Urban Streets and Frozen Tundras

by mrwriter1701

Tempus. Highlanderangel universe sorta. AU with no main characters from show. Just the world. Sequel to When in Rome and Do ye as the Romans do. The group goes to England and Greenland following a message from Herbert's mentor.

Disclaimer: I and my writing accociates own the characters, but not the world. That belongs to the owners of Angel and Highlander.

URBAN STREETS AND FROZEN TUNDRAS

A Tempus adventure

Written by Claus Holm

Diary notes and casefiles by Lara Waters Holm

Author's note: In the interest of pace, I have shortened a few scenes to make the flow more smoothly. It is nothing that makes the story different in any way.

1.

The lights of London greeted the Tempus team outside the airplane's window, as they touched down in Heathrow airport in the early morning. Mercedes, who had never visited London before looked out the window with her eyes shining. For the rest of the group, the city was old news, and they were a good deal more casual. Christopher Vaughn was probably the one in the group with the strongest emotions – he was coming home for the first time in years.

After de-boarding the airplane and getting their luggage, the 4 friends walked out the large doors into the arrivals lounge. Andrew Picardt had called them on the satellite phone while they were in the air, telling them he would meet them in London the next morning. Jim had planned to call him back when they knew where they would be staying.

As they walked out the doors, a man with a newspaper got to his feet and greeted them. "Hiya Jim, Herbert, Mercedes. Who's your friend?"

Murph McCormick had flown to London from San Francisco, a trip of at least 10 hours. His beard was a bit ruffled, but aside from that and the fact that his clothes were more in disarray than usual, he looked fine. Mercedes embraced him, and Jim and Herbert shook his hand.

This is Father Christopher Vaughn", Herbert introduced, "And this is Murph McCormick, our associate.

"Glad to meet you." Murph shook Christopher's hand.

"So, how far away is Oxford?" Mercedes asked, slinging her purse over her shoulder.

"I'd say about an hour on a good day. In a car that is" Christopher said.

"An hour?" Jim said, "I thought we were staying in London. I have a lot of stuff that need to be looked into here."

"The most important thing on this trip is in Oxford, Jim. I have to visit my flat to examine my own books, but more importantly I have some clues to search for in the Oxford University library. And besides, my flat is IN Oxford."

"Fine. Then let's rent a car and get going."

As they walked towards the AVIS counter, Christopher said "You do realize that a car won't do you much good in Oxford itself, right?"

"The last time I was in Oxford the preferred means of transportation was a horse and buggy. What do you mean it won't do me any good?"

"Because Oxford is a beautiful city, with lovely places to walk…and streets that are closed off for cars, Jim."

Jim sighed. "Well…at least we can get back and forth in it."

The girl at the AVIS counter was a bit disturbed when Jim asked for a car with the steering wheel in the "right side".

"Sir…all of our cars have the steering on the left. It really would be much more…"

"I've driven cars with the wheel on the left. Everything ELSE is on the other side too! And you get damn confused. Don't you have a real car with…"

Herbert pulled on Jim's arm. "Jim, why don't you go have a cigarette, and let me and Father Christopher handle this. I'll drive, if you have a problem with driving on the other side."

Jim mumbled something, and walked away, after handing Herbert the company credit card.

Herbert and Christopher looked at each other and smiled. Jim could be a pain in the ass sometimes, and it was good to know you could always get rid of him by sending him out to smoke.

Shortly after, the group was heading north on the M2, approaching Oxford.

"I'd offer you to stay at my flat, but there really is no room for all of you."

"Right", Jim said, "are there any hotels in Oxford?"

"Maybe. But you cannot drive there, Jim. Remember? You'd have to leave the car outside the town."

Herbert smiled, as he saw a sign on the roadside.

"We'll just drive in here. It's a hotel, and it's close to the city. Then, Father Christopher can go home to his flat and we'll still be close."

Herbert parked on a small parking lot outside a house, and they got out. From the outside the house looked like it was slightly falling apart.

As they entered the house, they saw that the first glance was to forgiving. The hotel was bad as only british hotels could be.

"Do…do you have rooms for us?" Herbert said, almost afraid to disturb the man behind the counter. He was wearing a wife beater shirt, and the hairs on his arms matched the length on his stubble. The oil in his hair looked like it had been put in generously enough to burn if you lit a match to it.

"I got rooms for you, sure." He scratched his armpit, and looked at the group. Christopher took a step back.

"I will not need a room, though. I'd better head on home."

"Wait, Vaughn! How do we get in touch with you?" Jim asked. They had had to leave the Vatican-sponsored cell phones in Rome.

"Well…I have a phone in my flat, but…I don't plan on spending too much time there…why don't I just call you…" Christopher said.

Something in his voice puzzled Jim. It was like the priest did not WANT them to contact him.

"No, why don't we just lend you one of our phones."

"They won't work here, Jim, except your satellite phone. They're American cells."

"Damn. All right, then. Well, what's your number for your place, then?"

Christopher dotted it down on a piece of paper, greeted them all, and walked out the door.

As they signed into the guestbook, the clerk looked at the names.

"Mr. Herbert Schmidt? I've got a letter for you."

Herbert looked puzzled. "For me? But…how is that? No one knew we were checking in here."

"Nevertheless, here." The clerk handed him an envelope.

Herbert put it in his pocket, intend to open it when he was alone.

Shortly after, all being tired from the flight and the stress of the day before, they all went to their rooms to take some rest.

Herbert sat on his bed and opened the envelope. It contained two sheets of paper, handwritten. He recognized the writing at once. It belonged to his master, Jin Sun. The one page was a normal letter, the other, however, was hard to read – it was letters in a jumble, seemingly at random.

He first read the normal letter:

Herbert,

If you receive this letter, I may be in grave danger.

I have been investigating a group of mages called the Twilight Order. They are very dangerous, and I urge you to stay away from them. If this letter finds its way to you, I have either been caught up with, or have gone underground.

I want you to collect something for me, as you will see in the enclosed message. I cannot stress enough that this must be done as soon as possible.

Yours in haste,

Jin Sun

Herbert's brow furrowed, as he looked closer at the other message. It had to be some kind of code – something that his master would have faith that only he could read. He tried several different approaches, until finally, feeling an inspiration, he tried counting the letters and arranging them numerically. That was it – it was simple, once you knew the trick.

He quickly read the message, which was:

Herbert speak what is close to your heart and you will hold the power to shake the world Be careful and remember that it is not to be used lightly Your spirit is your true shield

Under this was some numbers and letters, that seemed to be latitude and longitudes.

Herbert put the letter on his chest and lay down.

Tomorrow, when Andrew showed up, he would have him run those numbers through the computer and find out where the place was. But what could it be that he had to find? It had to be something important, since his master would go to this much trouble keeping it secret.

2.

Jim could only rest for a short time. He had too much energy, too much to do. About an hour after checking in, he went out to the car and headed back towards London. He knew very well that Christopher was right, and that the most important thing on this trip was to work on deciphering the stone tablet from the Necropolis. But his interests centered more about the girl that had tried to make the rubbing of the tablet. Rhea Weston – if that was even her real name. He had to find her, not only because she might be able to lead him to the Dealer with whom he had a score to settle – but because he had been unable to get her out of his thoughts since he saw her in the Vatican.

For now, the only clue to her whereabouts he had, was the address on the documents she had left behind in her clothes when she teleported out of the Vatican, and although that was precious little – it was a place to start.

After navigating the car through the London traffic, and struggling with the reversed controls more than once, he finally parked the car on a quiet street in London's southwest corner. The houses looked expensive, although it was hard to judge when you were unfamiliar with the architecture. But at least the cars parked outside were larger than average.

He looked at number 5, which was the address on the ID card, but decided to wait a bit before ringing the doorbell. He spotted an old lady working on her garden a few houses away, and walked casually over to her.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

The woman looked up. "Yes? Can I help you, young man?"

Jim smiled at the "young man" and leaned over the small fence.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions?"

"I…well, I suppose. Are you with the police?"

"No, ma'am. I'm a private detective from America."

"Oh, like in the movies?"

"Yes, just like that. I was wondering – do you know anything about the people living in number 5? Are they called Weston?"

"Yes, they are. Well…they are nice enough people, I suppose…nothing to say about them, certainly. Keeps their garden nice."

Jim pulled up the passport with Rhea's picture on it.

"Have you ever seen this woman? Is she one of the people living in the house?"

"Well…no. I don't think I've seen her before". The woman squinted her eyes and looked closer. It seemed like she DID see something for a second, a glimmer of recognition, but then shook her head. "No…I have not seen her before."

