Nightfall: Weeping Moonlight

by xStormyx

Spurred on by her father's last words, Irina declares war on Ema and the Gavinners: she'll stop at nothing to get revenge. The games have ended and the boys are running out of time as they try to find her before she fulfils her promise. In the final part to the trilogy, Klavier and his friends will find the answers they've sought - but at what price?

4. Dark Genesis

Dark Genesis

.'.

Let the curtain fall on who I was,

Mesmerised, remain, by deadening black;

Smell the blood rain from applause—

And watch as I drown them in the final act.

'.'

"Objection! Prosecutor Gavin! The defendant is answering all of your questions! Stop badgering her!"

"…He's told you nothing, has he?" Klavier asked, utter disbelief and shock bleeding from his voice, his body trembling with indignation and anger. "Your soiled, sullied mentor! Nothing?"

"Sullied…who?"

"Phoenix Wright," Klavier said with a smirk as if Apollo's confusion gave him newfound confidence in his argument. "Who else?"

Ema gripped Deston's hand while her other tightened around Phoenix as Klavier's aggression spilled into the revelation of Phoenix's past and the circumstances that led to his disbarring. His face, which had collapsed with desperate horror moments before was once again impassive but his eyes — they burned. The fire flickered back and forth between Vera and Apollo as if he was challenging them to voice the suspicion that visibly lurked behind his façade — it was a suspicion the young defense attorney didn't notice, a memory that flickered across Vera's face as she stared at Klavier and a truth that the Gavinners and Ema had come to accept.

Klavier was going to learn the truth about Kristoph.

"Ve….Vera!"

The sound of her choking followed by Apollo's shout echoed around the stunned silence of the room. Everyone was frozen, morbidly fascinated as she tumbled, the thud louder than one would have expected for a body so frail. Perhaps it was the unexpected volume that finally broke the silence; in an instant Deston was gone, leaping across and over the gallery until he was by Vera's side, leaning over her convulsing limbs.

Ema's eyes widened when she saw the way the young girl's back arched, instantly recognising the symptoms. She clutched Phoenix's hand, watching speechlessly when Deston let out a shout, lifted Vera up in his arms — and ran.

.'.

Ema and Raoul couldn't find anyone. Deston had taken Vera to hospital and disappeared. Seren and Daryan had left the courthouse shortly after and no matter who they asked, nobody seemed to know where the two Gavinners had gone.

And Klavier…

The prosecutor was nowhere to be found — he had vanished amid the fray of chaos and panic. His cell was unresponsive, his hog gone and no matter where Ema and Raoul looked, they were met with a dead end. It was after 3 solid hours of searching that the Italian insisted Ema return to Deston's home and wait. He stayed with her but his usually smirking, devil-may-care demeanour was lost beneath the tension-tightened muscles and dark expression. He remained close but few words were exchanged. They sat in silence for a long time, his hand reaching out every so often to pat hers or ruffle her hair or simply to nudge her shoulder with his as if to remind her she wasn't alone. It was almost midnight when Deston finally surfaced and Ema saw the full extent of the trepidation Raoul had been hiding.

"Where the hell have you been?" he roared, rising and jumping over the sofa, heading for Deston as if gathering momentum for an attack.

"Trying to get access to Kristoph," Deston snapped back, ignoring the threatening stance the Italian had taken as he pushed past him.

Raoul slowed down. "Trying?"

"K's yanked that PRA-sanction trick out of his ass again."

"He's restricted access to Kristoph now?"

Deston wasn't paying attention — he stopped before a wide-eyed, quiet Ema, took her face in his hands and lifted it as if he wanted to examine her. Before she could question him, however, he turned away, snatched up her bag and tipped its contents out on the sofa. "Des?" she said cautiously, not knowing if ticking him off with insults and indignant remarks as was her instinct was the safest option.

"You think someone planted somethin' on her?" Raoul said, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched Deston sifting through her belongings before turning his attention to the bag while Ema stood right beside him, her fingers wound tightly together as she watched.

"I don't know," Deston said, swiftly but thoroughly examining her things. "But I don't like what happened in court today, for more reasons than one."

"A diversion?"

"Possible. I don't—" Deston froze suddenly, his movements ceasing which was instantly followed by the sound of Raoul cursing. Ema looked between them sharply, trying to understand what it was that had generated such a reaction and it was only when she followed Raoul's gaze to Deston's hand that she understood: he was holding a tracking device.

And it had fallen out of her bag.

"Son of a bitch," Raoul swore again. Without hesitation he raced out ahead of them, followed promptly by Deston who had a grip on Ema; he pulled her with him, barely paying attention to the wide open door he left behind. Disorientated, Ema's mind lagged to catch up with the conclusion they had already drawn and taken action to deal with: she was being tracked.

"Get in," Deston instructed, opening a car door for her and Ema slid in without further ado, barely registering the force with which he slammed it shut before getting into the passenger seat himself. He had barely closed his door when Raoul took off, speeding into the night.

"Mind telling me how you knew there was something on her?" Raoul asked.

"It's become clear the Mishams are inextricably linked to Kristoph who's connected to Rafael and/or his daughter," Deston answered, lifting his cell phone to his ear. "I don't know how it's all connected but if someone could poison Vera in the middle of a cross-examination…"

"Poison?" Raoul echoed, surprised.

"Yeah, she was poisoned. Atroquinine." Deston frowned, the phone still pressed to his ear. "Seren's not answering his phone…"

"We've been trying him all day. He ain't answering. Neither's Daryan."

Deston seemed to ignore him as he lowered his phone to dial again. Raoul glanced at Ema in the rear-view mirror. "You all right?"

She didn't know. The entire day seemed like a dream, as if she was seeing it all happen to someone else. She felt none of the apprehension even though she registered the conversation between her friends; she was emotionally numb, her mind in overdrive as it jumped from one thing to another. Who killed Drew Misham? How had someone poisoned Vera in the middle of a trial? Who had planted that chip in her bag? Where were Seren and Daryan?

