Balthazar leaned against the door as he set the wards, watching the couple until they were out of sight. He was already tightly clutching the neck of the open bottle, and he stood on the second level catwalk, leaning way forward on the railing, and the Merlin Circle flared up in purple flames as he stared down at it. "Veronica," he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

He was back in the kitchen some time later, filling the empty bottle with water to rinse it for recycling, when a thought struck him, so he finished filling the bottle, and then started drinking it dry again. It was not as bad as he thought it would be.

Possessed by Morgana during the recitation of The Rising Spell, Veronica Gorloisen was at last separated from Morgana by her longtime love, Balthazar Blake, who performed the Fusion Spell to rip Morgana's soul from Veronica's body into his own. But Morgana was too powerful for the already-weakened sorcerer to hold her, and she escaped of her own accord to attack her three present foes: Gorloisen, Blake, and David Stutler. Stutler was revealed to be The Prime Merlinean when he deflected a devastating fire spell without his ring. Gorloisen was injured in the fight that ensued, and Blake took a fatal blow while defending his love. Using his formidable physics skills, Stutler finally defeated Morgana with a combination of electricity and plasma, then managed to revive the deceased Blake. Finally reunited with Gorloisen, Blake was able to gift her the betrothal necklace he had bought her 1300 years before, but then the unthinkable happened: Severely weakened from her time in the Grimhold fused to the malevolent Morgana, Gorloisen realized she was dying, barely managing to say goodbye to the devastated Blake before she vanished. It is unclear at this time whether Blake will continue Stutler's training, as he has gone into seclusion. The Merlinean Order mourns the loss of this most selfless of Merlin's apprentices, and extends deepest sympathy to Balthazar Blake, the sole remaining Merlin apprentice.

Balthazar stared at the passage in Dave's Encantus for the longest time. It wasn't the last passage, by now, but it was certainly the most heart-wrenching. When he was finally able to tear his bleary eyes away, it was to go back to the kitchen to fill the bottle, one last time, with water. By now, the water was probably overriding the alcohol's ability to make him drunk, but then again, he'd never been a teetotaler, despite his love for actual tea, and even coffee, for that matter, and he was much too old to get drunk that easily, regardless. He'd built up one heck of a tolerance in fifteen centuries, and that was just one of the reasons why Stutler's snide remarks about Jack Daniels had peeved him. "Here's to sympathy," he hissed before finishing the bottle for the last time, tossing it in the recycle bucket under the counter, certainly not needing to rinse it, again. He wondered what the Morganian Encantus had to say about the matter, although he had a good idea: 'He's weak, and vulnerable; go get him, boys!'

Almost as if answering his thoughts, a harsh knocking came at the door, and Balthazar was tempted to ignore it: Can't you read? I'm in seclusion! Dave had pissed him off with the 'MY turnaround' nonsense, but the sorcerer had already known that he couldn't make this any kind of permanent residence: He'd just been counting on the fact that he'd be making the transition to a permanent home with Veronica. After Horvath and Drake had broken in and attacked him, any illusions of this place being a secret were shattered, and realistically, they shouldn't even train here. That knock on the door could be absolutely anybody, since the turnaround was now common knowledge, both for its purpose, and its address.

"Nephrene?" She was a Morganian healer; an oxymoron if ever there was one, since a weak or injured Morganian was basically a dead Morganian. She'd heal a Merlinean just enough for them to serve a Morganian purpose, so she definitely wasn't a good omen, and he wasn't in any hurry to open the door.

"How good of the most eligible bachelor to remember me; I'm flattered, Balthazar." Oh, is that how the Morganian Encantus is referring to me?

"Interesting reference, Nephrene, but I'm actually the most eligible Merlinean bachelor, so that kind of leaves you out of the equation." And another reason to keep the door shut. She was a beautiful girl, no doubt, with her crystal eyes, long white hair, pale skin, and full lips, but she was also a complete snake.

"Don't sell yourself short; the Morganians would love to have you." On a platter, maybe.

"I think Horvath would disagree with that."

"Horvath's not a woman."

"I don't sell myself that short; I've been around too long for that."