"Well – thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it."

Jim walked a few doors down the street, feeling a bit disheartened. Of course it had just been a false address. But – he might as well ring the doorbell and ask the REAL Westons if they knew her from the picture.

He walked up to the door, and rang the doorbell. A few moments passed, and then, a woman opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. Weston?"

"Yes, that's me. Can I help you?"

"Maybe. My name is Jim Corrigan, and I'm a private investigator." Jim pulled out his badge from his pocket. "I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you have a moment."

"Yes...about what?"

Once again, he pulled out the picture of Rhea and showed it to Mrs. Weston.

"I'm looking for this woman. She goes by the name of Rhea Weston, and she uses your address as her ID. Do you know her?"

Mrs. Weston looked at the photo for a moment, her cheeks becoming pale. Then, she looked up at Jim.

"Step inside, please, Mr. Corrigan."

Jim followed her into a large hall, where Mrs. Weston took a photo from a small table.

"Rhea Weston was my daughter, Mr. Corrigan. She died when she was 4 years old, in 1977. Here is a picture of her."

Jim looked at the picture. It showed a beautiful, smiling girl with black hair and eyes. Taking into account that there was about 30 years between the two persons in the pictures – the two people showed the same characteristics in eye and hair color, as well as facial structure. It could be the same person.

Mrs. Weston showed him into the living room and served him a cup of tea. She seemed like a very refined person, and the house was full of knickknacks and antiquities. She was obviously wealthy, and her accent also spoke of a refined upbringing.

"Rhea was diagnosed with a brain tumor at age 3 and a half, Mr. Corrigan. She was treated by our doctor, Jerold Reynolds, who had also helped me give birth a couple of years ago. Then, at age 4, she passed away in the hospital."

"A brain tumor, you say?"

"Yes, in the occipital lobe." Mrs. Weston sipped her own cup of tea.

"I see. Can I ask where she was treated?"

"I suppose. She was treated in the British home and hospital for incurables. It's in Streatham."

"Did you…I don't mean to be inappropriate, Mrs. Weston, but…did you see your daughter after her death?"

"I…I did not prepare her for the coffin, if that is what you mean. There was an autopsy, and…well, the staff at the hospital did the practical work."

"How about Rhea's father? Did he see her?"

"No, Mr. Corrigan. Rhea's father did not…well, we were…no longer together, when she was born."

Mrs. Weston turned her eyes away, and Jim suddenly felt an absurd tug at hit old police skills. She's lying, he thought, not about the whole thing, but about the father. I wonder why?

"Did anything about Rhea's disease strike you…I don't know…odd, somehow?"

"Whatever do you mean? Of course it is odd when one's child dies so young!"

"Of course, forgive me."

"And I thought this woman was using my daughter's name…why are you asking these strange questions, Mr. Corrigan?"

Jim thought about it for a moment, then pulled out a business card and handed it to her.

"My company is called Tempus investigations. We deal in things that are a little different. Things that most people would not believe. And I have reason to believe that your daughter might have been a piece in a very large and very scary puzzle. Perhaps that she is indeed alive today."

Mrs. Weston put down her cup, and took a few deep breaths. "I don not find this amusing, Mr. Corrigan…"

"I'm not trying to be funny. Trust me, there are dark things at play here. I can give you a few of the facts, although I am of course bound by my client confidentiality…"

Jim told briefly how he had met the woman in black in the Vatican, and how she had been involved in a high risk theft from the Vatican grounds. Mrs. Weston seemed more at ease, if not convinced, but she agreed to provide him with the address of the hospital, as well as Rhea's birth- and death certificate and a letter, allowing him to view her file at the hospital.

It was too late to go to the hospital today, so after thanking Mrs. Weston, Jim headed back to Oxford. On the way, he called Andrew and told him the address of the hotel. Andrew promised to meet them the next morning.

Back at the hotel, Murph and Mercedes had been talking for a couple of hours. Murph had filled her in on what had happened in San Francisco and she had told him about their adventures in Rome. When Jim came back, they greeted him warmly.

"Murph, I know, you have some friends in the Scotland Yard. I was wondering if you could talk to them, and get the data they have on this mystery woman we're chasing?"

"Sure, Jim. I have a few favors I could call in. What do you want to know?"

"Anything…police records, suspicions, any known aliases and addresses…whatever they have."

Murph promised to look into it, and Jim went to bed. Shortly after, Murph and Mercedes did the same. The English countryside was quiet, and after the bustling noises in Rome, they all slept through the night.

3

Andrew woke them up the next morning, arriving with a suitcase and warm greetings from Kat in the Interpol HQ. She was getting a lot better, and hoped to return to active duty soon.

Herbert pulled him aside, and quickly explained about the letter he had gotten. Without giving out the exact wording of the message, he gave Andrew the coordinates, and with a few keystrokes on his laptop, Andrew knew the location.

"It's in Greenland. Thule airbase, to be precise. Are you saying you have to get up there?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"That place is guarded very well, you know. It's not a place to just waltz into."

"Do you know how to get in?"

Andrew thought about it.

"I could call my old friend Frank Stephen, in the FBI. He might be able to get me access…maybe he could give us all passes as some sort of observation team. Let me call him up and talk to him."

The team met for breakfast, except Christopher, who was deep in research somewhere else in town. Jim had made him promise to check in with them once a day, but since Christopher had no cell phone it was hard to know WHEN that would be.

Herbert took a sip of his tea and cleared his throat. "Guys, I have to talk to you about something…Last night, I got a letter from my mentor. He is asking me to go to Thule in Greenland and find something. I don' know what it is, but…it would have to be important for him to do it like this."

"What do you mean, Thule?" Jim asked, "We're in the middle of investigations on two fronts here. Vaughn is buried in books, and I'm chasing the woman in black, and have finally gotten good leads…"

"I know. But we have to go, Jim. At least I have to go."

"If you go, I'll go with you", Mercedes said, and Andrew nodded. "Me too. Besides, if I have to get clearance to the airbase through FBI, it would look odd if I did not go with you."

"All right", Jim said, "I guess we are all going. Andrew – that clearance…how long will it take to get it? I take it this is an urgent business?" He looked at Herbert, who nodded.

"I'd say 24 hours. Let me call Frank and I'll let you know."

"All right. In that case, we need to prepare for the trip…and we still have time to get some work done today."

"I can do the shopping!", Mercedes offered.

"That's good. Murph, I'd like you to come to London with me and check out a bit about a hospital. Herbert, how did you plan on getting there?"

"I thought I might find a mage who could teleport us up there. I'll look around…see if I can locate one who can help us."

"Good. Then let's not waste the day!"

Herbert managed to find a willing mage in downtown Oxford. The mage, an old man who lived in an extremely messy apartment and wore nothing but a silk dressing gown, promised to cast the spell with a return option included. It would simply be a matter of casting it on an object, and when they withed to get back, they could activate it.

"Will we return here?" Herbert asked.

"Yes, that's the idea…if you show up in the middle of the night, try not to wake me up, okay?"

Mercedes went on a massive shopping trip, buying arctic gear for the entire team. Equipment for ice climbing, rations and snow goggles all went into her shopping cart. Paying with the company credit card, she headed back to the hotel carrying a parcel roughly the size of herself.

Jim Andrew and Murph spent the day at the British home and hospital for incurables. Jim managed to get a hold of Rhea Weston's file, which upon inspection by Andrew (who had medical training from his time in the FBI) had a couple of interesting points:

An x-ray had revealed a brain tumor in Rhea's occipital lobe, and it had grown over time. Several pictures were included. Rhea's symptoms were described as headaches, hypoxia, eyesight problems, general weakness and anemia. She had been assigned treatment, including chemotherapy, but finally the tumor had been deemed inoperable and incurable. Halfway through the treatment, Dr. Reynolds had taken over as her personal physician.

Death had occurred due to cardiopulmonary failure due to the tumor.

A note was made that at time of death, the girl was so pale and emancipated, that the casket was closed at the funeral.

"We need to know something more about this Reynolds-guy", Jim said to Murph, "This sounds more and more to me like this kid was visited by a vampire. This guy must have had some secondary motive.

Murph also managed to come up with a few data from Scotland Yard, although that hardly made things clearer for Jim.

Rhea Weston, alias Maria Burch, alias Lilah Thompson, alias Alison S Melby was a presumed US citicen, who had traveled in and out of Britain several times in the past 10 years. She was a suspect in several high-profile heists, but there had never been enough evidence to warrant her arrest.