Where was Klavier? Why had he restricted access to Kristoph?

"I'm fine," she lied, her calm manner at stark contrast with the mass of shrieking questions in her head. "Where are we going?"

"I have a house out by the—"

"Give me your cell," Deston demanded, looking at Raoul.

"What's wrong with yours?"

"I'm not getting a signal." Raoul shifted, keeping one hand on the wheel while with the other he yanked out his phone and handed it to Deston. The agent glanced at it and let out a growl. "What the hell is up with— Em, can I borrow yours?"

"The signal not working on mine either?" Raoul asked.

"I don't have it." She looked at Deston who was staring at her expectantly. "It was in my bag."

"Chill," Raoul said calmly when Deston cursed. "Let's just get to my place and you can use the phone there. Who you need'a call so urgently anyway?"

"I want to double the security on Vera," Deston said, slamming his head against the seat.

"We're almost there. I don't reckon anyone's gonna be too bothered about her right now."

"You sure about that?" the drummer asked, scepticism in his voice. "She's still alive. Whoever it is might want to finish the job they started."

"What exactly are we doing?" Ema asked, deciding she'd had enough of quietly listening to their conversation. "Are we just going to hide out somewhere else now?"

Deston glanced at her again, his expression softening at the irritation in her tone. "No, Em. We're going to figure it out. We just needed to get out of there."

"You left your door open," she reminded him.

He chuckled. "I probably saved myself some repair work. If I'd locked it, they'd have broken windows, doors — anything in order to get in."

"I'm sorry I've caused you so much trouble…"

Deston and Raoul both seemed to go still at those words and then the drummer unbuckled his seatbelt, jumping into the back of the car, and wrapped her in a gentle hug. He held her close, his touch gentle as if he was afraid he would break her. "Don't ever apologise for this, Ema," he whispered into her hair.

"This ain't your fault, girl," Raoul said firmly, glancing at her in the mirror again. "There's only one person who should be apologising for this trouble and believe you me, when I get my hands on her, an apology sure as hell ain't gonna be enough."

Ema smiled weakly and leaned against Deston, trying to draw comfort from his embrace but it was no use. Nothing could ease the nagging fear that had started up in the back of her mind. "Klavier's still missing."

"He's not missing, Em," Deston said gently. "He's in shock and I'm pretty sure he's starting to make the connection."

"You know where he is?"

He nodded. "He's digging up information on… that case."

"And he couldn't even let me know? Pick up his cell?"

"I don't think he's aware of anything except his need for answers, Ema," Deston sighed. "I don't think he cares about much else."

Great. So after everything they'd been through, he didn't care enough to let her be there for him? Or at least let her know he was okay? Ema pulled away from Deston and looked out of the window. She crossed her arms and her mouth mashed together in a tight line; Klavier wanted to do this on his own? Fine! She didn't need him and he'd made it obvious he didn't need her. If, even after everything, he was going to keep her at a distance, that was all right by her.

"Would you slow down?" Deston suddenly barked at the back of Raoul's head. "There's no use heading to safety if you're going to kill us on the way."

"Get a grip," the Italian barked back. "We're almost there."

"Don't fight," Ema cut in. "I don't have the energy to listen to you both."

Either Deston hadn't planned on retaliating or they both decided to listen to her — whatever it was, silence fell in the car and for a moment nothing but the whir of the engine could be heard. Then, rapidly finding that the silence was more painful than their bickering, Ema broke it: "Deston—" he looked at her quizzically "—do you know where Daryan and Seren are?"

He shook his head in response. "I've no idea, babe. After I took Vera to hospital, I got caught up in organising an investigation at the courthouse. I haven't had a chance to check on anybody."

"Do you think they're okay?"

"They're fine, chick," Raoul reassured her right before he swerved the car to a halt. Ema cursed as she was swung by the abrupt stop, only managing to avoid hitting her head against the window when Deston grabbed her, pulling her into him while snapping at Raoul in Italian. The red-head muttered apologetically before stepping out of the car and opening the door for her. Ema, who was grumbling foppish curses at Raoul by now, stepped out and smacked him around the head.

"Yo!" he protested, ducking another swipe. "I said I was sorry. What more do you— hey!" Raoul snapped, his attention turning to Deston who'd snatched the keys from his hand and was already marching to the house. "Jackass."

Ema whacked his head again. "Don't call him that!"

Raoul smirked. "Or what?"

"I'll…" Her hand automatically went to where her satchel usually hung but when her fingers clawed at thin air and his smirk widened, she felt her heart sink.

"Looks like someone's missing ammo," he snickered.

"Far from!" she retorted. "I can still give you the sharp end of my tongue! I can give you the lash—"

His laughter boomed, cutting her off. "If you weren't Gavin's girl, I would make you regret saying that!"

"Excuse me?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"The 'end of your tongue'?" he repeated. "Skye, you've practically been livin' with me and you don't see the—"

"SHUT UP!" she shouted the moment his comments hit home but the volume of his laughter only increased. "YOU'RE A DIRTY-MINDED LITTLE—"

"I am!" he called over her ranting, still roaring with laughter. "So why the hell don't you know you should watch that delightful tongue around me? Maybe one day I'll—oomph!"

Ema pounced him, the weight of her body tackling his unsuspecting form to the ground — they both landed with a thump, the Italian grunting as his back met the unforgiving ground with a painful thud and for a moment it appeared her added weight had crushed a few valuables even he couldn't endure with a straight face; however, when she pulled back to check (because she wasn't heartless enough not to care), Raoul was grinning up at her as if nothing was wrong.

"Well, well," he drawled, his eyes gleaming with deep mischief. "Why didn't you just say? Don't worry, I'll let Gavin down easy…"

Ema growled, her fingers grabbing his nose suddenly and squeezing it. "When will you stop being such a fop?"

