family as he spoke in his Pikey-born lilt. "This way."

Ethan was the first to exit, taking Catee into his arms then offering a hand to his wife. She'd renewed her tourist's enthusiasm, her head twisting to and fro, looking for anything she'd seen in a picture book or on the Travel Channel. But where she stood looked more like a documentary on her old neighborhood; lined with run-down buildings and eyes-forward faces lacking in smiles.

A sigh filled her chest as Ethan took her hand and coerced her into following him into the arched doorway of a three-story apartment building. The interior of the building smelled like old cheese, no wonder given that it seemed half rotted. Catee was the first to unceremoniously point out the smell.

"Ew... Mommy this stinks."

Jahleel turned his head to regard the family over his shoulder as he began the climb up a dark wood staircase. "No problem. The apartment will smell a right bit better," he said, turning and silently hoping he hadn't lied.

The Safe house was located on the top floor, three flights of dilapidated stairs up into a hallway of bare wood that hadn't been cared for in ages. A glance overhead revealed a remarkably high ceiling with paint literally chipping from it in large chunks. Those that hadn't fallen to the floor were still dangling precariously from the ceiling. Tara's face grew steadily more disappointed. Jahleel paused a few steps down the hallway before an unmarked door. They watched as he worked each latch before finally opening the door, stepping aside to let them in.

The tiny apartment; one bathroom, one bedroom, one common room with kitchen, was a contrast to the rest of the building though only slightly. It was apparent that it had been cared for, cleaned regularly and kept up. The ceiling was freshly painted. The floor - while still bare - held a dull shine and furnishings, though old and a bit dusty were at least comfortable.

Jahleel watched as the family gathered in the living area, looking it over, knowing it wasn't what they'd wanted or deserved. Stepping in, he attempted to console them. "Sleeps all right, quiet enough and safe. Neighborhood ain't so great but you won't be leavin' for a bit.... Not until Salim can give you the go ahead." No one acknowledged his words as he toyed with the ring of keys in his hands. The silence compelled him further. "S'only temporary," he offered. Finally Tara turned to him with a renewed interest.

"Can you see the Eiffel Tower from here?" she questioned.

Jahleel was quick to nod, excited by the fact that at least something she wanted could be given.

"Yeah, I think so." The words shot from his mouth as he quickly made his way to the kitchen window. Tara followed. Throwing back a blind, he twisted to one side and pointed as he spoke. "Just there, over top o' that buildin'. There it is. You see it?" Tara craned her neck, mocking Jahleel's stance as she strained to see the tower.

"Oh...," she said, disappointment returning to her voice. Empathy filled Jahleel's stature as he straightened and let the blind fall from his fingertips to smack gently against the window.

"Might be able to see it better from the roof," he offered. Tara thanked him with a polite smile and sad eyes.

Jahleel made his way to the refrigerator and popped open the door glancing inside to check its stock. Aside from a few bottles of water and a jar of Mayonnaise that needed to be discarded long ago, it was empty.

"Salim will bring you folks some groceries," he said, glancing to Ethan who'd let Catee down to have her own look around the place. The statement served as an unintended reminder to the little girl who paused at her father's side, took the tip of his finger in her hand.

"Daddy I'm hungry."

Ethan looked to Jahleel for answers who replied with a nod, apparent that the new task wasn't a part of his original plan.

"Right. Somethin' to eat then. I'll take care of it." Heading toward the door, Jahleel paused and turned to the family.

"Please if you'd be so kind; don't leave until I or Salim have returned. Don't even go outside."

Ethan didn't feel like arguing. He just nodded. With that, Jahleel disappeared through the door.

"Ethan let's go!" Tara's voice took Ethan's attention. His eyes found her still at the kitchen window squinting and twisting to try to get a better look at the tower. Catee ran to her side, looking through the window and trying to match her mother's concentration as Ethan shook his head and grinned.

"Not tonight," he said in a tired tone. Tara turned to him and pouted.

"Ethan!" she exclaimed, "It's Paris!"

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "We're not going anywhere until somebody tells us what's going on around here."

A more heartfelt pout saddened Tara's features but she understood.

"Okay," she relented, "but soon... tomorrow maybe."

Ethan rolled his eyes as he took a seat on the couch, his hand instinctively finding the television remote by his side. "We'll see," he said, and then clicked on the tiny TV.

### CHAPTER TWENTY

In London, Brother Isaacs was manning the phones, a generally quiet job that allowed for a great deal of reading and meditation. He was in the midst of catching up on some of his course studies when the phone rang. Bothered a bit, he picked it up.

"Priory of the Occulus Dei," he greeted. "This is Brother Isaacs." Ordinarily he'd have blessed the caller with something appropriately Catholic but he was a bit put out by the call.

"This is Brother Salim. I would like to speak with Father Helforde."

"I'm sorry, but Father Helforde is in Rome. May I take a message or offer his voice mail?"

Salim paused for a moment, looking across the street at the apartment building that housed the Moyer's.

"Patch me through to him. It is most urgent."

Brother Isaacs didn't even consider the request. He'd been given instructions that no one was to bother Father Helforde as he was sequestered with Vatican Council to the Pope himself.

"No... I'm sorry brother. Father Helforde can't be reached right now. He is in council for three days."

Again Salim paused, frustrated as he considered the situation.

"Can you get a message to him? It is of the utmost importance that he receives this information right away. I have a code for him."

Brother Isaacs had already opened his mouth, intent on cutting Salim off when the code was mentioned and his voice caught in his throat.

"A code you say?" he asked, his mind racing to instructions he'd received months before directly from Father Helforde... instructions that he'd been told were vital communications between the Occulus Dei and the mysterious Knight's Vigil themselves. Excitement filled his throat and threatened to choke him. "I'll do my best to deliver it post-haste."

Salim's features softened as he finally started getting the responses he wanted. His voice hushed, he spoke. "Tell him: Victoria."

Though he hadn't a clue what it meant, Brother Isaacs eyes widened and his spine straightened with the thrill of intrigue. He took a moment to ponder its hidden meaning. Certainly he knew that Victoria was a common woman's name, but he also knew that it was a Latin word meaning "victory". _Victory_? he wondered silently. _Victory over what_? Salim cleared his throat to bring Brother Isaac's attention back to the phone.

"Victoria... y,yes... yes," the young Priest stammered, "How may Father Helforde reach you?"

Salim lowered his voice further, pausing as he watched a young French thug happen down the street. He thought for a moment, about giving him his cell, but decided to err on the side of caution. Even revealing the area code might tip the enemy off if there were any leaks.

"He can't," came Salim's reply. "I will attempt to contact him again tomorrow."

"But...," came Brother Isaac's protest, cut short by the 'click' of the line.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Enough time had passed for Catee to remind her father that she was hungry and for Ethan to begin to get perturbed with Jahleel. The opening of the apartment door caused all eyes to focus upon it, watching as each lock slowly twisted open. Ethan stood and made his way to the door, stepping behind it as he motioned for Tara and Catee to go into the bedroom. They disappeared just as the door swung open and Salim made his way through. The wide opened door served to conceal Ethan's presence.

The empty apartment caused Salim to stop, his hands filled with _Mamie Burger 2_ bags as worry filled his face.

"Ethan?" he queried his mind racing toward the worst possible conclusion.

"Maybe you should knock next time," Ethan answered from behind the door causing the old monk to leap, his heart racing.

"Oh thank God! I was worried that you'd.... left," the pause in his statement marked a re-wording of it. There were many things that Salim worried about regarding the Moyers. Their leaving of their own accord was farther down the list.

Nodding apologetically as Ethan stepped around the door, Salim presented one of the bags of food to him.

"Of course I should have knocked. Forgive me."

"Come on out you two," Ethan called toward the bedroom. Catee led the charge and let out a giggle as she saw the fast food bags.

Tara's gait was slower but just as relieved when she saw Salim's familiar face. The group gathered around the coffee table as Catee began shoving fries into her hungry mouth with a smile. Ethan unwrapped a burger and looked to the monk.

"Thanks for the food but Jahleel was supposed to bring us something an hour ago."

The rather ungrateful statement caused Salim to smirk and look into Ethan's eyes. "I know. He called me," Salim said with a nod but Ethan didn't understand.

"So he calls you instead of doing what he said he would do? That makes me feel really good about my family's safety," Ethan retorted.

"Ethan," Salim began, "Jahleel is a Vigilant. He has sworn poverty. Soup kitchens do not allow for carry-out."

"Oh," Ethan said in reflex. Embarrassed, his eyes found the floor and he nodded an apology. "I didn't know."

Salim nodded and watched as the family helped themselves to the food. Tara chewed the inside of her lip for a moment, looking at her burger. She didn't think it would be her first meal in Paris.

"When will we be able to go out and see the city?" she asked. Salim looked to her, then to Ethan who interjected.

"This is kinda her 'dream city'," he said. Salim nodded.

"There will be a chance to see this beautiful place Mrs. Moyer," Salim said, "but it will be a few days. We must wait for the Catholics to arrive."

Tara groused in disappointment but Ethan's brow drew down in confusion.

"The Catholics? Aren't you guys monks?" he queried with a raised brow.

"We are monks of the Chronica du Militia Christi - The Knights Templar. We are our own order, unaffiliated with any denomination," he explained.

"You're not Catholic?" Ethan questioned. To him, if it had something to do with God, it was probably Catholic. Salim smiled politely and shook his head.

"The Templars and the Vigilant have many acquaintances within the church, but only one friend: The Occulus Dei. They are an order of priests that allied with the Vigilant long, long ago."

"Huh," Ethan pondered. "Okay. So what do they have to do with anything?"

"The priests will prove that Catee is truly an Argent Child," Salim paused as he considered the best wording for what would happen to the Moyer family next. "We are soldiers. They are holy men. Once a Priest can confirm or deny that Catee is Argentum, then we can work on relocating you to something more permanent." Ethan's brow drew down as he listened.

"What are you talking about: relocate? I'm going back to Chicago."

"It's not safe in Chicago anymore," Salim retorted. Ethan laughed.

"There are three locks on that door," he said pointing to the exit. "Apparently it's not safe here either. Listen, we're grateful for your help laying low while the heat dies down but as soon as we can, we're going back to Chicago. That's... that's...," he paused, trying to put words to the feeling in his chest, "... that's where we're from."

Salim wasn't willing to argue. The young father just didn't understand yet. That would come with time.

"Well, that's something to discuss with Father Helford when he arrives. He is sequestered at the Vatican right now, but I am confident that he will come as soon as he gets my message."

"How long will that be?" Tara chimed in.

"A few days," he answered, looking at the building wanderlust in Tara's eyes. "I would appreciate your staying 'out of the public eye' until then." He watched as both Ethan and Tara paused. Quickly he continued. "Jahleel will be near, watching, but he is only one Vigilant. I'll be more comfortable when there are more."

Ethan shook his head and then stood up and looked around the apartment. "Listen Salim... thanks a lot for the help... thanks for everything but you can't expect us to stay cooped up in this rat trap for three days can you?" Tara looked to him with admiration in her eyes, he glancing to her as he continued. "You people have whisked us out of our lives, dropped us in a city where we don't even speak the language and now you want for us to just hide in French 'Skid Row' for three days while you guys figure out what to do with us?"

Salim understood Ethan's aggravation but he also understood the danger the city held for them. His voice softened, hoping to calm the agitated young father.

"Ethan, you and your family are not prisoners here. In fact you are my guests and I will do my best to treat you as such. As my guests, it is my duty to keep you safe and I am telling you, man to man, that I cannot do that without your cooperation. In three days time The Occulus Dei will come and they will bring with them more protection, possibly even more Vigilant, but right now it is you, Jahleel and I against an entire world of shadows. I know that Jahleel is a warrior; you might be also but those are still odds that we are not prepared to face."

Ethan's features softened and he placed his hands on his hips in contemplation. But before the young father could reply, the monk turned to Tara.

"Tara, I promise you that once there are more here to protect you, I will personally take you on a tour of this city. I've lived here for many years and can take you to places that no book or television program can." His words were thoughtful and appreciated but cold comfort when Paris was just beyond the stoop of the building.

She forced a polite smile and tried not to look disappointed. "That'd be nice," she said. "Thanks a lot."

### CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Father Helforde cast an intimidating shadow as he burst through the doors of a meeting chamber at the Vatican. He was quite accustomed to defending his fringe Order against the more mainstream but never had he had to do so in the chambers of St. Peter's Basilica... until today. In truth, the Occulus Dei were dying, their numbers dwindled more each year. The Papal Seat had varying opinions of these 'Spiritual Warriors', fundamentalist exorcists who had always bordered on the heretical in their studies and views. Though the current Pope supported them, he did so in secret and never with the fervor that previous Pope's had. It was becoming quite unfashionable to be an exorcist these days; a truth that surfaced at times even in the very heartland of Catholicism. It had been an observation like this that got Father Helforde's ire up and made him lead the charge to the exit when the meeting was dismissed.

The immense hallways served as an echo chamber as Father Helforde threw open the doors sending a thunderclap down them. Father McMichaels jolted toward the sound. Helforde's scowl disappeared when he saw the young priest. He stepped to McMichaels and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Stephen, what are you doing here?" he asked, pleasant surprise lacing his deep voice.

"I have a message for you Father," he replied softly, watching as other Bishops and Clergy exited the chamber and happened past the pair, some casting disappointed looks to an indifferent Helforde.

"Walk with me then," he instructed, turning down the hallway opposite the traffic flow. The young priest nodded and the two made their way down the ornate, quiet corridor as Father Helforde continued.

"Have you been waiting long?" He knew that his meeting had taken the better part of the day.

"A few hours," McMichael's admitted humbly, clasping his hands behind him. The response brought Father Helforde to a stop.

"It must be an important message for you to have waited so long."

"It is... rather, I believe it is. Otherwise I'd never have attempted to reach you during the retreat."

Helforde's brow drew down. "Out with it then. Is everything all right?"

"Brother Isaacs received a call from a man who said his name was 'Brother Salim'. He said he had a code for you." McMicheals' face held a questioning look, expecting to be thought mad. Instead he received a squeeze on his shoulder.

"What was the code?" Helforde asked hurriedly, urgency in his voice.

"Victoria," McMichaels said, looking into the elder pastor's eyes. At once Father Helforde released his grip on Stephen and looked away, directing his eyes down the long hallway as though he were staring into eternity. "Victoria," he echoed with a half whisper.

"Father, who is she?" asked McMichaels nervously, fear of some terrible scandal in the back of his mind. It took a moment for the elder priest to understand the depth of the simple question. When he realized the implication, he began to chuckle.

"No, no Stephen, it's nothing like that." His voice was quaking as laughter tried to sputter through his words. Tightening his grip on McMichaels' shoulder and shaking him every few syllables for punctuation, Helforde revealed the meaning of the code. "The Templars believe they've found Argentum Peur - an Argent Child."

Father McMichaels' recalled the story of the Argent Children. In his lifetime, he'd never known of one being found although he was aware that a few of their Order were on lifelong searches to do so. The Mythos of the Argent Child passed through the halls of the Occulus Dei Seminary much like the secret of the Knight's Vigil... an article of study for tests and little else. Most Occulus Dei would finish their earthly lives without meeting or knowing either.

"I...," McMichaels said, hesitant.

"You seem surprised," Helforde teased.

"To be honest Father, I thought they were a legend."

Helforde eyed the young priest. "You thought? Or you preferred to believe?" he wondered. "Because Stephen, if the former then you weren't properly instructed. That would be my own failing, would it not?"

"I'm sorry. The stories can be... unsettling," McMichael's admitted, apology in his eyes.

Helforde nodded his understanding but felt it necessary to correct the man that would likely one day take over his duties.

"Don't let the weltanschauung of the world cloud your vision, no matter how attractive it may be. You are Occulus Dei. You most of all, must have eyes to see the good and the bad."

McMichaels nodded, feeling rightfully scolded. "Of course Father. What must be done now?"

"I must go to test the child."

"But... you are sequestered," the young priest reminded. Helforde, lost in thought, turned to his assistant with a bit of frustration.

"Yes. That is a problem." The two Father's began a slow gait down the hallway as the elder contemplated matters, pondering aloud. "I can't possibly leave. I must stay to protect the Order's interests."

"Father, if you'll teach me, I'll go," McMichaels reluctantly volunteered. Helforde stopped mid-stride and turned to his assistant.

"No Stephen. Your expertise lies in administration. And though you are an Occulus Dei, likely my eventual successor, this is a job for someone more familiar with the old ways," he explained. Stephen hid a sigh of relief as the elder priest lifted a finger to his lips, eyes scanning the ceiling as he searched for a solution. "When the Templar calls again tell him that I will be available to him at the end of the sequestering. Have the office forward all calls to you. If Father Dominique should check in, inform him of the code and give it to him," Helforde advised, continuing their stroll.

"If Father Dominique is close enough, then he can go to test the child. If not, then I will do so. Give the Templar my personal numbers and inform him of my availability and situation." The two approached the end of the hallway that spilled out into an ornate room filled with the very Bishops and Archbishops that had just left the meeting. Helforde sighed.

Father McMichaels nodded and turned to go but found the resistance of Father Helforde's hand on his shoulder, turning him to look into his eyes. "I cannot express to you the importance of this discovery if it is indeed true. Handle this with the utmost priority and caution. Speak of it to no one. An Argent Child could help our Order in every way."

McMichaels' looked confused and a bit offended. "Aren't we to help _her_ Father? And not the other way around?"

Now it was Father Helforde who felt scolded. He glanced to the unwelcome stares that awaited him in the sitting room.

"Desperate times, Stephen. If the Vigilant will allow it, then an Argent Child at the disposal of the Occulus Dei would greatly increase our...," he paused to find the right word. " ... _influence_ , in these halls."

McMichaels followed his pastor's glance. "Is it that bad father?"

Helforde didn't answer.

"Go with God, Stephen," he said.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The next morning in that tiny apartment was an awkward one. Tara had barely spoken a word to anyone since her spurning and when words did spill from her lips they were quiet and sad. The family was trying to re-enact some semblance of their morning routines. Thanks to Salim and a late-night delivery of groceries, the act had at least become feasible, but their dislocation was obvious in even the smallest of tasks.

Catee didn't like the French Selection of cartoons, Ethan simply couldn't wrap his mind around the coffee maker, and Tara spent much of her time glaring out of the window at the Tower, as though she expected it to vanish. Her quiet sighs became louder when she realized that Ethan wasn't going to acknowledge them. He'd found a comfortable chair, one that allowed his feet to rest on the coffee table and settled in for the day, content to some degree with flipping through the television channels hoping to find something he recognized. Around ten o'clock Tara was fed up.

Catee was asleep on the couch, a bit of peanut butter marking the corner of her mouth from a half eaten croissant and peanut butter sandwich. Ethan was still parked in his comfy chair, his arms folded over his chest as he tried to watch and understand a soccer show.

"Ethan, let's go," she said, a plea laced in her voice. He was half asleep and didn't hear the question.

"Huh?"

Tara walked across the room and stood before the door. "Let's go," she smiled, "just for a few hours."

He shook his head and turned down the TV. "Baby, you know we can't. It's not safe."

"Just for a few hours Ethan? Please? What can happen in a few hours?"

Ethan sighed.

"It only took a few minutes for monsters to come peeling off our walls," he said, staring at her. It made her shudder, but didn't break her resolve.

"That's at home," she retorted. "We're in France. Nobody knows that, most of all... umm.... monsters."

"How do you know?" he asked, perturbed. "How do you know they aren't standing on the stoop, waiting for us to come outside?"

Tara shook her head. "Since when are you afraid?" she huffed. "Are you scared Ethan, or do you just not give a shit about Paris?'

He sat up and gave her a hard look.

"This is bullshit Tara. You're just trying to get your way. Stop acting like a child for a few minutes and be a mom."

Her lips drew tight as anger filled her face.

"Oh, am I not being _mom_ enough for you?" she seethed. "How about you being a _dad_ for awhile?" Ethan narrowed his eyes at her. Tara was always a peacemaker. And so if she was getting mad enough to confront him, he knew she was really angry.

"Tara, calm down," he instructed. Her eye twitched as she put her hand on the door knob.

"I'm going out for a few hours. Watch your daughter," she said. He jumped up from his seat as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

"Get your ass back in here now!" he demanded. She returned his glare.

"I will. In a few hours," she said, turning and heading for the stairs before she lost her nerve. He dashed into the hallway, pausing only when he remembered he'd be leaving Catee alone.

"TARA!" he shouted, she standing on the second floor landing. "TARA YOU COME BACK HERE NOW!"

She didn't listen, her feet quickly heading down the stairs. He watched, moving to the railing to shout down the staircase, keeping Catee in his sight.

"GROW THE FUCK UP!" he growled. She paused before the door and looked up at him, immune to his rage for the moment.

"I'm just going to see the tower. I promise you Ethan, I'll be back in just a bit," she swore. Ethan headed for the staircase to race to her.

"Daddy?" came the sleepy sound of Catee's voice, awakened by his shouting. He turned, raced back to pick up the little girl that dressed the doorway. And then he thumped down the stairs, his heart racing as he watched the downstairs door close.

The pair of them burst through it and Ethan's head snapped to look up and down the street, but there was no sign of his wife. Unsure which way she might have gone, he jogged up the street in one direction before doubting himself and turning around. "TARA!" he called, searching frantically but in vain. Finally, unable to find her, he paused again at the apartment door.

"Where Mommy go?" Catee asked.

"I don't know," he growled, stomping and shaking his head angrily before pushing back though the apartment building's door.

***

Salim was unlike other Chronicas in many ways. Specifically, he was born of money and was far more cultured than most of his brethren but further he was exceptionally gifted with intelligence. All Chronicas are very skilled in many covert things, each living a life 'undercover' in various fields but Salim always excelled at whatever he applied himself to whether it was a priority or not. While others took 'cover-jobs' as morgue technicians, emergency dispatchers and other positions that kept them in touch with the secret things that occurred in the city streets, Salim assumed the role of a freelance computer programmer and hardware technician, choosing to hack the information he needed to be a useful resource for his Vigilant.

He'd spent the morning repairing the network at a nearby police precinct and made his way out of the building, toolbox in hand. He was about to load his tools into his van when a familiar figure caught his eye.

"Jahleel! Jahleel what are you doing here?" he called. The vigilant paused and made his way over.

"I'm investigating," came Jahleel's dry reply, no further explanation offered.

"And the Moyers?" Salim questioned, concern in his face.

"Safe at the apartment earlier. I followed a suspicious woman from there to here. A witch I think. She took my photo."

Salim's eyes widened with surprise.

"You saw a witch near the Moyer's so you followed her instead of remaining at your post?!" His words reflected the disappointment in his eyes and were tinged with sarcasm.

"This city is my 'post'." Jahleel retorted. And then he paused, listening past the sarcasm to hear the wisdom. "All was quiet at the apartment when I left," he quickly added, beginning to doubt his decision.

"And where is this woman you followed?" Salim asked, scanning the busy streets. The young Vigilant's brow grew heavy as he looked around. She was gone.

"I don't know," he replied, ashamed.

"Get in!" Salim spat, racing toward his van.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Tara watched from the shadow of an alley as Ethan gave up his pursuit. Emotions roiled inside her. First she wanted to relent and go back inside. But the longer she stood out in the open, the less frightening it seemed. In the light of day the little neighborhood was really no worse than the place she called home. And though the people spoke a different language, they didn't seem threatening. Emboldened, enticed by the promise of the City of Lights, she allowed herself to meander down the street, still unsure if she'd keep walking or turn around. And then it happened.

In the crack of an alley between two old apartment buildings the Eiffel Tower shown in the distance. Her gaze locked on it and before she knew what was happening, her feet were following the sight. When she realized how far she'd gone, she was at the edge of the neighborhood, the city unfurling before her growing cleaner, safer, and better kept. The smells of a small outdoor cafe filled her nose with the scent of warm sugar. She turned to look behind her. The apartment was still in sight, but it seemed so far way and uninviting.

"Just to the tower," she promised herself.

***

Ethan split his time from the apartment to the stoop and back again. At first he kept Catee on his hip for the trip, but that was becoming cumbersome. He made it halfway back up the stairs when a man, haggard and unwashed exited the 1st floor apartment. Ethan paused at the landing and looked down to him.

"Bonjour," the man mirthlessly greeted. Ethan didn't answer. He hadn't realized that others might live in the building too. All he could think of was the door of his apartment, how he'd left it hanging open for his quick trip, and how his Argent Child was alone.

Quickly he thumped up the stairs, closing the door and locking it. Then he moved to the kitchen window and started trying to get a view of the tower. Catee moved to his side, looking up to the bandage on his forehead.

"How your boo boo Daddy?" she asked.

He hadn't thought of it really. He figured the headache pounding in his brain was his blood pressure. He lifted a hand to the bandage and gently pressed. It stung. "It still hurts," he said. Catee frowned.

"It a bad ouchy Daddy," she nodded.

He looked down to her and he finally smiled a bit. Then he slid from the countertop and squatted before her. She stepped into his arms.

"You see Mommy?" she asked. He shook his head and then winced to the pain that doing so caused.

"I fix dat boo boo," she said, reaching up for his bandaged head.

A glint of light flashed in her eyes, so short that he'd have missed it if he hadn't been looking into them. It scared him. He quickly gathered her little hands in his own and smiled to her.

"No baby," he shook his head.

***

Tara made a dozen slow circles around the tower, meandering the well-kept paths of the esplenade. In her mind scenes from a hundred movies and a thousand magazines played. She had a pleased grin on her face, her eyes dreamy as she craned her neck back and looked to the top. She'd no money on her - not a dime. Going to the top was impossible without it. She convinced herself that her safe return to the apartment would set aside Ethan's concerns, that they'd all return to the tower and that at it's top, he'd hold her.

She reached up and touched her lips gently, her mind on her angry husband. She lamented how quickly the time had passed but she also felt compelled to go back. She didn't have a watch, but she guessed that it was close to naptime for Catee. And so she took a deep, last breath of the clean, crisp air around her and then hugged herself for warmth as she pointed her body in the direction of the apartment.

Tara didn't speak French and so she found it refreshing to hear Americans conversing outside a tour bus. She smiled as the tour's guide, a blue-haired woman with a loud voice directed her group.

"On the bus everybody. Let's head over to Champs Elysees for some window shopping," the old woman directed. She noticed Tara watching them.

"You look like an American," she said, and smiled.

"How did you know?" Tara asked with a grin. The tour guide shrugged.

"Are you with us?" she wondered aloud.

"No. I'm just... wandering," Tara said.

"Well do you need a lift? We're going to the fashion district."

Tara shook her head. "I don't have any money," she explained.