Jim tried to get information from the hospital concerning Dr. Reynolds, but the hospital was far from helpful. In the meantime, though, Murph used a few of his less lawful talents and snuck into the hospital archives and found the personnel files. He came back with short files on the doctor, which said that Dr. Reynolds had left the hospital in 1982 due to a malpractice suit. There was no current address, but a note at the bottom named the doctor's other place of work – the Godden Green clinic.

After reading through the files in the car, Jim looked at Murph.

"This means we have another stop to make, Murph. We have just got time to look into this Godden Green place before we go back to Oxford and head off to Greenland."

"All right, Jim. Do you want me to…use my talents again? If this place was any indication, we're not going to get anything on that doctor voluntarily."

"You're right. You and Andrew see what you can find out, while I go in the front door and see if I can keep them occupied."

Finding the clinic was not a problem, and Jim was able to walk straight into the reception area, where he was met by a duty nurse. She was, however, neither willing nor able to provide him with answers to his questions.

"This hospital is proud of the discretion we offer to our patients. And that discretion extends to our staff as well, Mr. Corrigan. I am afraid that, unless you have a court order, I can not tell you anything more than the fact that Dr. Reynolds is no longer an employee here. "

Can you give me his private address, or maybe a phone number?"

"I can provide you with the address he gave when he left, but that is more than 15 years ago. It is entirely possible that he no longer lives there. But yes, here." She handed him a piece of paper. Jim thanked her and made to leave.

Meanwhile, in the hospital archives, Murph and Andrew were quietly sneaking through the rooms full of case files on patients and staff. Andrew pulled out a long chart on Reynolds, and quickly scanned through it. Next to the file was a small, black notebook. Andrew picked it up and looked in it curiously. It was written in a female hand, and as he read through it, he felt his blood run cold.

Godden Green Clinic, Kent

Impatient unit records/observations of Leslie Cochran, M.D., September 1977

21/9/1977

Patient 3 was acting up again today. He spat his meds at the orderly again. Were forced to administer intravenously.

22/9/1977

Little John (#6) has made friends with Aaron (#3). Very unexpected given the age difference. Perhaps this will develop into a brotherly relationship. Could be positive for them both.

25/9/1977

#7 taken to electroshock at 14.15. Subject was incoherent and ranting – has delusions of vampires. – talks insistently of a coming apocalypse. Dr. Houndslow suggests possible schizophrenia. Houndslow seems to have taken a special interest in #7

31/9/1977

#7 improving under Houndslow's attention. Today she insisted that he believed her tales. I administered extra medication.

Little John and #3 getting on well. Small panic today as Simon (#5) attempted to eat the pieces off the checkerboard. Nearly had one lodged in his throat.

Ward is calmer tonight.

4/10/1977

Houndslow has done it again. #7 was in a right panic! She claims Houndslow wants her blood. Says he showed her his "pointy teethies" as she calls them. Houndslow insists this is therapy.

I worry for the girl.

Simon ate a pair of dice and has been taken to surgery. I have removed all board games for the time being.

11/10/1977

#7 came from Houndslow's session today – she was shaking – incoherent. She was so pale! I took her temperature but she does not seem sick. I fear she may fall catatonic during the night. Will watch.

13/10/1977

#7 has been in session with Houndslow for hours. I have a bad feeling – I have been worried for the girl.

14/10/1977

#7 was brought back late last night. She wouldn't speak – was so quiet and still. She wouldn't eat.

When I went in to collect her tray she was in the fetal position. She had several self inflicted wounds to her arms, appearing as if she clawed herself severely.

I had her sedated.

15/10/1977

#3 protected John from Simon. There was a bit of a fight among the boys today. It warms my heart to see these lonely little boys find a friend. Now, if we could only do something about Simon.

#7 in session with Houndslow again.

16/10/1977

Tragedy have struck our ward.

This morning, one of the orderlies found #7 hanging by the neck by her own sheets. Houndslow came up and gave her a look – he seemed sad, but I think something about his "therapy" did this. I haven't said a word to anyone about my suspicions, though. I don't dare.

Poor girl…hardly older than a child. Sometimes I wish I could walk out of here and never come back. But then I think of the children.

17/10/1977

Chaos on the ward. The young ones having trouble coping with #7's death. The girls were fighting today and Simon took a bite (!) out of Matthew. I don't blame them – they don't know how to cope with loss and grief.

20/10/1977

Houndslow is chipper today. I hear he might be getting a new patient for his research. I pray that it's not true. But from the smile on his face, I think it is…

22/10/1977

They brought a girl in last night, around midnight. She's young, can't be more than 3 or 4. Perhaps the youngest on the ward. They're calling her #19.

She is so small and scared. She must have been sick – she seems weak. She cried for hours last night. Around 3 I rocked her to sleep. I pray that this child won't be the subject of Houndslow's "research"…

24/10/1977

#19 is adjusting.

Poor girl finally stopped crying at night, though her appetite could use improvement.

Something strange happened, though. Simon was angry with Little John for stealing a chess piece. He came at John with the boar, sneaking up behind him. I think he meant to knock John over the head with it. Just then, the board flew out of Simon's hand – like someone had torn it out, and it clattered to the floor. The whole time, #19 was sitting in the corner, just staring at them…I got the strangest feeling that she did it.

Is that possible?

28/10/1977

Houndslow has the new child in session.

I hope my fears are ungrounded. Why haven't I heard this child's name?

Lisa (#21) is making progress. She is beginning to speak – just small words, but progress nonetheless.

29/10/1977

#19 came back from Houndslow today. I could hear her crying in the evening. I asked Houndslow about her- he says she has some form of autism and he is working on a special therapy.

The child is different, that's for sure.

I asked Houndslow where she came from – he said an orphanage. I don't think he's being utterly truthful.

The poor child could not stop crying. I know I'm not supposed to have extended contact with the patients of another doctor, but I just couldn't help it! (Maybe it's my maternal instincts kicking in, since I can't have any children of my own?) I went in the room. The poor girl was huddled there in the corner. I think she'd cried her voice hoarse. I went up to her and told her it was all right and that she was safe…and she clung to me! Poor child…I asked her if she had a name, and in the most timid voice she said "my momma calls me Rhea!"

Mommy?

I thought Houndslow said she was an orphan! Houndslow is up to something. I must keep an eye on him.

31/10/1997

Houndslow has the child again tonight.

The ward is uneasy. It is Halloween – somehow they seem to sense this.

1/11/1997

Lisa (#21) suffered a seizure at around 3 in the afternoon. Luckily, it wasn't serious, though they say it was grand mal. She suffered a slight blow to the head, but no lasting damage. When I was trying to help the girl during the seizure I noticed injection sites on the underside of her knees and insides of the elbows. Questioned Houndslow about this – he tells me the injections were routine vitamins and sedatives.

5/11/1997

A quiet day on the ward. We all watched "Mary Poppins" and I made popcorn for the children.

The good days are so special…

7/11/1997

Simon kept the ward up all night with horrible nightmares. I am quite tired.

He was nearly incoherent with fear – kept shouting about "his yellow eyes". We all got some sleep when he was sedated.

I hope the rest of the day will be quiet.

8/11/1977

Houndslow came to take little Rhea today and the most amazing thing happened.

She was in her room at the time – I had just given her a Donald Duck coloring book and she was having a right good time. Houndslow came in to collect her and she wouldn't go. She hid under the bed, and try as he might he could not coax her out. Finally, he backed up and stood by the door. All of a sudden, the door slammed shut, right in his face! Blood squirted out of his nose. The look on his face was priceless. He stomped off, muttering something about having the janitor "fix those bloody doors!"

A curious incident, to say the least.

He had the girl sedated and taken to "treatment" later in the day.

10/11/1977

Houndslow brought Rhea back today – apparently this "treatment" had gone on all night. She was very pale and withdrawn.

When she was put in her room, she refused to stay. She began to cry, and insisted that she sit in the light by the window. She said "he can't get me in the light." I became very concerned when I noticed some needle marks on the backs of her knees. Something funny is going on here. I am going to see if I can spy on Houndslow.

13/11/1977

Lisa ate some of the crayons today. She told me that she only ate the white ones so they won't stain her teeth.

Can anything in crayons cause seizures?

16/11/1977

Maria, a girl on the janitorial staff, has agreed to give me keys to the maintenance room in exchange for a prescription for valium. I know this in unethical for a doctor to do – but access to the maintenance room can get me into the ventilation ducts, and maybe from there I can see what Houndslow has been up to all this time.

18/11/1977

Tonight I did my reconnaissance on Houndslow for the first time.