"When you quit being a cutie?" Raoul smirked, rubbing his nose and laughing when she scowled and rolled off him.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Incorrigible is the word you're looking for," he corrected, propping himself up on an elbow.

"That too."

Uncharacteristically, Raoul silenced, his attention fixed on her and when Ema looked at him, ready to see more devilry in his features, she found an unusual sombreness instead; he was staring at her, deep in thought and when he spoke next, his question surprised her:

"Do you trust us?"

Ema, too taken aback to even consider sarcasm, answered simply: "Of course I do."

"You know we ain't gonna let anythin' happen to you?"

"Even though it's not your job to protect me—" Ema smiled "—I do know that."

Raoul nodded, rising to his feet and holding a hand out to her. "Good."

"What's with the sudden sobriety?" she asked, letting him help her up.

The shrug he gave was nonchalant but she saw the look in his eyes right before his gaze dropped to the ground; the regret and sadness there belied the offhanded nature of his response: "Just making sure."

She had spent enough time with Raoul and had developed enough of a friendship with him that she was able to put a hand on his arm and call him out on the lie; "Really?" she said quietly.

He smirked but it was hollow this time. "What else?"

Was she bold enough to voice her suspicion? And, as she stared him in the eye, wondering this to herself, Ema was hit with a realisation that she had been sinfully blind to the tightly bottled emotions her friends had hidden from her. Raoul's cockiness was so smoothly overwhelming that it had effectively kept her from even considering the more vulnerable emotions he had probably kept to himself. Who did he turn to when his emotions began to asphyxiate him? Somehow, she couldn't see him consulting any of the boys, each of whom were deeply caught in their own troubles: Klavier with Kristoph and Ema, Deston with the task of bringing down the crime ring, Daryan with fearing for his wife's health and Seren with worrying about Mara. She suspected all of the boys kept a certain amount of their troubles to themselves but, now that she scrutinised the Italian, she felt that his arrogance was layered too thick for a man who cared so deeply for his friends.

Yes, she thought to herself. I am bold enough to voice my suspicion.

"Raina?"

Her heart clenched at the way his carefully constructed mask cracked. Pain trickled into his features.

"That ain't gonna be you, Ema," he reassured her quietly.

"I know," she told him softly. "I told you — I trust you." When Raoul said nothing in response to that, she touched his arm again. "You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened to her. She made her choice. There was no way you could have prevented it."

He gave her another hollow smirk. "Well, bellissima, I think you need—"

Ema never got to learn what it was he thought she needed — she yelped and jumped back as Deston's racing form suddenly fell on the ground between them, his body spinning so that his head and torso disappeared under the car in one smooth move. She cast Raoul a shocked look but he was staring down at his friend.

"What now?"

There was a growl followed by the sound of something ripping and then Deston slid back out, a black box in the palm of his hand which Ema instantly recognised as a signal jammer.

"Our phones won't work because this son of a bitch was attached to your car!" Deston snapped, slamming it to the ground and, swearing loudly, Raoul's heavy boot crashed down on the device. The drummer jumped to his feet, yanking his phone but instead of lifting it to his ear, he frowned and shook it before looking at it again. Ema watched his face carefully, her brain trying to comprehend what the cell phone jammer indicated but then Deston looked towards the house, cursing violently under his breath. "There must be another one here," he snapped, sweeping the area sharply. "Which means they know about this place. It's not safe here."

Ema suppressed the urge to groan. "You want to go elsewhere?"

"Of course we're goi— would you quit tramplin' on my car?" Raoul snapped when Deston jumped over the hood to get to the other side.

"Get in," Deston ordered.

She reached for the handle. "How do you know—"

"RAY—!"

Her feet had barely left the ground as she jumped in shock before a body collided with her own and her senses were overloaded with a mixture of soft body and hard ground. The world around her seemed to roll and then—

"DESTON, MOVE!"

Raoul's voice frightened her. It was the first time she'd heard any real fear in it but when she lifted her head to see what it was that had elicited such a response, the Italian engulfed her in a protective hug — and then an explosion shook the very ground beneath them, the sound of it almost deafening her. Before she could register shock at having survive a blast so intense, Raoul jumped to his feet, his grip like iron as he tugged on her hand and yanked her upright.

"Come on!"

Ema gasped when she saw Raoul's car lost amidst the crackle of flames and even as she searched for Deston's figure – desperate to spot him in the chaos – all she spotted were figures almost dawdling towards them. This time when Raoul pulled he didn't let go. His hand gripped her painfully as they raced into the house, Ema barely managing to keep up, and it was only when they had sped through the door and the Italian had slammed the door shut that she rounded on him, her expression wild.

"Where's Deston?"

Raoul stood at the window looking out, shadows flickering darkly in the playground of the amber glow that reflected in his features. He was still a moment, his face blank and then he pulled open a small box beside the door, hitting a series of numbers that seemed to trigger black shutters: inch by inch they rolled down over the windows, plunging them both in darkness. Ema stood still, frozen by the ominous silence outside.

"WHERE IS DES—"

A hand clamped over her mouth and Raoul's voice was in her ear as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. "Ema," he said in an urgent whisper. "Try to stay calm."

Maybe it was just the panic and horror warping her mind but his voice seemed to carry a fear of its own, tinged with anxiousness and that terrified her more than anything.

"We have to get secure," he told her, in a strained tone. "There's still something jamming a signal and we can't call anyone; there's no help coming."

And still, all Ema could think was, why isn't he telling me Deston will be okay? Why isn't he telling me not to worry?

"Ema," he said shaking her a little. "Snap out of it. I need you to focus."

"Where's Deston?"

A long pause followed this question. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, 'you don't know'?" she snapped, rounding on him and even though the darkness blinded her, she glared anyway. "Where is Deston, Raoul?"