"I didn't ask you for money. Come go with is. We're coming back here for a group picture later. You can ride with us both ways," she offered.

Tara looked in the direction of the apartment, the temptation welling up inside her.

"Get on here before you freeze," the woman directed.

"How long?" Tara asked. "I need to be..."

"I want to go for a few hours, but with this group of fuddy-duddies, probably an hour," She joked. "You got somebody waiting for you?"

Tara considered the question. She did indeed. But to see the Eiffel Tower and the fashion district on the same day, even if it was just a brief visit... "They won't mind," she said, stepping up and onto the bus for the free ride.

The ride across town warmed Tara's bones, her eyes alight when she saw the street sign that read "Champs Elysees". The bus had a special parking permit and pulled into a closed lot. As Tara and the other passengers debarked, Tara would hear the tour guide - whom she learned was named Paula.

"Okay everybody. We've got a great lunch planned," she said.

Tara was hungry. But she'd already been the recipient of a free ride and planned to get another later. She didn't want to impose. So as Paula lined her tourists and briefed them, the young mother began to slip away.

As soon as she was off on her own again she started window shopping, stars in her eyes. She made it about a block, fascinated by all the window displays, before she looked up to find eyes upon her. Paris' Fashion District was the playground of the wealthy and thanks to Tara's second-hand clothing, she realized how shabby she must look to them. With a polite smile she diverted the glances, but as soon as she could she paused before a mirror-shined window and saw what they saw.

She was a mess: Hair undone, no make-up, shabby dressed... suddenly agreeing to take that ride felt like a very poor decision. But as she stood there, casting a critical eye upon herself, the visage in the window blurred and her gaze passed through it to something that silenced her concern.

It was a dress, the kind you'd find in the boutique windows of Rodeo Drive or Park Avenue. It was black, beautiful... a bit racy but alluring. At once the young mother was transported. She stood on the balcony of a French chalet in the dress, a glass of champagne in her hand. Through the doors behind her Ethan appeared, clad in an expensive tuxedo, smiling at her. Lost in her daydream, she didn't know that she'd stepped closer to the window, that she'd reached out to press her fingertips to the cool glass.

But a policeman across the way had. He was making his way casually through the crowd toward her. A feminine voice from over her shoulder tugged her from her dream.

"It is beautiful isn't it?" cooed that voice, marked with a middle-American accent.

Tara lifted her embarrassed gaze expecting to find another member of the tourist group but instead what she saw took her breath. The woman was tall and raven-haired, dressed in the latest, exclusive fashion. Her eyes were ice blue and filled with confidence. Her face wore a warm grin.

"I'm sorry?" Tara asked, excusing herself for her odd behavior and intimidated by that single glance, knowing this woman must be rather affluent given her clothing.

"The dress. It is beautiful isn't it?" the woman repeated.

"Oh... yes, yes it is." Tara fidgeted, ready to retreat. She'd follow the woman's eyes as she spied the encroaching policeman.

"Would you like to try it on?"

Tara was stymied for a moment, her brow deepening as she considered the woman's words.

"Huh? Oh... I could never afford... they'd kick me out of there in two seconds," she stammered, worry in her belly as she too glanced to the cop.

"Not if you're with me they won't." The woman winked, reaching down to take Tara by the hand before she could back further away. The policeman reached them.

"Mesdames jour. Estce que tout va bien?" he asked, repeating in broken English. "Bonjour. Is all well?"

"My niece and I are just window shopping. Is that a crime?" the woman bit. The way she spoke to him caused Tara's eyes to widen.

"Excusex-moi," he smiled. "Bonne journee."

The two of them watched as the policeman went along his way, the woman with a pleased grin on her face. She turned to Tara.

"Let's go have a look at that dress, shall we?" she asked, not taking no for an answer.

The interior of the boutique was a new layer to Tara's dream world. A modern shop, it was bright and airy, lifelike mannequins stood atop lavish displays, each adorned in dresses with price tags that could buy a small home. A young woman approached them the moment they stepped inside.

"May I 'elp you?" she asked in thick French-accented English. She was speaking primarily to Tara, casting a wary eye at her. Then the attendant saw the young mother's companion. Her posture changed quickly, a warm smile adorning her face.

"Madame Joli... bonjour!"

Joli's smile widened as she stepped forward, still holding onto Tara's hand. She pointed at the dress in the window, then to Tara as she spoke.

"I need for you to put that beautiful thing onto this beautiful thing."

The shopkeeper suddenly regarded Tara with a glint of respect that hadn't been there before. She stepped in closer and inspected the young mother. Having allowed her eyes to lap Tara, the maiden looked to Joli' once more and smiled.

"Right away," she said, before calling to the other employees in the back. The quiet boutique came to life. Three woman, at the behest of the shopkeeper, swarmed Tara and began taking measurements and catering to her as though she were a princess; ushering her to the back of the store where the work could begin. Straight away she was offered coffee by one as another whipped a measuring tape around her. Still another attended to Joli' who had taken a seat upon a plush bench before the vanity mirrors. In Tara's mind, the fantasy was becoming reality.

Minutes later Tara stood with her back to a row of full-length vanities as the boutique entourage primped and preened her. She'd only caught a glance at the dress, not a particularly good one either since they'd faced her away from the mirrors.

Joli's eyes were affixed upon her, watching each tuck and smoothing like a doting mother assessing her daughter's wedding dress. Tara caught that gaze and dreamed that it was her mother that sat before her. But Joli' was nothing like her mom, in age or status.

"Are you from Paris?" Tara asked, her first attempt at small talk.

"For fifteen years, yes," she answered, hesitating as she considered offering more. She decided that she would. "Before that I lived in Chicago." Tara's eyes lit up.

"I'm from Chicago!" she blurted.

"You look like a Chicago girl, Tara," she said, her face becoming softer, more earnest. "You look like I looked when I first got to this town."

Tara didn't understand what she meant but before she could ask, the women each retreated a few steps, their work done. Tara looked down the dress, longing for a better view."C'est la vie, as we Parisians say," she offered, standing to take Tara by the shoulders and slowly turning her toward the vanities. The young mother gasped when she saw her reflection. She looked like a movie star, a debutante; she looked like the girl that she was in her dreams. Joli rested her chin on Tara's shoulder and smiled.

"You have excellent instincts Tara. This dress is perfect for you."

Tara smiled and nodded.

"It is an amazing dress isn't it?" she muttered, breathlessly. Joli shook her head. "No my dear. It is a piece of well-tailored cloth. What's underneath is amazing. Clothing is powerless." With that Joli let her hands slip down Tara's arms, rubbing them gently. The gesture, whether intended to be sexual or not brought the young mother's mind out of its temporary elation. She stepped a baby-step forward, not far enough to pull away from Joli's touch but enough to establish that it wasn't invited. Her brow furrowed.

"I don't... I'm not..." All she could manage was a stammer. She felt that she owed this woman a debt though reparation wouldn't be with her body. Joli' smiled and bailed her out.

"You're not gay?" she asked, her voice a bit playful. "Neither am I Tara. I'm sorry... I've always been very 'touchy-feely'." Her laughter cleared the butterflies in Tara's stomach and an embarrassed smile filled her face.

"I'm sorry... I thought that..." Again Joli interrupted her.

"This is Paris my dear. We're all a bit 'touchy-feely'. But I do understand your confusion."

A moment of awkward silence threatened to intervene in the conversation but Joli quickly dispatched it, turning Tara's attention to the mirror once again.

"As I was saying, the dress is perfect for you. However the hair could use a bit of work. How'd you like to pay my stylist a visit with me?" First Tara nodded. Then she shook her head.

"I have... _people_ waiting for me," she frowned.

"It will only take a half hour," Joli' countered. "Can they wait a half hour?"

"I can't afford a ticket to the Tower," Tara explained, "let alone a trip to the salon."

Joli smiled coyly.

"If you _could_ afford it, would you go with me?" Joli trained her eyes on Tara's through the mirror.

"I..." The letter was drawn out and laced with the 'yes' that she wanted to say, held back only by the 'no' she felt was appropriate. Joli recognized both immediately. "Then your answer is yes. Because if you are with me, then you _can_ afford it."

Tara chewed her lower lip nervously. The child in her was ready to lead the charge toward the door, but she restrained herself.

"Thank you," Tara said sheepishly. Joli' smiled at her and bowed her head.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ethan flopped into the easy chair at his daughter's side as she colored, anger painting his face.

"Where the hell is everybody?" he grumbled, contemplating taking Catee out into the city to find her mother. He expected that Jahleel or Salim would have been watching, that they would have caught her, brought her back or at least followed her. But far too much time had passed and he'd heard from none of them.

Catee stopped coloring and little feet cautiously, quietly padded to his side. He glanced toward her as she peered over the arm of his chair and he couldn't help but soften his features. She grinned at him and climbed into his lap.

"How your boo boo?" she asked again. He didn't know if she was that deeply concerned or if she was doing it out of boredom.

"It's _still_ fine, sweetie," he reassured.

"No Daddy, it bad," she insisted, giving the bandage the same stare she'd given it before. He took her into his arms and turned her so that her back was to his belly.

"No," he said, scold in his voice. "It hurts you baby. I don't want to see that. This will heal all by itself, no magic."

"No Daddy...," she began just as a knock came to the door. He leapt from his seat, sitting Catee on the couch. The anger he'd been building all day began to roil inside him, ready to give his wife a good chewing. But as he made the short trip worry filled his belly. _What if it wasn't her_? As he swung it open wide his concerns were realized. Salim and Jahleel looked nearly as worried as he.

"Have you seen..." Salim and Ethan began speaking at once, each interrupting the other.

"Why aren't you out following my wife?" he grunted, nodding angrily at Jahleel. The knight's brow grew heavy with worry.

"Tara left?" Salim asked. Ethan grew angrier and turned toward the monk, poking a finger in his chest.

"You said that my family would be SAFE!"

Salim raised his hands to try to calm the angry husband.

"Mr. Moyer, why did you allow her to leave?"

Ethan's voice grew to a growl as he began pounding his thick finger into Salim's chest.

"You said that that this son of a bitch would be watching!" Salim was forced back by Ethan's strong jabs. Jahleel stepped forward aggressively. Somewhere in the background a little voice, unnoticed by the party, chimed in.

" _Daddy, we don't say bad words_!"

Ethan caught Jahleel's movement through the corner of his eye and reacted as Salim attempted to diffuse.

"Please, Mr. Moyer... calm down for a moment..."

But Ethan's ears had closed as his rage built.

"WHADDA-YOU-GONNA-DO?!!?" he barked, and his opened hand jetted toward Jahleel's chest to force him back. But reaching out to strike the Vigilant is rarely a good decision. Ethan's eyes could record only a blur; his ears registering only Salim's surprise as he shouted.

"JAHLEEL!"

When his vision returned to him he found that he was facing a wall, his face pressed to it by a powerful fist balled with the hair on the back of his head. A shooting pain threatened his contorted wrist and shoulder, his arm twisted behind his back. He struggled once, just to test how well he was held. The jolt through his arm forced him to quickly retreat.

"Mr. Moyer, your daughter is watching!" Salim hissed with outrage.

"Tell him to let go of me!" Ethan sputtered, having difficulty speaking with his jaw smashed flat against the wall. He could see that Catee was indeed watching, standing just inside the doorway as her sad eyes looked onward. Embarrassed and humiliated, Ethan stopped struggling and his voice softened.

"Let go of me."

"Jahleel, unhand him," Salim demanded. Slowly Jahleel stepped away. Ethan turned to face the men and nearly reached for his wrist to rub it but pride reminded him that he shouldn't give Jahleel 'the pleasure'. Salim spoke before the two combatants could engage one another again.

"How long ago did she leave?"

"An hour? Two hours? I'm not sure. My watch is in Chicago." Ethan said, gaze finding the floor.

"Did she say where she was going?"

"She's had Paris _up her ass_ for as long as I've known her. Food, clothes... you know. She said she was going to the tower but... "

"Ethan, Jahleel and I will find your wife. I trust that you and Catee will stay here and await our return?" Salim promised.

Ethan didn't like the suggestion but he wasn't in a position to argue. Nodding softly he finally lifted his eyes to Salim again.

"Yeah... but if I don't hear from one of you by nightfall, I'm going to find her myself."

"Everything will be all right. Trust in the Lord."

Ethan rolled his eyes as he retreated back into the apartment a step or two.

"Yeah, he's done such wonderful things for me so far."

The monk understood the young father's doubts. He reached into his coat and produced a heavy pistol, then offered it to Ethan. He took it with a nod. To him it was a greater blessing than all the prayers in the world.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The Salon du' Paris was the finest the city had to offer, a playground for the elite where no expense was spared, no request denied. Tara had breathed in every luxurious moment thus far in her surprising journey to the VIP Section of the place but she hadn't truly heard a word spoken to her or near her for that matter; she was caught up completely in the series of moments.

It wasn't until she was chin-deep in a mud bath, Joli at her side, that she found a moment to collect her thoughts. With soothing music in the background, a champagne flute nearby, she finally spoke more than a few dizzy, grateful words.

"At the boutique... you told them to 'hem it up'?" The question was awkward reflecting her own quieted discomfort with what she really wanted to ask. Tara was naive, but she wasn't stupid. She was the one that donned the dress and it was her body that measurements were taken from. Joli knew what she was trying to ask.

"That depends. Would it make you uncomfortable if I bought that dress for you?" she asked, raising a mineral-covered brow beneath two slices of cucumber. Tara froze for a moment and considered the response.

"I.... Gosh, I don't know."

The answer made Joli' chuckle.

"I know what you're feeling right now Tara. You feel like a little girl lost in a dream... but the adult inside you keeps waiting for the waking; the part where you find out that I'm 'after' you somehow."

Tara didn't speak. Indeed, everything Joli had said reflected her thoughts and feelings as a mirror. She was afraid to answer in fact, worried that any answer might bring this dream to an end.

"Let me tell you a little story," Joli began, letting Tara's silence serve as her answer, "a story about who I really am. Like you, I grew up in Chicago; just another average girl lost in a man's world. My mom and dad were supportive... when they were home. Mostly they just wanted to live their lives and let me live mine. I wasn't trouble or anything like that. Just you know, average."

Tara nodded softly even though Joli couldn't see it.

"In high school I caught the eye of the 'Big Man on Campus' a quarterback named Derrick that made all the girls swoon. It took the sacrifice of my virginity to do it but I managed to reel him in and even keep him happy, long enough for him to propose. I knew in my heart, invisible girl that I was, that I had arrived. Finally my life had direction. I'd live for Derrick and in turn he'd live for me. But it doesn't work that way does it?"

The two shared a sigh as Tara removed the cucumber slices from her eyes and gave Joli her full attention. Thus far the beautiful woman's story had been frighteningly similar to her own.

"I worked as a waitress to put him through college, filling in the gaps that his scholarship didn't manage. Ever try being a wife to a college football player? But I was so sure that he was my only hope for a future, I put up with the infidelities, the lies, the verbal abuse." Joli paused for a moment and grew briefly distant. "After he blew out his knee and kissed professional football goodbye he turned into a real monster. I reminded him of failure. He hated failure." Joli's chin quivered a little as she lifted her head and recounted her pain.

Tara could feel each word as if it were her own life's story. Ethan wasn't as bad as Joli's Derrick, but he had served up plenty of verbal abuse... and there was that counter-girl at the hardware store. She'd always had her suspicions.

Joli drew in a cleansing breath as she fought back the emotions bubbling in her chest. "Anyway, boo-hoo," she offered with a chuckle, trying to take the edge off the uncomfortable story. "He started hitting me. I left after he sent me to the hospital. I sat behind the ER curtain and listened to him feed them the story of how 'I fell'. That's when I decided it was time to go... before he killed me."

A long silent pause inserted itself. Tara didn't know what to say, empathy marking her face as Joli removed her vegetable night mask and looked into Tara's eyes.

"Going home wasn't an option. I just couldn't go back to my parents and admit failure. I'm not sure they would have cared anyway. So I cleaned out his bank account and headed to Paris. I've been here ever since."

Tara smiled at the end of the story, a triumphant feeling in the pit of her stomach though a question did shine in her eyes.

"That's a terrible and wonderful story Joli," Tara offered, "but..."

Joli knew the question before it was uttered and offered an answer before it could be asked.

"But how did I go from being a broke Chicago girl to where I am today?"

Tara nodded softly.

"That's simple: Claudia."

Tara's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Claudia?" she inquired.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"Have you heard from the Priest yet?" Jahleel asked as he and Salim exited the apartment building.

"Not yet. Father Helforde is sequestered at the Papal Seat".

Jahleel's head drooped a bit, frustration in his face.

"Have they no sense of priority?" he asked, lifting his eyes to Salim, causing the monk to smile.

"Patience Jahleel," Salim offered. "The Pope's Retreat isn't for pleasure."

"Might be so, but it ain't for the Vigilant neither," Jahleel grumbled. Before Salim could agree, the knight paused and began looking about the street, urgency in his eyes.

"What is it?" Salim asked, recognizing his knight's trepidation.

Jahleel's gifted eyes roamed the street, quickly at first, then slowly, more measured until they came to rest upon a young woman walking her bicycle up the sidewalk. Her gait wasn't quickened nor was she looking to the pair; she was innocuously making her way down the street. She was dressed in tattered clothing, a shock of short cropped, blonde hair peering out from beneath a loosely worn beret. Jahleel might have let her go, writing his "feeling" off to paranoia but as she slowly passed, she made the mistake of glancing back at him. Instantly Jahleel loaded his gifted muscles. He'd crossed the street in the blink of an eye, leaping over the hood of a compact car.

The young woman quickly mounted her bicycle but he was so quick, she'd barely pressed into a pedal when a powerful grasp took hold of her collar and yanked her backwards and off her seat. Spinning the girl around in his arms, Jahleel bunched her army coat at her neckline and pushed his face into hers. She was frightened, shocked by the speed at which the Knight had managed to capture her.

Lines of anger filled his face as he barked his first, Pikey-laced French question. "Who are you!? Sponsas Draco?"

A few passer-by's and stoop sitters had taken notice. A man in dreadlocks a short distance away shouted his disapproval. The young woman smiled when she heard it.

"What if I am Vigilant? What are you going to do? Kill me in the street?"

Jahleel stood frozen, looking to all of the various denizens who were witnessing the situation, assessing the danger of taking action against this woman in broad daylight. "Where is the woman?" he barked, tightening his grip on the young sorceress' coat threateningly. He didn't know that they had Tara. He was probing.

"In a place where you will never find her." She winced as Jahleel cinched her collar. The dread-locked man began making his way over as he shouted for Jahleel to let the girl go.

"Best let me go Knight. You'll have a difficult time explaining who you are to the police," she pointed out.

Jahleel's eyes fired like a laser to the dread-locked man then further, to the others now taking interest in this exchange. He knew that she was right. Their battle was a secret one and not for public consumption. It was a base tenet of his training. With frustration he released the girl, shoving her back a foot or two.

The dread-locked man stepped between them, noting the deathly stare they shared. Both of the combatants' faces were filled with disgust for the other, each ignoring the good citizen that came to help diffuse the situation. The young woman picked up her bicycle and started to mount it as Jahleel spoke.

"I'll see you soon," he said in a voice of warning. The young woman offered a snide smile and spoke before finishing her mount.

"No you won't. You're losing. You and your kind have been for a thousand years." With that she placed her feet upon the pedals and began making her way down the street. Jahleel remained frozen for a moment before turning his head toward Salim.

"Sponsas Draco," he shouted.

The words hit Salim like a punch to the face and immediately he headed back into the apartment, disappearing through the doorway.

Jahleel watched his Chronica launch into the 'Plan B' they had discussed. Shoving the good Samaritan from his path, the Knight broke into a run down the street in the direction the witch had gone.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Ethan was beginning to calm. He sat down on the couch and pulled Catee into his lap for a little cuddle time. She did her best to console her father, placing both of her small hands on his cheeks as she spoke.

"It be okay Daddy. Mommy come home soon." Ethan grinned as he looked into Catee's eyes and hugged her tight.

"I know baby. I'm sorry if I scared you."

Catee pulled out of the hug and looked into his eyes once more.

"You not yell and fight?" she asked.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's hard for Daddy to control his temper sometimes," he apologized.

"Just... not get mad," she suggested.

"I'll try not to," he chuckled.

Both of them jumped when a pounding came to their door. Salim's muffled voice filtered through it.

"Ethan, please open the door."

Quickly the young father arose and twisted the locks, letting the monk inside. His face carried a look of burden.

"Ethan we have to go right now. We have to move you," he said, trying to seem calm. But his hurry made Ethan wary.

"Now what?" the young father asked, frustrated.

"Please Ethan, there is no time for questions. There are parties that know you are here and so we must leave now." The monk simply didn't have time to talk Ethan into this. He looked to the young father with a plea in his eyes. "Please? Jahleel has frightened off the one watching but we don't know if there are more. Hopefully, if she was alone, they won't know you've gone."

Ethan's jaw squared as he nodded and stood with Catee in his arms, ready to leave then and there. The willingness to comply without a debate or a struggle caused Salim to pause, awaiting the argument he'd expected. Instead, after only a moment of confusing silence, Ethan took the lead.

"Let's go," he said, making his way toward the door. No one spoke until they'd climbed in Salim's van and were on the move. "Where are we going?" Ethan asked, breaking the silence.

"To my apartment," Salim replied, his eyes twisting around the streets and sidewalks, looking for evidence that they were being followed or spied upon.

"What about Tara?"

"We will find her," Salim said, seeing no need to worry her husband just yet. The witch could have been lying after all. A temporary silence filled the van.

"Who's watching us?" Ethan didn't want to ask the question. The last time something came for he and his family, it was monsters.

"Witches," Salim answered. "They call themselves the 'Sponsas Draco'. It is said that their coven was born with Claudia, wife of Pilate in ancient Jerusalem. Since then they have used their dark gifts to claim power from 'behind the throne'; First as wives of powerful men, manipulating their husbands to do their bidding, today as powerful women themselves."

In a manner of speaking, Ethan was relieved. A pair of Wiccans had lived in his building and they were nice enough people. Of course Ethan never bothered to sort out the difference between Wiccans and other religions anymore than he separated the Chicago Bears from any other team in the NFL. For him, religiously speaking, there was Catholicism and 'everything else'. Looking to Salim he expressed his relief.

"Well, at least it isn't... dragon 'things'."

Salim didn't want to alarm the young father anymore than he already had, but he felt he owed him the truth.

"No. These are the dragon's brides. That's what Sponsas Draco means. They're a very powerful organization Ethan, elites from around the world. They have at their command the means to send an Army after us... a real, true Army if they so chose."

Ethan's brow furrowed and he turned to look out of the window, realizing that he should take the opportunity to keep his eyes peeled for Tara. A new sense of worry for her ached in the pit of his stomach.

### CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Tara and Joli were neighbors in etched, smoked glass shower stalls, washing the mud from their bodies. Tara was curious to learn more about how her surprise benefactor had transformed her life so markedly, but she was too shy to ask. Joli didn't seem to enjoy the tale. The young mother was lathering her freshly cut hair when she heard her friend's husky voice rise above the trickling water.

"I plodded from one flop-house to the next for my first week in Paris. Derrick's bank accounts barely got me to the city, let alone left anything for spending. After a few days, I was considering eating from garbage cans. After a few weeks I was giving serious thought to prostitution."

Tara shot a soapy glance to Joli, surprised by the statement.

"And then I met Claudia," Joli' smiled. "I was wandering the fashion district, just like you were today, looking at things I thought I'd never have and feeling sorry for myself. I stopped in front of a window to lust after a black dress - just like you did - when this woman, Claudia, spoke to me. I nearly ran away when I realized she was talking to me, but as I turned to go she put her hand on my shoulder and said, 'It is beautiful, isn't it?'"

Joli looked to Tara to find the revelation in her eyes. She found the young mother enraptured by the story as she quietly whispered, not wanting to interrupt.

"Just like me."

Joli nodded as she turned the water off in her stall and stepped out to wrap a luxurious robe around her body, beckoning Tara to do the same. "And just like you, she took me into the store, fitted me for the dress and told me everything that I told you." She paused here, watching Tara's face closely; worried that she might frighten the poor girl with her next proposition. "Then she invited me to come home with her."

Tara nodded, not really understanding the double meaning of the statement.

Joli continued the story; knowing she'd have to extend her invitation in another way.

"She didn't want sex. She didn't want to kill me. All she wanted was for me to claim my birthright as a woman; to claim the power given to me by the creation of the universe. She took me back to the palace she called a home and gave me a room there. She clothed me, fed me and then... she tested me."

Tara's brow lowered quizzically as she pondered the test. The tilt of her head seemed to ask the question upon her lips.

"The first night in her home, at dinner she gave me the dress, then she gave me something more. She handed me a credit card and told me that I needed to understand power before I could wield it; that money was powerful but that it was only the adolescence of it. She told me to go out and spend what I liked on whatever I desired. Then she told me not to return to her until the rush of financial power no longer enticed me. Sauna?"

Tara stood there; wet hair and all, blinking wildly at the story Joli had told her. "Excuse me?" she replied, unsure of how 'Sauna' fit into the yarn.

"Would you like to go into the spa?" Joli chuckled. Tara's cheeks flushed red.

"Oh... sure. Yes please."

The two padded barefoot the short distance to the entrance to the steam room, then stripped their silk cloaks from their backs and stepped inside.

"Naturally I thought she was insane but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. So the next morning I left her home and gave her card a test; small things at first but when the card blinked 'accepted' I got bolder. Slowly I began tasting everything Paris had to offer until finally I'd spent nearly $20,000.00 by month's end. And never once, not a single time was I denied. Two months and $50,000.00 later I returned to her, half out of curiosity but also because, just as she'd predicted, the power of that little card was losing its appeal." Joli paused, deciding to make Tara ask for more. She didn't wait for long.

"What happened?" Tara questioned with urgency in her voice.

"Claudia is truly the most enlightened person that I know. Nothing happened; and everything. I took up with her and helped run her company. It turns out that she had a very wealthy husband who passed away. She inherited everything; but more important than taking care of her affairs from day-to-day, I am learning from her; learning to claim my birthright as a woman. There's no greater power in the world than creation Tara. And what is a woman other than the wellspring of all human life?"

Tara nodded softly as she looked to the brooks of sweat flowing down her form. Her mind was grasping for deeper revelation than the surface of what Joli had offered.

"What about you? Why are you in Paris, Tara?"

The question brought Tara's eyes to Joli's in a snap, considering just how much trust she could place in this newfound friend.