He had taken Aaron (#3) to his laboratory on the 3rd floor. I waited about half an hour before I climbed into the ventilation ducts. I moved slowly, so I wouldn't be heard. It was quite dusty in there – and hard to breathe. Following the schematic of the ventilation system Maria gave me, I made my way through the ducts to Houndslow's lab.

Peering through the ventilation grid, I saw Aaron. He was unconscious, presumably sedated, and strapped into a laboratory chair. Houndslow was not in the room.

I waited patiently for about 10 minutes before he returned. He was carrying a black bag and humming to himself. I saw him take out a syringe and several small vials.

Over the next hour, he injected the child with these solutions. I watched for as long as I could, until I was sure that I would be missed soon if I did not return.

I do not know the purpose of these injections – or if they are something out of the ordinary for Aaron's treatment – but I must come back and watch Houndslow again tomorrow to see what I can find out…

19/11/1977

Tonight Houndslow has taken Simon to the lab for treatment. I will try to see if I can spy again.

20/11/1977

Last night I saw something terrifying!

When I was spying on Houndslow…my God, the man is sick!

He had taken Simon to the lab I snuck through the ducts to see what was going on. Things were very different from last time – Simon was not tied up like Aaron, he was sitting on a normal chair, waiting for Houndslow. He was playing with something, and when I looked more closely I saw it was a toy. A very expensive toy – I assume Houndslow gave it to him.

A few minutes later, Houndslow came in, and I was so surprised that I nearly gasped and gave myself away! His eyes were glowing yellow! Like a do, they had a strange animal quality to them. As soon as he walked in the room, Simon jumped up exited. He ran over to Houndslow with an eager look in his eyes. He looked almost hungry, and I wondered if he had gotten his supper.

Houndslow said something in a low voice – I could not hear the words. Simon ran back to the chair and sat down. Houndslow then said "Are you ready, my son?" I was confused as to why he would refer to Simon in this way. Simon nodded. He sat calmly in the chair, but he was fidgeting. Houndslow walked up to the boy and took a scalpel from his pocket. First, I thought he was going to cut Simon – but what happened next was even more horrifying. Houndslow took the scalpel and drew it along his own wrist. A dark line of blood welled up. Simon leaped out of his chair and grabbed Houndslow's bleeding wrist. He drew it to his mouth – and began to suck on it, making all kinds of disgusting slurping sounds. A drop of blood ran down his cheek, and splattered on the floor.

The sight of it made me sick, but I kept watching. After about 5 minutes, Houndslow pushed the boy back into the chair and threw him a handkerchief. Simon wiped the blood away from his face, as if he was wiping gravy from his chin after a good meal. Houndslow lifted his bleeding arm to his own lips and ran his tongue over the wound. What happened then was a total shock – before my eyes the wound sealed up as if it had never been there.

I was shocked! What had I just seen? Why would Houndslow force a child to drink blood? What the hell is going on here? I have to do something about this – report it to the police maybe? But would anyone believe me? Could I prove anything?

I don't know what to do…

25/11/1977

I have been thinking about what I saw. I'm not even sure I believe it myself! Perhaps Houndslow is doing something, some kind of experiment on the children. Whatever it is, the hospital cannot possibly know about it! I have been trying to act normal around him, hoping he doesn't suspect that I know anything. Every time I see him, I can't help thinking about those horrible yellow eyes!

Simon has been acting very strange. He is fiercely loyal to Houndslow today – when Houndslow came into the room, Simon ran over and hugged him. Strange, because all the children are afraid of him.

Another strange incident occurred with Simon today. The children were playing checkers. Little John won the game and Simon got very upset. He started crying and pounding the table with his fists, calling John a cheater. Suddenly he brought his fist down on the table and cracked it right down the middle! The table didn't fall apart, but it surely was damaged. I don't think a child could normally do this – maybe some side effect of what Houndslow is doing to him?

27/11/1977

Houndslow has taken Rhea to the "session". I will try to see what they are doing tonight.

28/11/1977

Spied on Houndslow last night. I don't think he is human.

My god – just writing that makes me question my own sanity!

I saw him with Rhea (#19). She was terrified. – he had her strapped into a chair. He administered a series of what looked like extremely painful injections. The poor girl screamed each time he injected her. When he was through, the most terrifying thing happened. He opened his mouth and his teeth…his teeth were long! Fangs – only canines. Like a…why not say it? Like a vampire. Could they be real? Then, Houndslow did a most horrible thing – he bit her! Not in the neck like in the movies, but the wrist. She was screaming and then she appeared to pass out with fear.

He spent the next minute or so apparently sucking her blood. After that he spent an hour drawing out samples of his OWN blood- and performing tests on it. I don't know what he is trying to discover, but this is child abuse! I am afraid of Houndslow – I cannot let him know that I know.

Who knows what he is capable of?

30/11/1977

I have spoken to the director of the hospital and he assures me that Houndslow is a valuable member of the staff – and that my fears are due to me having an overactive imagination!

I have decided what I must do. I must take the children away, or some of them at least. We'll run – maybe go overseas. John, Aaron and Rhea have to be saved – they are the ones that are more or less normal and not corrupted too much by Houndslow.

We will leave within a week. I will smuggle them out of the hospital.

1/12/1977

I have procured false passports and plane tickets. I'll be claiming them as my own children.

We leave tonight if possible.

I will hide this journal in the archives – it's too dangerous to take with us. Maybe it will one day be read by someone that can expose Houndslow.

Andrew looked back down at the employee files. Maybe…yes, there was a file marked with Houndslow's name. He picked that one up as well. It seemed more sporadic, and written on a typewriter.

20-10-77

Good news after the suicide of #7 – I may be getting a new patient.

#7 was a mixed success. Her death was a disappointment to me, but my new prospect sounds even more interesting. Dr. Reynolds found this new subject for me. He tells me that the patient suffers from a severe brain tumor – but exhibits some interesting new psychic abilities. Reynolds postulates that the brain tumor (which is non-malignant, although the child's parents have been told otherwise) could be the cause of her extraordinary abilities. I expect to receive this subject in the next day or so.

22-10-77

My new subject, called number 19, arrived around midnight last night. She appears to be around 4 years old.

I have yet to test her abilities. My colleagues in "the House" are preparing some formulas to test on her blood. I plan on doing an extensive series of tests – psychological, hematological and physiological – to determine if any source of her powers can be located.

28-10-77

After a day of extensive testing, I have determined the nature of some of #19's powers.

She appears to have telepathic abilities (I tested her using a battery of standard parapsychological tests and she came out at a +1 significance level each time!). In addition, she exhibits telekinetic abilities – I observed her moving objects with her mind. Most startlingly, she exhibits a remarkable ability – short range teleportation! This, however, works only when placed in a threatening situation. I placed her in fear-inducing situations numerous times, and she is able to remove herself to a position (within the same room) that is far from the fear inducing element.

I have also performed extensive blood tests and noticed a strange blood anomaly - #19 has a high red cell count, but amazingly, her red blood cells carry six times more oxygen than normal cells. What this does to her, or what purpose it serves, I have yet to determine. Could this be a genetic anomaly?

Reynolds tells me that her birth certificate lists her father as "unknown". Is this the result of some strange paternity?

10-11-77

My colleagues in "The House" have devised a method where I might transfer #19's abilities to my own blood. They have developed a number of serums that I have begun injecting her with. They are quite painful injections – I have to keep the subject strapped down and I am pleased that my laboratory has been soundproofed.

"The House" has also giving me a spell charm to prevent her from teleporting away during the experiments, since they are obviously fear inducing.

After the injections, I drink from the subject and then test my own blood. So far there have been no changes, and "The House" is working on perfecting the formula.

20-11-77

The experiments continue – no success.

"The House" has a theory about the child's parentage. They speculate that the father may have been some kind of supernatural.

I think this is an intriguing possibility!

22-11-77

"The House" have managed to perfect the injections.

The subjects abilities have become greatly enhanced. They also speculate that the powers might increase with age. If I let her live that long.

2-12-77

That bitch of a nurse have taken some of my subjects…I was unaware that she knew anything.

I have the best agents from "The House" tracking her down, but I fear she has left the country.

She has taken number 3, and number 16 as well – worthless subjects – but #19...she could have been the culmination of a lifetime of research. If I find Cochran I will kill her, and not quickly!

A sound behind him made him jump, but it was only Murph, who had accidentally knocked over a pile of paper.

"Sorry…" Murph whispered.

"It's all right. We'd better get the hell out of here…I have suddenly an urge to take a shower…or maybe just burn this place to the ground!"

As they headed back north towards Oxford, Jim called Christopher, who picked up on the second ring.

