Genre: Supernatural / Fantasy

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2, 6+1, 13+1, 13x6x13, 13+OC, 5+2

Disclaimer: I own nothing. That's all.

Warnings: Yaoi, lemon, language, mental instability, possible OOCness, violence, abuse

A/N: Try this one on for size.

Part One: Rumors of a Bygone Evil

Rain streaked down the windows, making the magically maintained streetlights look blurry and indistinct. Sitting inside with a warm fire and comfortable chair, Quatre Winner found the effect quite cozy. The water clock on the wall told him it was late; where was Trowa?

As though thinking his name had conjured him out of thin air, the tall sorcerer abruptly entered his office through the back door. He brushed off his drenched black cloak and hung it by the cheery fire.

"Hi, little one," he greeted with a smile, leaning down to drop a kiss on Quatre's lips. "Miserable night, isn't it?"

Quatre smiled. "A bit dreary. Is that why you're so late?"

The single visible eye met Quatre's with emerald disdain. "As though a little rainstorm could slow me down. No, I have news. I've received a letter for you from a woman who claims she has some information on a party of suspected necromancers. Right here in the city, even. I've spent the better part of the evening tracking this woman down and setting up a meeting between the two of you."

Raising an eyebrow, Quatre leaned back. "A letter for me? How is it you got to read it before I did?"

Trowa shrugged, expression unrepentant. "You weren't here when it came in, and it seemed important. So I took the liberty of opening it."

Rolling his eyes, Quatre stood. "I suppose I should be annoyed. So, what did you set up?"

"She is free tomorrow for lunch. I decided on a somewhat less formal affair to help her feel at ease—she seems a bit worried. Wouldn't even give me her name. That quaint little diner on Chendron Lane. You know the one."

"Mm, Crystal and Lace?"

"The very same. I told her the charming and elegant assistant to the Defense Council's Commander would be happy to meet with her and talk."

Quatre snorted. "Assistant of the Commander?"

Trowa smiled. "I threw that in for your protection. Just in case."

"Ah. Well, thank you for running my life so smoothly. Whatever would I do without you."

"Get lost and wander the streets 'til you die, inevitably," Trowa said, holding up Quatre's cloak. "Now let me guide you home."

Shaking his head, Quatre stepped under the cloak's protective folds. "My knight in shining armor."

Trowa just smiled.

-

At noon the following day Quatre sat in Crystal and Lace with a startlingly attractive woman who named herself Murielle. "I do apologize for not giving my name," she said, "but until this necromancer threat is squelched I thought it wisest not to reveal my identity."

"No need to apologize," Quatre said with a smile, waving his hand. "I understand. My name is Quatre."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Quatre. Trowa told me you are the assistant of the Defense Council's Commander?"

Quatre absently swirled his dark red wine. "I suppose one could call me that."

"Then what I say will reach his ears?"

Quatre grinned slightly. "I guarantee it."

"Wonderful. Then I won't beat about the bush. There are five men who live in this city in a huge mansion. They goings on around it are so strange; I'm certain they're necromancers."

"Can you provide proof?" Quatre asked. "I can't authorize an investigation without legitimate reason."

"Unfortunately, no. But I do know of another who could."

"A witness?"

"Of sorts. You see, those men found a boy some years ago; he could only have been ten or eleven at the time. I don't know where the poor thing came from, thin and dirty as he was I bet his parents died and no one would take him in. Anyway, while those awful men did give him a place to sleep and food to eat, it came at a terrible price. They treat him like a pet dog."

Quatre frowned. "Can you elaborate on that?"

"For starters," Murielle said with a deep sigh, "they make him wear the most tiny, awful clothing. They parade him around like a damn trophy, for he's a lovely little thing. As if that weren't bad enough, they make him wear a collar and lead him around on a leash. They also make him sit on the ground at their feet and feed him from their hands. It's disgusting. But I don't know what to do. I'm sure if you talked to him he'd tell you what he knows. Maybe you're in a position to offer him some sort of life."

Quatre nodded. "I will certainly see what I can do. Thank you very much for your help, Murielle. Now, about lunch. I've never eaten here before, so can you recommend a good choice?"

-

They called themselves Wraith and Fade, and they were the two best bodyguards Quatre had in his employ. Though both large and rather bulky, they could move with speed and silence. It made them a deadly team, so naturally they were the best choice to send out after this boy Murielle had spoken of. Quatre's instructions were clear.