"Ema, he's a trained agent. He can handle himself. I need to keep you safe."

"Why do I take priority? Why can't—"

"Because they're here for you!" he snapped in return, seeming to lose his temper now. "He's not the target, you are!"

"So let them ta—"

"Don't even go there," Raoul snarled and without waiting for her to respond, he dragged her forward, refusing to acknowledge the way she tugged on his hand. His grip was so strong that it didn't take long for the tired, terrified and disorientated Ema to give up. He pulled her up a flight of stairs and once at the top, he wrenched her down to crouch, pressing her against the wall. "Stay here," he told her, his eyes glittering with deathly seriousness in the glow trickling in through the hallway windows. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

He waited for her to nod and then he shot off down the hall. Moments later, more blinders slid down on the windows around them, killing what little light was left. Ema waited, as he had instructed her to but her mind whirred miserably. When had she become the damsel in distress? She had passed every test she had needed to join the police force and received her detective's badge. She wasn't a coward — she felt fear but had long ago learned to deal with it, to mask it and yet, now when it mattered the most, she was helpless. When the hell had she become such a weakling? When had she become one of those women that stood back and let everyone else take care of her and her problems?

Klavier's apartment had been blown up because of her. What if he had been home that day?

Raoul had almost been shot because of her. The day at the warehouse... They had fought and almost died to protect her.

And here she was again, under attack with Raoul protecting her once more and Deston... Where was Deston?

Was he dead?

A pang of fear went through her. Was she responsible for his...?

No. He can't be dead. It's Deston for crying out loud. He knows how to handle himself.

Rafael had warned her about Irina. He'd told her she was a dead woman and Ema had arrogantly believed she could escape her fate. She's believed he was wrong, that with all of her friends and the might of the law on her side, she would survive. And now, here she was, surrounded once more, Deston missing, with Raoul who would—

CRASH!

Ema's body jerked with shock at the sound and her eyes widened as the door downstairs cracked suddenly. She stared down the stairs at it with horrified fascination as it began to splinter and smash under external force. She began to rise from her spot against the wall, her hand reaching for her satchel only to hopelessly grab at air and she remembered, with a sickening drop of the stomach, that she had left it behind. Was this it? Was this how her life was going to end? She had never really thought much about dying — not in great detail — regardless of how much danger she had been in but she could never have imagined her end would be so pathetic.

Well, fuck this, she thought, standing up a little more firmly. If I die, I'm going to die on my feet. That's how Lana raised me.

CRASH!

The door splintered some more but this time, Ema simply tilted her head, trying to ignore the pangs of pain that raced through her at the thought of her only sibling. After all she had suffered to protect her, Lana would lose her sister anyway. Why had she joined the police force? After everything Lana had done to save her, why had she thrust herself in a hazardous occupation?

Oh, that's right, the snide voice inside her head spoke up. You wanted to follow in your sister's footsteps while getting a chance to play with your little chemistry set. You thought you could ever be as useful and worthy as Lana.

"Open uuuuup!" a sing-song voice called from the other side.

Ema's head snapped up in shock at the female voice. Was that Irina?

"I heard Skyes had a bit more backbone than this!" the same voice called again. "Guess Irina was wrong about you."

There was no relief on the realisation the voice was someone else's — only anger. Her blood boiled at the words and her mouth curled harshly, one foot already in front of the other as she headed for the stairs. But just as she took the first step down, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Raoul hissed in her ear.

"I'm not letting you d—iiooomf!"

Her eyes popped when his hand slammed over her mouth once more, his voice at her ear. "Madre de Dio," he whispered furiously, starting to pull her backwards. "I swear I ain't gonna hesitate to knock you out if that's what it takes to save you."

She believed him. He really would do it — and the fact he would go so far to protect her, was threatening to do it, only reminded her how useless she had become. The rage left her as suddenly as it had come and she slumped against him slightly.

CRASH!

"Follow me," he ordered, taking her hand. "Don't answer anyone, no matter what."

Without waiting, Raoul tugged her down the stairs; she couldn't see his face in the dark but he seemed to be ignoring the way the door was giving way under the constant smashing. He sharply swerved around the banister as they reached the bottom and Ema blindly followed him, her other hand reached out to make sure she wasn't about to hit something, desperately trying to see in the dense darkness. Her other senses heightened, Ema tried to ignore the sounds that trickled through — the increasingly alarming splintering of the door, the sing-song voice still taunting from the other side and the array of laughter that seemed echo in amusement to it. She couldn't let the situation overwhelm her; she had to stay in control of her mind.

"I'm right here," Raoul murmured as they stopped and his fingers slipped out of hers. "Give me a second."

For a few minutes, she heard nothing more and wondered if he had left the vicinity but then light flooded the room and she recoiled, her eyes closing in protest at the onslaught. It took her several moments to adjust herself to the illuminated kitchen and then she saw Raoul squatting on the floor, a shotgun slung over his knees. He dug his fingers into the linoleum and peeled back a square with no effort, as if it had simply been fixed into place; he shone the flashlight over the floor, a rectangular metal casing the object of his attention.

CRASH!

Unperturbed by the sound, he reached behind him to a cabinet and that's when it happened — in the shadows cast by his flashlight, Ema saw one of them detach itself and lunge for Raoul. Before she could utter a word of warning, it had slammed the Italian against the far wall sending the shotgun clattering to the ground. The flashlight rolled, stroboscopically lighting up the kitchen and leaving her disjointedly fumbling for the weapon.

"Ema!" Raoul grunted, battling with his assailant. "Get the—"

"It's me, you moron! Quit trying to break my neck!" Deston hissed suddenly and Ema, shocked to hear his voice, snatched up the light from the floor instead and shone it on their struggling forms; sure enough Deston was pinning Raoul, his otherwise unharmed form covered in black soot.

"Deston!" she gasped, throwing herself at him. "You're okay!"

