Henry swam the Seine as quickly (and quietly) as he dared. He sighed with relief when he finally reached his houseboat, for once grateful that he had accepted the 'realities' of his curse and bought the boat instead of renting the property he had originally discovered on the Rue Margeaux. While the place was often an uncomfortable reminder of the circumstances that surrounded his 'curse', the boat's location was also an ideal fail-safe should the...unfortunate...occur...

As it had occurred that evening.

But what, exactly, had occurred? He had been drained of his blood, that much he could remember, but how? And why? And by whom? The person who had drained him, whoever it was, would have seen Henry disappear before his eyes. And if that person then discovered that the man he had...killed...was not, in fact, dead...

Perhaps there was more than one advantage to owning a houseboat.

Henry opened the secret compartment he had installed just above the water's edge, biting down on the key as he pulled himself onto the deck. He pulled the key out of his mouth, gently turning the tumblers to open the door...

Only to discover he was not alone in his house. Henry reflexively dropped into a fighter's stance, prepared to defend his life and his home as best he could from the shadowy figure that he could only barely make out by the moonlight streaming through the windows. "Who are you?" demanded Henry. "Why won't you show yourself?"

"Monsieur, I am a gentleman," the shadowy figure insisted. "I assure you, I mean you no harm."

"Is that why you broke into my home to lie in wait for me in the dark of night?" countered Henry. "To mean me no harm?"

The shadowy figure nodded once. "Forgive me, Monsieur. My kind are very well adapted to the darkness...but are far less 'adapted' to the light of oil lamps. The lack of light was originally a bad habit on my part, but given the current situation..."

"Current situation?" argued Henry.

The shadowy figure's hesitation seemed to show proof of his embarrassment. "If you wish to put on at least a basic outer covering, Monsieur, then we can speak openly when you return."

It was then that Henry remembered his own nakedness. The other man had made no moves toward him and was, in point of fact, giving him ample opportunity to return to a state of decency so that they could talk in a civilized manner. "You will be here when I return?" Henry asked warily. "As will all of my belongings?"

"I will, Monsieur," the shadowy figure replied. "I swear upon my love for my country."

Henry nodded in acceptance of the man's obviously passionate promise. He crept toward his bedroom, respectfully noting that the shadowy figure kept his distance as the men switched positions.

#

When Henry re-entered his sitting room, he found that a single candle had been lit and left in the middle of the room for his use. While the shadowy figure was still there, he had continued to remain as far away from the light as he could possibly get. This allowed Henry precious few additional clues as to the identity of the man in the room with him...or his purpose for being there. "Forgive me," the figure explained, clearly nervous. "I am...I am not comfortable around fires of any kind."

Henry raised an eyebrow, curiously surprised by the other man's reaction to the candle. "Would it be all right to light some lamps," Henry asked with wary politeness, "if only to finally see to whom I am speaking?"

The figure continued to hesitate. "You may," he finally agreed.

"Thank you," said Henry. He took the candle and used its flame to light the two closest lamps closest to him. This added more than enough light for Henry to properly see...as well as enough protection to encourage the obviously uncomfortable 'thief' to keep his distance. "Now, if it not too much of an imposition, might we finally get around to who the bloody hell you are and what you are doing in my house?!"

The older-looking man nodded. "Monsieur, I hope that you will forgive me for the rudeness of my entrance, but my curiosity could not wait."

Henry swallowed hard. "Curiosity?"

"About you, Monsieur. I...I was there earlier this evening. I saw what happened."

Henry fought to keep the nervous knot in his stomach from overtaking his composure. "What did you see?" he asked the 'older' man, fighting to keep the question as calm and matter-of-fact as he could.

"I saw you vanish," the 'older' man replied. "I must say, it gave me quite the pause for thought at the time, Monsieur. I came down to the river to consider what I had seen...which is when I saw you re-appear and swim for your ship. I came to the conclusion that I simply had to meet you in person. At once."

Henry's own curiosity got the better of him as he considered what the other man had told him. If the other man's tale was correct, then he had not only seen Henry near the point of his resurrection in almost total darkness, but had also sprinted a good two miles and broke into the houseboat not only without being seen, but without leaving evidence of his handiwork as well. A chill ran down Henry's spine as the circumstances surrounding his latest death came to the front of his mind. "You were not the man who attacked me," he told the other man. "Your voice is far too different."