"Ah yes," she realized. "The orgy with Drake and Abigail; a very flamboyant young man, and a 15-year old Puritan. You certainly ran the gamut that night." She leaned closer to the door, "Want me to check you for STDs?"

"No; thank you."

"Want me to check them?" she sneered now.

"That's up to them," he shrugged, then asked the question burning his brain: "Does Horvath know I'm a bachelor?"

"I don't think so; he's been busy trying to keep those two from killing him, especially since his castor's gone missing." She smiled widely at the man, "You don't have anything to do with that; do you?"

"Me?" he asked innocently. "Nah. I was just there for the sex, of course."

"Of course." Balthazar shook his head, as if to clear it:

"I'm not ready to start dating, yet, Nephrene, so if you're just here to check on my status—"

"Hardly," she interrupted. "You're being designed on, and by someone bigger than Horvath." A pause, "You've lost your reward, so we were hoping you might be open to—"

"Veronica was not a reward," he snapped, suddenly vehement. "I wasn't a terrorist, doing my deed to get a pile of virgins."

"You did everything right, and you got nothing in return."

"Hardly," he protested. "I'm not turning into a Morganian because being a Merlinean didn't get me what I thought I wanted, so forget that angle," he said flatly.

"It would be so much simpler if you just came along." Finally, a direct threat; a direct threat that deserved a direct answer:

"No." He was squinting past her now, trying to see if she was really alone. "What the hell do you want?" he asked roughly, now, not feeling anyone else around.

"You'll find out soon enough, when we take you." She tapped a white fingernail on the glass: "Next time you see me, we won't have anything between us." He watched as she turned away from the door, laughing: "I advise you to brush up on your Latin, Balthazar." Latin?

Latin, as far as modern times went, meant basically three things to Balthazar: Medical terms, legal terms, and The Rising, which was full of its mumbo jumbo. And, legal terms certainly didn't fit this scenario. Nephrene was a healer, so that was a possibility, but Morganians tended to have an unhealthy obsession with The Rising. Was Morgana the kind of dead that could be reanimated? Stutler had told him that she'd basically disintegrated into a sparkly dust that had quickly blown away. Veronica's demise was fairly similar; she'd basically faded away from him, like a bad television screen picture. If anything, her death had been more final, if Morgana's dust particles were still around. Reanimating dead Morganians would be bad enough without Morgana; with her as one of them, it would practically be unstoppable.

"And they want me to perform it?" Balthazar realized with some mix between horror and amusement. It was a completely ludicrous thought, until he actually thought it through. The ultimate Merlinean, save The Prime Merlinean, performing the ultimate Morganian spell. As if reanimating all the dead Morganians wasn't bad enough, having the top Merlinean doing the spell would probably finish the Merlineans for good. And, of course he wouldn't be doing it willingly; they'd already tried that angle. That's where Nephrene comes in, healing whatever wounds he manages to sustain while being captured, or fighting to get out. Of course, they'd take Dave, too, a very effective bargaining chip, or an alternate, in case his master stupidly gets himself killed. They might even take Becky, as extra insurance. Dave had the raw power, but not the nuances; that's why they were after him, and not the boy. Stutler would do, if necessary, but he was secondary; he didn't have 1500 years of power to be crushed. The right spell, under the right persuasion, could make Balthazar chant those words, and the right chains could keep him where they wanted him to be. Hell, if they did it in Battery Park again, it'd be a piece of cake to set up, and they'd probably guard the satellite dishes this time. From what Nephrene had said, it was definitely a bigger operation: It almost didn't sound like Horvath was involved at all, like he was being punished for his previous failure.