"Please bring him back with you so I can ask him about the ones suspected of practicing necromancy."

Now, as he took care of a little paperwork while waiting for them to return, he wondered if he should have been a little more clear.

"Quatre?" came Trowa's inquiry. "Working late again? You do know you have a home, right?"

Quatre smiled, not looking up. "Are you here for a reason? Or just to bother me?"

"The latter, regrettably," Trowa said, sitting down and propping his feet up on Quatre's desk. The sorcerer had an appalling lack of concern for expensive furniture. "Was your lunch with Miss Anonymous productive? Did it provide any good leads?"

"Yes, I think so," Quatre said, finally setting down his quill. "She gave me the location of a person who may have inside information on this party of suspected necromancers. Wraith and Fade are bringing him here tonight."

"Ah," Trowa said. "Wise choice. Those two excel at their job of intimidating people into doing what they . . . request."

Quatre's lips quirked into a little grin. "I like to think of it as aggressive persuasion."

Trowa snorted. "Indeed. Do you think you will be coming home at all tonight? I have missed your company since this rumor of necromancy sprang up from the void."

Shrugging, Quatre leaned back. "I've missed you. But it's my job, lover mine. I'm the Defense Council Commander." He rolled his shoulders in an effort to relieve some tension.

Trowa rose from his seat and came around behind him, his warm hands skillfully digging into sore muscles along Quatre's back and neck. "You work too hard. Let me help more."

"You already do so much," Quatre protested faintly, his eyes already slipping shut.

"I'm a sorcerer," Trowa murmured into his ear, gently nibbling around the outer shell. "I can handle it."

Quatre turned his head to kiss his older lover, but the door opening alerted him to the return of the two men. For a moment he thought they'd returned alone, but they parted to reveal a thin, rather short boy sandwiched between them. He couldn't be much older than sixteen, and he looked absolutely terrified. When he took in the whole scene, he saw why. Wraith and Fade, both men of few words, had him in iron manacles. He rubbed his forehead. I knew I should have been more direct.

"Thank you both," he said a bit tartly. "You may go."

They gave him slight bows and departed. Anxious to make a potential contact feel more at ease, Quatre hurried to the boy's side and put an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to a padded chair. Trowa didn't need a request from him to remove the manacles; they fell to the floor with a metallic thunk.

Murielle had been right. The boy wore an outfit befitting a whore, so tight it looked like a second skin. Quatre pulled the afghan off his chair and draped it around the poor boy, who was visibly shivering.

"I'm sorry about those two," he said gently. "I asked them to bring you here so I could ask you a few questions, but they . . . ah, are an overzealous pair. My name is Quatre. My I ask yours?"

Eyes the color of the deepest iris, somewhere between indigo and violet, glanced at the hand he offered, then came up to meet aqua. After a lengthy hesitation he accepted the other's greeting, and his hand was frigid.

"Duo," he said in a soft, sweet alto, immediately looking away.

Quatre didn't let the silence linger. "An individual has come to me with concerns that men you know are practicing necromancy. As you know, the Prime Minister at the time outlawed necromancy nearly one-thousand years ago. This person was sure you could either confirm or refute these allegations, as we need irrefutable proof of wrongdoing before conducting any investigation."

His speech was met with silence. The boy's eyes, such a startling shade, roved all over the office floor.

"This individual didn't implicate you, of course," Quatre added. "You are not included in this suspicion of wrongdoing. My hope was that you could provide us with the necessary evidence to stop this spread of evil before it takes root."

Still the boy did not respond, refusing to meet his eyes. He could tell the poor thing was scared. But of what? The silence stretched until it felt brittle.

"You know," Trowa said quietly, "we can get you away from them. Find you a better place to live."

Quatre saw something he couldn't quite identify flicker through the boy's eyes, then he stood so abruptly the afghan fell to the floor.

"I have to go," he said, voice oddly hoarse.

Stepping forward, Quatre put out an arm to block his path. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

After a moment the boy nodded, then pushed past him to disappear into the night. Quatre watched him go, then looked up at Trowa. "Think he'll come back?"

The sorcerer shook his head. "No. We'll most likely never see him again."

-

The darkness caressed Duo's skin like a cold hand. Everything appeared as clear to his eyes as if the sun was still shining. He shivered. He hated being cold. These slinky clothes Braudon made him wear didn't exactly promote warmth. Speaking of him . . .