"Vaughn, it's Jim. Did you get your snow shoos ready?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh…" Jim paused, "do you mean nobody called you and told you? We're going to Greenland tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow? But Jim…I am in the middle of some very important research right now. I think we're close to knowing some important details about this text…"

"It's very important that we go up there, Vaughn. I won't go into details, but it's all about Herbert's friend. He has something for Herbert, something that could be…of great importance. Do you catch my drift?"

"I do. And in that case, I'm sure I can accompany you. When did we leave, you say?"

"Tomorrow morning. Come to the hotel at 8 o'clock."

"I will see you there. Good night."

4

The next day, wearing clothes more suited to the arctic regions, the Tempus team stepped into the mage's living room. Some, like Jim, looked slightly uncomfortable in the heavy coats and pants, whereas others, like Andrew, looked like he had not felt better in months.

The mage grouped them close together, and handed Herbert a small charm.

"Here. This is your return ticket. When you wish to go home, simply touch it all at the same time. Then, you will be instantly teleported back to this spot."

They nodded, and he raised his arms.

"Now – I'll send you off. Be aware that the feeling might be a little…odd…if you have never teleported before, but it will pass. Safe journey!"

He waved his hand, and the room seemed to dissolve around them, becoming two-dimensional, loose all color and then be replaced with bright white. Then, the white came into focus, and they found themselves standing in the middle of an empty street full of snow. The street looked abandoned and empty, but the houses were still in surprising good condition. The cold was sharp, but their clothes proved their worth and kept them warm.

"Is this…Thule?" Mercedes asked.

"This is the old Dundas city", Andrew said, "the city's inhabitants were relocated when the airbase was built. The army did not care for neighbors. See!", he pointed to a large group of buildings about a mile away, "That's the base up there."

"Then let's go up and see if they will let us in." Herbert said.

"Right. First, let me tell you that you are all consultants to the FBI. That was the only way I could get you access. Here are your passes." He handed them a flat document package each.

"And how do you explain that a priest is part of the expedition?" Christopher asked.

"I did not. So you're not."

"I see."

A short walk up the slightly sloping ice-covered street brought them to the gate to the base.

Andrew talked to the guard, who inspected their papers. "All right, go in, and report in tot he Sarge in the office. Second building on your right. "

They nodded, and walked through the gate.

The "Sarge" turned out to be a young man with a Louisiana accent, insisting that most people called him "Bubba". He welcomed them all to Thule

"It's not often we get visitors up here…what was it again you were doing?"

"We're working on a project to…study the effect of magnetic fields…" Andrew began.

""Yes, and the fluctuations in the ice cape caused by the aurora borealis." Christopher continued.

"Oh, right…you're British!" Sgt. "Bubba" said, "you must be smart…where I come from, we mostly deal in scrimp. But the British are smart, I sure know that!"

"Thank you" Christopher said dryly.

"I've assigned you some guest quarters in the barracks…and while you're here, feel free to use the ping pong table, or any other sports equipment from the games room. I'm sure you'll have a great time here!"

"Well…" Murph spoke up, "I sure wouldn't mind if I could borrow a baseball bat…"

The Sergeant looked at him curiously, but nodded his approval, and a private went to fetch Murph a baseball bat. Murph thanked them, and slung the bat over his shoulder.

"Now, while you're here, you can move freely around– of course, a few of the buildings are restricted, and off limits without authorization."

"And what if we need authorization?"

"Then you come see me."

"What the hell do you want with a baseball bat?" Herbert asked when they had left the office.

"I have some nails in my backpack…I'd thought about making it into a club."

"Why?"

"Dunno. Just…feel like it."

When they had stowed most of their gear in the guest barracks, Andrew and Herbert sat down to try and pinpoint exactly where the object they were searching could be found. The coordinates was no great help in that respect – they only gave the location of the base itself.

Herbert used a spell to locate magic energies in the area, while Andrew uses his computer to look for any abnormal power readings in the area. Both came up with the same result – the object was somewhere in the north end of the compound, which meant about 6 barracks and the base chapel to search through.

"Let's start in the chapel", Herbert suggested, "it's not off limits, and maybe it is something best kept in a holy aura we're looking for…like the Dark Sword."

"I hope not!" Jim mumbled, as they headed out the door. Murph, who had been pounding nails into the bat, followed him eagerly.

The chapel was relatively small and had a simple charm to it. It looked like a red wood house from the outside, but once you got inside, it was clear it made of more sturdy materials.

Christopher made the sign of the cross before entering, and so did Mercedes and Herbert. Jim and Andrew exchanged a look and simply stepped in.

The chapel was quickly searched. It was only one room, and as Herbert used every magical "sense" he had, it was quickly clear that there was nothing of importance in there.

"All right…what's next on the list?" Jim asked. Andrew looked at the map of the base he was carrying and pointed to the next building.

"It says "storage B".

"All right."

As they stepped outside again, several of the team felt their supernatural "warning signal" tingle. A low growling sound gave those without such a sense a moments warning, before something large and white came out from behind the chapel wall and approached them.

Jim spun around and pulled out his sword, but did not have time for more than a glancing blow, before a large paw hit him, and sent him flying. He hit the wall of the chapel, and lost consciousness.

Andrew pulled out his rifle, and Christopher pressed a button the crucifix he was carrying, making knife-blades come out with a metallic clicking sound. Herbert quickly spoke the words he would need for a lightning spell, and Mercedes simply stared in wide-eyed wonder.

The creature that approached them was apparently made from several animals. The body was a large polar bear, but several other animal parts were visible on the body – a seal's flipper, a bird's wing, and on the back of the creature they could see a small human skull.

"It's a Tupilaq!" Andrew said under his breath, "Greenlandic Golems. They do their masters bidding, which usually involves killing someone. Your master must have some very powerful enemies!"

Herbert did not reply, but instead spoke the last word of his spell. A blue lightning bold sprung from his fingertips, throwing the creature a few meters back. Suddenly, Murph stepped up, pulling out his newly made weapon. He swung it with a mighty strength, striking the polar bear's head, and tearing off a large chunk of the creature's skin. It howled in pain.

Andrew, who needed a longer range to use his rifle properly, had quickly jumped up on the roof of the chapel. Here, he took aim, and fired several rounds into the creature, who struck out and Herbert, but missed. Christopher used his knife with a great skill, and wherever he hit, small puffs of smoke rose from the creature's hurt flesh. It roared, and made to attack Herbert with it's powerful jaws.

Suddenly, Mercedes stepped in between Herbert and the Tupilaq. Her face looked scared, but full of a strange strength, and with a elegant movement that seemed entirely out of place in the heavy arctic clothes she wore, she kicked the creature in the jaw. Murph used her distraction and began pounding it with the club.

The creature, clearly feeling outmatched, turned and tried to flee. Neither Murph nor Andrew had any intention, however, of letting it get away. Murph kept beating on it, and Andrew pumped round after round into it.

The creature suddenly collapsed, becoming a puddle of strange, gooey liquid. The liquid slithered away, out through the fence and towards the ice fields.

"Andrew!" Herbert shouted and pointed after it, "When a Tupilaq fails to perform its mission, it will turn its rage on its master!"

"Quickly, after it, then!" Andrew shouted back, "It might lead us back to whoever sent it to us!"

He jumped down from the roof, and set off in a run after the liquid.

"I'll come with you!" Christopher said, setting off after him. Mercedes also followed them, and they all went over the fence after it.

Herbert, in the meantime, helped Murph get Jim back on his feet. He was already starting to come too, and was more than a little embarrassed at being taken down so easily.

The three hunters chased the puddle of liquid across the ice for more than half an hour. Finally, Christopher grabbed Andrew's shoulder.

"It's no use…we're not going to catch it, and it's only leading us into the wastelands. We won't stand a chance if we're caught out here and darkness falls. Come on, let's go back!"

"Never!" Andrew's eyes glinted, "I wanna catch this thing! Go back – I'll go on alone."

He ran forward. Christopher and Mercedes looked at him for a moment, and then turned back towards the base.

Andrew, however, soon had to give up the pursuit, as the liquid finally went into a crack in the ice and vanished.

He sighed heavily, and then, returned to the base.

"How did you do that, Mercedes?" Herbert asked, while they walked between the barracks, using a combination of spells and scanners to pinpoint the object they were searching for.

"Do what?"

"You know what…that kick to the Tupilaq…it was like you were some kind of superhero…it was fantastic! Did you suddenly find some kind of superpower?"

"No…at least I…I don't think so…I mean…I didn't think, I just did it."

"Maybe, when we get back, we should have Andrew look at you…maybe the Dark Sword gave you some kind of power when you held it."

