A/N: For those of you who remember the lovely Roberta Bobette Robertson (the most random character I've ever created out of extreme boredom), yay.

He totally has plot significance.

Yes, very sad that Kal and Allie can't have kids (tear)…but can you imagine what a product of those two would be like? Kinda funny to picture it, eh?

About the divorce-thing with Liz and Giles: I heard that divorce was very rare in those times, so I don't know how accurate the story is on that bit.

"I am the walrus….kew-kew-kachew!"

-The Beatles

Allie sighed and scooped up Rose in her arms; her spelled metal paw had made the tapping noise. "Please tell me you're not thinking about eviscerating the poor cat."

"I'll think about it."

Allie dropped her onto his chest. "And that's for your little suggestion."

He hissed in a breath and pulled Rose's claws out of his shirt and skin. "Kiiyen vokyenzii!" Rose ignored him and began to groom herself.

"Don't cuss at the cat."

"I can 'cuss' at whatever I want, drose-t're."

"Not if I say so, droxen-t'ru."

"Umm…e-excuse me?" There was a tapping at the window. "Miss Destra? Kalendrakk?"

Allie started and stared at the person at the window. "Do I know you?"

His eyes turned watery. "You don't remember me?" he cried in a high voice.

Allie frowned thoughtfully. After a minute, her face lit up. "Oh! You're Roberta!"

"Oh dear God, no," Kal moaned. He rolled over on the bed and pulled a pillow over the back of his head. "Go away."

"I think he's sweet." Allie crossed the room to let him in. "How have you been, Bob?"

"Fine, thank you," he sniffled. He folded his wings together and crawled in through the window. "You?"

"Ah…decent, I guess." She rolled her eyes. "There's been a few assassination attempts and some rogue demons…the usual."

Bob's eyes filled up again. "Oh! That's so sad!" He took off his spectacles, wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, and replaced them. The made his pale eyes seem twice the size, and made him seem all the more comical.

Allie waved it away. "I'm uses to it. By the way, I just love your hair! Did you cut it?"

Kal made gagging noises from his spot on the bed.

"Oh, just ignore him. He's in a bad mood."

Bob's eyes widened and he gnawed his lower lip. "Oh dear." He began twisting a leather-bound book between his small hands. "I-is he? How bad?"

Kal turned his head sideways and glared at him from under the pillow. "If my grandmother were sill alive, I'd pop out her eyeballs like grapes and put them in my wine."

Bob turned almost as pale as his hair. "Is that so?" He began to edge away towards the window. "Well, it's been nice seeing you again, Miss Destra, but I can come back another time. I just remembered, I had an appointment with my grandmother…thanks for reminding me, Kalendrakk…"

"Wait, why did you come here in the first place?" Allie beat him to the window and slammed it shut. "And how did you even know we were here? Virtually no-one comes to the castle." She thought about the recent, unwelcome visitors. "Well, almost."

"It's fine; I can come back later--"

"Answer her question, you little pansy," Kal grumbled, sitting up. "Or I'll be snaking on your eyeballs on to-night."

He paled even further, backing up until he was as far as possible from Kal. He opened the book he held (his hands trembling more than a bit) and flipped halfway through. "Ah…rule number one thousand four-hundred and three--"

"Of what?" Allie exclaimed. "Do you people have a separate rulebook just for Kal, or something of the like?"

Bob nodded weakly. "Over one thousand copies of it, ten for every main demon court."

"A court? What's a court?"

"It's what we call a group," Kal explained. "There're ten known courts—Sorcerer's Court, Healer's Court, and so on---and one rogue court, of demons and other immortals."

"We sent copies to the rogue court, but they burned them all. They don't follow any rules you see." Bob took a deep breath. "'Kalendrakk is forbidden any relationship, marriage, etc., with any mortal or immortal woman (or man). If the above occurs, the person in question is to…'" he trailed off, eyes darting from Allie to Kal.

Allie motioned for him to go on.

He gulped. "'…is to have her/his mind erased and any children conceived to be put to death.'"

Kal scowled. "The rules don't apply to us, though. 'Allison Destra (the Princess)'s mind is not to be tampered with in any way, as this may result in a shift in the prophecy.'"

Bob stared at him, his mouth agape.

"What? I heard it from Jessica when I lived in the Eagle demon territory. As for any mutant kids..."

"Forget about that," Allie grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bob closed the book and slipped it into a pocket inside his coat. "Now that that's over with, I'll be going."