Where will I tell them I've been? Not that it mattered. They seldom asked and never cared. So long as he came back. He stared at the cobblestone beneath his bare feet. And I always do, don't I? Such a good boy.

He cringed inwardly. Braudon's favorite thing to say to Duo after forcing him . . . to beg. He pushed a lock of hair out of his face, wondering why being offered freedom scared him so much. Possibly because his bondage was at least familiar. What would happen to him if he didn't have these five to rely on, no matter how poorly they treated him?

"What if it got worse?" he whispered to no one. Freezing or starting to death would be worse.

Or maybe it wouldn't be. No, what really scared him was the power the moon had over him, his inability to control it, and what he might do because of it. Whatever the reason, he desperately hated this life he led.

"Where were you, sugar?" Braudon asked as soon as he walked into the huge, ugly house.

Duo shut the door and leaned against it, posture closed and demure. "Nowhere. Enjoying the night."

Braudon looked up from the whatever he was working on. "You don't like the cold," he said flatly.

Duo shook his head. "No, but it's a beautiful night."

After a slight pause, Braudon grinned. "Ah, I see. It's a new moon tonight."

Looking away, Duo went upstairs. It was a cold night. Too cold. Which meant he'd have to find relief in one of his benefactors' beds. He absolutely hated the cold.

"Put your work down," Trowa said in his most bossy voice. "I'm taking you out tonight, and no, I won't let you protest."

Quatre looked up from the work still sitting on his desk. "I have a lot to do, Trowa," he tried. And it was true. Because he hated it so much he tended to let it pile up. Maybe I ought to hire a secretary to do it for me.

"I just told you not to protest," Trowa said, leaning down and kissing the breath out of Quatre. "Come on. Here's your cloak. If I have to drag you out of here I will."

Making a face, conceding defeat, Quatre rose and twined his arms around Trowa's neck. He brought their lips back together for a deep, sweet kiss. It lingered until Trowa broke away with a smile.

"I have the perfect place for us."

The nightclub Stuff of Legend was only for the classy, filthy rich. Upon entering one might feel they had entered another plane of existence. Everything glittered and sparkled wildly. Quatre loved it instantly, though he never would have picked it as a place to spend an evening.

Trowa led him to the bar and ordered him a drink, sitting down beside him. "Now, isn't this a great place? And I'm warning you now, love. No talk of work. I want to see you relax."

"I'm always relaxed," Quatre said, smiling as he sipped his drink. It was sweet and bubbly. "I like it here, but it's not really me, is it?"

"Oh, you fit in just fine. Your family is obscenely wealthy, and you're uncommonly pretty. A perfect fit."

Chuckling, Quatre rested his head on Trowa's shoulder.

"Quatre?" exclaimed a newly-familiar voice. "Fancy seeing you here!"

Turning, Quatre was surprised to see Murielle there with two men. One was moderately attractive, the other was stunningly so. "Well, isn't this a nice surprise."

"And Trowa," she said, beaming. "Allow me to introduce my friends. This is Gaben, my brother. And this is Heero Yuy, my neighbor and sometimes roommate." She giggled.

Quatre had to admit, Heero was absolutely beautiful. Tall, probably eye-to-eye with Trowa, his dark hair was almost black and hung roguishly in his impossibly cobalt blue eyes. He was incredibly pale, a cast almost unhealthy. It looked like it might have been golden-toned once, but since all color had been washed out. Still, on him it enhanced his beauty.

"A pleasure," he said, smiling and shaking their hands. "I'm Quatre Winner, and this is Trowa Barton."

Heero blinked. "Winner," he said in a smooth voice. "Relation to the Winners?"

Quatre smiled. "The Prime Minister is my father."

"We ran into Heero here," Murielle piped up. She looked at him. "You didn't come alone, did you?"

"No," Heero replied, smiling faintly. "Krysonia is with me. I am here, in fact, at her insistence."

"Why don't you and she join us for a drink?" Quatre suggested.

Heero's endless eyes met his. "She would like that. If you'll excuse me just one moment, I will go find her."

"Are you talking about me, angel?" came a sultry voice from behind Heero.

He stepped aside to reveal a woman just as beautiful as he was himself. Like him she was pale, but her hair was silver as coin. Her eyes were of a likewise hue, framed by sinfully long lashes. Heero gave her an unreadable look.

"Sonia, this is Quatre and Trowa. Everyone, this is Krysonia."