Mercedes blinked, surprised, but nodded. "Sure…okay…"

Andrew, who was still grumbling over not being able to catch the creature, suddenly spoke up.

"Here…it's close…probably…in there!"

He pointed to the barracks they were standing next to. A door with a sign was only a few steps away, and Christopher read on the sign:

"Computer lab. Authorized access only. Security clearance required"

Jim sighed. "That means we're probably not going to get a chance of getting in there. I'm sure that the base values it's computers to highly to let us stumble around in there."

Christopher smiled.

"Leave that to me. I'm sure that the good lieutenant can be persuaded. Andrew, I think we'd better talk to him."

"How did you do that?" Jim asked, when they walked from the office escorted by private Benson.

"I told him that we needed access to the lab to study visual phenomenon and the possibility of magnetic fields in the aura borealis."

"What?"

"Northern lights, Jim. I made it sound…very important."

"I guess so!", Jim said, and eyed the private, who got out a key and opened the door, "And how about him?"

"He's a computer specialist. Bubba back there assigned him to us while we work in here."

The private opened the door and let them into the barracks, which was dominated by several computer workstations, scanners and a large whiteboard screen. Andrew looked around at the computers, while Herbert closed his eyes and attempted to feel the magical energies.

The private walked across the room, and opened a small door in the wall, that turned out to be an elevator.

"Come this way, sir, please." He said, addressing Herbert.

"Why?"

The private looked surprised at him, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Because what you are looking for is down here, Mr. Schmidt."

All heads turned to the private, who stepped into the elevator. He looked back, an anticipating look on his face.

Herbert reached out with his magic and felt the power in the private. "You're a mage!"

"Yes, Sir. Now, please, follow me. Your master's instructions were quite clear."

Herbert took a deep breath and stepped into the elevator, and the rest of the team followed him hesitantly. They were all ready for anything.

Except for the sight that greeted them when the doors opened.

5

A large cavern of ice lay before them, apparently carved or melted into a large dome. In the middle of this large and impressive hall was a small room, built of concrete. There was an open door, and all that was inside was a keypad on the wall.

"This is where your master has summoned you to", Private Benson said, pointing to the room. "I was told that only you would know the code."

Herbert nodded.

"You must enter alone, Mr. Schmidt. All of you - wait here."

Herbert stepped into the room, and the door closed silently behind him. He took a deep breath and walked over to the keypad.

He pulled out the note he had received from his master and read it again.

"Speak what is closest to your heart and you will hold the power to shake the world!" he mumbled. But what was closest to his heart? Mercedes? No, that would be very unlike his master, and besides, how would he know? No, it had to be….something that his master knew he carried close to his heart. His power center. His grandfather's iron cross.

Herbert punched in "IRON CROSS".

There was a click, and a small compartment opened in the wall. In it was a box, intricately carved with spiral patterns. Herbert reached for it and picked it up, feeling the almost audible hum of magic that emanated from it. He opened it slowly and gently

Inside the box, resting on a bed of velvet was a blue glass ball, about the size of a grapefruit. It was shining with a clear, blue light that filled the room, and as he looked closer into the glass, he saw movement in there. He bent closer, and saw that it was not movement – there were pictures inside.

A man was running up a hill, holding a rifle in his hand. He was shouting something, and obviously giving orders to other men around him. They were all wearing uniforms, Herbert recognized – nazi uniforms from World War 2. And he also knew the man – he had seen his image often enough in his family album. It was his grandfather.

The pictures continued – his grandfather now fired his weapon against another army, one Herbert recognized as the Russians. He was hidden behind a rock, aiming and firing, and then, the picture seemed to vanish into the blue haze. It was gone.

"What was that?" Herbert asked, not knowing if he was talking to himself or to the glass ball, "can I see more?"

As a reply, another image appeared, one considerably more familiar to Herbert.

He saw Mercedes, sitting at her desk in the lobby in the Tempus house in San Francisco. She was working on her computer, editing the website she and Andrew had designed. She had just put up a new picture, he saw…a picture of him!

She looked admiringly at the picture, and then let a finger trace the line of his face on the computer screen. Then, she looked around, as if she had heard a sound, and quickly clicked the image away. She closed her notebook on the desk, but not before Herbert had seen what was written on the inside cover, in red pen and drawn inside a heart:

Mrs. Mercedes Schmidt

Then, the image once again vanished. Herbert, who had been almost in a trance, closed the box and opened the door to the outside.

"Did you get it?" asked Andrew.

"And what WAS "it"?" Jim asked.

"I got it. I'll tell you about it later. Let's get out of here" Herbert said, putting the box under his arm.

The private nodded, and led them back to the elevator.

"So that means we can go back now?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Great! I've got a lot to do in England. And I never liked Greenland anyway…far to cold for my tastes!"

Christopher had handled the goodbyes to the Lieutenant, who was sad to see them go so quickly, since, as he put it "you guys might teach us something!", but he agreed to let the team leave the base. When asked, he even allowed Murph to keep his bat.

They quickly suited up, and headed down the slope towards the abandoned city below.

"Why didn't we just teleport out up there?" Murph asked, dragging his feet through the snow.

"And leave the base commander with the mystery of how 6 people vanished into thin air from a well guarded airbase? 6 people working with the FBI, no less. No, it's better this way" Andrew said. Herbert nodded.

"Well, it's not like we used all this equipment we bought", Jim said, "maybe we can return it! The clerk would probably believe us if we said we changed out minds about going – it would be impossible for us to get up here and back in the time we've spent."

"Is it really worth it, Jim?" Andrew said.

"Hell yeah. I bought it on the company credit card."

Andrew signed, and wondered once again if he should tell Jim about the large sum of money he had access to. Maybe now was not exactly the time.

They reached the place where they had arrived a few hours earlier, and Herbert looked around to make sure they could not be seen from the base.

"All right…I think it's safe to…."

He did not have time to complete the sentence, as something struck the wall right next to his cheek.

"What the hell was…?" Jim said, just before another object struck his jacket, pulling on the fabric.

"Someone is shooting at us, get down!" Andrew shouted, and quickly grabbed Mercedes, pulling her back and into the house they stood next to. They all threw themselves to the ground, just in time a more shots struck all around them.

They quickly crawled into the house, and both heard and saw the shots striking the windows.

"Quickly, Herbert, the teleporter!" Christopher said. Andrew grabbed one of the bullets that had struck the floor next to him, and looked at it curiously.

"It's ice! The bullet is made of ICE!"

"Grab hold of each other!" Herbert said, and as they all joined hands, he activated the transporter. The abandoned house faded away around them, and was replaced by the darkness of the mage's living room.

They all breathed a sigh of relief, as they got to their feet.

"What the hell was that? Who was shooting at us?" Jim asked.

Andrew held out the small bullet, which now began to melt in the warm living room.

"Whoever it was used ice or snow as ammunition. It could be the same guy who created the tupilaq. Shamans could probably control arctic weather. It could even be someone with sufficiently advanced guns. I've heard of such things."

"Well, whoever they were, they're in Greenland, and we're in England now!" Mercedes said.

Christopher nodded. "Right you are. And I would say that it calls for a celebratory pint."

"Well said!" Jim said, "and since we're going out for a drink anyway, I thought we might as well look up some of the places the vampires frequent in London."

"What on earth for?"

"To find clues about a certain Dr. Reynolds that I'm hot on the trail of. It might be very important to the case."

"I see. Well, I suppose any place is as good as any other."

6

The Tempus team found a bar in a slightly less fancy part of London than most of them liked to be in. It was a old style pub called "The Cock & Bull", and was designed very much like an old style bar with wooded tables and chairs, a long bar and the obligatory dart board in the back.

Jim, who was used to navigating vampire dens, had suggested that they go in individually in small groups, and although Andrew had been very reluctant to even visit a vampire hangout without killing them all, Jim had talked him down. This was not their city, and they did not have the "live and let live" relationship they had established with the prince of San Fransisco. Best to tread carefully.

Andrew and Mercedes were going in together, Herbert and Christopher together as well, and Murph and Jim opted to go in alone. Andrew did notice that Herbert looked suspiciously jealous, and decided to tease his friend a bit. When they had settled down at a table in the pub, Andrew pulled out a coin and gave it to Mercedes.

"Here…go put it in ht jukebox and play something you can dance to."

Mercedes did so, and as Jim entered the pub, he was greeted to the sound of the Black Eyed Peas, singing "My humps". He tapped his foot to the beat of the music, as he walked up to the bar and ordered a whiskey.