The other man, to Henry's surprise, seemed to hang his head in shame. "I must also ask for your forgiveness for that dreadful attack, Monsieur. I dealt with the being who attacked you before I came to the river. He will not be bothering you again."

Henry's eyes flew wide as he added, apparently, murder to the list of things that the man in front of him had accomplished while Henry was busy dying and being resurrected. A second chill ran down Henry's spine when he remembered the strength with which his attacker had held him. Strength that an average man did not possibly..."Sir?"

"Yes, Monsieur?"

"The man who attacked me...was he human?"

The 'older' man sighed. "No, Monsieur. He was not."

Henry swallowed the nervous lump that was slowly trying to rob him of the power to speak. "Sir, if I might ask an indelicate question..."

"You wish to know if *I* am human, Monsieur?" Henry nodded. "I am not."

Henry felt terror consume his body from the top of his head to the tips of his toenails. "You are...you are not human? Then what are you?"

The 'older' man finally gave a gentlemanly bow before smiling and revealing a disturbingly inhuman-looking set of sharp, pointed incisors...fangs. "Monsieur, my name is Michel Antoine Raphael des Beaux-Artistes, and I am vampyr. Now, if I may be so bold as to ask the same questions of you. Monsieur...what manner of being are you, exactly?"

#

Eighteen bodies.

Eighteen bodies at once normally meant all hands on deck. The Medial Examiner's office would be abuzz with activity as MEs from multiple precincts would be called to pitch in and make sure that all the bodies were properly autopsied before crucial evidence was lost to decomposition. Henry Morgan, as the case's presiding ME, would work in a more supervisory capacity, pitching in on autopsies whenever needed and carefully reading each of the eighteen autopsy reports to make sure that every "I" was dotted, every "t" was crossed and not a single stone was left unturned.

However, nothing about this case qualified as 'normal'. Lucas stared, open-mouthed, at the withered state of the corpses surrounding him. "Doc," he asked warily, "you sure we shouldn't be calling for backup on this one?"

Henry was unfazed by his young assistant's question, moving quickly and with purpose as he noted the similarities between the victims now populating his lab. "These bodies are unlikely to go through a rapid rate of decay...preserved as they are in this state." He wrote several pieces on information on a clipboard before continuing. "I believe we should be able to take our time with this one."

Lucas had to make a conscious effort to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. "Take our *time*?! What about bringing closure to the families? Bringing the killers to justice in an expedient manner?" A chuckle escaped Louis' lips as an odd thought sprang to his mind. "Unless you think the killer is someone we'll never be able to bring to justice, like a vampire or something..."

"There are no such things as vampires," Henry replied matter-of-factly. His expression was carefully schooled so as to leave Lucas with no evidence as to how close his guess was to what Henry believed to be the actual truth.

"But...you still think we can handle all of these bodies?" countered Lucas. "On our *own*?"

"With some diligent work and careful multitasking on our part," Henry agreed, never looking up from his clipboard, "I am positive that you and I can accomplish anything."

Lucas puffed his chest out with pride, encouraged and inspired by Henry's confidence in him. His expression deflated with equal speed, though, when he realized the true reason why Henry wasn't calling for backup. "This is about the budget, isn't it? It's a lot cheaper to make me work the weekend then to call in a half a dozen MEs to do the autopsies themselves."

Henry's smile caused Lucas' heart to sink. "Why Lucas," Henry nodded approvingly. "You read my mind." He pushed the clipboard against the chest of the younger man. "There are a half-dozen victims who were without identification. Start by running them through facial recognition."

"Got it, doc," Lucas agreed with a weary sigh of disappoointment.

"Don't worry, young man," an older gentleman announced as he entered the morgue, "I think I might be able to save your weekend after all."

Henry turned around at the door to his office, surprised and disturbed to see an 'older' man walking into *his* lab like he owned the place. "I'm sorry," Henry asked the leader of the invasion force, "but who are you, exactly?"

"Doctor Sidney Perlmutter," the 'older' gentleman replied, shaking Henry's hand before handing him a business card. "I'm with the Department of Homeland Security."