For the first time in days, Balthazar was shivering. He'd been holding a fever since Battery Park, but his injuries were almost completely healed, now; even his damaged left arm was nearly good as new. These new revelations had finished the fever, and his blood threatened to turn to ice. He was back in the kitchen, looking at the three place settings on the table, and took his mug to reheat the coffee in the microwave. Now that he had a good idea of the what, he just needed to figure out the when, and if it was sooner than expected, he was in damn poor shape. So much for wallowing in grief, and he sipped at the coffee carefully while reheating his barely-touched omelet: He wasn't looking forward to learning how to tolerate solid food again, but days just passed so quickly sometimes, that he didn't even realize how long he'd gone without, until it came back to bite him in the ass. Or toss his stomach around like some kind of rubber ball. It took him nearly an hour to finish that omelet, but finish it he did, putting his things in the dishwasher before eating what little remained on the plates of the couple. And then he finished all three coffees, not even caring that the other two were cold, and cleared the table, only the salt, pepper, and napkin holder remaining. Balthazar's senses were suddenly seriously heightened, and he figured he'd drunk too much coffee. Paranoia would do him no good right now, but he felt like his death was pending, and he needed to start making preparations: Veronica's death had really screwed up everything. There was always a chance Stutler wouldn't survive, either, but at least the kid would have some kind of family, somewhere, and it'd be fitting that Blake's assets would go to Merlin's descendants.

Balthazar opened the stone wall in one part of the turnaround, much the same way he had in the Arcana Cabana's basement, shoving some things in that he thought were of importance, including Horvath's still-shrunken cane and some paperwork. Everything was feeling sinister, and the feeling was centering around the turnaround, so he wasn't taking any chances. He could go out early tomorrow and officially bequeath his assets to Stutler, but it was almost 7 p.m., now. The Grimhold was staying hidden inside the coat, which he magicked back to full size, though he left the doll the size of an egg. It was doubtful he could use it if more than one Morganian was coming to get him, but you never know. He felt anxious about Dave, but there was no way to get in touch with him, short of showing up at the college. When he saw him again, he'd ask him for a cell phone, and maybe a computer, possibly a laptop, as the kid had the brains, and the man had the cash. Technology wasn't Balthazar's forte, but it was everywhere, and he needed to be able to use it, especially now. He was sure the Morganians weren't after the boy, but it was hard to keep that in the front of his mind. It was going to be a long night.

He was nearly asleep when knocking at the main door made him bolt upright, eyes wide, heart beating. "Awfully polite for Morganians," Balthazar muttered, putting his shoes on, glancing at the 9:35 p.m. digital clock as he stumbled up for his coat before carefully approaching the door.

"You look as bad as he feels," Becky commented with concern, jabbing a thumb at Stutler while eyeing the obviously upset sorcerer, who responded by practically yanking them inside and slamming the door before resetting the wards.

"Explain yourselves," he ordered as he stomped down the stairs, they practically running to keep up. "You weren't supposed to come back here tonight." He led them into the kitchen, getting out three glass mugs, filling them with milk, and shoving them in the microwave. "And why did you knock to get into your turnaround in the first place?" he glared at Stutler, now.

"Why are you shaking?" the boy finally managed to get out.

"DTs," Balthazar grinned maniacally, holding up his left hand in front of the boy's face, trembling it ridiculously. "I haven't had any Jack Daniels in thirty minutes." He paused, thinking a minute, looking at the clock, "Twenty minutes." He tilted his head slightly, "Fifteen minutes." Starting a bit as the microwave chimed, he put the warm milk on the table, sat down heavily, and magically pulled out the two chairs across from him, wooden legs scraping against the floor. "Sit." He'd barely noticed that they'd been carrying a few large bags until they dropped them on the counter and took the chairs. Glancing briefly at the bags, he turned to eye the couple expectantly: "Talk."

"I knocked because we weren't supposed to come back, so I didn't want us to startle you by just showing up," Becky started, shrugging slightly. "I guess that was a no-win situation."

"It depends on why you came back here," Balthazar sighed, losing some venom.

"Well, first of all, I'm sorry about those shitty comments I made about the liquor, and the turnaround," Dave started. "I've no call to speak to you like that, ever, especially when I know you're down."

"Apology accepted," the man said quickly, and fairly tonelessly, drinking some milk. "Anything else?"

"I-I bought you a cell phone," Stutler stammered now, cloudy blue eyes following him to the bag, Becky smiling as she watched:

"He likes that, Dave; I can tell."

"I was about to ask you for one," Balthazar admitted with a grin, his reading glasses on as it was brought over to him, the boy's left hand resting on that shoulder from behind as the right flipped the black phone open, showing the man how to use it.