He lifted his weight off his friend, instantly wrapping an arm around her and rubbing her back though he kept his attention fixed on Raoul who articulated his relief in a far less affectionate manner. "Figlio di puttana," he cussed, getting back on his feet and glaring at Deston. "What the fuck was that for?"

"You were about to blow this," Deston said quietly, tapping the side of a cabinet Raoul had been reaching for — it was discreetly lined with multiple wires. Raoul's gaze narrowed as they followed the wires, his hand disappearing behind the marble as he traced them and then he cursed again. "Yeah, they have the safe room rigged."

"They'd blow her to hell?"

Deston made a disapproving face but shook his head. "No. They're not here for her."

A short silence followed this simple statement and Ema looked between the two friends, seeing the way they were staring at each other meaningfully, and the terrifying realisation clicked: they'd rigged the house to kill Raoul.

"Heh…" Ema turned sharply at the sound, scowling at Raoul's smirk. "That makes this a hell of a lot more fun."

"What?" she snapped.

He glanced at her. "Sorry, Skye, but having to protect you takes the fun out of the fight."

Ema's fists clenched for the smallest moment and she glared at Raoul but then noted his behaviour probably stemmed from relief that she was safe. It didn't make her feel any better though — just like him, she would have preferred to be the target of this attack.

"You got any gas lying around?" Deston asked casually slipping away from Ema and she watched, bewildered, as he opened up a cabinet beneath the sink and started fiddling with one of the pipes.

Raoul watched him a moment then snorted. "Enough."

"Good," Deston punctuated, suddenly yanking out a pipe and starting to pull some of the bolts off.

"Excuse me," she said calmly. "Do you two mind telling me what the hell you're talking about?"

"We're arming ourselves," Raoul said, rising to his feet.

Ema was overwhelmed with a feeling of déjà vu, her mind flying back a few weeks to the last time they'd been under attack. "You're arming yourself with a… pipe?" she said uncertainly.

Deston jumped to his feet, grinning as he bounced the bolts in his hands. "Not exactly," he grinned, nodding at Raoul who turned and disappeared through the doorway. Ema started to follow but the drummer grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him. "You're staying with me," he said, unscrewing the head of a spritzer bottle and shaking it dry. "The last time I left you alone, you almost got yourself killed."

"I did not," she argued.

"Trying to act stealthy?" he reminded her coolly, now emptying a bottle. "I almost cudgelled you?" Her expression turned sheepish. "Remember now?"

"All right, fine." She scowled. "Now would you mind—"

CRASH!

Ema jumped, glancing towards the doorway where the sound of smashing and splintered wood was loudest.

"Ignore it," Deston said calmly, now rummaging through the drawers.

"Ignore it?" she echoed. "They're going to break through within moments. What are—"

"Ema, for a detective you are endearingly quick to jump to conclusions," he sighed.

She scowled again. "Well excuse me for not being born with a genius IQ!" she snapped. "For your information, I wanted to work in a lab where I wouldn't have to think on the spot with a bunch of maniacs smashing down the door with—"

"Then let me break it down for you, babe," he said picking up the scattering of odd equipment he'd gathered and turning to her. "They're not really interested in getting in. Are you forgetting they blew up Ray's car? If they wanted, they could blow that door off its hinges." He took her arm and gently but firmly led her out to the foyer, heading straight for the stairs, gesturing at the large ornate doors as they passed. "That is nothing but theatrics."

Ema stared at it, only looking at her friend as they began to ascend the stairs at a swift pace. "Theatrics?"

"Since I stick to you like glue — something they've no doubt figured out by now — they're probably hoping I'll try and get you out of here which gives them leave to blow this place to hell, preferably with Raoul still in it."

"So what you're saying is I'm keeping Raoul alive?"

They reached the top in seconds and he paused a moment looking both to the left and right landing as if to ascertain which way to go and Ema followed his gaze. It was only when they spotted a flash of light to the left that Deston began to move again, steering her towards it. "Yes, Ema. Right now, you're keeping Raoul alive."

"But they want me dead too."

"Irina wants you dead and I'm guessing she wants to do the honours herself," he said bluntly, pulling her towards a room at the far end of the hallway. "I suspect they didn't anticipate you being here and followed Raoul thinking he was alone. But since you are here, they don't know how to proceed anymore. They can't kill you, they can't hurt you and they can't kill Raoul without risking some harm to you. In essence, they're in a sticky situation hence—" he gestured over the balcony to the door "—the theatrics."

"And your plan is to…" He pulled her into a room where Raoul had pulled down the blinders, the flashlight idling in his lap the only source of light; Ema stared at the guns scattered on the ground around him. "…engage them in a gunfight?"

Deston moved to a cabinet behind them, rifling through its contents and pulling out duct tape and scissors. "We can't sit and wait for help to come to us, Ema."

"Why not?" she said anxiously.

"Because help could be coming for the other side too—" Deston threw down all the things he'd gathered, starting to fix them together "—and if Irina gets here, you will no longer be a protection for your buddy here. We'll lose our only leverage." Deston glanced at the red-head. "Did you get it?"

Raoul pushed a canister with his boot towards him and the drummer instantly snatched it up, taking up the bottles he'd taken from the kitchen and beginning to fill them with (what Ema now saw) was gas. Her eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing with gas?" she demanded. "We have guns! You don't need make-shift weapons this time!"

"They have a grenade launcher, Em," Deston told her calmly without stopping.

"And this is going to help, how?" she argued. "You're going to go fight gunmen with gas? If one of those bullets even—"

"Relax," he interrupted, glancing over at her. "I know what I'm doing, Em."

"It's open ground, Deston!" she snapped. "There's no way for you to sneak up on them!"

"There's plenty of trees," he countered, still entirely focused on his task. "And that's all I need."

"Yeah because now is a good time for monkey-business," she said sarcastically.