She gave them a smile lacking one fundamental element: warmth. "A pleasure, I'm sure." She turned to Heero. "Your friend Braudon is here, love."

"He is not my friend," Heero said in a startlingly cold voice. "Tell him I'll see him in the morning and not before."

Krysonia smiled again. "As you wish. Don't get too bored without me." And she drifted off.

Quatre watched her go, then smiled up at Heero. "Please, sit. We can always do with company of new friends."

Heero returned the smile, seating himself with effortless grace. "Thank you. And allow me to apologize for that. The man she spoke of, I do not care for him. We do business, and I'm afraid he's . . . coarse for my taste."

Quatre held up a hand. "No need to explain. Krysonia is a lovely woman."

Heero looked distracted. "I suppose she is."

"You and she seem close."

For a moment, Heero's eyes lost their focus. "As close as we can be. We're very different people."

"I can see she's fond of you," Quatre murmured as Trowa slid a tumbler of wine in Heero's direction. "You live here in Desaugnne?"

"Part of the year," Heero confirmed, sipping the dark beverage. "I travel a lot."

"Work?" Trowa asked.

"Predominantly."

"What is it you do?" Trowa inquired, "if you don't mind my asking."

Heero gave him a funny little smile. "I head a private organization with two other men. We're based out of Rauldone."

Quatre smiled. "Rauldone is a nice city. I have a few friends there."

"It's a little crowded for my taste," Heero said. "I prefer Desaugnne."

"As do I," Quatre agreed.

"And what about you?" Heero asked. "What do you do?"

"Actually, I work for my father."

For some reason, Heero looked . . . surprised. "Indeed. What is it you do for him? Are you a member of his Defense Council?"

"Yes," Quatre replied. "An aide to the Commander."

"A noteworthy position."

Trowa snorted into his drink.

"Hardly," Quatre said. "Seems like all I ever do is file paperwork."

Heero shrugged. "That's an important job. After all, someone's got to do it."

Quatre laughed. They continued to make small talk until Krysonia reappeared, smiling that cold smile of hers.

"It looks like you've been enjoying yourself, doll," she purred. "Someone wants to talk to you."

A man appeared at her side. Holding a golden chain in one hand, Quatre noticed in horror that it was attached to a black collar fastened around the neck of Duo. Their eyes locked for a split second, then the boy looked away. When the man holding his leash sat, Duo sank down by his feet, graceful and fluid.

Heero looked disgusted. "You have nothing to say to me, Braudon."

It sounded like a threat.

"Now, don't be angry," the man soothed. "I just thought I'd come by and say hi. My pet's been missing you, haven't you sugar?"

Duo looked up at Braudon, then Heero. He looked . . . resigned. Used to this treatment. Quatre hated Braudon in that instant.

If you're a necromancer, he thought viciously, you and all those affiliated with you are history. He tried to catch Duo's eye, but the boy steadfastly refused to look at him. He stood up.

"I apologize, but we should be going. I have an early day, tomorrow. Heero, it was nice to meet you. Krysonia." He nodded. "Good night."

Trowa must have caught his mood, for he followed without a word. Once out in the night he slid an arm around Quatre's shoulders. "What, love?" he murmured.

Quatre was too angry to reply. Shaking his head, he didn't speak until they reached the safety of their home. Flinging his cloak to the floor, he stalked to their bedroom and stripped off his clothes with near-violent intent. He made it to the bathroom door before Trowa stopped him, wrapping his arms around Quatre's naked chest.

"I know you," he murmured. "You want to help that boy, don't you?"

"I hate that bastard," Quatre hissed. "I hate him, and I've never seen him before. If he's a necromancer, I'll destroy him!"

Trowa spun him and sealed their mouths together in a heated kiss. For a moment Quatre struggled against him, but Trowa quickly turned his rage into passion. In the blink of an eye Trowa had him down on the bed, pinned, kissing and biting down his neck.

"You can't let it get to you," he admonished, sliding his knee between Quatre's thighs.

Quatre hissed out a groan. "H-how can I not? You saw the way he treated him!"

"That's not what I meant," Trowa murmured, biting Quatre's shoulder. "Don't lose your head."

Growling, Quatre raised his hips and ground himself against Trowa's thigh. "You talk too much."

"Someone's got to make sure you keep your wits about you," Trowa said, chuckling.