From here, he scanned the crowd, and his eyes stopped at a crowd of people at the dart board. The man sitting with a glass of ale in his hand was obviously a vampire, as was 2 of his cronies and one of the girls. He caught the eyes of Father Christopher, who stepped in at that moment, and Christopher also saw the men for what they were. He nodded to Jim with a small inclination of his head, indicating that he agreed. Jim got up, and strolled down towards the dartboard. Christopher sat down at the bar, and looked at the waitress with a polite smile.

"Could I have some service, please?"

The waitress, also a vampire, tried to get closer to him, but the holy aura around Christopher literally made her uncomfortable and she stepped away again.

"What…what can I get ya?" she asked from a few meters away.

"A beer, please. "

She drew the glass of beer and tried to slide it down the bar counter – with very little success. Christopher leaned forward and took it.

"Here…." He said, and put some coins on the counter.

"No…it'…on the house!" The waitress whispered. She was now in obvious agony, and did not dare to approach him.

"Nonsense…here, I insist."

Christopher leaned forward and grabbed her wrist with a quick motion. People around the bar were now beginning to notice the spectacle, and the waitress had to stifle her urge to scream when Christopher's fingers touched her skin. A small sizzling sound came from under his grip, and a small spiral of smoke came rising up. Christopher pressed a coin into her hand where it left a mark as if it had been red hot.

The waitress ripped her hand away and covered it under her apron. Christopher sat back on his chair and sipped his beer. At the jukebox, he saw, Andrew and Mercedes had begun to dance. The music, which was far from Christopher's taste, obviously became Mercedes very well. She twisted and twirled, flowing in the rhythm of the song.

"My humps, my humps, my lovely little lumps…check it out!"

Herbert looked at them from his seat next to Christopher, and the look in his face was almost green with jealousy. Christopher wondered if Andrew Picardt had thought everything through before teasing a mage.

Jim approached the men playing darts, and looked on for a moment, studying their moves. Then, he spoke up:

"Any of you gentlemen interested in a game?"

The man, Jim had picked to be the leader of the pack, looked him over.

"You're American, eh?"

"That's right."

"Well, your money are as good as any, I suppose. You know how to play?"

"In all modesty, yes."

"Then show me what you got!"

Jim picked up an arrow, and took aim.

"I'm Jim, by the way."

He threw the arrow, and it struck the board just outside the red centre.

The vampire nodded approvingly. "You can call me Max. Most people here do. Nice shot there, Jim…let's see if I can beat it."

They played a few rounds. Jim, who could use the quickening to improve his dexterity, made sure not to beat Max – on the contrary he made him win several times without being to obvious.

"So, Max…" Jim said, as he aimed, "I wonder if you can help me with a small problem. You see, I'm looking for someone…and you look like the kind of man who knows a lot of people."

"I've been around, yeah. Who is this person you're looking for?"

"His name is Jerold Reynolds, and he was a doctor in town, at least back in the 70's. I heard something about a malpractice suit…do you know where I might find him?"

"Reynolds...oh, yeah, I've heard of him…but he's not in town. Not anymore."

"Really? Where did he go?"

"Word on the street is, he went to your country, actually…to follow his mentor. Since you know him so well, I trust you know who THAT is?"

"Houndslow?"

"Right. Went to New York, and Reynolds followed like a good little lapdog. So you'll not find him here."

"hmm…well, in that case, I'm sorry to have troubled you, Max."

"No trouble, Jim. You play a mean game of darts, so, I don't mind. Come back anytime and get a rematch."

"I just might do that. Take care, Max."

Jim got up, finished his drink and walked towards the exit. He noticed that Herbert had a sulking look on his face, as he signaled him that it was OK to leave. Christopher and Herbert got up slowly, so as not to appear they were with Jim. It took more persuasion, however, to get Murph to follow them. Murph, who had come in as the last, had been sitting at a table in the corner, knocking out his pipe on the floor and generally harassing half the room, when Herbert tapped his shoulder and whispered "we're leaving!"

"Why I've just put money in the jukebox!"

"Now!"

The four men left the pub, while Andrew and Mercedes following the plan should remain for a few minutes.

"So, did you learn anything?" Herbert asked as they walked back towards the car.

"Yes, I learned that we are going to USA. New York, actually. Houndslow the vampire doctor went there, taking his associate with him. And since this happened recently, the trail is still warm. I have a few sources on the east coast I might be able to talk to, and I think this is still our safest way to find the Dealer."

"Because of this girl in black?" Herbert asked as he got into the back seat.

"That's right. How about you, Vaughn? Will you come with us? We're still on the trail that your Vatican bosses would approve, I think."

"That's true. I do have a lot of studying to do, to learn more about deciphering the text we know…but I suppose, a trip to New York would not be totally out of the question."

"Great. Then we'll book tickets for tomorrow. Although, there is one place we should go before leaving London."

"What's that?"

"Reynolds lived in London for many years. Maybe we can find some clues in his house."

"You mean, break in?" Christopher asked.

"Well…not if we can avoid it."

Herbert looked out through the windows on the dark street. "Something's wrong, guys."

"What do you mean?"

"Mercedes is in danger!" Herbert said and opened the car door again, just as he heard a scream from around the corner.

7

Andrew and Mercedes had barely left the pub and begun walking into the dark London-night, before they heard footsteps behind them. Andrew looked over his shoulder and saw a young man with punk-hair walking behind them, closing fast. He had noticed the man in the pub, and obviously their plan had worked. The vampires should not know that they all were together, and now this one was out for blood.

Andrew turned around and drew his gun. The punk smiled, exposing his fangs and jumped forward, hitting Andrew's gun and knocking it from his hand. It clattered to the ground, and Mercedes let out a surprised scream.

Andrew prepared to use one or two of his martial arts tricks, and when the vampire again attacked, he hit him on the side of the throat, making him stagger in pain.

Then, from around the corner, came the sound of running feet. Herbert rounded the corner just in time to see the vampire snarl and taking a step towards Mercedes.

Herbert lifted his finger and pointed to the vampire. "CREO AUREM!" he shouted, and a bolt of lightning sprang from his fingertips. It hit the vampire square in the chest, and literally blew him apart, leaving only ashes. Herbert felt a huge draining sensation, as he had expelled a vast amount of energy in the blast, but he quickly got better.

Mercedes threw herself in his arms, squeezing her arms around his neck and giving him a big hug.

"Thank you, thank you…you saved us!"

"Oh…it…it was nothing…" Herbert whispered, enjoying the feeling of her body against his.

Jim and Christopher came running around the corner, followed by Murph (who already had the club ready). They stopped and Jim put his sword back inside his coat.

"Well…looks like you managed by yourself!" Jim said dryly, looking at the small pile of smoldering dust on the ground.

Herbert held Mercedes close, and then looked into her eyes.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asked.

"What?"

"Do you want to go somewhere else…with me? Now?"

"Yes…yes, of course I will…" she answered.

Herbert turned around and faced the others.

""I…I mean…we're going...to go out, and….have something to eat, I think…"

"Sure!" Andrew said, grinning, "enjoy…."

"Hmm…" Jim said, "I do feel a bit hungry myself…we could go together…"

Christopher grabbed his shoulder, shook his head. "No, Jim – I think they want to be alone…"

"Oh…right. Well, enjoy, then!"

Herbert and Mercedes walked away in the darkness, and the rest of the team looked at each other.

"Well…why don't we get something to eat, then, the 3 of us…" Jim asked, when Andrew's cell phone rang. He answered it.

"Picardt here…Kat? Oh, good to hear from you to! No, we're still in London…what? Well, sure, but isn't it a little overkill to…no, of course I'm in! I'll see you there!"

He closed the phone and smiled apologetically.

"Kat…is sending an Interpol plane to pick me up…she said I could be back by tomorrow morning…"

"Sure, go ahead, and have fun. We're leaving for New York as soon as possible."

"New York? Why?"

Jim explained, and Andrew nodded. "Well, I'll be back in time for breakfast. See ya!"

And with those words, Andrew hailed a taxi and was gone.

Christopher and Jim stood back with Murph, who was quietly smoking his pipe.

"I'll buy a round in a pub with no vampires", Jim said.

"Ah, but first – if we need to investigate the doctor's former address, would it not be better to do so first?"

"You're right, Vaughn. Are you up for that, Murph?"

"Sure."

"Then let's go."

Mercedes had never tasted such a delicious meal. Herbert, not very familiar with London, had asked the cabbie to take them to the best restaurant he knew. They had ended up in a Indian restaurant in the West End, where they both enjoyed not only the food, but each other's company. For the first time, they felt they could relax and talk freely, away from the rest of the team and away from the world of the supernatural.