"Hey," Raoul said from behind, grabbing her attention, and she looked at him with a heavy frown. "Here," he said, holding a gun out for her. Surprised, Ema reached for it only to frown again when he pulled it out of reach, his face stern. "Don't do anything stupid. Got it?"

She simply scowled, snatching the weapon out of his hand. "Explain to me why we're not just shooting at them from the windows?"

"You will."

"Where are you going?"

"That grenade launcher is our biggest threat," Deston said, fixing some tubing to his arm. "Unfortunately, he's also the most heavily armoured. I have to get close to him to disarm him."

"And how are you going to do that?" she demanded.

"That's my problem," Deston told her curtly, now strapping several small bottles to his arm with duct tape. "Stay inside as long as you both can. They won't all be open for target practice so you need to focus: we need to take them all out as quickly and efficiently as possible. We don't have the luxury of time."

Raoul eyed the contraption Deston had attached to his arm. "What do you want us to do?"

Deston looked at them somberly. The agent seemed to struggle with that question for a few moments as his calculating eyes flickered to and lingered on Ema before turning back to Raoul. "Both of you stay together. It's your best bet."

"You won't be able to get across without being heard."

Deston moved one of the shutters moving it slightly and peering out. "I can get across those trees in 2 minutes if I have gunfire to cover the sound of my movements…"

Raoul cocked the shotgun. "We'll be raining bullets."

"Try to take out as many people as you can from in here…" he instructed. "Out there, things are going to get rough. If they break in before I've gotten across, get the hell out. Don't let them corner you."

Raoul nodded. "Ain't gotta worry about us, Cavatin. Take out that rocket-happy bastard."

Deston flashed him a confident smile. "I'll need your lighter for that."

When Raoul handed it over, Ema felt another wave of déjà vu hit her and she tried to comfort herself with the fact that the last time they'd been in a situation like this, all of them had escaped unscathed. They would this time too. So, watching Deston messing with the lighter, she said nothing. It was Deston: Klavier had told her he was the most formidable adversary anyone could go up against. She needed to stop worrying…

Nevertheless, when Deston picked up two guns, stuffed them in his waistband and threw her a smile, her heart started to race. "Be careful," she said softly.

"I've had worse odds, Ema," he told her reassuringly dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Just give me 2 minutes to get across and we'll wipe them out, no problem."

"I got your back," Raoul said, directing a grave look at Deston who nodded to his friend, shot Ema one last smile, and disappeared through the doorway. She stared after him for several long seconds until Raoul shut the door and turned the lock. "You ready?"

Her throat tight with terror, Ema could only nod. They both stared at one another, locked in their mutual tension for their friend's safety, and then Raoul turned off the light, plunging them both in darkness. She waited for the shutter to go up but, unexpectedly, his hand reached out and gripped her shoulder instead.

"We're all gonna be fine. We just gotta work together," he told her, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and comforting. "Just stay focused on your job and trust in his ability."

Ema nodded and then remembered he couldn't see her in the dark. "Fine."

"If Deston's makin' it across those trees in 2 minutes, he's gonna be running which means a lotta noise," Raoul reasoned. "When I pull up this shutter, our job is to keep things noisy enough and keep them all distracted. You with me?"

"Yeah."

He paused and when he spoke again, she heard a trace of amusement in his voice. "Y'know, I'm sorta flattered."

"…what?"

"That Lucifer's daughter would go to such trouble to finish me."

Ema couldn't help the faint smile that touched her lips at the description. "Why does everything have to be about you and how great you are?"

"Because I'm that great."

"You're an ass."

"A great one too." The flashlight came on and she looked at him, scoffing when she followed the aim to his backside which he was shamelessly shaking at her.

"Stop that!" she laughed, swatting at him.

He smirked. "You know, if Gavin hadn't hogged you first, I wou—"

"I don't want to hear the end of that sentence."

"A million girls would die to hear the end of that sentence."

Ema rolled her eyes. "That's because they're airhead bimbos."

"They were intelligent enough to recognise a suave motherfucker with a great voice."

"…Are we seriously having this conversation with your house under siege?"

"What's wrong with a confidence boost right before a battle?" he asked but she could hear the smirk in his voice and she knew he knew exactly what was wrong with it. "If you ask me, it's the perfect time for it."

"Is this how you behaved with Raina?"

"Eh," Raoul drawled, shifting a little. "Shark-boy was the thorn in her side."

"What do you mean?"

"They were like Deston and you."

"Really?" Ema tilted her head curiously. "That's weird."

"Not really," Raoul smirked. "Raina and Daryan had one very prominent thing in common."

"What?"

"Nymphos, both of 'em."

Ema made a face. "Is that a fact or are you just—"

"Not literally," Raoul laughed. "Just that Raina was Venus incarnate. She oozed sex. They were always going back and forth with the dirt."

"…and it didn't bother Deston that his girlfriend and his best friend were doing that?"

"Why should it?" Raoul leaned back. "They were just joking."

"Most men would be insecure if their hot girlfriend was making sex jokes with their friend."

"We share a mutual trust," he said flippantly. "That's why we jive. We ain't gonna screw each other over."

The words were out of her mouth before her mind had a chance to process and evaluate the incendiary stupidity of the comment. "Daryan screwed Klavier over."

Raoul paused and looked at her, his jaw suddenly hard. "Did he?"

Ema flinched under his gaze, having realised what she'd just said but for some reason her tongue — her stupid, rebellious tongue — wouldn't stop. "Well… he used Klavier's guitar to smuggle the cocoon…"

"Daryan knew Klavier's belongings wouldn't be searched," Raoul said sharply, his voice harsh for the first time since she'd known him and Ema recoiled. "He wasn't getting K into trouble."

"Right…" was all she said this time, fiddling with the material of her pants.