"Just a minute, now." Kal slid off the bed and walked over to the window. "Remember to tell your boss this, alright?" He bent and muttered something in his ear. Bob listened for a full minute, went very pale, and nearly banged his head scurrying out of the window.

Allie marched over and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Alright, you—what did you tell him?"

He grinned and looped an arm around her shoulders. "Oh…only that if they kept trying to interfere with us, I'd raze all their homes to the ground and slaughter them all down the to the last person. Stuff like that."

"You sure know how to flatter a girl."

"Well? What did you do to her?" Jason pressed the dagger against Gabriel's throat, drawing blood.

"He didn't do anything," Elizabeth snapped. "It was his family—don't tell me you don't remember that, either!"

"Who's she?"

Gabriel took a shallow breath. "That would be Elizabeth. Ange, why don't you go inside?" And tell Kal and Allison, his eyes finished.

She nodded shortly and left, shooting one hateful look over her shoulder at Jason. He stretched out the tips of his free fingers at her.

"Come back here, you!"

Gabriel smelled bitter-smoke, a smell he associated with Jason's magic. Apparently, it didn't affect Elizabeth, because he heard her slam the doors and, faintly, run up the stairs. He kept his eyes focused on one of the roses in front of him.

"Why didn't she stop?" Jason asked, more to himself.

Gabriel shrugged lightly. "I have no idea." Probably her recently-discovered magic skills, he thought to himself, forgetting that Jason could read minds.

He seemed not to care. "Fine. Just remember, if you lie, she won't be safe inside your castle, brat. Talk."

"My family planned a raid of sorts on your home some years ago," he said slowly. "I don't know the details. I know they must have done something like it before, only this time, they injured a woman: Marie. Only, you thought she was dead. From what we gathered, she suffered severe amnesia and was taken in by the Fay, and later came to my castle as Mirei, thirteen years ago. A while after that, when Elizabeth and I were in France, you staged my death to Elizabeth, told me Elizabeth was dead, and sold me to a circus. Sometime between then, you attempted to kill Elizabeth with a wraith, only it killed Marie instead. That was in July."

There was a long silence. Eventually, it was broke by Jason's incredulous laughter. "You—you think I would even attempt something like that? That's the most idiotic thing I have ever heard! My, you're an inventive liar! Have you some hashish in your room, perhaps?"

"I am, in fact, a terrible liar. Besides, wouldn't you know if I lied?"

"You obviously have some type of wall around your mind," Jason replied easily. "For one, while you look like it, you're not a Noirmort. If a drakk was in their family, they'd either kill it or find a way to reverse the transformation."

"You cursed me as a punishment to my family—I am Gabriel Noirmort. The little pansy," he added sarcastically as an afterthought. Well…I did do nothing but paint and read and play music…maybe I was a bit of a pansy. The truth hurts.

Jason snorted. "Like hell you are. Being your father's heir, they would have fixed you long by now."

Gabriel sighed. This is really getting tiring. "First you made it so the spell would be broken by true love, and then you made it permanent. When are you going to believe me? It's 1874; Marie is dead; and you keep denying it, even though I keep telling you."

Jason relaxed his dagger-hand. "It can't be possible. You don't understand—I was just coming back from--" His hand tensed again, and a moment later, Kal, Allie, and Elizabeth were crossing the courtyard to them. "Stay where you are!"

Gabriel glanced at them out of the corner of his eyes. Kal, even though he was now supposed to be normal (as normal as he could be) seemed every inch a bloodthirsty killer. "You just stay where you are," he growled, "so I won't have to chase after you." Allie laid a restraining hand on his shoulder, and his shrugged it off roughly.

"Who are you?" Jason asked curiously. "I've never seen you before, either. As far as I know," he added under his breath.

"Oh, by the time I'm through with you, you'll remember!"

Allie grabbed hold of his arm. "Kal, knock it off! Don't make me--"

"Kal? As in the Kalendrakk? That's impossible!" Jason exclaimed. "He's only six years old!"

Allie took a careful step forward, holding her hands up. "He's twenty-one. I'm Allison Destra."

"He was supposed to die before his twentieth birthday!" Jason seemed more disturbed by this than anything else Gabriel had told him. "You were supposed to have killed him long by now! Even so, you should be four!"

Now Elizabeth stepped forward. "Please, Jason; let Gabriel go, and we'll explain everything to you."

Gabriel held his breath, waiting. Jason's dagger-hand had relaxed again. A little more, and he'd be able to break away; he knew he was quick enough.