"He was completely lost because he couldn't call you," Becky told on her friend before drinking some milk. Balthazar eyed her meaningfully, now, and she shook her head slightly, making him frown, and sigh heavily.

"What?" Stutler demanded, hearing the sigh.

"You and Rebecca weren't the first ones to knock on the door today," Balthazar confessed suddenly. "I've been threatened, and it doesn't look good."

"Horvath?" was Dave's immediate reaction.

"Horvath's on the Morganian shitlist, as far as I can tell. It's a more organized faction, if I'm not mistaken, and they want me to do The Rising. They figured I might turn, since I lost Veronica. I turned down the nice offer, so I've been informed that I'm going to be taken."

"No wonder you freaked out when we showed up," Becky gaped.

"I was wondering why they were knocking . . . Knocking twice in one day would make them the most polite Morganians ever." Stutler sat back down, elbows on the table as he leaned way forward:

"Have I heard of any of them?" Balthazar absentmindedly put the cell phone in his coat, along with the reading glasses.

"I know the one that came to the door, Nephrene, but she didn't inform me of any of the others, nor did she blatantly tell me I'm being forced to do The Rising."

"So are you going to tell me how you figured it all out, or do I have to drag it out of you question by question?" the boy peeved, now.

"Everything's a lesson, Dave," was the answer. "But, you are completely in the dark, so I'll start with Nephrene: She's not a Morganian sorceress; she's a Morganian healer."

"Morganians have healers?"

"For a purpose, especially if you're a Merlinean," he answered cryptically, and Stutler paled. "A good lesson, but a horrifying, though accurate, conclusion. I haven't had a fever since that little realization hit me." All three drank some milk, now, and Becky was puzzled. "You shouldn't be hearing any of this," Balthazar said sadly to the girl. "Especially if you and Dave are not together, anymore." Stutler gaped at the two of them, but they were only looking at each other.

"We're not," she sniffled, getting up for the other bags. "He's completely fixated on you. He had more classes than I did, so he begged me to go shopping for some more clothes for you, since it was your money, anyway." Now it was Balthazar's turn to gape. "He already knew all your sizes; he wrote them down for me." The boy had turned an alarming shade of red by now, and he buried his face in arms on the table as the man narrowed his eyes at him. "It was actually the most fun I've had all day," she assured the man, genuinely smiling at him, now. "I think I matched your style really well; I even found all-leather zip-up boots." Balthazar could hear Stutler snicker at that, and he actually kicked him in the shin under the table. The boy jumped slightly, but didn't lift his head. "I did buy one bag of stuff that's way different from what you normally seem to wear, but that I thought would look really nice on you."

"I can't believe he made you do this, Rebecca," was all he could think to say as he half-heartedly thumbed through the bags, even though he was genuinely touched by the girl's thoughtfulness.

"I told you; it was fun," she insisted, an arm warmly around his neck, kissing his cheek. "I know you're really distracted right now, but all the receipts are there if you want to return something." And then she was reaching in her purse, stopping as the sorcerer held his hand up:

"Do not even think about giving me the change, Rebecca."

"Thank you," she said, hugging him again, he hugging her back this time.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, still holding her as they pulled back, brushing hair from her face. "I hope David hasn't left you too heartbroken," he said with just a hint of sarcasm, and she giggled.

"I'm twenty," she emphasized, fully realizing that she had all the time in the world.

"Good," he grinned, finally fully releasing her so she could replace the bags to the counter. "Sit back down, finish your milk and relax for a few minutes, and then I'll send you home."

"I'll take her," Stutler suddenly volunteered, head up from his arms, face still somewhat pink, but not crimson, anymore.

"We're in the middle of a lesson, David," he snapped, now, eyes boring into the boy as he tried to make him understand. "I'll be sending her home." A meaningful pause as comprehension finally started to dawn. "It's the least I can do."

"I'm gonna miss you two," Becky piped up, now. "But, as long as I see Dave at school, at least I'll know you're both okay."

"Likewise," Stutler grinned playfully at her, poking her in the arm.