Henry turned the card over in his hand, studying it as well as the man standing in front of him. "Your reputation precedes you, Doctor Perlmutter."

"As does yours, Doctor Morgan," agreed Perlmutter.

Henry tucked the card in his pocket for future reference. "So how may I help the Department of Homeland Security, Doctor Perlmutter?"

Perlmutter turned his attention away from Henry and toward the group of bodies surrounding them. "Interesting case you have here. How many victims?"

"Eighteen," Henry replied.

Perlmutter pulled a pair of disposable examination gloves from his coat pocket and put them on. "Any idea of timeline? How long our guy went between kills?"

"Not long, I suspect," replied Henry. "The rate of decomposition seems to suggest that the kills were no more than a week apart."

Perlmutter nodded as he ran his hands over various areas of the body in front of him. "I...see...," he mused, clearly far more distracted by what his hands were feeling than what his ears were hearing. "Even with the dehydration of the bodies? You still think they each died a week apart from each other?"

"I do," Henry agreed.

Seemingly satisfied by the response, Perlmutter stood up and pulled off his examination gloves with an audible snap of the latex. He then turned to Lucas. "What is your name, young man?"

Lucas shook his head, fighting to recover from the shock of the idea that the older ME was actually talking to *him*. "Lucas...Lucas Wahl," he stammered.

"Well, Mister Wahl, I have good news for you," Perlmutter declared with a smile, "you will have your weekend back after all." The smile left his face, though, when Perlmutter turned his attention back to Henry. "Homeland Security will be taking over this case, effective immediately. I'll be back with my team to collect the evidence within the hour."

Perlmutter's pronouncement floored Henry. "On what grounds?!" he called out to the 'older' physician as the other man left.

"An imminent and now classified threat to national security, Doctor Morgan," Perlmutter replied. "Mister Wahl, it was very nice to meet you. Doctor Morgan, please have your staff prepare the bodies to be transported when I return. Oh...and thank you for your cooperation."

Lucas stared after Perlmutter, watching in open-mouthed shock until his boss' predecessor was definitely gone, then turned to Henry. By the look on his boss' face, Lucas was unsure if the man was flabbergasted or furious. Maybe both, thought Lucas. "Doc?" he asked Henry gently. "What do you want me to do?"

Henry's expression changed in an instant. "You heard the man," he told Lucas with a casual shrug, "prepare the bodies for transport."

Lucas looked like he had been sucked-punched. "Just like that? You're not going to give up without a fight? Or even a protest?"

"Oh, on the contrary," Henry replied as he turned to head back to his office. "Now," he mused, "I wonder if Abe has any friends with a refrigerated truck..."

Lucas caught the end of Henry's musings...and was now staring at his *boss* in open-mouthed shock. "Doc?" he asked slowly and cautiously, "what are you doing?"

"Securing the evidence," Henry replied casually, "before Doctor Perlmutter has further chance to get his hands on it."

Lucas' eyes flew wide. "You're *stealing* evidence in a Federal case?! For God's sake, why?"

Henry put down the phone's receiver and sighed in defeat. "Lucas," he admitted in a half-conspiratorial whisper, "what if I were to tell you that I believe these people really *were* killed by a vampire?"

Lucas looked like he had been sucker-punched a second time. "A *vampire*?"

Henry looked up, making sure to look Lucas in the eye. The look that Henry gave the younger man sent a chill down Lucas' spine. As outlandish as Henry's declaration might seem, Lucas instantly understood that his boss wholeheartedly believed everything that he was saying...and that belief was coming from a place of sanity, not madness. "Do you believe me?" asked Henry. Lucas nodded, so Henry continued, "then why would you, of all people, want this kind of evidence to wind up in the hands of someone who is much more likely to discount it or bury it than he will be to find the real killer?"

Lucas' face lit up with a renewed sense of purpose. "Don't worry about the truck," he told Henry. "I know where we can get one. Where are we taking them?"

Henry smiled for the second time that day, and Lucas shuddered; when Henry Morgan smiled, Lucas knew, it was a forecast for bad, bad things to come. "Don't worry," Henry reassured his assistant, "I know just the place."