Instead of dropping his hand, he grabbed Gabriel by his should with his free hand. "After I talk to the Noirmort a while longer." The smell of bitter smoke filled the air (only Kal and Gabriel could smell it).

There was a sound like a dry twig snapping, and Jason collapsed. Gabriel looked from him (he appeared to be unconscious) to the others. "What…?"

Allie shrugged. "I didn't do it—Kal?"

He shook his head. "What fun would it be to kill him when he's sleeping?"

Elizabeth looked shocked. "I…don't think I did it." She sat down next to Gabriel. "Are you alright?"

"Just fine." He kissed the top of her head and dropped the pendant into her hand. Behind them, Allie knelt down and prodded Jason with her finger.

"You really knocked him out, Liz—what did you do?" She peeled back one of eyelids and let it fall back. "A better question is what are we going to do with him? And no, Kal, you don't have a vote, so don't even ask."

"I don't know," she said honestly. "To either of the questions. I was just thinking I wanted him to drop that knife."

"He dropped it, alright," Kal remarked. He nudged Jason with the toe of his boot, not at all gently. "Heh heh…while he's asleep, why don't we cut off his--"

Allie gave him a disgusted look that was nearly comical. "No. Just…no."

Giles was asleep when his cousin arrived, quite deeply. It was a full minute before the heavy pounding on the door woke him. Groggily, he swung his feet over the edge of the couch and stumbled to the door. The setting sun was bright enough for him to squint. This late already? "Yes?" he asked in annoyed voice.

"I was beginning to think you up and died," a familiar voice remarked cheerfully.

"What d'you want, Rene?" He yawned widely, leaning on the doorframe for support. He hadn't even been that tired when he had gotten back to the house; he had just drifted off.

Rene sidled in past Giles, clapping him on the shoulder as he went. "Just to visit my favorite cousin! I don't need a reason, as you well know."

Giles yawned again and led the way into the parlor. "Last time you came was to tell me Tante Helene died. What are the bad new this time?"

Rene settled down comfortably into the armchair and propped his feet (and dirty boots, Giles noted glumly) on to the mahogany table in front of him. "What makes you think I have bad news?"

Giles mutely offered him a half a glass of brandy from the tray on the table and took one for himself. His mouth felt as if he had stuffed it with cotton. "Tell."

Rene grinned broadly and lifted his glass in a toast. He was nearly ten years Giles's senior—somewhere in his early thirties, though he could have passed for younger. His hair was black and short, a contrast to his pale skin and watery blue eyes. He had overly expressive eyebrows, and now they were raised in good humor. "To your health, cousin."

He rolled his eyes. "You didn't come an hour's ride just for a glass of brandy. What d'you want?"

"First, I'd like to offer my condolences. I heard you got married last year. As sad as I was to hear those depressing news," he added, "I heard the lady ran off on you. Should congratulations be in order?"

Giles glowered and tightened his fingers on his glass. "I'd rather not discuss it," he said through clenched teeth.

"Alright," Rene agreed easily. "But, first, you should be glad she ran off."

"What?" he exclaimed, his mind on Elizabeth and the thing she picked over him.

Rene pulled out a letter from inside his jacket. "'Swhat I came to tell you. Apparently, your parents forgot." He unfolded the parchment, yellowed with age, and held it out of Giles reach. "But…perhaps, with the lovely mood you're in, your beloved cousin doesn't feel like giving you this letter."

Giles snatched it out of Rene's hands, ignoring his sarcastic "You're welcome." He read aloud, eyes dancing over the paper.

"'Monsieur and Madame Gemme…how is the weather?' How is the weather? What the--"

Rene rolled his eyes. "Skip to then middle, genius."

Giles obediently skimmed over the middle of the letter, reading as fast as he could (which was quite slow). After he had finished he made choking noise. "BETROTHED?" he shouted, after finding his voice. "To the Princess? Of FRANCE?"

Rene cleared his throat. "Ah, not quite. Her parents were very rich, granted, and a lord and lady—their daughter was given the title as a joke, and it stuck."

"How rich?"

He considered it. "Now that her parents are dead—murdered, if you want to know—she must have inherited all their money. That, as well as the dowry…well, let's just say she's very rich. The problem is, the last time she was seen was early this summer, and she was in the company of another man. From the rumors, they're quite close."

All thoughts of getting Elizabeth back fled his mind. If this "Princess" was truly his betrothed…

"Allison Destra," Giles read off the paper. "Rene, would you mind if I accompanied you back to Paris?"