As he lowered his head and took Quatre in his mouth, the younger man closed his eyes and let the sensations sweep him away. He was nowhere near done thinking about it. But there were times and places for these things. Now was neither the time nor the place.

-

It isn't wrong to want to help someone. It's only natural that I'd want to get him out of such a terrible life.

"You can't help him if he won't be helped," Trowa had said.

Logically, he knew that. But Quatre hated the look in those big, indigo eyes. So scared and sad. He was too young to look so weary. He couldn't stand the thought of Duo remaining trapped with those men forever. The one called Braudon referring to him as 'pet' nearly broke his heart.

"It's not wrong," he insisted to his empty office. But it preoccupied him to the point of distraction.

Maybe I should break down and go find him. The problem was, he had no idea where to look for him. And, at this time of night, he was most likely not out and about.

The back door opened. He sighed. "I'm almost done, Trowa," he said, picking up his quill. "I'll be home in a bit."

Silence. Feeling a little annoyed, he turned in his chair, but his ire died without being articulated. It was not his lover standing there.

"Duo!" he exclaimed, startled. "What are you doing here?"

The boy crossed the room and sank down to crouch in front of him. "If I help you, what will happen to me?" he demanded in a whisper.

He hadn't thought about it all, but the answer sprang to Quatre's lips before he considered any options. "You'll come stay with me until you're comfortable trying to make it on your own."

It was Duo's turn to look startled. Suspicion replaced it immediately. "And what would you want in return?"

Quatre's eyes were sad. "To see you smile," he murmured.

Duo blinked and sat back on his haunches, looking for all the world like a confused puppy. "Smile?" he repeated as if that was the most foreign thing in the world to him. "That's really what you'd want?"

Quatre nodded.

For a long time, Duo simply stared at him, eyes never leaving his nor blinking. "I'll try," he said finally, sitting down at Quatre's feet.

Quatre leaned down and gently pulled him up. "Here, sit in a chair. It's more comfortable than the floor, and you're not a dog."

A grimace passed over Duo's face when he said that, but he sat in the chair opposite her. "Murielle was right. They are necromancers. Well, no they're not. But they use necromancy."

Picking up his quill once more, Quatre dug out a black parchment. "Tell me their names."

"Braudon, Matosche, Ruebos, Indescott, and Deitrich. They live in a big, ugly brown mansion on West Oaklund Lane. The one not numbered."

Quatre wrote it all down. "I'll need a formal written statement from you detailing their activities, but not tonight. For now, let's get you home and out of those awful clothes. You must be freezing."

He nodded and stood as soon as Quatre did. "Where do you live?"

"Crystallune Avenue. It's close enough I always walk, so you can wear my cloak. It'll help."

Once Duo was wrapped up in the cloak, Quatre led him out into the night. He followed close enough as to almost touch him, but Quatre maintained that slight distance for the boy's comfort.

"How do you know Murielle?" he asked at length.

"She and Heero lived not far from the house," the boy said. "Braudon would leave me with Heero sometimes when he and the others left for business. Sometimes Murielle was there." He hesitated. "I've always liked them."

"Then you must know Krysonia?"

Something dark passed over the boy's face. "Yes. I don't like Krysonia. Her hands are always colder than ice. Not like Heero. His hands are always warm."

"It sounds like you care about him."

Duo looked at him, then, and the moonlight glinted off the surfaces of his eyes like a cat's or dog's. It was disconcerting, sending a shiver up Quatre's spine and a suspicion to his mind.

"Yes," Duo replied finally. "He's always been nice to me, even though—" he broke off.

Quatre hurried to fill the gap. "Even though?" he insisted.

The boy shook his head. "Nothing."

"Even though you're a werewolf?" Quatre finished quietly.

That stopped Duo dead in his tracks. "What makes you . . . why would you . . . how—?"

"Your eyes," Quatre said. "Besides, it makes sense now, why you were treated like that. In this country slavery is prohibited, but keeping weres as . . . pets is not an uncommon practice elsewhere."

Duo's eyes darted wildly back and forth between Quatre's. "Are you going to . . . will you . . . ?"

"No," Quatre cut him off. "It doesn't change anything. You're still coming home with me."

Now the boy looked incredulous, but as if afraid talking would change Quatre's mind, he kept silent. Quatre could see the task of winning his trust would be a long and difficult one.

