:o Hello everybody, let me first of all apologise for how long it's been since I posted anything. Mysterious Ways is still going, I promise, and I've written loads more from the end of the story, but I'm having temporary trouble getting the next chapter together and ready to post. Hopefully it won't be too much longer!

Anyway, this is a completely different version of how things could have gone after AoD, and has nothing to do with my other story. I felt the urge to take Lara and Kurtis in a very different direction, and here is the result (or at least the start of it). In this version of events, the Nephilim storyline is over and Karel IS dead, and Lara has given up adventuring. Rated R for violence and swearing (mainly from chap 2 onwards) so if that's not your cup of tea, be warned!

Hope you like it, let me know what you think J

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Chapter 1: Wasps in November

I slammed the front door of the house hard against the icy November wind, smiling at the welcoming warmth within. The sun was bright outside, but the chill in the air was sharp as a knife, and there was still frost on the lawn from the night before. A few stray leaves had blown in through the door as I entered and now they lay scattered, brown and gold, across the polished tiles of the hall. I put down my bags and unwound the scarf from my neck. I had spent the morning in London, shopping for something to wear that weekend to the charity ball I was to attend with Daniel. Most of my wardrobe was black, and I had felt like a change, so I had been bold and splashed out on a full length red backless dress, decorated with jet beads, and shoes to match. It was rather ostentatious, and I still wouldn't exactly have counted clothes shopping as a hobby, but I had taken more than a little guilty pleasure in the purchase. I could almost see Daniel's jaw dropping when he saw me in it. As I hung up my scarf and long black coat, I noticed a large bouquet of flowers on the Venetian chest of drawers by the stairs, and grinned. Winston had put the flowers in water, but left the accompanying card propped against the vase for me to read. I walked over and picked it up, looking over the now-familiar handwriting.

Hope you bought something gorgeous for the weekend. Can't wait to take it off you. See you tonight. D.

Subtle as ever, I thought, and tucked the card into my pocket. I had been seeing Daniel for a couple of months now. We had been introduced by an old schoolfriend of his whom I had met in Florence that summer. On my return to England, Richard, the friend, had invited me to dine with him and his wife, and they brought Daniel along to make up numbers. It wasn't long before we were seeing each other regularly. Like me, Daniel was from a wealthy family but had no time for the snobs and fakes that populated the social circles he had grown up in. He had traveled extensively and was interested in art and history, so we had plenty to talk about, plus he was a keen sportsman, a fencing champion, so we were well matched physically. He was handsome, funny and clever, and never tried to rush me or quiz me about my past, so all in all I was very contented with the way things were going.

I went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. I would spend a little while in front of the fire, curled up with the newspaper, and then maybe have a swim before I got ready for our date later. We were going to dinner with some friends of his, and I was quite looking forward to it even though socialising – like shopping – had never been my activity of choice before.

To say that my life had changed a lot in the last year would be an understatement. Two weeks earlier it had been the first anniversary of Werner Von Croy's death, and the nightmares that had followed in Prague. After barely escaping the crumbling Strahov, I had been arrested and taken back to Paris to be questioned about the Monstrum killings. Before long new evidence had been found linking Eckhardt to the crimes, and I was released, but on my return home I had decided once and for all to put my old life behind me. Von Croy's death and my brush with the law, not to mention the threat of apocalypse, had convinced me that I had had more than enough danger for one lifetime. I had taken a research job at the British Museum to satisfy my interest in archaeology, and still worked out regularly to get my fix of adrenaline. My life was stable and enjoyable, if not thrilling, and I liked it that way.

I poured boiling water into the teapot, and placed it on a tray alongside a cup and a jug of milk. I glanced again at the flowers in the hall as I took the tray into the living room. I set the tea down on the table by my favourite armchair, but then let out a sudden yelp of pain as I felt something sharp sting the back of my thigh. Probably just a wasp, I thought as I looked down, but even as the thought formed it seemed wrong. Wasps in the house in November? As I reached for the spot where the pain had hit, my vision lurched horribly. My fingers met something, hard and light, poking from the fabric of my jeans, but as I pulled at it the focus seemed to leave my whole body and I started to fall. The last thing I saw as I pitched forward onto the living room rug was a tiny plastic dart, bouncing once in slow motion as it fell from my hand, and then disappearing under the toe of a large, black boot.

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I woke up in the dark, and felt the world swaying violently beneath me. After several groggy moments I realised that I was lying curled up on my side in the back of a van or truck of some kind. I tried to get up onto my knees, but my body wouldn't do what I asked it to and I just fell back onto my side. I lay there awkwardly, thinking of the nice cosy evening I should be spending with Daniel, the good food and drink I would now be missing. I thought sadly of the red dress, still beautifully packaged, lying abandoned in my hallway. It struck me as mildly ridiculous that these were the things going through my mind when I should have been worrying about where I was being taken, and by whom. A nagging suspicion gnawed at my mind that something from my past had caught up with me. Oddly enough, I felt more disappointed and angry than afraid, triggered by the thought that maybe I hadn't managed to put the past where it belonged after all. My safe, comfortable new life had proved to be fragile. But who would want me kidnapped? I had received no threats, and I certainly hadn't gone looking for any trouble in the last year. The enemies I had faced before were all dead now, mostly at my hands.

After a while the vehicle slowed, and I felt the vibrations of the wheels somewhere under me change as it drove from the road onto a different kind of surface. It came to a halt, the doors in the front of the van opening and then slamming closed. After a few moments and some fragments of muffled conversation, the back of the van opened and light spilled inside, blinding me. I was grabbed by two men and dragged out into what appeared to be a large warehouse. To my right, a huge door slid noisily shut behind the van. I tried to walk on my own but the drug was taking its time to wear off, and I stumbled. The men on either side of me yanked me upright and continued to pull me across the room, between stacks of wooden crates, towards a door. The warehouse was lit by fluorescent strips up above, and there were no windows, so I had no idea what time it was or how many hours may have passed since I was abducted from my home. The door in front of me was opened and I was shoved gracelessly into what looked like a small office. A single desk lamp stood on a folding table at the edge of the room, providing the only light. Apart from a wooden chair and some empty shelves on the walls there was no other furniture. The walls and floor were thick with dust and dirt, as thought the room had been unused for years. If I had been expecting some kind of an answer to my questions in this room, then it was well hidden. The panic was slowly building in me as my drugged senses gradually returned to full clarity. I turned to my 'guards', who now stood in the doorway, blocking the only exit in case I suddenly regained full control of my dopey limbs and made a run for it.

"What am I doing here?" I asked them, keeping my voice steady despite the fact that I was growing uneasy. They didn't reply, but one looked back over his shoulder as he heard someone approach. He said a few words in what sounded like Russian, and another voice spoke in return from outside the room. There was something not quite right about the second voice, as though the speaker's accent didn't fit the language properly. A moment later I realised why.

The men in the doorway moved aside and another figure came into view between them, tall and dressed in a long dark coat. He was carrying a gun in one hand, and a large sports bag in the other, which he now tossed into the room. My jaw dropped open when I saw him.

"What the fuck?"

The man stared back at me, unsmiling, his blue eyes as dark and intense as they had been the first time I came face to face with him.

"Hello, Lara," said Kurtis. "Good to see you again."

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