***

Salim's apartment, was better kept than the safe house, but it was quite a bit smaller. It had more creature comforts and was far more 'homey' than the first place, but it was clear that Salim lived just above the level of poverty that his ilk vowed. There was one anomalous item however. An expensive looking computer system sat atop an old roll top desk.

Salim welcomed the Moyers' into his home with the wide opening of his door. "Make yourself at home," he instructed, watching as Ethan and Catee's heads turned to and fro, taking in the place. "What is mine, is yours," he said.

But Ethan had more than how the monk lived, on his mind. "How is Tara going to find this place?"

"I'm leaving now to find her." Salim extended a hand toward his kitchen. "Please, anything that I have, help yourself. You'll find I have a bit of a sweet tooth which, I think Catee will appreciate." The little one giggled a bit at the mention of sweets. Nodding a polite goodbye, he turned to head for the door.

"Do you think that Tara is with the... what did you call it?" Salim paused and winced. It was a question he was hoping to avoid. Erasing his grouse, he turned to Ethan.

"I don't know. Regardless of where she is or who she's with, Jahleel and I will bring her back."

Ethan nodded as he put Catee down, she making a b-line for a package of cookies on the small kitchen table.

"I'll be back very soon," Salim promised and pulled the door to behind him.

### CHAPTER THIRTY

Tara used both hands to push her hair back out of her eyes and smiled at Joli before clearing her throat. "It's complicated," she offered, still teetering on the brink of telling Joli her story, discouraged by Salim's advice.

"I know complicated Tara," Joli offered, "I'm not afraid of it."

Tara sighed and leaned back further into the wall as her eyes searched the thick steam for a place to begin.

"It's my daughter," Tara spoke, her voice wavering and almost a whisper. "She's _special_."

Joli nodded though she didn't speak. She looked to Tara, anticipation in her eyes.

"My daughter _healed_ someone. Like, this guy was having a heart attack and she _healed_ him." Tara's neck craned quickly to look to Joli, to see if the woman thought she was crazy. Instead of shock or disbelief, she found only curiosity.

"Go on," Joli' encouraged.

In silence Tara searched her thoughts for the best way to continue. The entire story was madness, no matter how delicately it was presented. She thought of Asa and how he must have felt sitting at their kitchen table.

"It's... weird. Crazy really," Tara said, shaking her head. She didn't want Joli' to think her mad.

Sensing her apprehension, Joli leaned forward and placed a hand on Tara's thigh, shaking her head as well.

"No Tara. It isn't crazy. There are things in this world beyond our understanding; things that nobody knows or sees. Please, tell me your story?"

Tara looked into Joli's earnest eyes, nodded and sighed.

"These guys came to us, said they would help us because we were in danger," she said, her gaze floating around the room as she remembered. "They said they would take us someplace safe so that people... and _things_ , would leave us alone."

Joli' nodded softly, keeping eye contact so that she could reassure the nervous young mother.

"Who were they?" she asked.

"They said they were knights and were going to take us to some priests that would help take care of us."

Joli shot upright, scaring Tara into doing the same.

"Knights? Templars?" Joli asked, her voice ringing with urgency. "The Vigilant are _helping_ you?"

Tara blinked a time or two, her heart racing as Joli spoke.

"That's who they said they were."

"Your daughter, they called her an 'Argent Child', right?"

Tara's eyes widened with the question and again she nodded.

"How do you know that?"

"I... we - my sisters and I - we've seen it before. We have to get your daughter away from them Tara. They mean to harm her, to use her for their own selfish interests."

"No, they said...," Tara began.

"They say whatever it takes to get you into their grasps."

Tara was nearly shaking as she listened to the doom in Joli's voice. Chills ran up her spine.

"How do you know all of this?"

"When I saw you today Tara, I knew you were special, but I didn't know why. You are like me, like Claudia, like all of my sisters and apparently your daughter is too. I approached you because I thought that I planned to invite you to join us, just as Claudia did for me but now...," her voice trailed off as she looked to the floor, letting her mind absorb the new revelation, then suddenly her eyes found Tara's again and she took her hand.

"You know as well as I do Tara, 'men rule the world'. They fear women; they fear our power, our minds. It's the reason we are treated as slaves in the Middle East, the reason it took so many years to earn the right to vote in the States... they use us. Everything about our society is built to train us to serve them; from the Barbie Dolls we are given to model ourselves after to the kitchen play-sets we are awarded for being good little girls. But it doesn't have to be that way. Let me help you and your little girl Tara. Come live with me and I promise you, you and your daughter will have more opportunity than you'd ever hoped for."

Tara was stymied. She didn't realize she was speaking aloud as she thought his name, "but Ethan," tripping from her lips softly.

"Ethan is your husband?" Joli asked. Tara nodded looking into the woman's eyes. "Do you love him?"

Tara smiled softly and nodded.

"Can you trust him?"

Tara seemed offended by the question.

"Of course," she said. It made Joli' frown.

"Never mind," Joli' said, turning away. "I'm sorry for your daughter."

Tara's brow drew inward, confused.

"Never mind what?" the young mother questioned. Joli' glanced to her.

"It doesn't matter Tara. If you love and trust your husband, you'll do as he deems best. And I promise you, he will place his trust in the Vigilant. Their magic will ensure it."

Tara was shaking her head and scooted closer to Joli' touching her atop the hand. "What do you mean?"

Joli' turned back to the young mother and looked into her eyes.

"It's what they do. They'll convince him that he has to make 'tough choices', soften him to the idea that struggling and hiding in the squalor is somehow noble. But most of all they'll convince him that only they can ensure your daughter's safety. I've seen it before. Does he do what they say?"

Tara shook her head. Ethan was anything but agreeable as it came to the Vigilant. "No. You should have seen him when they suggested we leave Chicago."

"And yet, here you are," Joli' interjected.

"Monsters... came...," the young mother said, shuddering at the memory and rubbing her wrist.

"Monsters that the Vigilant sent," Joli' suggested. She shook her head again. "It doesn't matter. You'll follow him. I'm sorry I mentioned it."

"I don't do everything Ethan says," Tara said, frustrated with the implication.

"Are you sure? Because what I'm going to suggest, it's much bigger than buying a dress even though he told you not to."

"I'm listening," the young mother replied.

"Very well; I want for you and your daughter to come with me to safety. Just the two of you."

"You want me to leave my husband?"

"For a time. Long enough to ensure your safety and to teach you that you are so much more than 'Ethan's Old Lady'."

Tara stared into Joli's eyes for a moment, then shook her head.

"You're crazy."

"And you're frightened. I'll take you and your daughter to high-rises and mansions Tara. I'll provide you with steak instead of bologna. Claudia will teach your little girl to use her gifts not for the world, but for herself, so that _she_ can decide her future and no one else."

Tara's face softened as she listened.

"We'll take your little girl back with the power of the Paris Police Force, not some loner with a sword. They're trying to scare you Tara - with monsters and shadows. Don't let them ruin you. Don't let them ruin your daughter."

"I can't leave Ethan...," Tara said, though she wasn't nearly as offended by the idea as she had been.

"He can't come with us. They have his thoughts now. But come with me Tara, and when you've decided that you've learned enough, you can return to him. You won't be our prisoners, you'll be our sisters."

Tara's eyes grew distant as she considered leaving the love of her life, even if just for a while. This was the biggest decision she'd ever made - one that would change the course of all of their lives forever. As she pondered, Joli' leaned in to whisper to her. "You're not being selfish. If anything this is a sacrifice as much as it is a gain. Your marriage aside, think of your little girl. Don't let _them_ decide her fate, not when you've the power to give her something much greater."

Tara pressed he fingers to her forehead as she contemplated.

### CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

In the fashion district Jahleel stuck out like a sore thumb. And though his prey was dressed much the same as he, she moved with more confidence, at home on the turf. Less bold, he held to the corners and any shadow, moving with as much obfuscation as his trained eyes could find.

It surprised him to see her stop before the 'Salon du Paris' and step inside. _Surely she knew he'd be trailing her_. Surely she wouldn't be so foolish as to lead him to Tara. With hope in his heart he found a statue to step behind and watched the doors to the salon.

Inside, the young woman made her way to the receptionist and addressed her; oblivious to the stares she'd drawn. "I have an urgent message for Ms. Mariee," she said speaking of the alias that Joli had taken many years ago.

"I'll see if she will be disturbed," the receptionist said, before disappearing into the back of the salon. The young woman propped her elbow on the counter and waited.

***

Tara languished over her decision, trying as best she could to think forward to all of the ramifications of the choice she would make. She hadn't spoken since Joli made the offer.

Joli let Tara sit in silence for a long while. Then, ready to spur the young mother forward, She reached out to touch her shoulder when the door to the spa swung open. The receptionist's voice followed.

"Madame Joli?"

"What is it?" she demanded, irritation laced in her voice.

"An urgent message Madame... a young woman at the desk."

Joli's eyes shifted as she considered what could be so urgent. "Send her up," she said, softening her features before speaking.

"I know how difficult this is Tara. But remember this; if your husband is under the Vigilant's spell, then he is not himself. Take what they want from them; claim your daughter's freedom and they will be finished with Ethan. Then the two of you can reunite," she explained. "I will help you through it all. I promise you," Joli said. With that Joli stood and walked to the door, turning for a moment to look back through the swirling steam at the young mother. "I'll be right back. Probably business."

Tara nodded as she watched her disappear into the steam and chewed nervously at her lip.

She'd barely closed the door before her mannerism changed. Bother filled her face as she looked to the young woman in tattered clothes and spoke.

"Sasha... do you have them?"

"Yes Priestess, I have the photos."

Joli took Sasha by the arm and walked her several feet from the steam room door. "I told you never to call me that in public. Why did you bring them here? Why did you not deliver them as I told you to?"

"I believe I am being followed. There was an altercation with the Vigilant...," Sasha explained, apology on her face.

"You've lead the Vigilant here?!" Joli' exclaimed in a raised whisper. Sasha melted further and appeared to be on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry Joli... I didn't know what else to do."

Quickly the Priestess calmed herself and softened her posture, passing a finger over Sasha's brow.

"Very well," she nodded, offering the girl a comforting smile. "You've done well. Go to the police station and deliver the pictures as originally planned. Have Captain Adele or one of his men drive you home, then catch a train for the Chantry."

Sasha nodded softly as she reflected Joli's smile and then she headed for the door.

Joli watched her leave and paused, reflecting on how easily her plan was coming together. Claudia would be pleased. As the moment passed, she stepped to the spa and took Tara's robe into her hands then opened the door wide. With wafts of steam billowing forth she called to Tara.

"Come out of there before you wither away," she instructed playfully, welcoming Tara's long face with a smile and opening the robe for her to step into.

"Is everything okay?" Tara questioned, turning to place her arms in the robe. Joli's smile widened.

"Everything is perfect Tara," she said, draping the robe over the young mother's shoulders.

### CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Salim was in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, dusk settling over the city when his cell phone rang. "JAHLEEL" his phone read. Quickly he flipped it open.

"Please tell me you've found her," he said, his eyes searching the landscape around him.

"I may have," Jahleel offered. "The witch stopped at the Salon du Paris. She's inside now."

"I'm on my way," Salim said, heading off toward his van.

"If the witch leaves, I'm going to follow her," Jahleel replied, his eyes burning a hole through the door of the salon.

"Yes... I'll be there as quickly as I can to watch the salon. She may be leading you on. Best to stay with her," Salim agreed, ending the call.

As if on cue, Sasha emerged through the front doors of the salon and retrieved her bicycle, walking it down the busy sidewalk. She was nervous; her head twisting to and fro to watch for Jahleel but the knight was trained to track creatures with far greater skills of eluding than Sasha possessed. Though he stood out in this high-class crowd of tourists and fashionistas, spotting him was impossible. Jahleel hounded her hurried steps, weaving through people and traffic. Sasha finally paused at the stoop of the police station and glanced over her shoulder with a daring grin. She couldn't see the Vigilant, but she knew he was there.

Jahleel quickly scaled a building and watched the precinct. About five minutes passed before Sasha emerged, side-by-side with a detective. The man loaded Sasha's bike into the back of his car. She slowly scanned her surroundings, but she didn't lay eyes on the Vigilant. Still she smiled, knowing that, even with his exceptional speed, the chase was at an end.

Jahleel chewed at his lip, knowing the same. He clinched his fist as Sasha climbed into the car and disappeared down the street.

***

The setting sun did little to ease Ethan's nervous stomach. He'd tried to lose himself in ritual, having already given Catee her supper and a bath. It was too early for bed, but both of them needed something familiar.

Catee did her best to soothe her father's mind as well, making each task as simple and entertaining as she could. She'd brought a smile to his troubled face a time or two but none of those smiles lasted for very long. The little one was on the couch, covered in a blanket and ready for sleep.

Ethan made frequent visits to the window in hopes of spying someone's return, but so far no one had. With a sigh he wiped tiredness from his eyes when Catee called to him. She could never fall asleep without someone to cuddle with.

"Daddy... are you gonna lay on the couch with me?" she asked.

He turned and offered a grin before making his way to her, laying down behind her and draping an arm over her side. He'd lain down atop the blanket and should have known that it wouldn't suit her. It never did. Sitting up, Catee tugged at its corner, trying to free it.

"You needa be covered up Daddy. It's cold," she said. After a bit of wriggling the two were finally settled and in the quiet, Catee spoke, lowering her tone. "When is Mommy coming home?" she asked.

"Soon baby," he answered quickly, "Mommy will be home soon."

Though it kicked up the worry-sickness in his belly, it was enough to satisfy his little girl, her head twisting to rut out an indention in her pillow.

"Love you," she said softly. It brought a grin to her father's lips as he tugged her closer to him.

### CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Salim arrived outside the Salon du Paris in less time than he thought it would take him. He often saw God's work in things; in the traffic or lack thereof, which allowed for his quick arrival. Thanking his Lord silently with an acknowledging glance to the sky, he found a vantage similar to the one that his Vigilant brother had taken. But he barely had time to settle there before the very figure he'd searched endlessly for emerged through the front doors, Joli at her side. Excitement built in his stomach as he straightened himself and prepared to cross the street, questions running through his mind. _Who was this woman_? Intuition told him the answer though he didn't want to believe it.

The tinny hoot of a car horn caused him to leap back as an angry motorist sped by. He'd been so affixed on the duo that he nearly stepped out in front of the car. He took a breath and smoothed his shirt before moving once more. Just as he stepped up onto the curb outside the salon, his phone rang. JAHLEEL, it read. His Vigilant would have to wait. He shoved the phone back into his pocket before finding the pair again. They'd turned north toward a taxi corral. Salim lifted his arm, hurried his steps and called out to them.

"Mrs. Moyer! Tara! Wait please!"

Tara twisted around to look to the monk, Joli taking hold of her arm to keep her pace moving forward. "Move ahead Tara. Don't listen to him; he'll tell you nothing but lies. Think of Catee." Tara's brow furrowed as she faced forward and continued down the street. Salim ran to catch up and called out again.

"Please Tara... you don't know what's happening here."

Salim's ordinarily robust sense of his environment was clouded by his excitement and desire to catch up with Tara; to save her from a fate she hadn't a clue was befalling her. He didn't see the police officer step behind him, not until that officer leapt in front of him and placed a hand firmly in the monk's chest.

"Get out of my way. I've done nothing wrong," Salim demanded.

The officer stood his ground.

Salim first tried to skirt the officer, then shifted left to right so that he could see around. When it became clear that they weren't going to stop, he began to shout.

"TARA! WAIT PLEASE! YOU MUSN'T GO WITH HER!" His shouting did little to soothe the officer's annoyance with the fact that the monk was ignoring him.

"MONSIEUR! ECOUTE MOI!" he shouted, placing his hands on Salim's shoulders roughly, taking hold of his shirt.

But each step that Tara and Joli took pounded a growing urgency in Salim's stomach. As the two began climbing into a taxi he became nearly hysterical, jumping now to get the young mother's attention, pleading with her.

"PLEASE TARA, PLEASE WAIT! PLEASE SPEAK WITH ME!"

It was rare for the monk to lose his cool. Frantic, Salim began trying to break away from the officer's hold. As he leapt, crying out, he inadvertently lifted his arms and felt the back of his hand meet the cop's face with a pop. Before he could react he felt his body slam to the pavement, his chin meeting with the sidewalk, splitting wide. His arm was twisted behind him and felt the cold steel of handcuffs as they ratcheted over that same wrist. Tears of pain and sorrow filled his eyes, still trained on Tara and Joli's taxi as it pulled away from the curb. Through bleeding lips he pleaded with the officer.

"No! You must let me stop them, please!"

Joli had an unpleasant look on her face as she turned to watch Salim's arrest. Tara looked nearly as sick as Salim did. As Joli's eyes found that look she touched Tara's arm and comforted her.

"I know it's hard. Most likely that man treated you with kindness but I promise you Tara; he is a wolf in sheep's clothing."

Tara nodded softly, acknowledging Joli's words but discomfort never left her face. This was the first true time that she'd chosen a path that she knew Ethan wouldn't agree with. The magnitude of her decision today would no doubt impact her life forever and she was as frightened as a child on the first day of school. Turning to Joli, she painted an uncomfortable smile on her lips.

### CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Salim sat quietly in the back of the patrol car, defeated and bloodied. He listened to one side of a cell phone conversation as the officer before him made a quick, cryptic call.

"I have him," the officer said softly. Then he nodded into the phone. "I'll meet you there."

Salim noticed that his own phone hadn't been confiscated, nor his keys or any of the contents of his pockets; only his wallet. His head craned as the car approached the police station and then past it.

"Where are we going?" he demanded, answered only with silence. "You've passed the police station you idiot," he said, still turned to look to the old building as best he could with his hands cuffed behind him.

"Just be quiet," the officer finally offered. "You'll know where you're going soon enough."

What should have been a short ride grew as the police car headed toward the bowels of the city, into districts that Salim knew well; places infamous for their crime rates and seedy locales. After nearly a half hour of driving the car pulled into an abandoned warehouse and Salim's stomach sank.

"What are we doing here?" he asked, fearing that he knew the answer.

"You'll see," the officer said, driving deep into the warehouse until the car's headlights glossed against the side of a black car, an older man standing before its hood.

Salim recognized the man. He'd made it a practice to know all of the city officials. In a moment he'd be speaking with the Captain of the Paris Police, Chaney Adele'. Salim was left in the car as the officer got out and spoke with the Captain. He watched as his wallet was given to the tired looking leader, his personal information inspected one card at a time. Finally both approached Salim's door and it was opened.

"Is this your correct address Mr. Malech?" Adele' asked; not yet lifting his eyes to the Monk. Salim ignored the question.

"Why have you brought me here? I've done nothing wrong."

Adele looked to Salim and smiled.

"Are you comfortable Salim? No, of course you aren't." His manner was surprisingly friendly but Salim didn't allow the sweetness of the words to lower his guard. Rather than wait for a reply Adele turned to the officer and instructed. "Take him out of the handcuffs."

Helping the aging monk to stand, the officer quickly complied. As Salim began rubbing at his wrists Adele' gave the officer one final order.

"You can go."

The Police Captain placed his hand on Salim's shoulder and began strolling toward the other car, leaning against its hood. The two watched silently as the officer drove out of sight.

"I am a Christian man Mr. Malech; a Catholic for many years," he began, clearing his throat. "I have seen many terrible things in my years as a policeman... but as a _Captain_...," he emphasized the word, marking a change in his life, "well as a Captain I have become privy to a world that I never knew existed before."

Salim's eyes hardened, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

"Do you appreciate beautiful women?" Adele asked, turning to Salim as though they were college buddies having a friendly conversation. "I know that you have vowed celibacy but do you still appreciate them? Their lines... their curves..." For a moment Adele' became lost in his thoughts as he visualized.

"Women have great power my friend. A beautiful woman, that's one thing. But take a beautiful and intelligent and rich woman and there is no end to their influence." Salim had heard enough of extolling the worldly virtues of the women Adele' spoke of.

"You speak of the Sponsas Draco," he said rather coldly. Adele' turned to him with a grin.

"You say it with such distaste," he replied. "I speak of a woman who stole my heart many years ago. As I said; I used to be a devout Catholic, praying for this thing or that; spending time on my knees and sacrificing and praying and praying and sacrificing and never truly getting what I asked for. Then I realized something. This woman, Joli', she made me realize that all that a man wants or needs can be had without the invocation of some heartless 'god'. All a man truly needs lies in the body and upon the lips of a woman; in her purse, on her table and in her bed."

As Salim listened on, his eyes began scanning his surroundings, looking for an escape. He spied a distant gash in the factory's steel walls. It would be a long, dangerous run, but one he thought he could make.

"What is this place? I spend my life catching those who break our laws but what are laws? Who is this "God" who provides us with strength and pleasure and then tells us that it is wrong to use them? If a man has the power, he should use it. He should take what he wants. And only those with the power to oppose him, to defend themselves, should get in his way."

Salim turned back to the Captain and pursed his lips.

"God created all of these things and has not told us not to use them, but to use them wisely; to use them in aid of our brothers and sisters, to help the weak and the strong alike that all may enjoy a blessed life."

Adele laughed when he heard the reply.

"Have you seen Salim, what man does to his fellow man? No, no my friend; at one time perhaps this was possible but man is too far-gone now. It's best now; I think to simply look out for yourself. I am a man who has done much good but I have also done what some would consider evil. In no case was I rewarded or punished for either. I imagine the afterlife. That once I die, I will go to Heaven and find only the stench of the rotting corpse of a God that has died long ago."

The statement angered the monk who turned to defend his God.

"I think rather, you'll find a God that is crying for a child that has become so terribly lost. And then you'll find the pit of Hell."

Again Adele' laughed at Salim, this time with a deep guffaw.

"Enough theology my friend. I am here today in the service of 'evil' I suppose. With your wallet I have all that I have been asked to retrieve and so I no longer need you." Adele' reached casually into his jacket and produced a pistol. Salim's eyes widened as he backed a step away. "You needn't worry my friend. I am very good at this. You won't suffer long. Then you can go up to Heaven to your crying god."

Salim's steps continued backward, slowly at first and picking up steam.

"Who knows, perhaps you'll be able to find some absolution for me while you're up there. Goodbye friar."

As Adele' leveled the pistol Salim turned and broke into a sprint toward the rusted steel opening he'd spied. The monk was certain he'd never moved so quickly, but that it felt far slower than he needed. The Captain was forgotten, all that existed in that moment was the distance between he and that passageway. A prayer burst through his mind when suddenly he felt a thud in his lower back. As if in slow motion he watched as a jet of fire and blood passed from his abdomen and through his escape route, then another and another. His legs gave out and he crashed to the ground. As though the warehouse had suddenly transformed into a barrel, all sound swirled around him, softened and distant. Somewhere in that vortex Adele's voice mixed in.

"You see? You can hardly feel it. I've shot you in the liver. You'll be dead in just a moment. I am merciful after all yes?"

Salim seemed frightened but not for the reasons most would think. He didn't welcome death but he didn't fear it either. His thoughts at that moment, his last here on Earth were of a little girl that he promised to protect; a promise he was slowly failing to keep. His dirty, blood soaked hands felt for his cell phone and with blurred vision, he dialed. The moment the call was answered he began to speak, afraid that he might not be able to soon.

"Jahleel... they.... know."

Adele's brow drew down when he saw the phone. Quickly he stomped toward the dying monk.

"Where are you?" Jahleel demanded.

"Protect... them... not safe," came Salim's pain-soaked reply.

The furrow in Jahleel's brow rutted deeper.

"Salim?"

"Police... Adele'" was the only reply. The phone call ended with the –POP- of Adele's coup-de-grace.

Jahleel shrank back as though the bullet had come through the phone and struck him as well. The young Vigilant's head jerked back and rage filled his face as he tossed his cell phone onto the pavement, shattering it into bits. An apathetic crowd leapt back, giving Jahleel the wide berth his actions demanded. He took a moment, huge gasps of air causing his chest to rise and crash as he resisted the urge to cry before lifting his face to Heaven. Then he steadied himself and burst into a sprint toward his friend's former residence.

### CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Salim's door was heavy, old world construction that had, had many new world locks installed. Arriving to it, Jahleel first tried to power through it but even his gifted muscles weren't enough to do more than move it a few centimeters and make a huge noise.

The crash caused Ethan to leap from his spot on the couch, his daughter still undisturbed until the Vigilant began hurriedly pounding on it. Ethan closed the short distance to the door as Catee began to rouse, barking at whoever was on the other side. "What is it?!"

"It's Jahleel, please open the door Ethan, hurry!"

Jahleel's excitement disturbed the young father. Quickly he opened the door, his heart racing.

"We have to go," Jahleel said softly but rushed.

Catee was wiping sleep from her eyes as Ethan looked to him with concern.

"What? Why? We've already moved once tonight!"

Jahleel's face saddened.

"Salim is dead. Please Ethan, it's not safe here anymore."

The two shared a quiet stare, then without another word Ethan stepped to the couch, gently retrieving his daughter and taking her into the bathroom to change her clothes.

"Please Mr. Moyer... we don't have time..." Jahleel's words were interrupted as Ethan snapped at the Knight.

"I can't take my little girl out in this weather in her pajamas." The reply was enough to quiet the Knight.

Catee had her hands resting atop Ethan's shoulders as she lifted her legs, one at a time to step into her pants. Ethan was kneeling before her as she spoke.

"It's gonna be all right Daddy, I promise," she said softly, kissing her father atop his bandaged forehead. It was the closest to tears he'd been in many years as his hands shook lightly. Pausing in dressing her, he looked into her big blue eyes for a moment and pulled her into a hug.

"I love you," he said softly. It occurred to him that he couldn't remember the last time he'd told her this and truly felt it. She answered with a squeeze.

Jahleel made his way to the window nervously glancing about, his head twisting to every siren and flashing light before finally moving to the bathroom door. As he lifted his knuckles to knock the door popped open.

"Let's go," Ethan hurried, Catee tucked safely in his arms, making his way toward the door. He was moving so quickly that Jahleel actually had to pick up the trail.

The trio burst into the hallway, making their way down the steps and into the street; Ethan and Catee leading, Jahleel shortly behind. The three had barely hit the chilly stoop when they were frozen suddenly, in their tracks.

"Mommy!" Catee cried, twisting in her father's arms, a broad smile painted on her face. But Ethan didn't share her enthusiasm. In fact, he looked on cautiously.

"Hi baby," Tara smiled, her hands in the pockets of an expensive overcoat, her hair preened, as a day at the spa would provide. Her eyes flowed from Catee to Ethan as Jahleel brought up the rear and froze for a moment as well.

"How'd you find this place Tara?" Ethan asked, his face still painted in wary disbelief.