A painful silence stretched between them and then he sighed. "I ain't tryin'a be an ass," he told her calmly. "All I'm sayin' is the world's quick to judge Daryan and I get it. They don't know him beyond the rock-star façade but you know us. He did some unjustifiable shit but he's still a brother. Maybe you should consider that before you label him."

"You're right…" she sighed too, rubbing her neck sheepishly. "I suppose I am too harsh on him. Probably because of my own history…"

Raoul quirked an eyebrow. "What's that?"

Ema hesitated, glancing at Raoul then glancing away. So Deston hadn't told Raoul about Gant… Not that it surprised her. Deston respected people's privacy… It was probably why he hadn't pushed her to talk about it. "You've never heard of Lana Skye?"

"Your sister? No, I've heard of her."

"Oh. Then you know about…?"

"Her case?" he said bluntly. "Yeah."

Ema stared at the ground. "Then you know about Gant."

"Yeah."

"Well… The way Daryan let a child take the fall for his crime…"

She expected another snappish reprimand but Raoul was surprisingly quiet and when she looked up, she saw realisation dawn in his eyes. "Right… It rings too many bells for you."

"Yeah. I guess that's why I'm unfair to Daryan."

"I gotcha," he said quietly, watching her — and that was it. He said nothing else after that even though Ema stared at him. His only response was to meet her gaze, hold it then glance up at the ceiling. "He's ready."

Ema looked up too, listening for a sound. "How do you know?"

"I know." He looked at her. "Take a deep breath."

"I'm ready," she told him firmly and found that she was. Though she would never admit it, talking with Raoul had helped her regain control of herself. "Just tell me when."

He nodded, turned off the flashlight and then pulled the shutter up slowly. When there was enough space, Ema opened the doors to the small balcony and stepped out onto it; her eyes swept across the figures on the ground below, all of whom turned up and looked at her in unison when she came in sight.

"Hey guys," Raoul called, leaning against the stone railing next to her, the shotgun between his legs. "You know you're gonna pay for all the damages to my property, don'tcha?"

A couple of more figures appeared from under where they stood, apparently giving up on the 'theatrics' of smashing down the front door; the woman with them (probably the one who'd been taunting her) laughed when she saw Ema. "Finally," she sang. "I was beginning to wonder if we hadn't killed you with fright!"

Ema gripped her gun tightly. "Go to hell."

"Ya gonna come down, or are we gonna have ta drag ya down?" the man next to the woman said.

"How about a third option?" Raoul quipped and Ema saw his hand reach for his weapon.

"And what's that?"

"This, you asshole!" And with no other words, Raoul yanked the shotgun up into his hands and fired. By the time Ema reacted, following his lead, he'd already cocked and fired again; all hell broke loose when they returned fire until the woman screamed for them to stop and then they stumbled and ran, shouting orders to one another. As Ema continued to shoot, she was dimly aware of a darting figure in the trees to the left but even this slight attentiveness was lost when some of the men started to show an alarming amount of interest in Raoul. Instinctively she moved closer to him and saw, with some satisfaction that they hesitated, lowered their guns and began to retreat again.

The two friends gave no inch though; Raoul was dropping them like flies and even if she wasn't getting through them with the same speed, Ema wasn't going to show them any mercy, she would not waver and she would keep going until she got them. Perhaps if the attack had been intended for her, she wouldn't have been so cold-blooded but that someone was targeting her friends drove her onwards and she showered bullets on them endlessly, pausing only when she needed to reload.

"Don't let them get behind any of those trees," Raoul ordered.

Ema obeyed: she aimed at the ground before them to send them running the other way and when they retreated, she shot to kill. She watched them fall one by one, her aim getting sharper with each kill, and was only distracted for the smallest moment when Raoul paused and she feared he'd been hit. When he returned with a rifle, she moved closer still; the sound of gunfire echoed around them deafeningly and she had to remind herself, when more men came pouring into sight from the sides, that the aim was to cover the sound of Deston's movements. As she waited for the fresh wave of thugs to take place, she glanced up and caught sight of the target; he was a large man — or maybe that was just the bulk of the armour he'd donned — and he watched the fight like a statue, unmoving, unresponsive and unafraid, courtesy of the comfort his weapon no doubt provided him. She wanted to shoot at him, every protective instinct screaming at her to do something so Deston wouldn't have to fight him but she knew at this rage, with her weapons and against his protection, she would make no difference.

Leave it to Deston. Trust him…

She'd barely finished reasoning this out when two things happened: Raoul cursed, stumbling back a little and she swung around to look at him, alarmed to see him clutching his face — he was bleeding where a bullet had grazed him — followed swiftly by heavy gunfire

"Shit!" she snapped, pinning herself against the wall to evade the attack. She looked at Raoul who was pressed up against the other side. "Deston's—"

"He's fine."

Raoul gestured over the balcony and Ema followed the direction of his finger, her eyes expanding with shock when she saw Deston who'd made it to the other side. Fire shot out of his arm in a great wave and straight at the armoured man, who recoiled instantly with a shout, stumbling. Another figure leapt at Deston but he swung his elbow back into his stomach, turned to aim and another burst of fire caught the man in the face, eliciting a scream which was cut short by a gunshot. Ema's concentration turned to awe, leaving her frozen just the way it had the first time she'd seen him fight; he moved faster than his opponents could think and every time he went for his target and someone tried to stop him, he swatted them off like flies, burning, breaking, shooting…

"Come on," Raoul muttered, pulling her forward again. "We need to keep them off him."

And the gunfire resumed, punctuated by shouts and screams every time Deston's flamethrower found a victim. Ema lost track of what was happening, her focus once more entirely on anybody aiming for Raoul or Deston. She didn't know how many men came and went — only that a pang of frustration hit her as a third wave piled in and she wondered where they were coming from. It was only when a grenade was fired that she looked up from her task to see an explosion light up the base of a tree. Several figures flew through the air at the impact but amidst it all, her eyes sought her friend and when several endless moments passed in which Deston could not be found, she feared the worst.