"Duo's statement got all five of those men arrested," Quatre told Trowa just a week later. "Each of them has admitted to practicing necromancy, though none of them have said where they learned it or who from. I'm also pursuing the charge of illegal enslavement of a were. Since Duo flat out refuses to appear in front of a panel, I'm keeping it an issue for my father. He's coming home in a few days to meet Duo and ask him a few questions about it."

Trowa nodded. "I haven't been home much. How's he doing?"

Quatre shrugged, sighing. "He doesn't do much besides eat, sleep, and avoid me. He disappears in the morning and doesn't reappear until late evening."

Trowa sank down into the chair opposite him. "I've gotten a written statement from Murielle concerning those men's suspicious behavior, but we need one more to make this case. Can you think of anyone else who might be of help to us?"

"Well, yes, actually. Cancel my afternoon appointments, and I'll go speak with him directly."

-

It took less than an hour to track Murielle down and locate the man named Heero Yuy. Before midday he stood before the other man's door, knocking for admittance. He seemed vaguely surprised to see Quatre.

"What an unexpected pleasure," he said, inclining his head. "What can I do for you, Lord Winner?"

"Quatre, please. I'm not here for social purposes, I'm afraid. I would like to ask you a few questions about five men accused of practicing necromancy." He heard a loud thump from somewhere in the house. "Unless this is a bad time?"

Heero smiled faintly. "Not at all. What you hear are cats."

Quatre raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Big cats?"

"No, just many of them. Please, come in. would you like some tea?"

"Thank you."

While he disappeared to boil water, several cats appeared, meowing their curiosity at having been invaded by a stranger. More and more appeared until several dozen were peering at him and corralling about. Heero had been quite serious, apparently.

"Well," Quatre mused. "Where did you all come from?"

"Strays, mostly," Heero said, appearing at his side. "I have an affinity for cats. Krysonia always says all the strays from Rauldone on down follow me here."

Quatre smiled. "Where is Krysonia? Is she here?"

"No. She left just a few days ago, headed back to Rauldone."

"I see. That must be hard on you both, being away from each other."

Heero just shrugged. "Hard on her, maybe. It's rather a relief, for me."

Quatre blinked. "That's a bit callous, isn't it?"

The other just smiled. "Perhaps. We're very different. But you came here to ask me a few questions?"

Coming back to himself, Quatre nodded. This wasn't the time or place for idle chat. "Yes. When Murielle introduced us in Stuff of Legend some nights ago, you spoke with a man named Braudon. He has since been accused of practicing necromancy."

"Yes, I know."

Once again startled, Quatre frowned. "Do you mind my asking how?"

"Certainly not. I heard it from the same source as you. One timid, damaged little werewolf named Duo."

Blink. "Duo told you?"

"Yes. I suspected, actually, that you would come calling. I'm very pleased with the fact that he is away from those men, and grateful to you for offering him shelter. He is not used to making it on his own."

"I just felt like it was the right thing to do," Quatre said. "But please tell me what you know about those men, starting with their relationships with you."

Heero retreated just long enough to bring him a cup of tea. "They work for one of my two partners. He lives in Rauldone, as well. They do a form of advertising for him, rounding up business. This means they work for me, too, of course, but I've had very little to do with them. They're men without scruple or morals, something I cannot abide. I was the first they came to when they found Duo. It is one of my deepest regrets, telling them that he is a werewolf."

"You can tell weres apart from humans?"

"Yes. Not a very common gift, I know."

Though Heero had once again piqued his curiosity, Quatre ignored it. "That's not really the issue here. What I'd like to know is have you witnessed these men engaging in any sort of illegal activity? Specifically dabbling in necromancy?"

"Yes. I'll give you a written statement and anything else you need. I'm more than happy to cooperate."

"Thank you, Heero. I appreciate it." He sipped the tea. "On a more personal note, I've been worried about Duo. He disappears all day, and I was hoping you knew where he goes."

"As a matter of fact, I do. I'll take you to him right now."

He led Quatre upstairs past many more cats to a small room with no furniture. The temperature was almost unbearably high. There, curled up on a thick quilt in the middle of the floor, was Duo. He looked so peaceful in repose Quatre smiled.

"There you are," he murmured.

He'd spoken very softly, but Duo still stirred.

"He has very good hearing," Heero said, unnecessarily.

"How come it's so hot in here?" Quatre whispered.

"Weres have abnormally low body temperatures," Heero replied, not bothering to keep his voice low, "so Duo is always cold. Aren't you, pup?" He knelt beside the sleepy werewolf.