A voice issued from the darkness of an alleyway near the building made all heads turn.

"I believe I can answer this," said Captain Adele', stepping from the shadows, a cigarette burning between his lips. Lifting his hands from his pockets, Adele' produced his shield. "I am Captain Adele' with the Paris Police Department. There is no need for this to be unpleasant Mr. Moyer. Turn the child over to her mother and we can talk this out."

Ethan glanced to Jahleel.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he said, his grip tightening on the little girl in his arms.

Adele' canted his head a bit as he lifted a hand and waved in the force he'd brought with him. Ten-uniformed officers, hands atop their weapons, moved to encircle the trio. Tara's face filled with concern as she spoke.

"Please, Ethan baby... they're lying to you. Salim and Jahleel... they want to _use_ Catee not help her. Please don't do this."

Ethan frowned and glanced to Jahleel, ignoring Tara's words. He recognized the look in the Vigilant's eyes; it was the look of a man about to assault a police officer... or two. Shoring up his grip on his daughter, his muscles tightening, Ethan looked to Captain Adele' and narrowed his eyes.

"If you want my daughter Captain," he said, his voice lowering, "you'll have to take her." The proclamation caused all to pause, to give Ethan their full attentions. That's when Jahlee exploded into action. He threw his body from the stoop and flew lengthwise through the air, crashing into four of the policemen that blocked the way.

Ethan knew what to do. Ordinarily Ethan Moyer was ready to stand and fight but trying to do it with a little girl in his arms seemed impossible to him. Instead, as soon as Jahleel had opened a gate in the crowd he lunged for it and dashed off down the street.

Catee clung to his neck frightened; Tara reached for them and called out in emotional pain as Joli restrained her. Captain Adele' barked his insistence that they stop immediately...Ethan could hear, see and feel none of it. Instead he charged headlong down a street he didn't know into a city he had never visited. Those not trying to subdue Jahleel, gave chase.

"He's getting away!" Joli barked at Adele who turned to her with unexpected calm.

"Just watch," he said, as he glanced at the battle nearest him.

Jahleel had been gang tackled and man after man was piling atop him in hopes of cuffing his hands.

Adele' had barely the time to speak before a police car rounded the corner in the distance, bearing down on Ethan. Five more officers, already on foot helped to close his escape route.

"Come on," Adele' offered, walking quickly but calmly toward Ethan and the mob that had surrounded him. Joli coaxed Tara onward with an arm wrapped around the young mother's shoulders. Tara cradled her stomach as it tightened into a knot and stumbled forward.

Ethan was surrounded by the police, a wide circle slowly closing as he stalked around its center. Finally he laid eyes on Tara, Catee crying in his arms, her little face buried in his shoulder to hide her eyes from the scene. Betrayal filled his face as he paced cautiously and called to her.

"Tara! Why are you doing this?! Why are you doing this to your daughter?!" His voice cracked as hopelessness seeped into his mind. Tara's chin quivered as she replied. "I'm saving her Ethan! I'm saving us! Please... stop fighting! Stop fighting and everything will be all right!"

"They killed SALIM!" Ethan growled, casting a finger of judgment at Joli' who squeezed Tara's shoulder to counter the accusation. "She's a GODDAMN WITCH!" he continued, his voice growing angrier. Tara shook her head softly as she continued to plead.

"No Ethan... they've brainwashed you... please let us help you!"

No one had noticed Adele' make eye contact with the officer behind Ethan nor had they noticed that, that officer had produced a taser from his holster. With a nod Adele' issued his order. The crack of electricity brought tears to the young father's eyes, but he resisted, keeping his feet. As Catee cried out in pain he spun toward the officer that had fired on him and bared his teeth. Another contact fired into his back as he stalked forward. It was more than he could take. Finally, forced stiff by the jolts, he fell.

Before he met the ground he felt someone tug Catee from his arms. But rage and pride wouldn't allow him to give up. He caught himself, his head hung low as he tried to regain full control of his body.

Jahleel had been tased four times but still hadn't been handcuffed. He was gentle with mortals, knowing they were likely unaware of whom they truly serve and undeserving of the brunt of his assault. But when he saw Ethan go down his heart fell, and his body followed suit.

The battered policemen trying to take him down leapt on the opportunity. They piled atop him, each taking a limb to restrain it. Little did they know that the Vigilant was merely preparing to 'take off the gloves'.

Jahlee's teeth gritted and veins swelled in his neck as he exploded from his prone position. Officers flew in every direction. Those that didn't were bowled over as the Vigilant burst into a juggernaut's sprint toward the fallen father.

The horde turned in his direction, weapons drawn and aimed as they screamed at him to stop. When he didn't comply, the thunder of bullets filled the street, whizzing past his ears, thudding into his flesh. But he didn't stop. He didn't even slow.

Adele's eyes were saucer-wide as he witnessed the Vigilant's approach. Quickly he corralled Joli, Tara, and Catee and shoved them into the back of a car.

"Get them out of here!" he barked to an officer nearby.

Jahleel palm struck the two unfortunate officers nearest Ethan before scooping the 200lbs father into his arms and over his shoulder. Then he leapt over the hood of the police car barring his way and made off down the street. The shooting stopped as the police scrambled to pursue, but these were Jahleel's streets. In moments he navigated the labyrinth until he'd lost them.

### CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

"NOOO! MY DADDY NEEDS ME!"

Both Tara and Joli were surprised by the speed at which the child had recovered from her tasing and Tara placed a hand on the little one's back as she tried to console her. Catee's hands and face were pressed to the back glass as she cried a hysterical cry, looking to her mommy helplessly for a solution to a problem she didn't know how to fix.

"Daddy will be okay baby. Shhh... it's all gonna be okay." Tara shot a glance at Joli who was equally beside herself for answers.

Catee's hands balled into fists, as she turned to her mother, angrier than the small child had ever been.

"NO HE WON'T!" she insisted, "MY DADDY NEEDS ME!"

Tara was shocked by the display. She'd never seen Catee so angry... ever. Lacking for a response, Tara simply pulled Catee into her lap and bounced the child a bit, rocking slowly as she hugged Catee's body to her own.

But Catee would have none of it, fighting her mother's embrace, she writhed until she was free once more and returned to her post at the rear window, her face flushed red as big tears rolled down her cheeks.

Again Tara looked to Joli for answers who, quickly rifled through her purse, producing a bottle of pills. She hurriedly opened the bottle and broke one of the white pills in half, pushing it toward Tara.

"She's frightened. Give her this... it will help calm her."

Tara looked to the pill and hesitation filled her mind. _Was she truly going to have to drug her daughter in order to 'save her'_? Her eyes grew distant for a moment as she searched her soul but Catee's flailing snapped her back to reality. Quickly, she took the pill from Joli's palm and tugged Catee back into her lap.

"Medicine time baby... take this medicine for me sweetie."

She was shoving the pill at her daughter's mouth, tossing it in as Catee parted her lips to cry. The child had no reason to distrust her mother. Swallowing the bitter pill down she continued to cry, turning to wrap her arms around Tara's neck for the consolation she'd refused earlier. In a few moments Catee's cries had died down to whimpers; a few moments after that and she slept.

Tara's stomach was tied in knots. She cast a glare to Joli' suddenly full of distrust. "When do we get Ethan?"

"The police have orders not to harm him. They'll capture him soon, rid him of that filthy Knight and bring him to us safe and sound. Captain Adele' will make sure of it."

"The same Captain Adele' that told his men to use a taser on him?"

Joli quickly averted her eyes.

"I know." She sighed, lifting her face to Tara's again. "I also know how frightened you are right now; wondering if you've made the right choice. You have Tara, but you have only my word to guarantee it."

Tara rubbed Catee's back as her eyes softened.

"Who killed Salim?" The question brought an amused grin to Joli's face.

"Most likely no one. The Vigilant play mind games. It's what they do. They probably knew that we'd be coming and concocted a story to keep Ethan's trust. What better way to keep someone on your side if they think the 'other side' is evil enough to kill your friends?"

Finally Tara's expression softened fully and she nodded. "I just...," she paused as she swallowed back some tears, "I just want for everything to be okay, to have my family safe and taken care of."

Joli nodded and placed a hand atop Tara's knee. "Isn't that what anyone wants Tara?"

The young mother leaned back into her seat as Joli reassured her. "Yeah. I'm sorry Joli'. I'll be okay."

Joli' patted Tara's knee softly before speaking with the officer driving the car. "To the airfield," she ordered in French. Turning again to Tara, Joli's voice softened. "You're going to love Vienna. Catee will to."

### CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

"Jahleel... put me down." Ethan's voice crackled a bit wavering with each heavy step Jahleel took.

The Vigilant had escaped to a back alley, dark and quiet and littered with garbage. Stopping in place, he lowered Ethan to his feet.

The lack of weight caused Jahleel to stumble a bit and Ethan placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. As he did, he noticed the blood that had soaked Jahleel's clothes and studied the bullet holes that had ripped his jacket. Quietly he pointed them out.

"Oh shit man."

Jahleel squared his jaw, hiding the pain burning in his flesh.

"I'll be fine," he insisted. "We've got more important things to worry about." Jahleel looked to the end of the alley as a police car drove by. It was the first time he'd ever laid hands on a policeman, though he'd run from them many times. "I know where we can find help." With that he began stumbling forward toward the alley's exit.

Ethan watched as blood trickled from beneath the waist of Jahleel's coat. Hurrying his steps to catch the limping knight, he took Jahleel's arm and placed it over his shoulder. The Knight was reluctant at first, and then leaned into Ethan with a nod.

"Where we goin'?" Ethan asked as they reached the light at the end of the Alley.

"Church," Jahleel rasped. "Not far."

The pair made their way down the streets of Paris in quiet before arriving at the rear entrance of a very old, dilapidated Catholic Mission. Worn as it was, it was a charming Parisian of dark stone, spider webbed with winter-deadened shoots of ivy. A massive oak dwarfed the old building and loomed over it, shading the moonlight.

Jahleel's strength was fading but he soldiered on, pausing only once they'd circled to the back. He leaned his weight into the wall before a back entrance - a windowless wooden door that was so short, both men would have to duck to enter it. Jahleel lifted his fist and pounded on it, cradling his ribs with his arm.

Ethan kept his eyes to their surroundings, jumping at any sound.

A dim, yellow light finally framed the door jamb and it slowly dragged open. A small, elderly nun, bedraggled by being awakened from her sleep, poked her head through.

"The kitchen is closed my children. Come back in the morning if you want something to eat." Her words were exclusively and thickly French and though her face was kind, she was obviously bothered by the pair. The darkness didn't allow for her old eyes to recognize Jahleel's wounds.

"No sister. My name is Jahleel. I keep the Vigil."

The sister's spine straightened for a moment as her face flushed.

"I have not aided a brother in many years. Tell me watchmen, how goes the night?" she replied, a code that identified true Vigilant.

"It advances," Jahleel answered, "and dawn is well-nigh."

Ethan hadn't the foggiest idea what the two were conversing about given that the entire conversation was in French. What he did know was that whatever Jahleel just said, it got the door tugged open wide and they were invited inside.

The elderly sister led them to an upper room, spartan with only a single cot which, Ethan quickly sat Jahleel upon. A large silver crucifix hung over the cot, the walls otherwise undecorated, the ceiling low and askew.

Jahleel and the nun had another brief exchange. She nodded and excused herself. Ethan watched her go and then turned to the knight. Jahleel opened his jacket and let it slide from his body.

"Shit," Ethan muttered, looking on.

Jahleel's heavy coat had hidden the severity of his wounds. His dark colored shirt glistened in the dim light, moistened by his blood. Bullet holes had torn his shirt to ruin.

"We have to get you to...," Ethan began, pausing only when he realized that they were criminals. He looked to Jahleel, hoping he might have a solution.

"The sister is bringing food."

"You're gonna need more than a sandwich," Ethan said, confused.

"Ethan, did it ever occur to you that there might be more than you believe?" The knight asked through a pained chuckle.

Ethan shook his head, even more confused, worried that perhaps Jahleel had lost too much blood. He stood abruptly, nearly hitting his head on that low ceiling and headed for the door. But as he swung it open he found the surprised Sister, a tray of sandwiches and pitcher of milk in her hands.

"No," Ethan said, blocking her way. "We need umm... first aid? Do you have a first aid kit?" His voice was louder than needed, hoping volume might somehow bridge the language barrier. She shook her head.

"She does. It's in her hands," the knight explained.

Ethan looked again, finding only food. He turned to the knight for explanation.

"I'm not like you Ethan. I don't need bandages and salve. I heal by eating."

Ethan's face filled with doubt.

"You do what now?" he asked.

"I am Elohim. We heal our wounds with food, with calories."

Ethan gave him a sideways glance and then shook his head, stepping aside to let the Sister by. Jahleel took the tray kindly and began to eat.

Ethan looked around the room for a moment, spying a spot in a corner to sit. Then he watched as Jahleel began attacking the tray of food like a starving man. His thoughts turned for a moment, to Elihu.

"What if they shot you in the throat?" Ethan wondered aloud.

Jahleel paused, his mouth stuffed full and grinned. Ethan frowned and he turned his thoughts to how he'd get his daughter back and if he was now on his own. Jahleel was in no shape for travel.

"We'll get them back," Jahleel promised as he chewed, leaning to offer Ethan something from the tray. "Have a little faith Ethan. God won't let them win."

Ethan passed on the sandwich, his lips twisted as he launched his customary reply.

"Yeah, He's done...," then he remembered himself, who he was talking to, where he was. "I'm going to get my little girl back Jahleel," he said, "If God wants to help, that'd be great."

"He helps me. I'll help you," the wounded knight answered.

### CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The light of the sun awoke Ethan with a panic. Sleep had come to him in brief spurts and the tiny room filled with light made him feel as though too much time had passed. He quickly stood, his body aching from his fight and from sleeping in the corner upon the hard floor. Jahleel was gone and for a moment the young father felt completely alone. But folded neatly atop the cot where Jahleel had lain was a set of clothes. The cot was made as well. Something about the order of the room put the young father at ease.

Quickly he changed and then cracked the door open. Seeing no one, he made his way out of the room. The smell of fresh-baked bread caused his stomach to growl. He tentatively made his way down the narrow stairs where he found an active, old-world kitchen. It was filled with Holy Sisters, they busy baking and serving. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to find the old nun that had helped he and Jahleel.

She smiled to him.

"Affamé?" she questioned in her native tongue.

Ethan shook his head softly, and shrugged. She took him by the arm and guided him into a small dining area just off the kitchen. Several men, all clearly destitute, sat around old tables enjoying croissants and coffee.

"Affamé?" she repeated, pointing to a croissant on a nearby table, then making the universal sign for 'eat'.

"Yes... please," he nodded, finally understanding.

She found the only empty table in the place and seated him.

His English had drawn the wayward glances of those around him but no one spoke to him as the Sister disappeared. A moment later she returned with a plate in one hand, a glass of milk in the other.

"Café'," she asked, pointing to a mug of coffee on an adjacent table. Following her finger Ethan finally looked to her shaking his head.

"No thank you," he replied as he lifted a fork and took a look at the simple breakfast before him. As he dipped a knife into some jam the Sister spoke once again.

"Jahleel...," she paused, wondering how she'd tell him this, "ehh... Telephone'." She made the universal sign for telephone as she spoke the word.

Ethan was relieved. He didn't know if the knight had stolen away - if he was on his own. He wished that he knew how to thank her in her own language. Instead he nodded and smiled to her.

***

Jahleel sat on the edge of an old chair before a desk in the priory's 'business office'. As a Knight, he was instructed to communicate with his order solely through his Chronica but should he be unable and the matter was urgent, all Vigilant were given a secret number to memorize. Just using it gave him chills as it rang and rang again. Finally a recording answered.

"Speak brother," it said, followed by a beep. Jahleel's brow hardened as he listened, ill prepared for the speed at which he'd have his opportunity to speak.

"This is Jahleel. Salim is dead. The police seek me. I will aid the father in searching for the child." With that he hung up, sitting back for a moment as he considered his future. His days as Paris' Vigilant were likely over with the police after him. He'd lost his best friend and an Argent Child all in the same day. He wondered where they'd relocate him or even if they would, given what had happened on his watch.

Jahleel shook his head before he allowed it to sink into pity. There was still hope so long as there was breath in him. He stood and tucked a newspaper beneath his arm as he made his way down to the dining room.

***

Ethan was enjoying his breakfast when a newspaper flopped to the table before him. His eyes widened as he picked it up to see his own face, along with Jahleel's on the front page. He stared at it for a moment before crumpling it into his lap, looking to the Knight as he sat.

"What does it say?" Ethan asked in a hushed tone, looking around to make sure no one was staring.

"That we are wanted for kidnapping and murder," Jahleel delivered.

Ethan's face became indignant but something else took his attention. Jahleel, upon death's door just hours before, was vibrant and well. Jahleel followed Ethan's glare to his stomach and chuckled.

"Told ya."

Ethan shook his head. He didn't like things beyond the pale, though he'd been forced to witness many in these last few days. He wouldn't speak of it further though.

"Who'd we murder?" he asked.

"Salim, your wife, several policemen...."

"Now what?" Ethan asked, defeated.

"We're going to find your daughter," Jahleel assured.

"But...," Ethan shrugged.

"The Police Cap'n... Adele'... bet he'd have some clues wouldn't you?"

Ethan sat back in a chair as he absorbed the idea, checking once again to make sure no eyes or ears were upon them.

"But how do we get to a Police Captain?" he asked.

"Leave that to me," Jahleel replied, glancing to Ethan's half eaten breakfast. "Eat up," he instructed. "You'll need your strength."

"Not very hungry," he said, though his stomach growled anyway.

### CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Tara squatted behind her daughter, holding the child's long hair out of the way as the little one vomited in the toilet of their Austrian train. The young mother was beside herself. Catee had cried herself to sickness for the third time since they left Paris. Tara squeezed her tired eyes shut as Catee turned to climb back into her arms.

"I want go back home. I want go see Daddy. Him needs me Mommy."

Tara's chin quivered a little as she sighed.

"We've already been through this baby. Something's wrong with Daddy and we can't be with him right now. We'll be with him soon. Until then, Joli' and her friends are gonna take good care of us."

Catee pulled away to look into her mother's eyes, her body starting to quiver as she began crying again.

"I just wanna see Daddy. Him needs me," she cried, quietly as her voice was hoarse and nearly gone. Again Tara pulled her into a hug, pleading with her.

"Please Catee... please stop crying. You're making yourself sick."

She stood, lifting Catee in the process and walked to her cabin where she found Joli' on her cell phone. As the two of them entered, she quickly hung up and offered a sympathetic faux-frown.

"Can I talk to you?" Tara asked.

"Of course," Joli' replied as Tara sat Catee in the opposite seat. The young mother remained standing as she considered her words.

"I don't think I can go through with this. I mean, Catee's never been sick before, and the way things went with Ethan... you said he wouldn't be hurt."

Joli' took Tara's hands and ushered her to sit by her side.

"I know what you're going through right now Tara. I've been there too. But you have to focus on the good side of this. You won't be apart from Ethan forever. Captain Adele' will make sure he's not harmed and once he's away from the Vigilant's influence, he'll be the Ethan you know and love again."

Tara looked away, staring out of the window over her shoulder. Then her eyes moved to Catee who had curled into a ball on her seat.

"But... Catee..."

"Is scared," Joli interrupted, "and nervous just like you. I hate that she saw what happened last night. It's the reason she's so worried about her father. But she'll be comfortable soon enough. And she won't be away from him for too much longer." Joli' reached up and tucked a strand of disheveled hair lovingly behind the young mother's ear. Then she cupped Tara's cheek in her palm and looked deeply into her eyes. "You're doing the right thing for your family Tara. You may not realize it now, but you'll see."

Tara nodded softly then moved to her daughter's side, picking her up and putting her in her lap.

### CHAPTER FORTY

Captain Adele' stood curbside at the airport, tipping a porter who was claiming his luggage as he finished the last remnants of a cigarette. Taking one last, long drag he tossed the butt to the ground and straightened the lapel of his overcoat before making his way inside, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.

Whistling a tune, he paused at a newsstand and picked up a copy of the daily. Its front page broadened his smile. He tossed a few coins on the counter and tucked the paper under his arm, then he made his way to the Departures/Arrival Board.

Checking his departure and its slight delay was the only thing that caused him to frown and even then only briefly. His trip to Vienna and ultimately, the arms of his mistress could wait a few more minutes. Turning in place his eyes scanned the airport for a new target and he found it in the form of a sign that read simply, 'Men'.

He'd purchased the paper for something to read on the short flight to Vienna but it served the same purpose here. He fluttered its pages open when he heard the sound of boots clicking across cold tile. He thought little of it until he heard the door shut and its lock click into place.

"Bonjour?" he said, more an announcement than a question. "There is someone in here. You'll have to clean later," he insisted, but no reply was given.

Instead those boots, slow and measured in their gait began echoing again.

Adele' shifted side-to-side trying to look through the cracks in the stall door but he could make nothing out. His hand atop the pistol holstered at his chest, he wondered if he was just being paranoid.

The two pairs of boots, clicking in unison finally diverged just before Adele', one entering the stall next to him, the other paused before him.

Wary, he pulled his gun and spoke.

"I am the Captain of the Paris Police Force!" he said, command in his timbre. "What do you want?"

But as he spoke the 'pair of boots' before him grabbed hold of the top of his stall door and gave it a shake. Adele's hand was quivering as he pointed the weapon to the center of the door.

"Mr. Moyer? Vigilant? Don't make me kill you in this bathroom! What a sad place to die!" his voice was quaking as he pulled the hammer back on his pistol. Suddenly the sound of steel punching through steel sliced into his hearing.

It happened in a blur, a glint of immaculately polished blade passing through the flimsy wall of the stall. It crossed before the Captain's face, skewering his arm and pinning it to the adjacent wall. Tendons sliced, the gun fell to the floor as he cried out in fear and pain.

Adele's eyes grew wide as he stared at the sword before him, it etched with a silvery Cross Pattee, the symbol of the Vigilant. A boot lifted and crashed against the door to the stall, sending it bursting open, nearly off its own hinges. Ethan stood before him, rage in his eyes.

"Where's my family?" Ethan demanded, speaking through gritted teeth. He didn't bother to give Adele' time to answer, lifting his boot once again to send it crashing to the Captain's face. Blood spurted from Adele's nose as Ethan snatched up a tuft of hair and growled once more. "Where is my family?"

But as he looked into the Captain's dazed eyes the thick, coppery smell of blood assaulted him. Ethan's head began to float, lost for the moment in a strange sensation that set his body abuzz. He shook his head a few times to clear it and awaited the answer he sought.

"Gone... all gone. Far from you and your Vigilant pigs," Adele' spouted groggily.

"Where?" Ethan's voice wasn't as commanding as before, the contents of his stomach churning as he fought the urge to vomit. Jahleel's ears perked as he listened to Ethan's waning vigor and moved to check on him. Ethan offered a sick glance before retreating and leaning against a sink. Jahleel turned to his friend's murderer.

"Where are you going Captain?" he asked softly and began searching Adele's pockets, snatching a plane ticket. He opened it and read it aloud. "First class to Vienna? Fetchin' your reward like a good little lap dog?"

Adele's groused and spat at the Vigilant.

"Better a lap dog than a dead one."

Jahleel wiped bloody spittle from his cheek as he knelt before his captive and put his hand on the back of the sword's blade. He looked into Adele's eyes and then he began to twist it.

"Ahh! You have what you want! Now why don't you go!" the Captain screamed, grabbing for his wrist with his free hand.

"But I don't, do I? Because I need to know where to go once I get to Vienna," he paused waiting to capture Adele's attention again. "Tell me that and you won't die with your pants around your ankles today."

The Captain grew distraught as he turned over the idea of betraying his mistress. Finally he shook his head.

"They'll kill me," he said bluntly, on the verge of tears.

" _I'll_ kill you," Jahleel promised.

Adele's head dipped forward as his chest heaved a time or two. Without looking the Knight in the eyes again, he muttered a single phrase.

"Weiden am See".

Jahleel nodded softly and stood. The room grew quiet, all save Adele's whimpers. The knight turned to check on Ethan when thoughts of Salim filled his mind, his last words playing over in his head. He thought about the loss of his post, about a little girl, about a confused young mother and he snapped.

Ethan lifted queasy eyes to the knight about to explain the illness when suddenly Jahleel turned. He took hold of the sides of the stall and kicked Adele' in the face. Then he did it again, and again, as though he were trying to stomp the life out of the man.

"Jahleel...," Ethan called, quiet and ill.

But the Vigilant seemed possessed with anger.

"JAHLEEL!" the young father managed.

Rather than acknowledge the call, the knight simply stopped and spun to the other stall to retrieve his sword.

"Now they can't follow us," he said coldly, ripping the sword back through the wall of the stall.

Ethan looked on in wide-eyed shock. Adele' was unrecognizable, his face a bloody mess. But, that horror aside, what bothered the young father was the loud smell of blood. It seemed to enter his nostrils and cause his head to tighten and lighten at once. He could feel his heart racing, his own blood pulsing in his ears.

Suddenly a gurgled gasp shook Adele's body and his chest heaved. Ethan leapt back, nearly losing his feet.

"He's not dead!" Ethan shouted.

"I kill monsters Ethan, not men. Not when I can help it."

Jahleel placed a hand again on Ethan's shoulder to help him steady.

"Are you all right?"

"I just feel _weird_ ," he replied. "I'll be okay."

"Then we have to go. There's no time to waste."

"Where are we going?" Ethan inquired.

"To catch a train."

### CHAPTER FOURTY-ONE

Catee slept again as they rode in the backseat of a Bentley Limousine. It was another drug-induced nap that Tara lamented with each passing mile. The car was filled with uncomfortable silence as it wound through the country roads of a picturesque Austrian hamlet; Weiden am See.

The ride from the train station lasted only about twenty minutes, winding through beautiful country that offered many views of the Neusiedler See, a beautiful lake anytime of the year but especially in winter. A fresh snow had fallen that brightened Tara's spirits some but nothing would draw her mind completely from the unhappiness her little one had discovered. Each foot the car drove was a foot further from Ethan and a foot deeper in Catee's misery.

The car pulled into a private drive protected by a large iron gate that opened at the command of the driver, and then slowly they pulled down the winding road of the estate.

It was truly magnificent, lined with old growth trees, manicured and decorated with statues and statuettes of cherubim and various displays of goddesses from every mythos, forever memorialized in stone by masterfully skilled hands.

