When all of the New York Merlinians had left for the Chrysler building Balthazar had walked up to his car. Robin sat sullenly with his arms folded inside and looked at him as he approached. The window was half-rolled down and Balthazar leaned inside of it so he could better talk to the boy.

"Robin right?" he said.

"Yes sir."

"Balthazar Blake," he said, although he knew by this point he needed no introduction.

"Incantus said Blakeson," Robin blurted.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow and Robin looked embarrassed.

"Blake's easier on the tongue," Balthazar said, wondering just how bold this boy got when John wasn't around to scare him, "But look, you're going to have to hide for a while. Some people might be down here soon and if they find a kid sitting alone in a car, that's going to be pretty suspicious."

"I can drive if that helps," Robin said.

"Nah, she's kinda temperamental," he said, patting the side of the car affectionately, "Besides, Lacy's going to need some help when I get her out."

Robin swallowed.

"Do you think…she'll be hurt bad?" he asked.

Balthazar shrugged and Robin's eyes narrowed.

"Don't lie to me," he said, "I'm only fourteen but I'm not stupid."

For a minute he was tempted to take the dragon out of his pocket. However, the boy had already started his training so he'd most likely just be wasting his time.

"Most likely," he said, "Horvath…I wouldn't put anything past him. She's John's girl, so I don't think she'd feel much like cooperating with an infamous Morganian. And if he's actually managed to kick-start her Arcana, that'll raise some bad issues. From what I've read about Seers…Arcanum can be bad."

"I heard they kill sometimes," Robin said blankly.

He was tempted to lie, but decided against it from the boy's earlier reaction.

"Seers technically are dead when they have their Arcanum," he said, "It was painful for my Master to talk about these things for personal reasons, but they essentially die and time flows through them and essentially borrows their bodies. It does that to some extent when they have visions, that's why Seers sometimes don't remember them. In theory the time leaves when it does and the soul goes back to inhabiting the body."

He winced inwardly at his words. No, there was no way to delicately put this, but he probably could have done better. Well, from the horrified look on Robin's face the boy thought so too.

"Now, to be frank sometimes they don't come back," he finished, "and rushing Arcanum does sound like it probably increases the risk of that happening."

Robin nodded, his jaw clenched.

"Look, it's a bad situation," Balthazar said uncomfortably, "Some Arcana are short and swift and some are long, drawn out, and painful. I think this is going to be the latter of the two. But we're going to do the best we can to prevent that and I need your help. I'm not very good in the healing department so it's going to be on you to try and help her. Got it?"

Nodding again Robin lowered himself underneath the seats. Balthazar stepped away from the car and to the side of the hotel. He could get through the wards easily enough, but he didn't think it would be a good idea to let Horvath know that he was involved just yet. Hating himself for what he was about to do he rubbed his face with his hands. When he was done he looked at himself in the glass window. It had worked; Balthazar looked in his reflection, and John Steed looked back.

He hoped that there would be some way to tell Lacy that he wasn't her father before she got too excited. Shoving the thought to the back of his mind he opened the door, straining against the wards. However, he pushed through and made his way through the assembled guest in the main room.

Walking up to the front desk he said smilingly with his ring glowing;

"Brutus Williams' room?"

The desk clerk's eyes glazed over as he said;

"132."

"Is he in?"

"Yes."

He waved his hand again and the clerk's eyes lost their glaze. Normally he hated to daze people, but this was a special circumstance. At least he knew that Horvath was in, and now he knew that he needed to do something to get him out of the room. Balthazar thought about it as he bolted up the stairs, two at a time.

Upon reaching the appropriate floor he looked out a hallway window at the street below him. He didn't like what he was about to do any more than dazing the clerk or wearing the face of the girl's father but John had put it best; he wasn't particularly moralistic. Reaching out his hand he prodded the wards as ineptly as he could.

As a result the street lights exploded into blue beams of electricity. He was glad that he had parked his beloved car out of the way; these things zapped the trees bare. Water hydrants exploded, turning the entire ground outside into a death trap. Seconds later he heard a door open and Balthazar flattened himself up against the wall.

Three men and one woman hurried downstairs. Balthazar didn't pay any of them any attention, it was only when Horvath went past that he felt his hand clench into a fist. He could kill him right here and now, it would serve him right. However, just like all the times before when he felt that he was finally capable of killing him, he remembered an odd little random memory. This time it was stealing mince meat pies during the Twelfth Night celebrations.

When the memory disappeared Horvath was gone. Cursing himself for his inability to block the memories out of his mind even after all this time he hurried to room 132. With great care he magically wore down the wards and stepped inside. He hadn't expected it to be empty; Horvath always had a contingency plan. However, the two sorcerers that they had left behind hadn't actually expected anyone to come in. He dealt with them quickly and looked at the room critically.

It was a luxury suite, but there wasn't any sign of Lacy. He wished that he had thought ahead to ask John for something of hers, that would make finding her so much easier. Instead he had only a very limited amount of time to search the place and get her out. Balthazar was just wondering where to start when he heard a small knocking sound.

Turning around he faced a small coat closet. He looked at it in disbelief. Surely not even Horvath would put a child in there? When he drew near it though he heard the knocking increase in volume and felt the wards that reinforced it. Gritting his teeth he shoved the wards away and opened the door.