"Focus, Ema!" Raoul snapped from next to her, the bullets pouring out of his rifle.

His words were almost drowned out by another explosion, this one so close that she felt the house shake.

"Pezzo di merda!" he roared. "WATCH WHERE YOU AIM THAT GODDAMN THING!"

That's when she spotted him: he was carrying the grenade launcher in his arms, looking dishevelled but otherwise victoriously laughing as he turned and aimed at another group of men. "Sorry!" the agent laughed.

"Unbelievable," Ema muttered out of relief, taking aim again.

"No shit! That coglione is gonna be the death of—"

Ema whipped around when someone crashed into Raoul and she'd turned her gun on the assailant, her finger pressing on the trigger when something heavy slammed into her head. Pain shot through her skull with a familiar crackle and darkness slipped over her sight, littered with sparks that turned her vision hazy. The sound of gunfire faded a little and even as she tried to keep upright, Ema felt the dull pain in her knees that told her she'd collapsed.

No… NO!

She had to get up… She had to fight… Raoul… Where was Deston…?

The sound of shouting and grunts came together in a confusing jumble of noises suddenly punctuated by the petrifying sound of a gunshot. It was close… too close…

She waited for something to happen: for the darkness to take her or her vision to clear but the sparks only burned and fizzled no matter how much she blinked. She had no idea how much time passed before her shoulders were unexpectedly lifted and she realised it truly was over — they would take her to Irina and she would finish her off…

"Ema."

…wait…

"Ema? Can you hear me?"

…she knew that voice…

"She's bleeding. That bastard got her hard."

…and that one too…

"Just keep her there."

What the hell was going on? Were they okay? Who..? She blinked furiously. If only these goddamn lights would— ah, there they go..

As if her body had finally decided to obey her, the world slowly came into focus again and she blinked some more, her gaze falling on the face hovering above her, his face showing deep concern. "Seren?"

"How do you feel?"

"Where's Raoul?" She instantly turned to look for him and relaxed when she saw the red-head leaning against the balcony door one hand pressed to his bleeding arm. A body lay at his feet and behind him, Daryan stood over another, his foot pressed up on the man's heaving chest.

"Stay down," Seren told her quietly, petting her head a moment then picking up a gun and glancing out over the railing then stepping aside. Ema almost jumped when she saw a figure clamber over the side, afraid it was another attacker but relaxed when Deston dropped to the ground beside her. "Hey," he said gently bending over to examine her. "You did great."

"Gee, thanks…"

"I got a few questions for you…" Daryan said in a deceptively quiet voice, his dark eyes fixed on his captive.

Deston ignored him, his fingers touching her head gingerly. "Sorry," he murmured when she winced at his touch.

Ema's voice was cut off by the attacker who coughed and glared up at Daryan. "You're a brainless fuck if you do—"

The detective rammed his boot into the man's neck, cutting him off. "I didn't ask anything yet, boy," he said chillingly. "Now… who did you come here for?" He waited a moment for a response and when he got none, the pressure of his leg increased. "Speak up."

"Maybe you should take your foot off his larynx," Deston said genially, still checking Ema over though she barely noticed anymore — she was transfixed by the exchange, staring intently as they waited for an answer.

Daryan smirked darkly and lightened the pressure. "Quickly now. We're in a hurry."

"I'd rather die than answer to you, punk," the man snarled back.

Daryan took his leg off, reached down to grab his shirt and hauled him to his feet. "Then you're no use to us," he hissed menacingly.

"Darya—" Seren started warningly.

Daryan wasn't listening: his arms clamped around the man's neck, hands fixing on his head and—

Crack.

Ema winced at the sound and again when the body hit the ground with a dull thud. She turned away, her gaze landing on Deston whose attention was now fixed on Daryan, his features terse with disapproval. "What?" Daryan said. "No use wasting a bullet on the jerkweed."

"We'll talk about this later," Deston said, sliding his arms under Ema and scooping her up. "We need to get out of here before we get anymore company."

"I can walk," she said.

"You got hit pretty hard, Ema. Come on, guys, let's get out while we still can."

"It's too late for that," Seren said quietly, peering out of one of the other windows.

Deston paused, Ema still in his arms and sure enough the sound of an engine dying filled the silence, followed by doors being slammed and footsteps on gravel. Raoul rose to his feet slowly, picking up a gun with his good arm and Ema was about to insist she be let down when there was a sharp intake of breath from Seren whose uncharacteristic cursing sent a chill through her: "Oh holy fuck… No…"

"What now?" Raoul snarled.

The answer came from below them; Leonardo Rainsford strolled into view, unperturbed, alone and unarmed. He looked around at the body-littered ground with some interest before glancing up and smiling when he saw the group on the balcony, his expression genial. "Well, this is going to be a mess and a half to clean up, boys."

Raoul growled and instantly moved onto the balcony. "I'm gonna put a bullet hole in this motherfuc—"

"NO!" Seren bellowed, shooting forward and gripping Raoul's shoulder.

The Italian paused, his gun half raised at Leonardo as he glanced at Seren, clearly unsettled by his reaction. "Why?"

Several men traced Leonardo's footsteps, pulling a frail figure with them as they went and suddenly Ema understood the panic in Seren's voice because she could feel it beginning to deluge her own blood.

No… No, no, no… No...

"Dio…"

Leonardo's smile widened at the visible shockwave that crashed over them at the sight and he held a hand out towards his men as if to display a prize. "I believe this belongs to you, Detective Crescend…"

Ema heard the breath leave Daryan's body in a sharp exhale of terror when one of the figures detached itself from the group and moved towards Leonardo, her figure still clad in the hospital gown that had been her companion for so many months.

"No…"

"Now, my offer is simple," Leonardo said calmly and placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes glittering up at them. "Give me Ema… And I'll give you Tessa."