Tara looked like a child, her head twisting from one direction to the other. A look of hope and wonder filled her tired face, bringing a smile to Joli's. "You haven't seen anything yet," she said, nodding in the direction of the house that emerged from the trees.

Tara gasped when she saw it.

"It used to be a Nunnery," Joli chuckled, "but we've cleaned it up a bit."

The years had obviously been kind to the old priory, given aid by wealthy, gentle hands. The cream-colored building jutted three stories skyward with a tower sloped inward and capped with a bell house.

At first glance there seemed a thousand windows in the place, each in Bavarian style and flanked by shutters of green. Beneath the perfect symmetry of the windows the building was lined with well-tended landscaping and ivy stretched upward, climbing the walls and giving a sense of peace and natural grace.

Her first thought was to wake Catee so that she could be awed as well but as she placed her hand on the little one's shoulder to rouse her she remembered the nature of the nap.

At the grand entrance the Catholic cross that once hung in the center of the portico had been removed, replaced by some odd design that Tara didn't notice really, let alone recognize. The new symbol, that of the Sponsas Draco was a representation of the infinite circle. Inside that circle, there was a concaved, inverted 'peace symbol' with a V-chalice at its base.

Joli' smiled to Tara as the two exited the car, greeted by a young woman. "Hello Sasha, how are you today?" Joli' greeted.

"Hello Priestess. It's a beautiful day isn't it?" Sasha replied, taking a moment to gently rub Catee's back.

"It is... and it's getting more beautiful all the time. Could you see Tara to her room? I have some things I must attend to." With that Joli' turned to Tara and smiled. "Just smell the air Tara. And tell me you don't feel the peace in this place."

Tara took a breath and nodded as Joli brushed her fingers through Catee's hair.

"You're doing the right thing," she reassured, and then turned to Sasha with a nod before heading off into the building.

Sasha and Tara watched as Joli disappeared through the doors.

"She is an amazing woman," Sasha muttered.

Tara nodded in agreement as Sasha took her by the hand, entwining their fingers.

"This must be Catee?" she asked as she looked to the child and began leading the pair into the mansion.

Tara smiled, her eyes looking about at all the expensive appointments, dressings, and furnishings - a French antique theme. Several rooms were occupied by women young and old, entertaining themselves, many of whom smiled to the trio, exchanging quiet whispers as they passed.

"Yeah, this is my baby. She's having a hard time right now. Misses her daddy."

Sasha frowned when she heard the mention of Catee's father but Tara didn't notice as her eyes continued to marvel at the expensive artwork upon the walls; a recurring theme reflecting women of power and greatness: Joan of Arc, Queen Elizabeth... but one caught Tara's eye. It was the only picture of a man in the place, albeit a "fair" man. It was obviously very old as the man was dressed in middle-ages garb, a crown upon his head.

"Who's that?" she queried, her head canting toward the painting.

"Oh... that's Philip the Fair, king of France," Tara said with a bit of pride.

"But why? I mean, all the other paintings are women."

"No... _all_ of the paintings are of women!" Sasha giggled. "When you meet Claudia you'll understand."

Satisfied for the moment, Tara returned to a faster pace up the grand staircase until they'd reached the third and highest floor.

Tara and Catee were ushered into an efficiency condominium space, done in modern style. Tara's eyes grew wide.

"Don't you love it?" Sasha asked gleefully, stepping into the room, her arms outspread as she turned a slow circle. "This is one of my favorite rooms in the whole house!"

"It's incredible," Tara marveled.

"Yeah it is," Sasha concurred, "but I didn't see any bags for you. Don't you have any clothes?"

Tara shook her head. "Not yet."

"Well I wouldn't worry much about that," Sasha answered. "I'd bet Joli' took that into account."

"Nothing would surprise me now," Tara smiled. Sasha moved toward the door. "Okay, you guys get settled. I'll come back later to give you a tour okay?"

"You _really_ like it here don't you?" Tara asked, wary.

Sasha recognized the young mother's reluctance and her face filled with empathy. "Hey, I know it's scary Tara, but you'll be fine. This is the greatest place... "She struggled for a comparison for a moment, "... on Earth," she said, sincerity in her face. "In fact, you're quite lucky. Most of us here only get to visit a few times a year. But you... you're gonna get to love this place all year round!" Sasha cast a playfully jealous glance at Tara and then slowly backed out of the door. "If you need anything, somebody to talk to... anything, look me up. I'll be back in just a few."

As Sasha closed the door, Tara turned and looked around the place and its expensive trappings. It was a far cry from her home, an even farther one from any place that the Templars had offered her family. Still, something about it didn't _feel_ right. She rubbed Catee's back and moved to the couch to lay her down. As she did, a recessed panel opened to reveal a cutting edge TV. Tara chuckled, surprised and pleased. In the moment, she believed wholly what Joli' had explained; that they deserved this, that there was nothing noble about being poor.

### CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Joli' emerged from her office with a broad smile on her face, then headed off down the hallway. Two luxurious, blue silk robes were folded across her arm. She paused before a set of ornate double doors when a young woman met her.

"Hello Priestess."

Joli smiled to her.

"You're going to call her, aren't you?" the young woman asked gleefully.

Joli winked and then slid one of the doors open to disappear inside.

The room was unlike those of the rest of the house, much more blank and bare, circular, dotted with kneelers of mahogany and white. The walls were a caramel swirled marble while the floor was glossed black wood. The entirety of the floor held a huge Sponsas Draco symbol, highlighted in dark cherry.

A pool of pristine water was centered in the chantry, it easily twenty feet in diameter. It had a glow from beneath, bright enough to softly light the room and across its marble bottom the Sponsas Draco symbol that scrawled the floor was completed.

At the circular pool's south lay an odd furnishing. An obsidian altar, about the size of a twin bed tilted toward the water. At first glance one would imagine it a waterfall element of some kind. A channel protruded at its foot to let spill the contents of the table into the pool and the slab itself was concaved with craftsman's precision. But for all its cascading features, it was as dry as a bone.

Ornate tables flanked the unusual looking shrine. Their mahogany tops were covered with myriad oddities, but the most perplexing; several locks of what looked like human hair, each twisted into a broomtail.

At poolside Joli' shed her clothes and made her way to the tables beside the shrine. She took a white, fern-like frond into her hand as well as a long, gray lock of hair, then she made her way into the pool to reveal a depth that licked at her upper thighs near its center. She spoke softly, beginning her incantation.

"Great Mother, I call to thee. By thy loving-kindness, by thy gentle mercy, by thy unending might; I open to thee the gates of my body and soul, beckoning thee, come for the hour is late and the watchmen sleep."

Slowly she lowered the frond and the lock of hair into the pool until both were submerged, then she released the white wormwood and lifted only the hair from the water. As it emerged, astonishingly, it was dry but it had also turned a youthful, golden color.

Joli' grinned as she received her answer and backed out of the pool. She sat with her legs folded beneath her, her spine straight and her head bowed as the water began to roil.

From the center of the broiling a black spot emerged. Joli' set her gaze upon it and watched as it grew closer and closer, larger with each passing moment. She could see her Mistress' legs kicking as she passed through the infinite pool. And then the 'Great Mother' passed through the water's skin. She stood, dry save for the parts of her still in the pool, a Holy Sister in a black habit. She passed milky, blue eyes over her acolyte and spoke softly.

"You have the Dawn Child?" she asked.

Joli' smiled proudly and nodded.

"Good," the old nun said, reaching up to take hold of her habit. Peeling the garment from her head, she thumbed a black stone she'd pinched between her thumb and finger as she whispered, indiscernibly.

A mysterious wind lifted her gray hair as the rest of her garments began to fall from her body, followed by layers of elderly flesh. The first to fall came from her cheek and across the bridge of her nose, but rather than the hideous sight of bone and sinew, young flesh shone. As though she were peeling away a living costume, the Great Mother slowly shed the flesh of her old age, her hair transforming from full gray to golden. Bits of blood-drooling ichors plopped into the formerly pristine pool around her until, piece by piece, they were gone and thigh-deep in the water stood a stunning, dark-eyed blonde.

She took a moment to wash away the clinging bits of blood and gore from her skin. And then she lifted her dark eyes to Joli. She stepped from the water, taking Joli' by the fingertips to help her to stand. The two exchanged a peck on the lips before speaking.

"Hail Claudia, my dowager," Joli' said.

"Hail Priestess Joli', child of my heart," Claudia replied as she slipped into the silk robe Joli' had brought for her.

"What did you do about the Vigilant?" asked Claudia.

"Adele' killed the Chronica. The other is a lost little sheep, fumbling about with the father somewhere in Paris if they aren't in jail by now," she said.

Claudia chuckled. "And what cost?" she asked, wearing a coy grin.

Joli' rolled her eyes. "For the taste of my lips that man would kill his own father." They shared a laugh. "He's meeting me in town for his payment in the morning," she said. "I only hope I can stomach it."

The final addition to Joli's statement caused Claudia to frown a bit. Joli' saw her matron's disappointment and quickly corrected herself. "I will stomach it of course. He did help deliver the Dawn Child to us after all."

Satisfied with the correction, Claudia smiled once more though her eyes had become more sullen. "And the mother?" she asked. Joli sighed and looked to the floor.

"Broken," she said. "Enslaved to the will of her husband. But she may be redeemable. The child's consolation is her primary concern and it has her second guessing herself."

"We'll only need her for a while. Just until the child has accepted us," Claudia replied. "If she can't be redeemed then she can be disposed of after that."

Joli' nodded, her sadness obvious.

"Of course, but I'd like to win her over. She's quite beautiful."

"Is she a smart woman?" Claudia asked.

"She isn't stupid," Joli' offered sheepishly. "I think she has potential."

Claudia chuckled. "Does she really? I know the sound of doubt in your voice my child."

"I believe so. But only your wisdom can judge her," Joli' deferred.

"And judge her I will. To be a bride, she must possess all of the gifts of feminine perfection. Does she?"

"Well, she's the mother of the Dawn Child. Surely that counts for something?"

Claudia sighed. "It counts for the fact that you lust for her and nothing more. If the Dawn Child were born to a goat would you also want to teach it to rule the world?"

Joli' didn't answer, feeling scolded. "Do you judge her without having tested her?"

Claudia's eye twitched a bit. She glared at Joli. "She is beautiful. That much I believe. I also believe that you already know whether or not she can become one of us. You're hesitation to commit tells me much more."

"I do lust after her Great Mother. That's why I hesitate. I fear that my judgment may be clouded. I seek your clarity. Forgive my weakness."

Claudia's features softened. "Ah, honesty. That's what I wanted," she said. "I will be in the bath. Bring her to me."

"Thy will be done Mother," Joli bowed.

### CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Light filtered in through the slats of the railcar, its motion causing Ethan to jostle back and forth as the freighter made its way down the tracks. It was a livestock car and as such, smelled of what it carried. Mercifully, Jahleel had picked an empty one and the wrist-deep straw that covered the floor offered a bit of comfort and warmth.

"When you said we were catching a train I didn't think...," Ethan cut his words short when he saw that Jahleel had nodded off. He had questions for the young knight, but they could wait. Something else was on his mind. He watched as the Austrian countryside rolled by. It was cold but it hadn't bothered him much. Instead, the indecision of his stomach - was he hungry or did he need to vomit - took most of his concern. He couldn't remember the last time he was sick. Suddenly it occurred to him: Catee was the reason he was never ill. He chuckled at the irony and missed she and her mother more.

A sharp baying suddenly cut the air, a horrible sound of a creature in pain. Ethan's glance shot to Jahleel, but the knight hadn't moved a muscle. Instead, his eyelids still closed, he pointed toward the cars behind them.

"Freight car. Sheep." He said, and considered the conversation through.

Ethan nodded at the explanation but the terrible sound blasted once more.

"Are they killing them?" Ethan asked, realizing that the knight wasn't sleeping after all. Jahleel shook his head and shrugged. It was clear he'd rather rest.

Again the bleat resounded. Ethan couldn't just ignore it. He stood and walked to the back of the train car. There was an access door about six-feet up. He studied the wall and then toed a support timber for the short climb.

As he released the latch the door swung open. He looked over the edge of the wall, down at the iron knot that connected the cars and the whoosh of the railroad ties as they passed beneath him. On the outside walls of each car steel ladders hung, but the transition from one car to the next still seemed intimidating. He was about to close the door and abandon his query when the poor creature bleated again. He drew a breath and pushed up and over the door onto the ladder.

The distance between the cars was about six feet, but the metal ladders were slick with snow and ice. Again Ethan reconsidered the climb just as another pained cry sounded. He nodded to himself and stretched a leg across, then an arm. And then, bravely, he swung fully to the ladder. As he climbed, pellets of ice began biting into his skin. One eye closed, he glanced to the sky and shook his head at the irony.

"No good deed...," he muttered.

Ethan opened the access door to a car crammed full with sheep. The animals were packed so tightly, he wondered if he'd even be able to step onto the floor let alone find the one that was distressed. He threw one leg over the edge of the wall and then the other before lowering himself down, nudging a path between the sheep as he did. The young father shoved his way into the herd when that pained bleat sounded, loud and near. Quickly he scanned woolen backs until he found one bucking and tugging.

He nudged his way to the lamb, looking it over. It's leg was caught in a chain and it was frantically trying to free itself. Ethan pondered a way to help without getting stomped or crushed. Bending over the sheep, he got it in headlock and then traced his hand down its leg until he could reach the chain. It took some work to undo what the lamb had done to itself, the chain wrapped tightly and biting into the animal's flesh, but after a few moments it slipped free. As he released the headlock, the lamb knifed its way through the herd, wanting desperately to get away from the crazy human. The young father's nose upturned as he watched.

"You're welcome," he chuckled.

A tickle met his palm. He lifted it before his eyes to find that it was coated in matted wool and lamb's blood. It made his stomach leap and a haze fell over him as it had at the airport. Ethan shook his head trying to clear it - he wasn't a squeamish man. But he knew that it wasn't disgust that caused his head to float. He marveled at how loudly the blood's coppery sweetness smelled. It was the same with Adele. The aroma was thick and beckoned him like a rare prime rib.

Slowly his hand moved toward his face. He tried to stop it, but it was as if his body betrayed him. His tongue jutted from his mouth and met his bloodied palm. He heard a moan and realized that it sounded like his own voice. And then everything faded to black.

Ethan awoke to a wet sheep's nose against his cheek. He leapt to his feet, wide-eyed and afraid. His stomach had settled, his head steady again. He remembered the blood on his hand and without looking at it, wiped it on his pants. Satisfied that his good deed was done, he moved quickly to the access panel and back to his car. As his feet thumped down into it, he turned to find Jahleel.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He cast a thumb over his shoulder to illustrate his story."Damned sheep got hung up in a chain. Loud little shit kept me up so I thought I'd go help him out."

"What've you got on your face?" the Vigilant asked.

"Probably sheep shit," Ethan chuckled, lifting a hand to wipe at it. "Fell down back there."

But when he withdrew his hand, he found only blood and his brow furrowed. Quickly he lifted the arm of his jacket to his mouth and wiped at it frantically.

"You're _sure_ you are all right?" Jahleel asked warily.

"Yeah! I'm fine," he said, finishing the cleaning of his face. "Did I get it?"

Jahleel nodded once and then returned to the spot where he'd rested.

"Don't go playin' hero no more," he instructed. Ethan rolled his eyes.

### CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Tara sat on a luxurious couch, looking to Catee as the child started to stir. She dreaded it given Catee's behavior during her wakeful moments of late. She watched with bated breath, wondering if she'd have to face another painful scene, but as Catee laid eyes upon her mother she smiled a gentle smile and spoke.

"Good morning Mommy," she said, though it wasn't morning at all. It was what she always said when she awoke. The tension released in Tara's body and she smiled.

"Good morning baby," she answered, gladness in her heart. "Did you sleep well?" It was the banter the two shared on any given morning. Catee nodded softly.

"Daddy's okay. Him's coming."

Tara's smile faded to a look of curiosity. "Did you have a dream that Daddy was coming?" she asked, confused.

Softly the child nodded as she climbed across the couch and into her mother's arms. "Uh-huh. Him and Kahjeel ride a train," she said, mangling the Vigilant's name.

"Daddy's not coming baby. Not yet. He doesn't know where we are," she explained.

"Him _is_ Mommy," Catee retorted. "You not want Daddy to come?"

"I don't know Catee. Daddy's pretty mad at me right now."

Catee took her mother by the cheeks, forcing her lips into a purse. "Daddy loves us Mommy. Him not be mad at you."

Tara made a 'fish-face' and Catee pecked her lips, then let go. "What else did you dream?" she asked.

"The bad lady wants to hurt us," she said before trying again to capture her mother's cheeks in her hands.

"What bad lady?" Tara asked, dodging Catee's grasp.

"Cloudy." Came her daughter's answer.

Before Tara could ask more, a knock came to the door. She sat Catee aside and took hold of her hands. "Sweetheart, these people are helping us, so I don't want for you to tell anyone else about your dream okay? It's rude."

"Okay," she answered moving to the door with her mom.

Tara opened the door to find Joli' and Sasha. Catee looked to them and offered a wave. Joli's eyes filled with glee ignoring Tara for the moment as she addressed the little one. "Hello Catee! I didn't know you were awake!"

"Good morning!" Catee nodded.

"Good morning!" Sasha sang, trying to reflect Joli's excitement in her voice as she knelt before the little girl. "I'm Sasha," she said. "What's your name?"

"My name's Catee," she answered proudly. "You wanna play with me?"

"I know where we can find some games," Sasha said, extending her hand to Catee who quickly took it as they went on a search for games.

Joli' watched them and then turned to Tara with surprise. "She's doing much better."

"She just... woke up like that," Tara shrugged.

Joli' placed a hand on Tara's shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze. "You see? Everything is going to be all right."

Tara nodded, hoping she was right.

"Come with me," Joli' said, taking Tara by the hand. "There's someone I want for you to meet."

"I should stay with Catee," Tara replied, shaking her head.

"It's important. We won't be long. Sasha will stay with her."

Just then Catee and Sasha emerged from a back room, arms loaded with board games.

"Catee, I'm going to go with Joli' for a few minutes. Will you and Sasha be okay?"

The little girl considered for a moment, then she nodded and smiled. Tara turned to Joli' and canted her head toward the door. With that, the two were headed down the long narrow hallways of the mansion passing faces that Tara vaguely recalled and new ones she hadn't seen at all. Each greeted Joli' with esteem.

"Who are all these women?" Tara asked, watching one pass.

"These are sisters and sisters-to-be, daughters of our current membership. You see, this house is a sort of 'finishing school'. Old members come here to teach the new and to get away from it all. New members come here to learn how to become the strongest women they can be."

"But there are so many...," Tara marveled.

Joli' laughed as they made their way through the halls. "It isn't always this busy. It's the time of year when we all come together for sodality and just to relax. We've had a lot of _good news_ lately," Joli' grinned coyly and winked.

"What kind of good news?" Tara wondered.

They paused before a pair of oak pocket doors. Joli' turned to the young mother. "You Tara. And Catee," she reminded.

"Oh, right," Tara chuckled. "Sorry. I'm just not used to being anybody's good news."

Joli' closed her eyes and took both of Tara's hands into her own. "Listen. When you meet her, you need to make a good impression. She's very nice, but she's also very old and she sees things differently than we do. Agree with her, compliment her, but be sincere. She'll know," Joli' instructed.

"Who am I meeting?" Tara asked, getting a bit nervous.

"It's very important Tara. This is her place. Her money will provide for you two. Her wisdom will guide you. Hopefully, if all goes well, then she'll ask you to join us."

Tara felt butterflies form in her stomach. "What if she doesn't?"

Joli' chuckled and shook her head dismissively. "I'm sorry. I'm making you nervous. She's going to love you as much as I do. You are the mother of the Dawn Child after all."

"I don't know what any of that means, but I'm grateful," Tara said. "I promise, I'll do my best."

"I know you will. You're so beautiful," Joli' gazed into Tara's eyes and moved her palms to claim the young mother's cheeks. Swept up in the moment, she tried to claim a kiss.

Tara tried to pull away too late to avoid the tender kiss. Nervous, she allowed it to linger. But as it began to deepen, Tara became more resistant until finally she broke it all together and took a step back. The lust in Joli's eyes was fully bared for the first time, all pretense finally pushed aside. The raven-haired benefactor blushed and spoke softly.

"It's okay. You just need to relax." She'd spoken the words more in convincing herself than Tara. "I'm sorry. I'm moving a bit too fast aren't I?" she asked.

"No... it's okay. I'm just... a little nervous." Tara's mind was reeling. She figured that they'd finally arrived at the root of Joli's kindness. In a way she felt vindicated. She'd suspected such back in Paris.

"You're a smart girl Tara. You'll know when the time is right," she explained, reaching out to gently touch her cheek. Then Joli' sucked in a breath and pushed back her desire. "More importantly, I need for you to impress who you are about to meet." An encouraging smile spread across Joli's face but she hid a deeper concern.

Joli' turned and opened the doors to the study. A massive library of tomes lined the high walls. This room was also circular and held many of the fineries that Claudia had come to adore during her long life. She had excellent and expensive taste. A single, oval window that covered nearly the entire back wall displayed the symbol of the Sponsas Draco and overlooked a rose garden, dead in winter. There were no desks. Instead Claudia chose to offer several seating options, from a pile of harem pillows upon the marble floor to a gold-lined Cleopatra-style couch. The room was opulent and soft; the walls decorated with bunched purple silk and drapery. A large, sunken hot tub billowed steam in the center of the room, it's sides lined with lotions and soaps of all kinds each in ancient-looking vessels representing virtually every period of history but kept as though they'd just been made this morning.

Tara looked around the room; each one in the house brought more wonderment to her eyes. It was so magnificent that she overlooked the statuesque blonde in the center of it. Claudia had adorned her tall, model frame in a Roman-style dress. She was a vision; the v-neck cut low down to her naval revealing the pristine flesh of her chest, her blonde hair piled atop her head in luscious stacks. Had she not spoken Tara would have figured her a life-like statue of Venus, but with a smile the 'goddess' drew the young mother's attention.

"You must be Tara," Claudia said, stepping toward her.

Tara was a bit startled, intimidated by the woman's beauty. "Yes ma'am," she replied, looking around the room once more.

"Tara, this is Claudia," Joli' said, knowing fully how unbelievable the statement would seem. The young mother's face filled with doubt.

"I don't understand," she said, her head darting between the two.

"You were expecting an old woman," Claudia explained. "Well I am one. Though I don't look it, I am far older than anyone would guess."

Tara smiled nervously and turned to Claudia as she spoke. "How old _are_ you?" she doubted.

"I'm very old Tara. If you've read the Bible, you'll find me in it. Long ago I was the wife of a certain infamous governor."

Tara began to laugh though it quickly dissipated when she realized she was alone in her amusement. "Wait. You guys are serious?"

"Is it so hard to believe?" Claudia questioned, eyes narrowed.

"Well I... Yeah," she replied, "it is."

"Think about it Tara. You've seen faeries, monsters, knights..., " Joli' guided.

"So what would that make you?" Tara asked. She didn't mean to sound disrespectful, but she'd offended them.

"Heroines. Champions. Queens." Claudia's lips drew tight and she raised her chin regally, but her eye twitched a bit.

Tara realized she'd offended the 'Great Mother'. "Okay... you were in the Bible... but how?"

"I was just about to have a bath. Join me and I'll explain."

Tara looked to the luxurious bath, then back to Claudia and gulped. She thought of Joli's kiss and wondered just what 'price' she'd be paying for her stay at the priory. But the young mother also knew that she had no recourse. She felt powerless. Perhaps her choice to trust these women was a mistake, but it was done. Now she needed to stay in their good graces. She lifted her head and offered a polite smile. "That'd be nice," she said.

### CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

"Christ it's dark in here," Ethan chuckled.

Nightfall had filled the boxcar with shadows. To lessen the cold draft, they'd closed the door, shutting out any light save for what little filtered through the slats.

"Ain't so bad from 'ere," Jahleel added with a chuckle of his own. It'd been dark long enough for his hazel eyes to begin to softly glow. Ethan stared toward the hovering orbs for a moment and then shook his head.

"God, your eyes are creepy."

Jahleel didn't answer. Instead he popped up from his seat and moved to the door. A gush of cold rushed in as he slid it open. Moonlight reflecting off the snow blinded the young father for a moment but when his eyes adjusted, he looked to Jahleel's silhouette against the scrolling Austrian countryside. The knight pushed his head out of the door and looked forward.

"What's up?" Ethan inquired, as an unnatural light began to wash into the car, brightening it for as long as it took the train to rail past a light pole, followed shortly by another and another until the light came in succession.

"It's time to get off."

Ethan stood and stepped to the door, a hand placed on the frame to brace him as he took a look up ahead. A factory of some sort was coming up, bustling with activity. A train-height loading ramp indicated that they'd probably be stopping there. Suddenly brakes began crying out and the freight car lurched forward in protest. Ethan looked out as the ground beneath them began to gradually slow. The railway was raised and so the drop was a steep one. The young father glanced to his companion. "You first," he chuckled.

Jahleel grinned and shook his head. "Coward," he teased. With that the knight took the leap, sliding down the loose gravel that built up the elevated track, duffle bag flailing upon his back.

Ethan marveled as the knight never lost his footing, sliding to the bottom of the incline. He felt challenged. He took a deep breath, wishing that his knees were younger, and toed the edge of the railcar. But in that breath something beckoned. Ethan's eyes squeezed shut for a moment as he lost himself in the sweet, coppery smell - an abundance of it calling him to its source. Rather than jump, he looked ahead and as the factory drew closer the smell grew stronger. He felt his mouth begin to water, his mind numbed by the promise of a satiation he didn't understand.

"Ethan!" Jahleel shouted, waving his hand trying to entice the young father to jump.

Ethan's eyes darted back to the disappearing Vigilant. His brow drew in with concern as he prepared to jump. And then the smell beckoned once more and claimed his full attention.

Jahleel called out again, Ethan growing farther away with each moment of hesitation. They didn't need to be seen.

"Ethan!" Jahleel shouted again, moving as quickly as he could in the rocky terrain, trying to close the distance.

Ethan stood, digging his fingers into the wood of the door frame. His chest had begun to rise and fall as a feral look crossed his face, like a wolf stalking prey. He was aware of Jahleel's calling but it was lost in the overwhelming desire to feed. To the young father, the train was suddenly moving far too slowly. And so he loaded his legs and leapt. It was an impossible distance he covered, twenty-feet or more. The moment his feet met cold, wet concrete Ethan dashed past the group of workers unloading the train and into the building.