The space had been magically enhanced, but just enough to accommodate her and perhaps one other person. Lacy stood in front of him, her messenger bag over her shoulder and ankle-deep in drawings that had been ripped to shreds. Broken glasses obscured her eyes, and hands were covered with colored dust. One of them was raised where it had been knocking on the door, and she blinked owlishly at him.

"Look," he said, "I'm not your father. I'm-"

"Lord Balthazar Blakeson," she said in a rush as her eyes glowed gold, "Fourth Earl of Lincolnshire, son of Alexander and Matilda Blakeson, second Apprentice of Merlin, Keeper of the Grimhold, Searcher for the Prime Merlinian, Sorcerer of the seven-hundredth and seventy-seventh degree-"

She stopped abruptly and threw up on the ground, coughing and splutterin. He jerked backwards, just barely managing to get his shoes out of the way in time. One of her hands touched the side of her head as she raised her head to face him.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Everything's…mingling right now…sometimes the visions come in too much detail…hurts my stomach…"

Lacy blinked once more and took a deep breath.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd burn all the drawings I left behind," she said, gesturing to the scraps of paper, "I knew you were coming so I ripped them up but if he puts them back together…"

He nodded mutely. It had been a very long time since anyone had called him the Earl of Lincolnshire, or mentioned his parent's names, and it was unnerving. Taking her hand he gently let her out and into the lighted room. Cuts criss-crossed her legs and arms, and a rather nasty welt was forming on her cheek. Her eyes were blood shot and the veins popped out around them and glowed silver. Her footsteps were uncertain and he suppressed a curse of disgust at his former friend.

"I'm sorry about…the…the…mess. And…you see…well it's…" she said, wiping her fingers on her dress and holding out her hand, "It's my nails."

With a growing sense of dread he looked at them and had to prevent himself from cursing again. They were a golden color, a natural gold not caused by paint. Her cells were being replaced with time-infused golden ones, a sure sign that her Arcana was drawing near. Balthazar looked up at her and she nodded.

"I don't think he knows about this," she said.

"Did you throw up in front of him?" he asked, "That would be a pretty good sign."

"No," she said, "Swallowed it instead. That's why I couldn't stop I this time. I'm still feeling a little funny, but I think you already know that."

He raised his eyebrows. Now there was some determination. Setting fire to the pictures he turned towards the window and opened it. The drop wasn't bad, but worryingly enough the Morganians who had rushed down there were now nowhere to be seen. He turned back to Lacy to tell her that they should get going and saw the dark figure behind her.

He threw out his hand just as Horvath grabbed Lacy around the neck. She shrieked and was picked up off her feet. The other hand was clapped over her mouth.

"She's very noisy, and I wouldn't want any of the neighbors thinking anything unsavory. You're much more powerful than I thought Steed," Horvath said conversationally, "But I'm thinking you're getting some help. Still, if you come without a fight then I'll be sure to make your death quick. Besides, there's no way to get to me without hurting your precious little Lacy."

Balthazar had to repress another curse, this time for an entirely different reason than before. He couldn't let Horvath hear his voice. He'd know then, and Balthazar had been in too much of a hurry to change it to match John's. Besides, Horvath was right; he couldn't do a spell without hitting Lacy. Not to mention that Horvath's associates were probably on their way up at that moment.

Then, defying all logic; Lacy bit Horvath's hand. Horvath, Morgana's most loyal follower, the most terrifying dark sorcerer in the world, and she bit him. The next thing she did was even more shocking; an all-out struggle, flinging out her limbs in every way, scratching him with her nails like a caged animal. Letting go was probably Horvath's safest option, and Balthazar could see that he did it more out of surprise than pain.

Lacy shot across the room to Balthazar's side, grabbing the shoulder coat. Used to having to think fast he grabbed Lacy's arm tightly. He was glad that she seemed to understand what he was about to do, since she used her other hand to hold on. Then he shoved the two of them outside the window.

He had, through several painful experiences, gotten good at judging heights and knowing how to land after impact. A fall like this wouldn't break anything, and he was glad that Horvath had gotten a room on the first instead of the fourth floor. Still, he winced on impact and Lacy stumbled. He knew that she had probably twisted or sprained something or another, so for the sake of time he picked her up. It surprised him just how little she weighed. No wonder Rosamund had had such an easy time carrying her.

A plasma bolt shattered a nearby bench and he started running for the car. Several bystanders were looking at him with their mouths open, especially since he had just taken off John Steed's face. Part of him cringed under this blatant flaunting of the art, but he would have time to be low profile later. Wrenching the door to the Rolls Royce open he put Lacy, as gently as time would allow, in the back.

"Robin?" she asked as her friend ducked up from his hiding place.

"Are you all righ-?" started Robin before stopping, obviously realizing that it was a stupid question considering her state.

Slamming the door shut he flung open his own door and took off as fast as it would let him. He knew that his car had a top speed of around 87 miles per hour, probably the fastest model currently out. However, he had taken a few tips from some prohibition moonshine sellers and had tinkered with the engine both manually and magically. Now he was hell on wheels. He smirked when he imagined Horvath's face when he saw how fast his quarry had gotten way.