The boy only made a soft, inarticulate sound and curled up even tighter. Quatre smiled, watching the man stroke that long, shining chestnut hair.

Then Heero stood. "Have you given any thought as to how you're going to deal with his change?"

Quatre frowned. "Change? You mean on the full moon?"

"Yes. You'll have an adolescent wolf on your hands."

"I'm afraid I haven't," Quatre admitted. "I don't know anything about weres."

"It might benefit you both to read up on them. Duo's former benefactors just drugged him and locked him up. Will you do the same?"

Quatre glared at him, shocked. "Never. He's not a dog. I'll face it when it comes."

"He won't recognize you. Duo has not learned to control his change."

"We'll figure it out. I won't treat him like some wild animal."

Heero smiled. "I think you're going to be very good for him. Do you hear that, pup?"

"I heard you just fine," the boy muttered. He glanced up at Quatre, the light glinting off his eyes. "I don't know what will happen to me when the moon rises."

Quatre just smiled. "Trowa can help us there. You may remember him?" His lover hadn't been around much since Quatre brought Duo home with him.

Duo looked away and nodded. "The tall sorcerer."

A little surprised, Quatre frowned. "How did you know he's a sorcerer?"

Duo shrugged. "Magic leaves a distinct scent on people. And when I first met you, he unlocked those manacles with magic."

Oh. Quatre had forgotten about that. "Does necromancy? Leave a scent?"

For some reason, the young werewolf looked at Heero. "Sometimes. Not always."

"Hmm. Well, I've taken up enough of your time, Heero. I believe I'll be on my way. Duo, would you rather stay here tonight?"

He surprised Quatre by shaking his head and rising. "I'll go with you."

"Good afternoon then, Heero. You know where my office is; stop by whenever your statement is prepared. Ready, Duo?"

The boy looked at Heero, and the taller man smiled at him, raising a hand to brush the werewolf's cheek. Blinking, Duo followed Quatre out.

"Quatre, your contacts have heard some interesting things lately, happenings in Rauldone."

Smiling warmly, Quatre rose from his chair and hugged his lover. "Welcome home." He kissed him before sinking back down. "Rauldone, huh? Seems I've been hearing a lot about that city lately."

"Have you ever heard of a thing called the Triumvirate?"

"No. What is it?"

"Well, an oligarchy, I suppose," Trowa replied, folding himself down. "According to rumor, it's made up of three powerful necromancers who . . . actually, rumor doesn't say what they're after. But unlike our five in custody who dabble in illegal activities, these three are actually Necromancers."

Quatre rubbed his forehead. "I'd rather hoped this comeback necromancy seems to be making was rumor, but it doesn't seem like it. Send out pigeons; everyone is to be on alert for any news of this Triumvirate."

"It won't do any good," Duo said softly from the doorway. "The Triumvirate isn't in Rauldone anymore."

Quatre sat up very quickly. "You know about the Triumvirate?"

The young were shrank back a bit. "A little. They're trying to bring necromancy back. Braudon and the others work for one of the three."

Mind racing, Quatre tried to decide what to do. "Do you know any of them? What they look like?"

"No," Duo said, shivering, "but Krysonia is married to one of the them."

Shock shot up Quatre's spine like ice. Heero? A Necromancer? No. That made no sense. Why would he turn his own men over to the Defense Council? I'll have to talk to him again.

"Do you know where they are now, Duo?"

"Here. In Desaugnne."

-

Later, as Quatre lay in bed beside Trowa trying to work it out in his mind, he had to admit Heero fit into all this perfectly. He didn't want to believe that, because he genuinely liked the man, but it was too coincidental to be chance.

A soft sound startled him out of his thoughts, bringing the sleeping Trowa awake instantly. "Who's there?" the sorcerer demanded.

Duo materialized out of the shadows. "I-I'm sorry, Quatre," he whispered, looking at once scared and miserable, "but I'm so cold . . ."

Quatre smiled, nudging Trowa a little. His lover pushed the covers back. "Here, we'll get you warm in no time."

The boy didn't need a second bidding. He climbed in between them, curling up alongside Quatre like a puppy with its mother. He laid his head on Quatre's belly, completely buried beneath the blankets. Trowa spooned up behind him, wrapping his arms around them both.

Quatre let all thought drift away. For some reason, having the boy werewolf there seemed to soothe his worries. In moments he was sound asleep.