The leap caused Jahleel to slow in disbelief. At first he denied what he'd seen, that the jump couldn't have been as far as it seemed. But as he ran again, he realized that it was. His denial turned to concern and he climbed up onto the dock. He knew the moment he saw them unloading the sheep that this was a slaughterhouse. He prayed that what he feared was happening, was wrong.

### CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

_It's just a bath_ , Tara told herself silently, but her hands were shaking. It was the intimidation of sharing a tub with these two powerful women that had slowed her progress in removing her clothes, or perhaps the suppressed concern of their intentions.

_Just a bath_. She repeated, trying to convince herself.

Claudia had already shed her clothes and moved into the warm waters, glancing to the young mother. "Don't be ashamed of your body," she instructed.

It snapped Tara too. "Hmm?"

"Your clothes," Joli chuckled, slipping her panties down her legs.

"Oh!" Tara exclaimed, her hand slapping to the top button of her shirt. She offered Joli' a nervous grin.

Claudia and Joli' had already taken a seat in the big tub when Tara finally finished and sheepishly, she entered the water.

"Ooh... this is nice!" She beamed, seating herself out of arm's reach of the pair. But her plastic smile would fade when she watched Joli' rise and move behind the Great Mother. The Priestess began filling her palms with the contents of one of those bottles. The smell of Sweet Alyssum filled the air as she gently stroked the shampoo through Claudia's hair.

"I have seen many things in my life," Claudia said, drawing Tara's eyes to her. "I was there when they crucified the one that claimed he was Christ. Whether he was or not, who's to say? But he was powerful. I begged my foolish husband to spare him but he wouldn't listen."

Claudia closed her eyes as Joli' massaged her scalp. "You see, that is the greatest secret of our order. And it isn't a secret at all. If a man can't eat it or make love to it, he has little use for it," she explained.

Tara chuckled and nodded.

"Ah, this much magik you know?" Claudia grinned.

"I don't know if it's magik, but I know it's true," Tara said.

"But it is. It is a key. Do you know who the most powerful woman in the world is Tara?"

The young mother puzzled for a moment. "Is... is it you?" she asked sheepishly, trying to be complimentary.

"Adulation I suspect," Claudia accused, "but not incorrect. It's me. It's you. It's any woman who takes up a post behind a powerful man. It's the First Lady. It's the Queen. It's the peasant-girl who goes to the king's bed and gives him a night worthy of a crown."

Tara's brow furrowed. "That doesn't sound very empowering."

"What a well-trained answer," Claudia said, a hint of disgust upon her face. "You're mistaking pride for power."

"I don't think I understand," Tara said.

"There once was a king that slew many powerful enemies. In fact, he'd never lost a battle. The legend of his prowess as a warrior spread throughout the land and to other lands. One day, a courier came with news from a far off kingdom. The master of the land was a powerful fighter as well. He challenged the king - the winner, would have both kingdoms and all their treasures. His queen begged him not to fight, but sure of his prowess, he accepted the challenge.

On the day of the battle, people came from all the lands to fill his great city. The queen played hostess to them all, dressed in her finest, a stunning vision to behold. She went in to him and renewed her plea that he cancel the fight. But fearing nothing, he wouldn't. The battle raged and the opponent would taste the steel of his sword, but in the end, the king was killed. He'd lost. And on that very day, his kingdom was given to his opponent, including his queen. Who then, was the victor?"

Tara pondered for only a moment, the answer obvious to her. "The other king." Claudia shook her head lightly. Tara looked to her, then to Joli', who tried to hide the disappointment in her face. "Right?" the young mother asked, questioning her answer.

"The wife of a Roman Governor was but the first chapter to the _Femina_ , my own book of magik. I would meet many more powerful men in my time, manipulating them to my own ends. Such was the life that kept me satisfied for a great many years. But I began to realize that there was a power greater still, than any throne or office could provide," she explained, leaning back to let Joli' rinse her hair.

"Do you believe in dragons Tara?" The Great Mother asked. Tara considered her answer carefully this time. The discontent in Joli's face made her more wary of what she said.

"I didn't used to. But things change," she replied softly.

"Indeed they do. I'll bet Catee believes in them. I'll bet she always has. Tell me, is she fond of them?"

Tara marveled at Claudia's insight.

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. "She draws them but they're always big and scary..."

"She is only a girl. When I think of the things her young eyes have already seen..." Claudia paused and collected herself. "Yes, they are big and scary. But only to those who don't understand them. Catee can heal but that is only the tip of her sword. Your daughter could be the queen of this realm, – _is_ , in fact - her eyes affixed on the other. She can see the spirit world. That's why she knows there are dragons." The Great Mother's exuberance, her passion for what she believed was clear in her confident voice.

"I... guess," Tara simply couldn't wrap her head around Claudia's words. Her realm was preschool toys and dinner, not existential contemplation.

Claudia could tell she was speaking over the young woman's head. "It exists. For Catee claiming the power of the spiritual world, bringing it to the physical is a simple thing - rather it will be as we teach her. She can do on a whim, what we study our entire lives for. Do you want that for her Tara? Do you want for your daughter to be a goddess upon the Earth?"

Tara's brow grew heavier as she considered. "I just want her to be happy; to have things I couldn't."

"She will have anything she desires. And what about you Tara? Would you like to become a goddess? Would you like to touch the ethereal?"

"I mean... I guess so?" Tara shrugged, struggling to comprehend.

"But... how do you do that? I mean, are we talking about ghosts or... Bible stuff or...?"

Tara glanced to Joli'. The Priestess filled her face with worry and tried to communicate it to her. Immediately Tara sat up, as though she were at a job interview.

"Dragons are the archons of both realms. We are their brides, their queens, their equals. and if dragons are the archons of both realms...?"

Tara nodded kindly but it was clear she didn't understand a word of it. "I... what's an archon again?" She asked. An awkward silence loomed.

"Exploitation!" Claudia shouted, trying to 'dumb down' her sermon. Tara jumped in fright.

"It is the battle cry of the ugly woman and the preacher. There is a beginning to all things Tara, and the beginning for you is to learn to use what the universe has given you to your advantage. First the body and mind, then the spirit."

Tara pushed her entwined fingers to her lips, trying to avoid chirping with fear as Claudia preached. She nodded as the Great Mother looked to her.

"You are given gifts. For example, you are very beautiful. You must learn to use that beauty to an advantage. Who is offended by a woman who uses her body to get what she wants? Only those who can't."

"Use my body? Like... prostitution?" Her eyes were wide and serious as she asked the question.

"No Tara," Joli' quickly interjected. "We use our beauty to gain what we want. Have you ever flirted with a police officer to get out of a ticket?"

More understanding lit in Tara's eyes. "I don't drive but yeah, I get it."

Claudia sighed and continued. "Once you've mastered the power of your beauty then you must broaden your mind. We all have special skills. You must find your strengths and perfect them. Joli' has a keen business sense. This is her strength, a gift she gives to her sisters. Only once you've perfected the material can we begin to manipulate the spirit, to break the _rules_ of this world and manifest what we wish."

"Like money? Like red carpets and champagne? That kind of stuff?" Tara asked. Growing up a poor girl, the idea of having money was the pinnacle of her dreams.

"Yes," Claudia droned, "like money. Like pretty dresses and limousines. Tell me Tara, what would be your greatest wish for Catee? Assume whatever it is, she'll be happy. Any aspiration, completely limitless."

Tara paused to consider for a moment and then she looked to the woman. "I have always secretly hoped she'd be a model. I tried to be when I was younger. That she'll meet some quarterback and they'd give me lots of grandbabies." She smiled at the answer. She'd never shared it with anyone save Ethan, who only added that he hoped the guy played for the Bears.

As Tara grew dreamy-eyed Claudia looked to Joli. "Make sure that Tara has anything she desires," she said. "Drown the poor thing in opulence."

Tara smiled wide, a thrill in her belly. "Thank you but, you've already given me so much, I could never repay you."

She didn't see the distress on Joli's face. Instead she locked eyes on Claudia who stood, and made her way to the edge of the tub. "You'll never have to repay me," Claudia said, trickling hot water as she dried herself. "I will see you at dinner."

With that the Great Mother donned an expensive robe and headed out of the room. As soon as she was gone Tara wheeled around to Joli'.

"I did okay huh?" Tara smiled.

Joli' looked to her for a moment, letting her eyes flow over the woman before floating over to her. "You did fine," she lied.

### CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Jahleel was no stranger to slaughterhouses. They were a regular part of his rounds in Paris. Young blood-feeders would often heed the call of all that gore - not realizing that dead animal blood could never sate them. He paused just inside a plastic-lined door and leaned in for a look.

His gifted eyes scanned the area. It was busy, filled with workers herding animals into pens. It stank of manure and the floor was soaked with water and urine. Jahlee stalked slowly through the slaughterhouse, scanning for signs of disturbance as he did. Busy workers clad in white overcoats barely noticed him as they herded animals into pens. But when the knight reached the Killing Floor, he found a congregation of workers gathered near the door. They were whispering to each other, wondering what to do.

"Where?" Jahleel asked in a poor German.

Ten hands pointed the way. He paused to push one hand into the partially unzipped duffle bag at his side and began stalking once more.

His senses were live-wired as he crept along the floor, plodding through puddles of watered down blood. Just as he rounded the loading table where animal carcasses were sent into the de-pelter, he heard a rustling. His steps slowed. Beneath a blood-soaked, stainless steel table he found Ethan.

The young father clutched at his stomach, his face coated in blood as he lay, curled in a ball upon the floor. He'd heard the knight coming, 'felt' his presence. "What's happening to me?" he begged.

Jahleel didn't answer. His teeth gritted tight in anger as he looked down upon Ethan. He was supposed to kill him. He had been trained that it was better to kill the damned straight away, not wait for them to turn. Instinctively Jahleel unleashed his sword; with a flick of his arm he discarded the duffle bag to the ground. Ethan's brow furrowed but he didn't move. Jahleel lifted the sword high in the air, like a baseball bat swing and cinched his grip. This was supposed to be the death stroke. He'd never stayed his hand before. But then, he'd never known an _enemy_ such as this. This time it wasn't some faceless demon before him; it was Ethan, the father of the Argent Child, the man that Jahleel and Salim had failed to protect.

Frustrated, he reached down toward the young father. Ethan shrunk away from him. The knight claimed his collar and with one arm, hoisted him to his feet. Ethan swayed, his legs weak and he fell back against the de-pelter chute to keep from collapsing. Jahleel slowly reached up and took hold of the filthy bandage on Ethan's head and ripped it away. Ethan just stared at him.

The knight studied the wound on Ethan's head, leaning closer. Then suddenly he shoved him away and lifted his blade again.

"When did this happen? The train?" Jahleel demanded.

"What...?" Ethan rasped.

"You're marked!" Jahleel growled.

"I'm what?" Ethan questioned. As he shook his head, trying to understand, Jahleel's eyes darted to the reflective, steel table at his side. Quickly he ran his arm over its surface, clearing the blood and water from it. And then he took Ethan by the head and pushed his face toward it. Ethan looked at his vague, twisted reflection for a moment and then he saw it. In the center of the healing gash in his forehead there was a serpent's tongue shape. He placed his elbows atop the table to steady himself as Jahleel retreated a few steps.

"I don't know...," Ethan began, still quite confused. "I..."A memory burst into his mind. _The creature in Catee's room_ , _what did it say_. "I DON'T KNOW!" Ethan insisted, turning toward Jahleel. "in Chicago... one of those things... it said... something." Ill as he was, he'd barely the strength to stand let alone recall. Finally it came to him. "Something... Trybth."

"Ngliech d' trybthe." Jahleel said, his tongue barely able to place the proper inflection on the infernal phrase. "Master's tribute." His eyes were distant, as though he were trying to remove himself from the situation enough to do as his training demanded. "You're going to become one of _them_." Ethan shook his head in denial but he knew that Jahleel was right. He could feel himself turning. "I am truly sorry Ethan. I swear to you, I will save them or die trying." Jahleel said, cinching his grip on his blade.

Utterly defeated, Ethan lost his feet and crashed to the floor. His body shook for a moment as he began to cry. And then he balled a fist and punched the cold, wet concrete. Slowly he lifted his angry gaze to the knight.

"You gonna kill me Jahleel?" Ethan asked, part of him wishing that the knight would. "Because if you are, I wish you'd wait until I got to hug my little girl one last time."

Suddenly epiphany lit Jahleel's eyes. He knew that if Ethan had been marked in Chicago, the transformation would have happened already. He'd seen it with his own eyes. Catee was the answer. Somehow the Argent Child had kept him from his fate. And if she was powerful enough to do that, perhaps she was powerful enough to stop it altogether.

The knight glanced over his shoulder to the congregation of workers by the entrance. One of them was on a telephone, no doubt contacting authorities. Against his training and his better judgment, following hope, he let his sword slump to the floor. "We have to go," Jahleel instructed, reaching out to offer Ethan his hand.

With a nod the young father rose to his feet.

### CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

"That means I'm in right? She said to give me whatever I wanted... like she did for you, right?" Tara beamed.

Joli' grinned at her, no longer leashing the lust she held for the young mother. She didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to grab a stone pitcher behind her and submerge it.

"Right?" Tara insisted.

"Possibly," Joli' answered, avoiding the truth.

"But she said....," Tara questioned.

"Think more on what she said about Catee and what she would teach her. Not could, _would_."

Tara's grin grew to a smile as she watched Joli' fill the pitcher. The young mother put a hand atop her belly. "I'm so relieved!" she celebrated. "Is there a spa around here? Let's go spend some money!" she laughed.

"You're in a spa, my pretty." Joli' said, moving so that she was behind Tara. "Lean back against me," she whispered.

Tara was reluctant at first, but she was just so happy. Slowly she inclined her body back into Joli's silken skin as she gently emptied the pitcher over the young mother's head, careful to keep the water from her face.

Joli' gathered another of those bottles and opened it, filling her palms and began streaking it through Tara's hair. The scent was impeccable and like nothing Tara had ever smelled.

"Mm, that's nice," she purred, both to the aroma and the feeling of Joli's gentle hands at her scalp. "So what happens now?" Tara asked, feeling Joli's legs wrap around her. She let her hands float to avoid letting them rest atop the Priestess' knees.

"I'm going to wash your hair," Joli' teased, massaging gently.

"Not that. I mean... for us. For me and Catee," she said.

Joli' filled the pitcher again and guided Tara to lean into her. "You'll attend our initiation ceremony. Then Claudia will arrange a schedule to work with Catee."

"A ceremony?" Tara gulped, the shampoo washing away from her long blonde hair. She could feel Joli's chin nodding into her shoulder.

"Just you. Catee is too small to understand just yet."

"Why?" Tara asked.

"You'll see," she promised. "I bought you another dress. It's in your closet upstairs. I'd like for you to wear it to the ceremony tonight."

"You shouldn't have done that," Tara smiled.

The Priestess hand found a sponge and she whetted it, then filled it with the contents of another of those vessels. Tenderly she began washing over Tara's neck and shoulders, her lips close enough to the young mother's ears that they'd flit against it as she spoke. "Yes, I should have. Claudia said so," Joli' teased.

Tara fidgeted, and then she craned her neck to look to the Priestess. But before she could speak she'd taste Joli's lips upon her own. She didn't kiss back, her eyes wide with discomfort. She could feel Joli's body wriggling beneath hers.

Joli' broke the kiss and smiled, then she moved from behind Tara and glided into her lap. She lifted a hand to gently trace the young mother's cheek with her fingers. "Relax," she insisted.

Tara nodded softly. "I suppose I owe you this," she said. "For everything you've done for us."

A storm darkened Joli's eyes and she shook her head. "I did what I did because I care about you Tara, because I saw myself reflected in you," she lied. "Yes, I am attracted to you physically. But you don't _owe_ me anything." Disappointed, Joli' began to head for the side of the tub.

Tara averted her eyes, shamed. No, financially she could never repay Joli' for all that she'd done for her. But there was one thing the Priestess wanted, one thing she could give her. Quickly she reached out and clasped Joli's wrist.

"Hey," Tara grinned. "C'mere," she said seductively, tugging her shoulders back and narrowing her eyes.

Joli' grinned at the young mother, looking her over. And then she moved back into the water and into Tara's beckoning arms. Tenderly the two shared a kiss, first of awkward introduction. It relaxed into a virgin's exploration. But as one touch lead to another, it fell into the abyss of a lover's longing and desire.

Tara lay on her back atop the harem pillows, her eyes gazing at the ceiling. Joli' lazed by her side, spooned next to her body, her head resting atop Tara's arm. Worry had clutched her mind, concern for Catee and the guilt of being untrue to Ethan. She'd waited patiently for a time, hoping that Joli' might have something to attend to but as the minutes passed, Tara's worries only grew until finally, she excused herself. "I really should go check on Catee."

Joli's eyes popped open. "Sasha will take good care of her," she reassured.

"I believe you. It's.... it's a mom-thing," she answered, continuing to stand.

Joli' propped her head on her elbow as she watched the young mother, and shook her head. "Did you at least enjoy yourself?"

Tara found her clothes when she heard the question. Her back to the Priestess, she thought for a moment. Yes. She did enjoy the sex. She didn't enjoy everything it did to her inside. "The sex was amazing," she said, glancing back to Joli'.

The Priestess smiled and watched Tara dress for a moment and then rose and sauntered to her. "Are you okay?"

"To be honest, I'm a little freaked out right now," Tara explained.

Joli' took her by the shoulders and gazed into her eyes then she nodded, taking a step back to let the young mother finish dressing. She watched Tara's rush, so great that she didn't take time to put on her shoes.

"I'm sorry. That was my first time...," Tara explained.

Joli' shook her head and smiled, pressing her hand to the young mother's cheek. "You did great," she joked.

Tara's face went red as she grinned and headed for the door. But the moment it closed behind her, Joli's smile fell.

"You think you're freaked out now...," the Priestess said, turning to find her clothes.

### CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

After much deliberation, Sasha and Catee had agreed upon a game of 'Chutes and Ladders'. The two were piled in the floor atop large pillows as they played.

"Is her your mommy?" Catee asked unexpectedly.

Sasha grinned and tried to figure out where the question came from. "Who?"

"Dat lady who got Mommy," she replied.

"Joli'? No, my mother is downstairs. Her name is Linnea. I'll introduce you to her later," she explained.

"Okay," Catee said, rolling the dice and moving her piece.

"Where your daddy?" she asked.

Sasha's nose upturned. "I don't know. He works all the time."

"Him builds houses?" Catee inquired.

"No Catee," Sasha said, not enjoying talking about a man she hated, "he's in banking."

"Him builds banks?"

Sasha sighed. "No Catee. I don't really like talking about my father," she explained. She took her turn and hit a 'chute', sending her piece back to the beginning. "Ah, no!" she giggled.

Catee patted the young sorceress on the shoulder consolingly. "I'm sorry you had to go down."

"It's okay," Sasha said with a smile. "It's just a game."

Catee grew distant for a moment as she recalled playing the game with Ethan. He almost always wound up 'in the chute', though she didn't know he did it on purpose. "My daddy has to slide down a lot," she said, grinning. "I miss him. I'll be happy when him gets here."

Sasha's brow drew in as Catee quickly covered her mouth.

"Oops," she said, rising to her knees.

"Who told you that your father was coming here?" Sasha demanded.

"I not know," Catee shrugged.

"You don't know who told you?" Sasha questioned, halting the game for the moment as she tried to dig deeper.

Catee lifted her game piece before Sasha's eyes. "Dis one is blue," she said, hoping to change the subject.

Sasha sat up and put her hands on Catee's shoulders. "Who told you that your daddy is coming here?" she asked again, her eyes serious and searching.

"It's a secret," Catee relented. "My mommy said not to tell."

Sasha's jaw squared as the door to the suite opened and Tara made her way into the room. Finding Sasha and Catee on the floor, she made her way to them.

"You two having fun?" she asked, kneeling before her daughter.

Sasha sat up straight and leaned back a bit, as though Tara's proximity offended her.

"We're playing Chutes and Ladders," Catee explained, standing to give her mother a hug.

As Catee dangled from her neck she turned to look to Sasha. "She and her dad play that all the time," Tara explained, causing a fake smile to part Sasha's lips.

"Yes, she's done nothing but talk about him," Sasha said, as she stood. "I'd better go get ready for dinner."

The quickness of Sasha's tone caused Tara to cast a wary eye at her. "What did she say about him?" Tara asked nervously.

"That he builds things," she replied. "That he was coming here." Sasha's statement sounded more like an accusation and she searched the young mother for any sign of deceit.

"Oh," Tara chuckled, "we told her that he'd be coming soon."

"That's all?"

Tara nodded. "Well, she had a dream about it but..."

"Did you tell the Great Mo... Claudia? Or Joli' about her dream?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"It was just a dream," Tara shrugged, shaking her head.

"You should have told someone sooner. I'll go tell them now," Sasha hurried.

Tara's brow drew down. She'd never known Catee to be psychic. "Okay," Tara nodded.

"Thanks for...," she began as the door closed.

"Hers gotta hurry," Catee said. "Late for daycare."

Tara laughed and lowered to the floor, her daughter in her lap.

### CHAPTER FIFTY

Ethan and Jahleel trudged through an open field toward the back roads surrounding the factory. The falling of the sun had brought with it a bitter wind, driving a drizzling snow that stung their cheeks.

Ethan's strength waned with each step. Jahleel knew it was because he had yet to taste human blood though he never spoke it aloud. Instead he tucked himself beneath Ethan's shoulder. With a cough, Ethan stopped their forward motion as his feet fumbled beneath him and he crashed to all fours.

Jahleel's heart jumped as he watched Ethan belch up the sheep's blood he'd consumed. Had Ethan the stomach to eat from one of the living sheep, the essence may have been enough to sate him; at least for a while. But 'dead blood' was more a bane to the blood-feeders than it was a boon.

The natural hatred of predator for prey brought the young knight's teeth together in a snarl. He'd questioned himself since they left the factory, clinging to the hope that the Argent Child could somehow fix this. He tested the father, speaking in a tongue he knew would offend, had the evil taken hold.

"Thairda Adha'el," he said.

Ethan lifted hollow, sick eyes to him, his chin soaked in fresh, spit-bubbled gore that ran atop the flecks of dried blood beneath it. His lip raised in a sneer.

"Fight it Ethan! Fight it or by GOD I'll send you to Judgment right now!" Jahleel ripped his sword from his pack once more and let it hang ominously at his side.

Ethan's head dropped again. A growl rumbled through the young father, twisted pain and sorrow. The undulating mews had Jahleel on the balls of his feet as Ethan slapped one palm to the ground, then the other and raked soil and snow into his fists. Then suddenly he thrust his head back and lifted his body so that he was sitting on his legs. Lifting his face to the sky he cried out.

"Help me! Please help me! Please let me save my family!" His voice was trembling with anger as he spoke to God himself, pleading, demanding that He offer Ethan one reprieve.

Jahleel leapt back as Ethan finished his prayer and threw his fists full of dirt into the wind. His grip on the hilt of the sword loosened and he raised his own face to the sky. Softly he finished Ethan's prayer.

"Ahmlad."

Whether by Divine Providence or sheer will, Ethan's breathing began to calm. With an aching in his joints and his daughter's smiling face in his mind, slowly he stood. His face was hard as he looked to Jahleel, then down to the Vigilant's sword. Jahleel followed his glance then the two stared at each other once more. Neither spoke.

The sound of a farm truck, headlights cutting through the snow closed a gap between itself and them; winding down a paved road nearby. It stopped, idling, as though it were waiting. Jahleel tapped his chin. Ethan wiped furiously at his own.

A fogged window rolled downward. Jahleel stepped to it, trying to fill the view and hide Ethan's frightening visage. An old woman in a floral print dress and heavy coat looked to the knight, then warily past him to Ethan. In the driver's seat a fat older man sat, dressed in a thick wool coat. An Austrian Trenkar hid much of the old fellow's baldness as he looked on with apprehension.

"Weiden am See?" Jahleel asked.

"Ja," the old woman said softly, nodding toward the truck's beed.

"Danke."

He took Ethan by the arm and escorted him to the back of the truck. Ethan laughed when he looked inside. Jahleel boosted the father up and then followed, sitting down among the recently purchased sheep. Happy for their warmth, the knight gave the cab a tap and it lurched forward.

Ethan cradled his stomach and tried not to shiver. The young father canted his head toward one of the sheep. "I think I know that one," he said, a tired grin lifting the corner of his mouth.

Jahleel couldn't fight off the chuckle that spilled from his throat.

### CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Sasha stood before Joli' who had placed her head in her hands, elbows resting atop her desk. The young sorceress looked distressed and even a bit scorned as she entwined her fingers before her and awaited a response to the news she'd imparted. She'd been waiting for some time as, rather than addressing the girl, Joli' immediately picked up the phone and made a call... then another before burying her face in her hands. Finally she lifted her eyes to Sasha and spoke.

"Thank you for telling me this Sasha. I know how important the gathering is, but I need for you to stay with the child tonight."

Sasha frowned as she nodded, her eyes a little frightened. "Will everything be all right Priestess?"

Joli' didn't answer, dismissing her with a wave. "Do as I say."

Sasha nodded politely and hurried out of the door. She bowed deeply as she passed the Great Mother. Though the priestess acknowledged the entrance of her mistress, she decided to forego the pomp of a bow.

"What's distressing you?" Claudia asked. "I sense something is... amiss?"

Joli' sighed and looked away, knowing that Claudia had already 'seen' what was wrong. "The child told Sasha that her father was coming here. I called Paris and...," she paused as disappointment built to shame.

Claudia finished the statement. "Adele' is dead and the Vigilant along with the girl's father are on their way here."

Joli' shook her head. "No, Adele is nearly dead, comatose. The father and the knight are... I'm not sure."

Claudia's eyes lifted to the ceiling in contemplation. "Where do Tara's loyalties lie?"

"With us, I believe. She thinks that you accepted her."

"And that fact proves she has no hope of joining us."

"She's a simple mother, trusting. This world of ours will take time to make her understand. We've done it before."

Claudia smirked. "Still lusting are we Joli'? Was she that good?"

"Mother she...," Joli' began.

"When her husband arrives, will she choose him or us?" Claudia interrupted.

"They've only just been separated, mistress. She needs time to..."

"Time she does not have," Claudia said. "A sorceress she could never be, but she'll make a fine tribute."

"Mother no!" Joli' protested, standing.

Claudia lifted black eyes to her High Priestess. Flames of rage burned behind them. Realizing her error, Joli' slunk back into her chair.

"I'm sorry mother. I am fond of her. It's easy to manipulate men to our ends, but another woman..."

Claudia's anger subsided, replaced with empathy. "And if she knew the truth? Do you suppose she'd be rolling around the spa with you if she knew that you were born of wealth? That you are nothing like her? Thank you wed yourself to dragons? Do you suppose she even knows what a dragon truly is?"

Joli' sat silently, listening.

"If we gave her the time she needed to forget him, then we'd gain only a lovely dullard, incapable of achieving anything greater than spending my money. And one who'd interfere with the growth of the Dawn Child," Claudia said. "Can she be a sorceress, Joli'?"

The priestess knew the answer but didn't want to give it. After a long pause she spoke. "You know that she can't, Great Mother," Joli' admitted.

"Then she has but one use. I've no interest in investing time in a part-time daycare worker from Chicago. We already possess what we want from her."

Joli' didn't answer for a long time. "What if the child rebels, mother?"

"Her pain will drive her into my comforting arms," Claudia said coldly. "She isn't safe here. You know what must be done." With that, Claudia turned to go.

"Yes Great Mother," Joli' whispered.

### CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Even with the sheep's bodies surrounding him in a blanket of living wool, Ethan was shivering. His body ached as though his joints were filled with shattered glass and every bump brought misery. The bitter cold stiffened him, biting into his skin. Though he closed his eyes, praying for sleep to come, worry kept him awake.

Even Jahleel had begun to succumb to the cold, shivering as he kept watch. He was standing, leaning over the cab of the truck. Once they were in the city center, he thumped on the roof but the truck didn't stop. He knocked again, but still they continued. Jahleel leaned over to rap against the passenger window to find that the old woman had already rolled it down.

"Warten Sie mal," she said.

Ethan looked to Jahleel as he hunkered down amid the sheep. "Where are we?" he asked, his lips numb.

"Weiden am See," Jahleel said.

Ethan tried to sit up.

"Sit tight," Jahleel instructed.

Soon asphalt gave way to a gravel road and a short time later they pulled into the tree-lined barnyard of a rustic Austrian Farm. Ethan moaned as the truck shuddered to a stop.

Jahleel stood and moved to the edge of the truck. "Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," Ethan insisted, each movement a burning pain. Somehow he managed to make it to the back of the truck. Before he attempted to exit, the old woman took Jahleel's attention. Ethan was glad, so that the knight wouldn't witness the difficulty with which, he made the climb.

"Waraum.... hier?" Jahleel questioned.

"Wachsam, ja?" she asked. Jahleel shrugged, not understanding. The old woman pointed to his eyes. "Wachsam?" she asked. "Ritter?"

Out of instinct the knight averted his eyes. He'd been in darkness long enough for them to begin to glow. "Nein," he insisted, but the old woman simply shook her head.

"Nein. Kommen," she urged, waving her hand. Jahleel turned to Ethan and then they began to follow her toward the house.

The farmhouse was picturesque though imperfect; like something from a painting with its white washed stonewalls and timbered roof. The home was old and rugged, weathered to a great degree but charming and cozy. The old woman paused just inside the door, in a small closet sized room that was more of a hallway into the kitchen. Pulling a picture from the wall, she turned to Jahleel and raised it before him.

The picture was a group photo, servants standing on a manicured lawn before a great old mansion. The old woman's fingers marked her place in the photo, dressed in a maid's uniform. Jahleel shook his head as he looked the photograph over and then his eyes grew wide.

"Schwestershaft... Sponsas Draco," the old woman said softly.

"You... work here?" he asked, his body making a sweeping motion as he pointed to her and then to the photo.

She nodded.

His glance shifted to Ethan a moment before the young father stumbled sideways, his legs quivering. Quickly the knight extended a hand to keep him from falling over.

"m'fine," Ethan muttered.

Jahleel's lips thinned as his teeth gritted. He knew what had to happen. "You will be," he said.

Quickly he took Ethan's arm and placed it over his shoulder as he set off marching across the barnyard. The two met the old farmer on his way into the house but didn't speak.

"Where are we going?" Ethan asked, staggering even with Jahleel's aid.

The Vigilant didn't answer; instead he simply bounded toward the barn, dragging Ethan past the emptied sheep truck and through the door. The shadows of the barn clung heavy along its walls, combated only by the dim light of an oil lamp. The sheep shifted in their pens as the pair entered and headed toward them.

He hadn't intended to, but in his frustration, Jahleel shoved Ethan toward the sheep pens. Weakened, the young father stumbled and fell to the ground.

"What the fuck man?" Ethan complained. But before he could push himself from the ground, a sound met his ears. It was the sound of heartbeats, of blood flowing through healthy veins.

"The blood will sate you... for awhile. Get your strength back Ethan. We have work to do."

Ethan shook his head as he tried to stand, rising halfway before falling back to the ground. "No... no way... I am NOT a monster... I'm NOT!"

Jahleel lowered his eyes in pity. "Yes you are Ethan. Do what you must."

Ethan was near tears but he hadn't the strength to stand let alone argue. His head hung in shame.

"Do it for your family," Jahleel added softly. The knight turned on his heel and marched through the barn doors, closing them behind him. Then he leaned against them and waited. A moment of quiet was broken by the bleat of a frightened sheep and Jahleel winced. "Please. Please let her be able to fix him," he said.

### CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Tara stood before a full length mirror, baffled by the new _dress_ Joli' had promised her. It wasn't a dress at all, but a robe of the finest black silk. It was magnificently crafted and doubtless enormously expensive, but it was still just a robe. Confused, she put it on.

Once stretched upon her lithe form Tara truly became enamored with the it. Like many women, she'd always been body conscious but this robe, sinful in look, hid every 'flaw' and accentuated every asset, as though it were a second skin, designed to be upon her form exclusively.

Her reflection in the mirror was at once frightening and enthralling as she let her blue eyes inch over it. A split to nearly her naval revealed a plunging v-shape filled only with her skin, a wide hood rested delicately at her back. Given the color and raciness, Tara figured the robe would transform her into 'Elvira' or perhaps 'Mortitia Adams' but it wasn't like that at all. Instead she was quite simply stunning, and for a moment she wondered what Ethan would do if he caught a glimpse of her in it. A knock at her door kept her from entertaining that thought for long.

Catee was the first to respond to the knock, bolting across the floor to grab the knob. Tara followed closely behind. By the time she reached the threshold, Catee had opened the door wide, its frame adorned with the enrapturing visage of a white enrobed Joli'. Sasha was by her side still in street clothes and carrying a dinner tray.

Tara couldn't speak as she looked Joli' up and down and at that moment her confidence sank a bit. While Tara was no less stunning than the tall, raven-haired beauty before her, in her own mind she was repulsive by comparison. She gulped just a bit as Sasha, speaking to Catee, broke the quiet.

"Hey Catee! I brought you some dinner! Do you want to play with me again?"

Catee smiled and nodded, the smell of chicken filling her hungry nose. "Uh-huh... what did you brought me?"

"Let's go see," Sasha said, moving into the room to set the tray upon a coffee table.

"You are absolutely stunning Tara," Joli' said, stepping forward to brush her hand down the young mother's cheek.

"Not as beautiful as you," she blushed.

"You're _too sweet_ Tara." She rested her hand at Tara's shoulder, toying with a wayward curl. But she could see the reluctance in the young mother's face. "You'll be fine," Joli' reassured. "Ready to go?"

"I _think_ so," Tara answered sheepishly. She watched as Catee ate chicken fingers, Sasha by her side. "Hang on," she said, breaking from Joli's touch and moving to her daughter. She lowered to her knees and swooped the little one into a hug. "I love you Catee."

"I love you too Mommy," she answered.

"You be good for Sasha. I'll be back in just a little while."

Catee turned to her mother with a crinkle in her brow.

"Don't get wet Mommy."

Tara looked to her, confused. But with Sasha and Joli' looking on, she laughed it off. "Okay baby," she said and then stood and headed for the door.

Tara and Joli' made their way down the surprisingly quiet halls.

"Where is everyone?" Tara asked, noting the unusual calm.

"Waiting for you," Joli' responded rather dryly, keeping her eyes forward down the hall.

The response placed a knot in Tara's stomach. "For me? But... Catee's the special one right?"

"No Tara... tonight you are the honoree. Tonight is special for you."

Tara's feet planted forcing Joli' to pause and look at her. "I don't want to be special. I just want to..."

Joli' shook her head, her face drained of emotion. "All of us are special. Tonight you are honored and initiated. It's the way we do things here."

The young mother didn't answer, her eyes moving from Joli's face to the painting that hung just over her shoulder. It was the one she'd noted earlier, the only painting of a man in the place that she'd seen. 'Philip the Fair' Sasha had named it. Joli's eyes followed Tara's gaze.

"Why is _that_ here?" Tara asked again, shaking her head softly.

"Look at it closely," Joli instructed.

Stepping past her so that she could get a closer look, Tara began scanning the painting. The first thing that struck her was the king's eyes. They were strangely familiar. Suddenly she realized why. They were Claudia's eyes. She gasped lightly as she put her hand to her mouth. Then as she continued to search the painting, she found something else; atop Philip's chest there lay a crimson cross pattee', the symbol of the Templars. The cross was upon its side as though it were purposefully disrespected.

For a moment Tara was back in her kitchen. Asa wore a cross like this. It looked so much like the ones those motorcycle enthusiasts' wear that she dismissed it. But now it had new meaning. "This is Claudia isn't it?"

Joli' politely grinned and nodded. "Claudia tried to destroy the Templars many years ago. The men she controlled let her down so often that she decided that she must be the one to command the deed so she killed the King of France and took his place." Joli's voice was rushed and droning, as though she were telling Tara all of this and knowing it didn't really matter anymore; speaking with bother in her tone more than passion.

Tara stepped back. "She killed him?" Tara marveled, her face filling with new worry as the knot in her stomach tightened.

Joli rolled her eyes. "War isn't fought without casualties Tara. Can we please go? Everyone is waiting." Tara began shaking her head.

"I... I don't..."

Joli' wasn't willing to coddle her anymore. With a timbre of frustration in her voice, she stepped to Tara. "Listen to me. I don't know if you've figured this out yet or not, but this is not a game. I've protected you so far, but there are those here that are frightened just to have you and your daughter so close to them." She paused, forcing herself to calm. "This is a war Tara. I'm trying to keep Catee safe. Trust me."

"And me?" Tara asked. She'd never seen this side of Joli' before.

Joli' looked into her eyes and then she grinned and offered a curt nod. Then she placed her hand at the small of Tara's back and guided her down the hall. The doors to the Chantry were wide open, voices and laughter spilling from them when they arrived. Tara looked in on the gathering nervously. There were Hollywood stars and corporate magnates, wealthy widows and government officials from the four-corners of the globe for this special night, in celebration of the Great Mother.

As the two entered the room, it erupted with cheers and clapping; smiling faces clad in similar dress save for the color: gray charcoal dominated the scheme of the jovial bunch with a smattering of colors along the spectrum from black to white.

"Hi! Welcome!"

Tara turned to find a young woman in a charcoal robe standing before her. She was offering a glass of champagne. "Thank you," Tara said, taking the glass.

"Excuse me," Joli' said, not waiting for a response as she walked away. Before Tara could protest, the young woman spoke again.

"It's really exciting to have you here. Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," Tara nodded.

"I'm Samantha."

"Tara," she replied, her eyes scanning the crowd once more, "nice to meet you."

"You look a little overwhelmed?" Samantha chuckled.

"Yeah. I'm a little confused I guess? Why is everyone wearing the same... _thing_...?"

Samantha smiled thoughtfully. "When you are an initiate you wear black to symbolize that you are still in the dark. Other colors symbolize gaining 'vision' and white..."

Tara completed the thought. "White means you have _seen the light_!" Tara chuckled, her best impression of a TV preacher. Samantha frowned.

"Is that funny to you?" she asked, putting the young mother on the spot.

"Oh, I'm sorry, no, not at all," Tara apologized.

"I see why you're here now," she muttered as she turned to walk away.

### CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Tears streamed down Ethan's face as he sat with a lamb hugged to his lap. Blood decorated his chin and a stream stained the lily-white wool upon the lamb's neck. Pain filled his heart, sadness for himself, but also in a deep yearning for this lamb to be his daughter, the wood of the pen that he leaned against, his wife's arms to comfort him. Days ago, quite literally days, he was whistling at passing girls with the boys on the crew; worrying about where lunch was coming from and wondering how long he could stay at the bar after work before Tara started looking for him. Now he was... _a monster_.

The world around him was slowly becoming surreal, darkness becoming lighter; smells becoming stronger, and sounds becoming louder. He'd heard Jahleel's booted feet crunching across the snow from the moment he exited the house. The creaking of the barn door magnified a beam of light that fell across him and Ethan lifted his hand to cast shadow over his eyes. Jahleel held his hand upon his sword, peering at Ethan with wary eyes and hard features.

"Ethan?" he questioned.

But Ethan read so much more in the call. Jahleel didn't want only his attention. He wanted to know that the young father hadn't transformed completely into a beast.

"Yeah, Jahleel?" he responded with hurry in his voice, urgency to prove that he was still himself. He could see the tension leave his Vigilant friend's body.

"It's time to go."

As Ethan stood, the little lamb in his arms stumbled away. Jahleel canted his head, surprised. Ethan followed the knight's gaze and shrugged.

"I couldn't kill it."

Jahleel smiled, impressed by the young father's control over a hunger that was all-consuming. Hope returned to his heart.

"The chantry house is within walking distance. Are you sure you have enough strength? Animal blood won't sustain you for long."

Ethan nodded as he tested his joints. The pain had gone. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Jahleel doubted. Ethan recognized the knight's apprehension. "Whether I can or not... I don't have a choice," the young father said bluntly. "I need to know Jahleel," Ethan added, "if I don't...," he paused, considering the worst case, "...if I don't make it, promise me you'll save them."

Jahleel looked into Ethan's red-tinged eyes. He'd never sworn an oath to any creature that had eyes like his, save for promising to end their existence. "By my blood and my blade," Jahleel vowed.

Ethan nodded as the two left the barn.

### CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Catee and Sasha were playing a game of Dora the Explorer when two men entered the suite. Sasha stood to greet them; each dressed in thick parkas emblazoned with the word 'SECURITY' in yellow across the backs. They were members of a secret 'goon squad' that the Chantry called upon rarely.

"You are here to transport the girl?"

Each man nodded joylessly as they looked to Catee.

Sasha padded to the little one and knelt by her side. "Catee my dear one? We have to go on a trip for a little while okay?" Her words dripped with sugar.

"Why?"

"Because it's not safe here right now," Sasha explained.

Catee seemed skeptical. "My daddy be here soon. Him needs me," she informed Sasha, turning back to her game.

"Oh... we'll be back in time for your daddy," she said resorting to lies in hopes that she'd sway the little girl.

"No... we wait for Daddy," Catee insisted. "It can be your turn."

Sasha had a fair amount of experience with children, her own sister barely older than Catee. And so she decided she'd sweeten the pot. "Are you sure? These men have a police car with lights on it. They want to take us for ice cream. We could get some for your daddy."

Catee cast a wary glance at the young sorceress. "Okay, but not long," she said, rising to her feet.

Sasha smiled as the little girl took her hand and guided her to the door.

***

Tara stood in the gathering of women feeling utterly alone when the doors to the chantry were closed with a heavy thud. The room grew silent and the lights began to dim. Joli's voice lifted above the murmurs as she approached the sacrificial pool, standing at its edge.

"Sisters," she spoke, "the time has come to welcome the Great Mother."

Tara watched as smiles spread across the roomful of faces. All eyes found Joli' as she removed her robes and waded into the pool.

"Call with me sisters," she instructed, her back to the gathering as each woman took to her knees in prostration.

Tara looked on warily, unsure what to do. Finally she lowered to her knees as well as the song began.

"Great Mother, Dragon's Bride I call to thee. By thy loving-kindness, by thy gentle mercy, by thy unending might; I open to thee the gates of my body and soul, beckoning thee, come for the hour is late and the watchmen sleep."

The pool began to roil. Tara's eyes widened with wonderment as the Great Mother Claudia began to emerge from its depths. This time there was no obfuscation; she was as Tara had seen her, beautiful, youthful and vibrant. She stood upon the surface of the water and smiled down upon her 'children'.

"Blessings upon thee mistresses of creation," she greeted, her voice carrying with an odd echo, adding thickness to the sound. She spread her arms wide as though offering a hug.

Tara's head twisted around the room as the white-robed women - seven of them counting Joli' - arose and moved to the Great Mother's side and then returned to their positions of fealty.

"Is there a sister here willing to accept our gifts? Is there one among us who will give of herself that the rest may see?"

"There is one," Joli' said.

"Bring her to me," Claudia answered, watching as Joli' backed from the pool and the other Priestesses arose. Solemnly they stepped toward Tara.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...," Tara muttered under her breath, lowering her head for the first time as the entourage approached.

Joli' knelt before her and took Tara's chin in her fingertips, gazing into her eyes. The other Priestesses formed a circle around the pair as Joli' guided Tara to stand.

"You... will you give your _all_ to your sisters that you may be among them?"

Tara's eyes flitted around her as she froze in place. She hadn't a clue what to say and she was scared to death, chewing nervously at her upper lip as she looked into Joli's eyes. Finally she nodded, not because she agreed but because she lacked another answer.

Pity filled Joli's eyes as she guided Tara to her feet and lead the procession back to the edge of the pool.

Tara stood before Claudia, trying not to tremble. "Show me her beauty," Claudia commanded.

With the command one of the Priestesses lifted a gnarly dagger, ornate and bejeweled in silver and diamonds.

Tara looked on wide-eyed, and then instinct made her take a half-step back. Joli' took her by the hand and leaned in. "Be still. It's fine," she whispered.

The Priestess with the dagger was a lovely Asian woman. She stood before Tara and admired her for a moment. Then she stepped forward and pressed a dry kiss to the young mother's lips. As their mouths met, the Priestess slipped the dagger beneath the shoulder of her robe and cut it away.

Tara jumped as the cold steel slipped across her skin.

"I am beauty," the Priestess proclaimed before passing the dagger to the next woman.

In succession each priestess made their way to Tara, one by one offering a kiss and each slicing away at her robes with a different proclamation:

"I am wisdom."

"I am knowledge."

"I am love."

"I am life."

"I am strength."

With one final cut, Tara's robes fell into a pool at her ankles.

Joli' took the dagger and then stepped forward, tugging Tara's arm, guiding her into the pool. The young mother's heart was pounding in her chest. _Don't get wet mommy_.

Her daughter's words rang in her mind, resounding off the walls of her psyche as the sound of a trumpet in a great hall. Tara looked to the pool, holding her ground, then to Joli' who continued to tug at her hand. Her eyes found that dagger and then she looked down her own nude form. "There's nothing left to cut," she pointed out.

Joli' stepped from the pool and looked to her as the crowd began to softly chant in a language Tara didn't know. The young mother's head snapped around to the sound. "What are they saying?" she asked.

"Unworthy," Joli' explained. "Come with me Tara. We're almost through."

Tara squeezed her eyes shut and steadied herself. Then she opened them and lowered a foot into the pool. Jolie guided her until they were both waist deep in the warm water and then the Priestess stepped forward and wrapped her free hand around the young mother, pressing into her lower back. She leaned in and pressed a tender kiss - hers deeper than the others - to Tara's lips. She guided the young mother's chin to her shoulder, hugging her. Tara could feel the dagger pressed between them.

"You are tribute," Joli pronounced. "I am death."

Tara felt the razor tip of that dagger press just below her sternum, biting into her skin. She tried to fight, pushing away but it was too late. She felt the length of the dagger push beneath her ribcage, slicing through her flesh with ease until she felt her heart seize into a painful knot.

Joli' pressed her lips to Tara's ear. "I'm sorry Tara. Catee will be well cared for."

The young mother looked to her, betrayal in her eyes. Then she looked to the dagger's hilt buried inside her covered in her own blood and she started to convulse.

With a surge of adrenaline she shoved Joli away and thrust her body toward the exit of the pool, but her strength was pouring from her as the blood flowed down the center of her belly. She fell and reached out toward the doors.

"Catee!" she screamed as darkness overcame her.

***

Sasha guided Catee down the long, darkened hallways of the chantry house. They were nearing the front entrance when Catee broke away with a howl.

"MOMMY!" she cried, running down the corridor, her eyes half-blinded with tears.

Sasha's looked on in horror as the child moved straight for the chantry doors. "GET HER!" she screamed to the two guards by her side.

But before they could catch up, Catee reached those doors. Her fists balled, she began to try to beat them down. "AMTHA!" she screamed. "CAROLI FERUN AMTHA!"

Sasha and the men had nearly reached her when shots rang out from the entrance. The trio wheeled around and froze.

"DADDY!" Catee screamed, dashing toward the exit as she split between one of the guard's legs.

"STOP HER!" Sasha shouted.

### CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Tara felt no pain. She felt lighter than air. And aside from heaviness in her heart anchoring her, she felt as though she might fly away. Her eyes fluttered open.

Beneath her, she watched as a lifeless body fell to the pool; its blood soiling Joli's nude form as she stood in that red swirled basin with the instrument of death still quivering in her hand. Around the room all had deepened their prostration as the sacrifice began floating. In horror Tara realized that it was she.

The young mother was filled with betrayal and despair as she looked down on the congregation of the wicked when suddenly she realized; Claudia was staring right back at her, a wicked smile adorning her face.

Though the eyes of the spirit everything looked different. The room was awash in a sickly black glow. These women, all gorgeous in their own right, were muddled and bilious, covered in bruises from head to toe. And Claudia - she was a true horror.

Though the sorceresses were marred, they were still human. Claudia was a bent, twisted creature crowned with ram's horns. Her eyes were tri-colored, blue in their centers, then a ring of red, then black. Her legs were those of a goat and her teeth were jagged and feral.

But even though the Great Mother was a horror, Tara felt no fear of her. Instead her eyes were drawn to that pool. The waters churned with blood. Something was coming...

As Claudia had emerged from the waters; something new and far more dreadful neared the surface. Tara's gaze affixed on the swirling as two eyes peered out of it, glowing sickly yellow and green. But before the piercing stare could draw her in, a light took her attention and the sound of a sweet but angry little voice filled the room like thunder.

"MOMMY!" Her daughter cried.

Tara didn't know that she wasn't supposed to understand the language that her daughter had spoken.

Beyond the black door a glow pierced through. Tears slipped down Tara's face for she knew that, that light was the light of her daughter's own soul, pristine and perfect. It shown beyond the doors and through the spirit ward as though it was a bonfire trying to be contained by rice paper. As Tara saw it, she moved to it.

"PRAY SISTERS! STRENGTHEN THE WARDS! THE DRAGONS MUST BE FED!" Claudia screamed, watching as Tara moved to escape.

Tara reached out to press her hands to the door that separated her from her little girl but the spirit wards hissed with power the closer she got to them. Catee cried out again.

"COME WITH ME MOMMY!" Came the thundering voice of a tiny girl as she pounded her fists. In this world a heavy oak door was completely unharmed by the wrath of a delicate child's hand. In the world that Tara inhabited, a ward shattered to dust.

"NO!" Claudia screamed as Tara passed beyond the door to join her child.

Joli' watched in fright at her Great Mother's distress. She was still standing in the pool and looked on as Claudia nervously stepped to its side. Suddenly the beast of honor broke the water's skin.

Before them an enormous, horned, dragon's head snaked upward. Its neck undulated as it emerged and towered over them. The creature was black, but beneath each of its large, triangular scales, dead blood seeped in a constant trickle. It's eyes flowed around the room as one heavy paw slammed down hard into the marble floor with a crack. It struck with such force that it knocked Joli' to her knees.

"Hail Gourkiel, son of excess, servant of L'Thaelith, Archon of the Blighted Deep: Your wives honor thee!" Claudia pronounced.

But Gourkiel wasn't amused by the lack of spirit-sacrifice in the chamber. It twisted its thick neck toward Claudia and then with reflexes not of this Earth, it captured her head between the razor points of its long, black claws.

"Mha sirgook a'ga. M'ha suk hu trybth," it gurgled in its natural tongue.

I hunger Sidhe. I see no offering.

Joli' trembled as she looked to the wyrm before her, so close as to feel the coldness of the monster's body against her nude flesh. She scrambled to fill her fists with locks of Tara's hair and lifted the corpse to the top of the water.

"B... but, the sacrifice is here my husband, my love. She is just behind you," Claudia stammered, her mouth unable to replicate the monster's language.

The dragon wheeled around to find Joli', she lifting Tara's body a bit as proof.

"Do you see?" Claudia continued, drawing Gourkiel's attention once more. "Is she not acceptable to you?"

"S'g trybth mha I ka'a?" The serpent asked, giving Claudia's head a squeeze.

You offer me one of so important to you?

Joli's brow drew down as she listened. She didn't know the Dragon's tongue. It was kept for only the Great Mother to discern. But her mistress' nervous words made her wary. "To honor your greatness bridegroom," Claudia stammered, "I give you one of my strongest and most beloved."

Joli' gasped. She released Tara's body and began backing out of the pool, her head shaking in quick jerks. "Great Mother?" Joli' muttered, betrayal in her voice. "Claudia?"

All looked on in horror as Gourkiel released Claudia's head and turned to face Joli' fully.

"Mha N'kra," the dragon answered, rising ominously over the Priestess.

I accept.

Joli' turned to run but she was no match for the wyrm's speed. At once its neck stretched and its maw snapped over her. As quickly as it struck it withdrew, dragging her flailing legs into the pool. As it pulled her under the water began to roil and shriek.

### CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

"No baby! This way!" Tara shouted.

But the little girl was too afraid to listen. She ran as fast as she could, throwing herself around corners, heavy steps closing behind her. And though the spirit of her mother called to her trying to guide her, she paid the voice no heed. Her chest heaving and her heart beating like a drum, she made a turn only to dash into a dead end. Catee turned to face her captors and gasped as they thundered into sight.

"Catee, c'mon sweetie... It's me. It's Sasha," the young sorceress tried to coo, out of breath.

The little girl's chin began to quiver, stepping backwards with each step Sasha took forward. Tara looked on helplessly, a hand pressed to her lips.

"I'm trying to help you Catee. I want to protect you."

Catee balled her tiny fists. "I WANT MY DADDY!" she stomped.

Tara's motherly instincts took over and she began to speak. "Daddy's coming baby," She said consolingly, though she didn't know that at all. "It's gonna be okay."

"Where is he Mommy? I'm scared!" Catee asked, her head twisting, looking for her mother.

Shock filled Tara's face as she realized her daughter could hear her. "He's coming baby. He'll be here soon."

"Wotcha. Been lookin' for you," Jahleel announced from behind them.

Everyone spun to the voice. The guards drew their guns. Sasha hid behind them. The knight casually strolled toward them, blade sheathed, and gave Catee a wink.

"You blokes got any family?" he asked as he closed the distance.

The two guards lifted tactical shotguns and squared them on the Vigilant.

"Cuz if you've got family, I'll let ya live," he explained, nearing ever closer.

"KILL HIM!" Sasha screamed, slapping both men in the back as she yelled.

Jahleel groused as she yelled. He didn't need gunfire giving away their location. And he wasn't in the mood to play nice. Before each man could begin to squeeze their triggers, he was upon them. A flurry of masterful strikes disarmed them and delivered them to a painful sleep. With a heavy thud both men fell to the floor.

"Aww buttercup, you ain't glad to see me again?" he asked, stalking toward Sasha.

She turned quickly, planning to use Catee as a shield. But rather than a little girl, she found a very angry father.

Ethan snatched her into his arms, spun her so that her back was to his chest, and filled a fist with her hair. It felt like an instinctual motion to him, though he'd never done it before. It caused Sasha's neck to wrench painfully to one side. The young sorceress cried out in fear and groaned in pain, but Ethan didn't hear the sound of her complaint. All his freshly gifted ears could hear was the sound of blood rushing through her jugular.

"Ethan no!" Jahleel shouted.

The young father's eyes fluttered and then shot wide, burning and blood colored. He felt something punch through his gums and felt razor tips in his mouth. The sound of blood pulsing through Sasha's neck seemed to call to him as a siren's song.

Jahleel inched forward, shaking his head.

"If you do this it's done. It's sealed," the Knight pleaded. But it was clear that his words fell upon deaf ears.

Ethan had fought this burgeoning instinct for the entire journey and now he felt like a man who'd held his breath too long.

"No Daddy," Catee said, stepping to her father's side.

Ethan looked to her and his eyes began to soften. But the hunger stiffened him and he tightened his grip on the sorceress.

"I can't fight anymore," he said, his voice muffled behind new teeth.

Jahleel reached for his sword.

Catee reached for her father's hand. His flesh burned to her touch.

Ethan yanked back and grunted. Then slowly he lifted his hand before his face. Rage built in his blood-soaked eyes; anger for this fate and he clenched that fist. Then suddenly he cast Sasha aside like a ragdoll.

She met the wall with a thud and fell to the floor.

Ethan collapsed to his knees as Catee rushed into him. But as she threw her arms around his neck, it burned and he recoiled.

"oh no... oh no Daddy... oh no," she lamented.

Ethan's eyes found the floor in requiem, then he lifted them to his daughter.

"You can fix me later baby," he said hopefully. "We have to find Mommy right now though. Where's Mommy?"

Jahleel's eyes bolted up as he awaited the child's answer, hopes of a reunion with Ethan's wife pushing aside his sadness for the moment.

"Her's here," Catee answered, casting a hand in the direction where Tara's spirit hovered.

Ethan didn't understand. "I know she's here Catee, but where? We have to save her too."

Catee took a breath before looking into her father's eyes, speaking as slowly and clearly as she could.

"Her's here with us Daddy," the little one replied.

"I'll find her Ethan. You have to get Catee out of here," Jahleel said, looking to Sasha as she began to stir.

"You'll need me," the young father insisted.

" _She_ needs you. Take her to safety. The farm. I'll meet you there with Tara."

Ethan frowned. "You're a good man Jahleel. Forgive me for ever doubting that."

"Adthair Brealomn Ethan Moyer."

The two friends nodded to each other and then Ethan turned to his daughter. "There are men outside baby... men that will try to hurt us. I need for you to follow me but if I tell you to stay back, you have to stay back and be very quiet and still okay?"

"You'll protect me Daddy. I know you will," she nodded.

"I promise, I will," he said and then he stood, instinctively reaching for her hand, only to quickly withdraw it.

Jahleel watched them go and then turned to Sasha as she began to groan to life. He slapped her on the cheeks a few times to rouse her fully. "Where is she?" he demanded.

### CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

"She gives of herself willingly!" Claudia pronounced as the gathering became disjointed and whispers kicked up. "It is so that she may serve you, all of you!"

But before the coven could consider the ramifications on what they'd witnessed, the hissing, chaotic pool's water calmed. Slowly a new creature began to emerge.

As Claudia had, the creature arose until its feet stood upon the water. Green eyes speckled with yellow looked upon the Great Mother. Joli's alabaster skin had become utterly black and embossed with jagged scales. At each of her ribs there was a tentacle. Her teeth had become pointed. Aside from a familiar, feminine silhouette and a mane of wet, dark hair, the High Priestess was hardly discernable to her former self. She lifted a hand and pointed an elongated talon at Claudia. "Mha N'kra a'ga. S'g chu blish mha."

I have accepted your offering Sidhe. What is it that you bid of me?

"My lord? Why have you taken this form?" Claudia asked warily.

"Tu s'g chu suk s'g tzeach," it smirked. _That you may look upon your betrayal_.

The Great Mother's head drooped and she averted her gaze. But before she could claim her dark blessing, a thunder pounded against the chantry doors, nearly driving them from their hinges. The old dragon turned to the sound.

"Aegkslicch," it hissed and smirked.

Claudia looked to her _husband_ with a start. Her powers were in manipulation and obfuscation. She nor her sisters could stand against a Vigilant. Her eye twitched as she watched the knight ram into those doors again, starting to buckle. Her dark blessing would have to wait until next year.

"I beseech thee Gourkiel... destroy my enemies!" she said, lament lacing her voice.

One of the sliding doors burst in two pieces and Jahleel stepped into the room. He'd expected a room full of backstabbing occultists. He found instead one of the very beasts his order existed to hunt and kill. Their gazes met, neither afraid, both filled with desire for the other's blood. The dragon gave a curt nod.

"Jha," it said. _Granted._

Jahleel readied his sword. The dragon stepped from the pool to reveal canine-like legs that ended in a razor-talon raptor's foot. It lowered its head, heavy claws clicking across the stones as it began to charge.

A shoulder block sent the knight flying across the room, but he was Taranu and his agility was second to none. Though he hadn't dodged the dragon's attack, he allowed its energy to push him, falling to his back to send it flying with his legs. The dragon crashed hard across the room as the witches cowered.

The moment the dragon was distracted, Jahleel scanned the room. But the women had bunched into tight groups. His eyes set on the dragon, he shouted to her.

"Mrs. Moyer? Tara?" he yelled.

The dragon began to chuckle as it rose to its feet. "Poor, blind knight," it teased. Its words hummed across a mouthful of fangs making them heavy. "There is your Tara." It nodded toward the pool behind him.

Jahleel's brow grew heavy. The dragon wouldn't be laughing if any good had come to Catee's mother and he fought the urge to look to the pool. It took teams of Vigilant to stand against a greater dragon. He dare not give it that opening. And so he stood his ground, the dragon shifting its weight from foot to foot. But it was the knight's turn to charge.

Jahleel lifted his sword into the air as a baseball player might. "Then for her I take your life." Jahleel began to charge when a thrill raced his spine and he heard the young mother call to him.

"Jahleel! Help me!"

He turned his head for a split second. Tara's lifeless body lay face down in the pool. One stood above her, one whose gifts were in manipulation and lies.

Before Jahleel could return to his charge, the dragon was upon him. He felt a powerful thud to the top of his head. It sent him to his knees and for a moment he lost his vision. His sword fell to his side as tendrils began to encase him.

Instinct caused his fingers to fumble for that blade, to grasp it. As fast as a lightning strike, he plunged the tip into the dragon's belly before it took command of his arms and bound them tightly in its coils. But he'd barely broken the monster's skin, a flesh wound.

Jahleel fought against those tentacles trying to free himself as blood gushed down his face and neck. But his strength was quickly waning. The dragon lowered a talon-fingered hand to his head and began to gloat.

"In fealty. Is this not where you belong?" it mocked. The wyrm looked down to the sword, still dangling from its belly. "Is this the best the light can offer? Do you feel foolish knight? Do you hope to win trading lives for flesh wounds?"

Jahleel lifted fluttering eyes to the creature. It hadn't noticed the change in his fight against its crushing coils - that he was twisting so that his sword's pommel would rest against his knee.

"Look my brides! Look upon your master's might!" it declared, turning to the frightened gathering. "Can you not see the futility in their fight? Remember this day!"

As Jahleel loaded the muscles in his leg, the sword wriggled. The dragon looked to him. "Remember it," Jahleel nodded. With his last ounce of strength he kicked upward, driving the sword through the dragon's body. It screeched in pain as that blessed blade pierced the side of its neck and protruded through.

As the dragon began to shake, its grip on Jahleel loosened and he fell to the floor. He lay there, crushed as he began to speak an invocation.

" Ki tho aeris eb aeris." _As you have eaten, be eaten._

"SILENCE HIIIM!!" the dragon bellowed, doubling over in pain.

"Ki tho dorsta, eb dorsta." _As you have burned, burn._

On its knees the creature began screaming in its own tongue, a plea for aid, a curse for the knight.

"Ki tho dahgta, eb dahgta." _As you have slain, be slain._

Suddenly the pool burst into blue flames and the blackness began ripping away from Joli's body, like some disgusting river of filth, it began to flow toward the pool.

"Dadmen, bahnd Glomath, et nolorin tho kerdir na yan ma tho dadmen." _Return unto the blighted deep, and inform your master by whose hand you have returned._

The black filth that flowed from her made a wide path around the fallen knight until he looked as though he were on an island surrounded by an ink-colored sea.

"En nomini patris, et fili, et spiritus sancti," Jahleel said, his eyes growing heavy and dark.

The ooze cried out at the benediction, an unearthly shriek of rage and fear. Finally the river of putrescence began to abate. Jahleel hadn't the strength to lift his face from the cold stone floor.

"Ahmlad. So mote it be," he muttered before finally closing his eyes.

As though he had willed it, the black-soaked pool exploded, shooting a plume of dark water to the ceiling. Once it crashed down all fell silent.

### CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Ethan made his way quickly but quietly down the hallway, hunched like a soldier in a war zone. The skin around his neck glowed with a sunburn glow in the places his blessed little girl had touched.

At the entrance to the building both paused as Ethan glanced around the corner to make sure the way was clear. To his relief, it was.

He crouched before his daughter, catching himself before placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Listen baby... when we get out of here I need for you to stay as close to me as you can. And if anything happens, you keep running okay? If Daddy falls down... or anything... you keep going until you find some sheep in a pen. Can you do that for me?"

Catee nodded softly as she focused on her father's words, then quietly she answered. "Don't worry Daddy. Mommy show me."

Ethan's attention bolted to a sound. Across the way silhouettes of two more 'policemen' rustled. He hunkered down, putting himself between the men and his little girl, watching them make their way by. Once he was satisfied that the way was clear, he stood and looked to Catee.

"Okay baby. Let's go."

The trip across the side yard wasn't that long but it felt like miles for Ethan as he placed Catee in front of him and shadowed her close. Her little legs were moving as swiftly as they could but no amount of speed could have satisfied the knot in Ethan's worried stomach. Though his eyes searched the grounds for safety, his mind focused on Tara, Jahleel, and the nagging, unnatural hunger in his soul.

A few paces from the edge of the estate, a growl brought both Ethan and Tara to a dead stop as a guard dog emerged from the shadows. Catee retreated to her father's legs; careful not to touch. But the young father stood steadfast, anger quickly bubbling up in him as he looked to the slavering beast.

Catee whimpered and circled around the back of her father's legs as the dog stalked forward and the anger in Ethan's heart built to rage as he crouched and prepared to do battle.

Tara watched in dismay. Out of desperation the young mother screamed at the beast. "GET AWAY FROM THEM!" To her surprise, the animal paused, perked its ears and looked to her.

She'd heard stories of animals and their awareness to the spirit world but she'd paid them little heed. Slowly she moved forward, clicking at the saw-toothed animal. Amazingly, it followed her command.

Ethan watched in astonishment as the dog began meandering away. He turned to his daughter. "Good job baby," he quietly celebrated. "Let's go."

### CHAPTER SIXTY

Claudia took the sacrificial dagger into her hands as she stared at the body of the Vigilant.

"He.... he is dead!" she said, though she wasn't sure. "Our husband is victorious!"

Her 'children' continued to cower, frightened and confused. They looked on as the Great Mother made her way cautiously toward the knight's body.

"Hail Gourkiel!" she shouted, her voice shaking.

A few feet away from Jahleel, she paused. Then her eyes filled with horror.

Jahleel's hand balled into a fist and then he slapped it down to the floor, trying to get up.

Claudia quickly dashed to his side and kicked his sword, sending it skidding many feet away. Then she leapt back out of his reach as he looked to her.

"You think I need a sword to kill you?" he sneered.

A thought nearly as frightening had occurred to her. She paced slowly backward as her eyes darted around the room.

"Where is the father?" she asked.

He didn't feel like it, but Jahleel grinned. "With Catee now. Far away from here."

"FIND THE CHILD!" Claudia screamed, barely giving her 'children' the opportunity to process the horror that had occurred before their eyes. Confused, each stood and looked to the other.

Jahleel pushed himself to his feet, an arm clutched across his broken ribcage. Stooped over he began fumbling toward the door.

"THE DAWN CHILD!! FIND HER!" Rage filled the Great Mother's voice as she commanded her confused troops, but none were brave enough to go near the Vigilant. He paused and painfully bent to scoop up his sword.

"HE IS ONE, BROKEN KNIGHT!" Claudia insisted, but nary a 'child' would heed her call.

As Jahleel reached the door he came face-to-face with Sasha. She jumped and pressed her back to the wall as he limped past her.

As soon as Jahleel had passed, Sasha stepped into the chantry. She had watched the proceedings, the betrayal, the defeat of the dragon from the doorway. Her eyes set upon the "Great Mother" as she threw her fit and something inside the young sorceress clicked. She listened quietly as the old witch berated the ones she claimed to love and then she raised her voice.

"No," Sasha shouted, looking to Tara's body in the pool. "No Great Mother. The child is dead."

Claudia froze when she heard the words. An odd calm passed over her as she turned to Sasha.

"What? What do you mean the child is dead?" she replied, a hiss in her words.

"The father did it," she said, shaking her head. "The blood-drinkers must have gotten to him. When he came for her he was fully transformed. And when she found his arms he... couldn't resist."

Claudia cast a doubting eye at the nervous young sorceress.

"You saw this?" she doubted.

Sasha nodded, averting her eyes.

Claudia's face twisted with doubt but also intrigue. She was far too seasoned to fall for the lies of a brash, young girl, but Sasha's courage fascinated her. Had the time she spent with the Dawn Child been so compelling as to have changed the precepts imprinted on Sasha's heart since her birth?

"Sisters?" Claudia said, reclaiming the dignity with which, she usually held herself. "The Vigilant know of this place. Burn it."

With that the Great Mother began walking toward the broken doors. Sasha lowered her head as she passed. A 'white robe' called to her, worried.

"Great Mother?"

Claudia sighed and turned to her congregation.

"My sisters, we have lost a battle today, but it's the war that we shall win. I will see you all in New York come the next winter's eve," she said. "Mourn if you must, but there are other Dawn Children. We will have our day."

With that the Great Mother turned and left.

### CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Ethan and Catee made their way into the farmyard just as a new snow began to fall. As Ethan laid eyes upon the warmth glowing from the little windows in the farmhouse, a sense of peace fell over him, pushing aside the duty that had driven him thus far. Without notice he fell to his hands and knees in the snow as his stomach began to churn. Catee stepped to his head and nearly placed a hand atop his shoulder before catching herself; she didn't want to hurt her daddy again.

"Okay Daddy?" she asked.

Halfway through the sentence lambs blood burst from his mouth and melted an inch or so into the snow before him. As Jahleel had warned, the animal blood hadn't been able to sustain him for long. Ethan groaned in pain as he slapped a hand across his stomach and tears of blood streamed down from his eyes. Quickly he sat up, facing his daughter and shook his head.

"No Catee, I'm not all right. But I'm gonna try to hang on baby. I'm gonna try to stay with you until Mommy is here okay?"

Catee's brow deepened as sorrow filled her face. "Mommy's here Daddy."

But Ethan couldn't understand. Perhaps his mind wouldn't allow him to let the truth behind Catee's explanation slip down to break his heart. Perhaps he simply wasn't ready to hear that he'd failed his wife completely; that his last words to her were the most vicious thing he could think to say. Whatever the case, he shook his head and let it loll back for a moment as he went on to explain. "No baby. Jahleel is bringing Mommy to meet us. They'll be here soon."

Catee didn't answer. Her mother's spirit, traveling with them once more had taken her attention. Slowly Tara descended from the air and planted her feet upon the ground behind Ethan, kneeling down to wrap her arms around him.

"Can you hear me Catee?" she asked. Catee nodded softly. "You can't fix Daddy can you?" she asked with sadness in her eyes. Catee looked to the ground, then back to her mother and shook her head.

"Can you _help_ him?" Tara asked. A tear slipped down the little girl's face as she nodded again. "Then you have to help him baby. You have to let him come with me."

Catee's chest heaved as sadness completely overtook her for a moment. The quivering in her breath brought Ethan's attention and he reached out for her, withdrawing the moment he realized he couldn't touch. He tried to sooth her with the softness in his voice.

"Oh don't do that little one. It'll be okay... I promise, it'll be okay."

Catee shook her head as she sucked back a breath. "Daddy?" she asked, her head lilting to the side as she looked into his eyes. "Do you believe in Heaven now?"

Ethan furrowed his brow at the odd question. It took a moment for him to understand why she'd asked. "Yes Catee. I do."

Catee stumbled forward a half step, her eyes glazed with tears. "You go live there now. With Mommy."

"Mommy," Ethan echoed. "You can't fix me can you baby?"

"No," she shook her head, her voice soaked with sadness. "I only help you go."

Ethan clinched his fist and slammed it into the ground. Another twinge caused his stomach to seize. And then a sense of peace passed over him. He turned to his daughter once more.

"Mommy's hugging me isn't she baby?" he asked, his voice cracking as he reached out with his soul for the sweet touch of the woman he swore his life to. Catee nodded softly. Tears slipped down Ethan's cheek as he outstretched his arms to his little girl and beckoned her.

"Help me."

With that Catee flew into her father's embrace. Pain seared into his corrupted flesh but he wouldn't let go or even lessen his bear hug. "Oh God, I love you my little baby girl." he said, his tears dripping from his cheeks onto her back.

"I love you too Daddy," she said, her own tears following the same path to his coat.

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth to fight away the pain burning into him but there was no way he was letting go of his little girl. In a moment it ceased.

Ethan's eyes shot wide as he suddenly felt two sets of arms wrapped about him. The world in which he stood was vibrant and felt busy though there wasn't another soul in sight. Each snowflake falling from the sky reflected a blessed purity and the little girl in his arms shown like the light of a thousand suns.

At first he released his daughter's embrace, pulling her back to look to the duel specs of ocean blue adrift on a sea of light that was her face in this realm of spirit. Then, remembering the arms about his neck, he turned to find Tara's smiling face.

"Over there Daddy." Catee said, guiding his vision to a pinhole of light that out shown even Catee's bright spirit. He didn't know what it was, where it might go, but he felt attracted to it, an urge to follow its light.

Ethan shook his head as he placed a hand over Tara's arm to hold it there. "No baby. I... _we_ won't leave you here."

Catee smiled to him and shook her head. "I do work here Daddy. I see you soon."

Ethan shook his head but as he began to protest Tara kissed his ear and stood. "Look," she instructed, pointed back toward the chantry. The broken body of a knight lumbered toward the farm.

Ethan smiled, relieved. "Jahleel."

"We have to go now Ethan," she said softly. "We can't stay here."

He smiled a sad smile as he hugged his little girl to him once more, joined again by Tara's motherly arms about them both. "I'll always be with you," he said. "We'll always be with you."

Catee nodded, her sad but smiling face shining far more wisdom than her years would belie. "I love you Mommy and Daddy," she said, keeping her tears inside for now.

The hug seemed to last a lifetime before it was finally released. Slowly, with prickly sadness of goodbyes in their hearts, Ethan and Tara took each other by the hand and traveled into eternity.

### CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

The old woman's eyes were not as gifted as Catee's. As she watched the painful exchange from the window, she saw only that which, was presented here on this earth. All that her kind eyes were privy to was the searing embrace of a vampire to his daughter and the eventual end of his life. She watched from her kitchen window as a little girl, unable to let go of her father, was dragged to the ground by the weight of his neck as he died; how she clung to him even after.

Broken hearted, the old woman dashed into the snow and fell to her side. Ethan's body had reduced to cinders. She threw her coat around the crying girl. Though the arms of Catee's sweater had been burned away completely, the child's skin was untouched. A labored crunch of boots on snow fell behind them.

When the knight saw what had happened his face drew tight and he joined them upon his knees in mourning for his friend.

"Einen moment bitte?" he said to the farmer's wife. She nodded and moved back toward the house.

"I am so sorry Catee," he said softly, hurting physically and deep within his heart.

She sucked for a breath and looked up to him. "It okay," she said through her tears.

"I'll take you someplace safe," he promised.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No more knights now. Now I go wif her."

Jahleel looked to Ethan's cinders and thought of Tara, floating lifelessly in that wicked pool. He looked up to Heaven, his faith shaken. How could it be? How could this tiny, perfect little girl be all alone now? How could this have been allowed to happen?

He shook his head, disappointed in himself for questioning it. But in living the storm, he simply couldn't see the sun. He couldn't blame her. All he and his kind had brought to her was pain.

"I will protect you. No knights, just me." he said.

"No," she insisted, "her."

Jahleel looked to the house, to the old woman standing at the door. Without a word he struggled to his feet. He went to the door and spoke for a few moments to the farmwife, then stumbled back to Catee's side and knelt again.

"All right," Jahleel said. "She'll help. She'll take you far away from here. Far away from this madness. To someplace safe."

"With squirrels?" she asked, looking up to him. A sad grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

"With squirrels," he nodded. "But Catee, you mustn't speak of who you are, of what you can do, of where you come from... to anyone. Not knights like me. Not priests. No one. You mustn't ever heal anyone again. Do you promise?"

Catee lifted a finger to her lips and nodded.

"I am glad I came to know you Catee Moyer. I am blessed for it," he said softly.

"I love you Kahjeel," she said, standing and stepping into his arms. He was hugging her tight when he felt her lips to his ear.

"I fix you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I don't deserve it."

"Where you go Kahjeel?" She asked.

Jahleel pondered that for a moment. His stomach growled, ready to start his own miraculous healing process. He ignored the sound and thought of Ethan's question back in Paris. Deeply he wished that the dragon had _shot him in the throat_. The young knight wiped away a tear and looked to the little girl who'd returned to her knees by the ashen pile where her father had once been. All he could think of was how he'd failed her... them.

"Away," he said, ashamed. "God..." the blessing caught in his throat. "Good bye Catee," he finished, then limped off into the woods.

### EPILOGUE

Father Dominique strode up the springtime mountain path with excitement and his usual amount of skepticism, taking in the fresh air and appreciating the natural beauty. In honesty, his rear end hurt from hours of riding through mountain passes and down roads that horses would have difficulty traversing but this was his duty to his Order, the Occulus Dei.

While other Priests spent their time running churches and orphanages, Father Dominique was blessed (and sometimes cursed, or so he felt) with the duty of investigating 'miracles' reported by the faithful. More often than not, he found that things seen as miracles were far from it, but occasionally he'd find something that only served to strengthen his faith that there is a God in Heaven and that sometimes He moves His hand.

Today he was investigating a girl, supposedly one who had the gift of healing. He shook his head when Father Helforde gave him the order to investigate; he'd never, after all, managed to actually find anyone with the gift to heal, but duty called him and dutifully he answered.

Aala was standing at the end of the path that led to her door as he made his way up to the home.

"Good afternoon Father," she said in her native German, welcoming the priest with a warm smile. "What brings you here?"

"I am told," he began, his German strong, "that there is a girl here of unique blessing."

Aala shook her head. "No father. There's nothing like that here," she insisted. But the woman wasn't good at lying, let alone to a priest. Doubt crossed Dominique's features.

"Are you sure? There was a report of a blind beggar. The girl retuned his sight," he explained.

Aala's brow drew in as she considered another lie. She didn't like it, but shook her head. "Beggars tell many stories Father. The Church has never come before," she said.

"Well," Dominique smiled. He had an affable way with people, his trustworthy grin had always put them at ease, "this was a particularly convincing beggar. In fact, he said that the girl lived here, with you."

Aala couldn't look at him anymore. She clutched a kitchen towel in her hands nervously. Dominique knew that he had her reconsidering.

"Aala, is there such a girl here? You know that I mean her no harm," he said. The old woman hesitated, considering. Finally she relented.

"She is an orphan girl Father. Two years ago my sister in Weidan Am See asked for her to come here. She said that the child had been through a great deal, and that she needed to be hidden."

"Weidam Am See?" Dominique questioned. "Do you know anything about her parents?" Aala shook her head.

"My sister wouldn't say, but I think it is something bad. It hurt her heart to think of it." Dominique's brow drew down and immediately his thoughts went to the alleged Argent Child the Templars lost in Paris. But that was two years ago and the idea that a little American girl would turn up in a remote Austrian village seemed quite a stretch.

"Does she speak English?" he asked.

"No father. She can't speak," Aala explained, "she is mute I think. I have never heard her utter a sound."

"Oh," he replied, "well, cart-before-the-horse I suppose. Can I meet her?"

"She is very shy Father," Aala explained, "but I will take you to her."

As they stepped down the path to Aala's door, something caught Dominique's eyes. The stump of a felled tree had been drawn on. In red, a cross pattee' shown across the whole of it.

"What's that?" Dominique asked, canting his head. The old woman looked to it.

"Oh, she did that. She draws symbols of all kinds. She leaves them everywhere. Aren't they beautiful? Such remarkable skill for one so young," Aala said proudly.

"It's remarkable," the Priest said as he turned the possibilities in his mind. After a moment puzzling, he decided that he must meet this girl post-haste. He turned and nodded toward the door. "What do you call her?" he questioned.

"Her name is Katia," Aala explained.

"She told you this?" he asked. Aala shook her head.

"She doesn't speak Father. It is a name that we chose for her," she explained.

Dominique nodded. "After you," he said. Aala opened the door to find a girl sitting at a windowsill, looking out at the mountains, watching the squirrels play. She turned to the sound and the contentment in her face washed away. She stared at Dominique as he stepped to her and softly spoke.

"Hello Katia," he said, smiling, "I'm Father Dominique. I'd like to ask you some questions if I may."

She hung her head.