After dinner, using a tip Christopher had given him earlier, Herbert bought 2 tickets to "Phantom of the Opera" musical, and as they sat in the darkness he felt Mercedes hand in his. As he listened to the play, hearing the beautiful love song between Raul and Christine, he almost lost his breath as the song spoke his feelings:

Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime . . .

say the word and I will follow you . . .

Share each day with me, each night, each morning . . .

Say you love me . . .

You know I do . . .

Love me - that's all I ask of you . . .

Mercedes put her head down on his shoulder, and he felt like the happiest man in the world.

And later still, on the Millennium wheel, raised high over the rooftops of London, as their lips met for the first time, Herbert felt a wonderful chill in his entire body – and it was not only caused by the motion of the Ferris wheel.

Christopher knocked on the door of the house that, according to the old file, Dr. Jerold Reynolds had been residing in for almost 40 years. A friendly looking old woman opened the door, and Christopher smiled.

"Good evening, ma'am, we're sorry to interrupt, but…we were looking for Dr. Reynolds."

"He's not here, father. He does not live here anymore. He sold the house to us."

"No, well, I was aware of that, actually. I was wondering if he left a forwarding address, a telephone number or any such thing?"

"No, he didn't, father…but won't you come in?"

Christopher stepped in, followed by Jim and Murph.

"He did not tell us where he went from here, " the old woman said, "but he DID leave a strange…assortment of things behind."

"Really?" Jim asked, trying to fake a thick British accent, and making it quite obvious that he was American.

"Yes", said an old man, who now stepped into the room from behind the woman, it's in the basement. Maybe, father…you can tell us what to do with it all."

Christopher nodded and followed the man down a basement stairway, and into a large room full of the sort of things only very old people – or immortals – seem to gather. The man pulled back a curtain, and it was all Christopher could do not to gasp. His fingers gripped hard around the crucifix he wore around his neck.

On shelves in the basement stood row after row of jars filled with what at first glance looked like animals preserved in alcohol. But once you looked closer it became painfully clear that not all was animals – and nothing was natural. Two-headed fetuses, mutated animals with various human limbs and what looked like alien embryos from an episode of X-files stood side by side. Jim thought there must mere hundreds.

"Busy little beaver, that doctor!" he mumbled.

Christopher looked at the old man. "Oh, yes, I'm sure I can help you get rid of this, sir. Our church has a bazaar next week, and I am sure all of this would be most welcome if you would donate it."

"Well…yes, take it…my wife doesn't like them…she says she's afraid of them moving around…and I know what she means…I've felt that way myself."

"Well, in that case, We'll take it all right away…let's get this carried away, gentlemen!"

"What the hell are we going to do with all those mutant ninja turtles?" Murph asked, as they had loaded it all into the car.

"I'm sure Andrew wants a look at them. We'll see what we can do about sending them to your office. And now, how about that drink?"

"Good idea. And it's on me."

Epilogue

After wishing Murph and Christopher a good night and closing the door to his hotel room behind him, Jim exhaled deeply. It had been a long day.

He sat down on at the small desk in his room, and looked over the files from the hospital once more. He knew that he had probably been to focused on this to really be efficient in Greenland. Lucky for him, the rest of the team had been well up to the challenge.

Blue glass balls and Tupilaqs were all right, but what he cared about had been back in London. The case files concerning Rhea Weston, the mysterious girl in black. The girl that for some reason despite his 104 years made him feel like a schoolboy with a crush on the good looking girl in class.

He had only met her face to face once, but ever since then, she had scarcely left his thoughts. The conversation he had with her on the phone two days ago had been stranger still, as he had found himself struggling to impress her and find her at the same time. Having followed her trail from Rome to London, and to from her biological mother to the secret files he felt like he was closer to her. He still missed important pieces of the puzzle – as of now, the last thing Murph's friends at Scotland Yard had been able to provide was that Rhea Weston, age 4, had left England on a plane bound for Seattle in 1977 with a doctor posing as her mother, fleeing from the vampire that had experimented on her. But after that, they knew nothing.

How did the 4 year old Psionic girl become the 30-something master thief they had met in the Necropolis? Only she knew. And maybe, just maybe…she would tell him.

Jim found himself staring at his satellite phone on his nightstand. It would be so easy to pick it up and dial the number…but what would she say to him? Was it possible that she wanted him to call? Would she even have left her number, if she did not want him to? Or was it simply a slipup, made by a fluke in teleportation and she only wished to get as far away from him and the Tempus team as possible? Confused thoughts in his heads argued for both options, but finally, one drowned out the other.

He lit a cigarette, picked up the phone and dialed.

There was a click, and the mechanical voice spoke in his ear:

"Please enter pass code"

Last time he had called, the code had been the Fibonacci sequence. Jim pressed it again, but this time the voice responded with "Pass code incorrect. Please enter pass code."

Jim drew deep on his smoke. She had changed the code. Did that mean that she did not want him to call? Or…

He looked at the case files Murph had gotten him. And on top of them were the documents, Rhea's biological mother had given him. Rhea Weston's birth certificate and death certificate.

"Maybe she wanted to know how far I've gotten…" Jim mumbled and looked at the birth date on the first paper. July 19th 1974.

He pressed 090774. The voice again responded with "Pass code incorrect. Please enter pass code."

He pressed 09071974, and a click came on the other end. Then, Rhea's voice sounded in his ear and his heart skipped a beat.

"Hello, Jim."

"Hello, Rhea. I found out when your birthday is."

"So I see. I guess you have been doing a lot of digging?"

"More than you could imagine. And I have a lot of questions for you."

"What makes you think I would give you the answers, Jim?"

Her voice got a teasing edge to it.

"Well, I have things to tell you in return. Your mom says hi, by the way."

He had hoped it would bring out some kind of reaction, maybe even surprise, but Rhea sounded mostly unaffected.

"Oh, you talked to her?"

"I did. Did you ever think of contacting her? She thought you were dead, until I started making her believe otherwise."

"How do you think she would react to a woman claiming her daughter so many years later? I have no plans to call on her."

"Pity. She's a nice woman, and I think she would like to meet you. Anyway, what would you say, if I say the name "Dr. Houndslow"?"

There was silence for a moment.

"I can tell you that I would kill him if I knew where he was!"

"I might be able to help you there. I'm on his trail, as well as yours."

"Should I feel threatened?"

"That depends. You see, I've thought over a few things, Rhea. How come a super pro thief like yourself just happens to forget your identity papers in the pocket of the clothes you leave behind? And how come you use your birth name and birth address as an alias on a dangerous heist like the one in Rome?"

"Are you making a point, Jim?" Her voice carried a hint of a smile into Jim's ear.

"I thought it over, and I can come up with only two options. One, you want me to all the hard work in some heist, and then take whatever you're after from me. "Thank you, Dr. Jones – I'll take that now", if you know what I mean."

"Yes I know. What's the second option?"

"That you want me to find you."

Silence.

"That you left things behind so I would track you down. Because you want to be found, you want out of something. Am I getting close?"

Rhea breathed in the phone. Then, she cleared her throat and her voice was as clear as ever.

"I guess I just wanted to know how good you really were."

"So it WAS a test?"

"In a way. I wanted to see if you were all that you seemed to be."

"Well, did you ever check out our company, like I told you last time we spoke?"

"I looked at your website, yes. But it doesn't say much."

"We help people in trouble. Supernatural trouble. It's what we do."

"You know, I'm not exactly a rich girl, Jim…"

"That's not the point. We're like Sherlock Holmes. We work for the case itself. Now, tell me something. Where did you go with Dr. Cochran after Seattle? "

"I call her mom. And that's not really the point, Jim. What's the point is, I did what I did because I was hired by someone very powerful. And if I refused, they would hurt my family."

"You mean Cochran? So she's still alive?"

"Yes. And my brothers. Aaron and John. We're all special, and I could not bear to see them get hurt. Do you understand?"

"Of course. Rhea, maybe we should talk about this face to face instead?"

"All right. I suppose. Where did you have en mind?"

"We're going to fly to New York tomorrow, to follow Houndslow's trail. Meet me at 12.30 Eastern Time on 42. Street. There's a small restaurant called "Giorgio's"…"

"I hope it's good…."

"It was the last time I was on the coast. Meet mere there and we'll talk more."

"I'll meet you there."

"Good. Then it's a date."

He almost bit his tongue, but she giggled.

"All right, Jim. See you tomorrow."

There was a click, and the line went dead.

Jim closed the phone and lay back on his bed, lighting a fresh cigarette. Slowly, his heart returned to its normal beat.

Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow.