Back out in the kitchen, both Joshua and Mar bullied Joe into eating ("You use energy, you need to replace it, chè, no excuses.")…which devolved into Joshua attempting to take over cooking, Mar banning him from the stove, and Joshua retaliating by body-blocking the fridge. It sounded all in fun, but something in Joshua's voice still sounded off, too much like Dad, and Frank couldn't relax.

Shaking her head, Kris passed Joe the Cheerios and bananas, as Mar finally allowed Joshua near the stove to fix his own omelette. After a quick wash in Kris's bathroom and a couple aspirin, Frank settled for finishing his coffee; it hurt to chew. He pulled the paper over to read through the classifieds for distraction, then paused: Other Variations…?

"MTF…CD…BB," Joe said, craning to read. "What's all that mean?"

"Don't," Joshua snapped at Kris, as she opened her mouth. "Don't. Say. A. Word. Such innocence is a wonderful thing, and I want to cherish it as long as possible."

But Frank nudged Joe, pointed out one ad towards the bottom of the last column:

Neo-Pagan, Vamps, Otherkin, Donors: Curious? Interested? One of us? The Cabal of SF, Back room Lido's, Sun 8pm.

That was tomorrow night. Joe gave Frank a look, and Frank kicked himself mentally — he should've kept quiet, but habit had taken over.

"Guys, seriously," Kris said, "don't even think of answering those. You really don't want that kind of education."

"As long as the textbooks are cheap, I can handle it," Joe said.

"Your father would have some words about that," Mar said, smiling.

Frank hesitated, then passed Kris the paper. "What about this one?"

She groaned. "Oh gods. The Cabal again. They never give up, I swear."

"Oh, please take them with you," Joshua said, reading over her shoulder. "Unstoppable BS meets Immoveable Skeptics. I'll sell tickets."

"You're having way too much fun," Joe said to Joshua. "It's a dead giveaway."

Joshua's gaze settled on Joe. "Really."

"Out with it, Tag." Frank tried to smile, but it set off another throb of pain. "Before I hot-wire your stereo to play nothing but Joe's tapes." Judging from Joshua's reaction, it couldn't be the cult Ruth had mentioned.

"Thanks a lot," Joe said.

"San Francisco's the center for the Neo-Pagan and New Age movements," Kris said. "Pagans, Satanists, Moonies, Krishnas, any weirdness you can think of, it's all here, or at least got its start here."

"Even those white folk selling their version of the medicine paths," Mar said. She sounded disgusted; she'd always been vocal in her disapproval of white people claiming to follow native religion. "They started here, not with the tribes."

"People's Gate?" Frank said.

"Christian," Kris said. "They were pretty Bible-thumping."

"Only up until they pulled the trigger," Joshua said. "After that, only God can say. All religions have nut-jobs, handsome. No exceptions."

Joshua sounded natural enough. Maybe Frank was reading too much into it.

"Anyway, I'm Wiccan," Kris said. "It's the correct term for witchcraft, the religion of the Goddess. Coming out here helped me put a name to what I believed."

Frank kept his face carefully neutral. The tagalong had elevated her spooky stuff to religion. Just great.

"I did a lot of searching when I came out here. Wanting to find…well…a coven. I ran straight into the Cabal."

"Most folks here have," Joshua said. "They've got quite a rep."

"So they're Wiccan?" Frank said.

"More like 'all of the above'," Kris said. "When they say 'pagan', they mean 'anything that doesn't run away fast enough'."

"Send Frank and Joe to that meeting, Joshua," Mar said. "It'd be a good lesson in keeping a straight face in the middle of severe provocation."

"Frank gives me plenty of practice already," Joe said.

"You definitely take after your brother there, chè," Joshua said to Joe. "You gave me a hard lesson in just that last night."

"What about otherkin?" Frank said, before Joe could open his mouth. Frank wasn't sure he wanted to know what was meant by 'donors'.

Mar now stared hard at Joshua, who ignored her.

"You'll love this." Kris laid a finger on the ad. "Some of 'em claim they're non-human. Other. Kin."

"What, like elves?" Joe said…and Kris just looked at him.

"You're serious," Frank said. If she started claiming that was real…

"Elves, angels, aliens, you name it, they claim it. My final straw was when someone tried to claim he was the real Superman and that DC had ripped off his life story — oh gods, Frank, don't look at me like that. I'm not that gullible. The Cabal's a joke."

"Vamps," Frank said. "Vampires?"

Now Kris gave him a long look. "Y'know, you asked about that yesterday, and I didn't think…okay. Why are you suddenly interested in vampires?"

"Joe did say that man had pointed teeth, darlin'," Joshua said. "When he finally told me about it, I mean."

Uh-oh. Frank did not like Joshua's expression.

"Frank asked before that," Kris said. "Out with it, big brother."

She would have to say that out loud. Frank shifted uncomfortably. They'd never lied to each other, no matter what, and Frank didn't want to break that trust, not over this. But Joshua and Mar were sitting right there, and Mar was on Council. She'd be honor-bound to stop Joe, at least, and the way Joshua was acting…

"Is this about Transylvania, dear?" Mar said.

Frank hadn't expected Mar to provide him with such a ready out. "Uh…sort of."

"Transylvania?" Joshua said. "Are you kidding me, handsome? You didn't tell us this one last night." Just a bare pause. "That seems to be a running theme with you two."

"You would bring that up," Joe muttered at Frank.

"It's a long story," Frank said. Thank God, now he didn't have to lie. "We were helping Dad hunt down art thefts in Europe last June. The guy behind it claimed to be descended from Vlad Dracul."

"Vlad the Impaler, aka Dracula," Kris said to Joshua. "He was Bram Stoker's inspiration for the character."

"He was still a real person," Mar said. "So he'd have descendants somewhere. Stavlin might have told the truth on that point."

"And Joe…well…" Frank glanced at his brother. There just wasn't a polite way to say it.

"Fine," Joe rolled his eyes, "be that way. Stavlin didn't have a reflection in the mirror. I was standing right there. I saw it, but no one else did."

"A trick mirror," Frank said.

"That was some trick, because I could see the cop next to him just fine," Joe said, glaring. "And Stavlin attacked people. He left bite marks on their neck. Dad lost a few pints of blood, and the monks couldn't explain why."

"Stavlin was psychotic. There's plenty of ways Dad could've lost that blood —" Frank cut himself off; Joe didn't need to be reminded of that. "It's just…now I'm wondering…"

"You're wondering if maybe it was real, after all," Joshua finished for him.

"Oh, this apology is going to be so, so sweet," Joe said, grinning.

"Funny," Joshua said. "I was about to say something similar to you, chè."

Someone cleared his throat, making them all turn. "I hate to interrupt your conquests, butterfly," Harold Downs leaned in the archway, "but I'm getting ready to head back down to Milpitas. Can you spare a few minutes of your busy social life?"

Joshua closed his eyes, sighed. "Sure, Harold." He pushed himself up. "I want to hear the whole story," he said to Frank. "I'll have it out of you at lunch. Fair warning, darlin'."

"Going on a date already," Downs said, his gaze cold on Frank. "You're a fast mover. That how you got in the Blades, boy?"

"I don't know," Frank said, glaring back. "What did you have to do?"

"That's enough," Mar said, getting to her feet. "Harold, you said you had business. Fine. But in my house, all of you will keep civil tongues in your head. Is that understood?"

"Oh, I understand all right," Downs said. "I understand bait and his brother all too well."

"Harold," Mar said. "Once more, and it goes to Eli."

Arms crossed, Downs said nothing.

Joshua sighed. "The war-room, Harold. I'll be right down."

"Go with him, squirrel," Mar said to Kris. "Harold found some things that you might be able to help with."

"But Shimá —"

"I'm insisting, darlin'," Joshua said. "Mama Hawk's right. Time to put all that your book-learning to use."

"You're not getting out of the explanation," Kris said to Frank.

"I won't let him forget, Tag," Joe said. "I want that apology."

"You keep taking the words out of my mouth, chè," Joshua said. "Because I'm owed an apology. No, Mama Hawk, you're not shutting me up this time. I'm starting and finishing this now."

Joe had gone still.

"You said a lot of shit last night, right in front of everyone," Joshua said, "and then you took off without giving me any chance to answer your accusations, and then you yelled out even more shit behind my back that the whole room heard. Now I'll be blunt. I'm damn tired of sticking my neck out for you, and I'm not going to let you swing the axe with everyone else. Got that?"

"Josh…" Frank started.

"This isn't about you, chè. We had our problem yesterday, and that's settled. Now." Joshua's glare settled back on Joe, who sat there, unmoving and pale. "You got a beef with me, you take me aside, you come down to the war-room, and we'll discuss it privately. You're not a Blade, I'm not your commander, but I do demand common courtesy."

Frank clamped his mouth shut. Anything he added would just make it worse.

Head bowed, Joe said nothing.

"You called me out in public," Joshua said, "and I've called you out, with rather more justification. We're even. And now I've got to go deal with ol' Harold, who's probably going to do more yelling about my decision to give you and your brother a chance. I'll be back later, since I did promise you lunch and I keep my promises."

"Josh…I didn't…I mean…"

"Later, I said," Joshua cut Joe off. "There's Blade business right now. And like you kept reminding me last night, you're not a Blade. Hawk?"

Silence dropped on the room as Joshua and Kris left, though Kris paused at the archway, glanced back at the brothers as if to say something, but then ducked out after Joshua.

Mar sighed. "He could've timed that better. But…it needed said."

Joe looked stricken. "Mar?"

Mar only looked at him…and Joe dropped his gaze.

"Milpitas," Frank said, trying to change the topic. Anything to get that expression off Joe's face. "People's Gate, again."

"Yes," Mar said. "Harold is our cult expert. He's helping Milpitas PD and the FBI with it. And your little tagalong is our folklore and ritual magic go-to person. All those spooky stories she loved…well. Harold found some things that don't fit the usual cult pattern."

Cult…and Ruth had mentioned a vampire cult. A kid claimed he was going to be turned into a vampire, a couple kids had asked Joe if he'd been attacked by vampires…and the man tailing Joe supposedly had pointed teeth. Frank breathed out.

"Now." Mar settled into one of the kitchen chairs. "What's this about vampires?"

Mar had always been impossible to lie to, and her calm questions were as rough as Dad's interrogations. And when Dad got involved, Frank and Joe had learned the only — and temporary — escape was a mumbled apology and a fast duck out the back door.

Well, no harm in trying. "I just don't want to have to go back to Transylvania."

"You don't want to admit I was right, you mean," Joe said, subdued.

Frank hesitated, then reached out to grip Joe's arm. Solid, comforting, brother-to-brother.

Mar, though, only looked at Frank. "That's all you wish to say?" Quiet. Calm.

Frank glanced at Joe. Trying to explain about a kid turning into a vampire sounded completely cracked, no matter how it was phrased. Telling Mar that they'd let their attacker go? Forget it. And if Mar took the explanation as an excuse to bar Joe or Frank even further from helping…Frank said nothing.

Mar watched them both for a long moment. "I know you two too well," she said finally, still quiet, still calm. "And one thing I know, from the depths of my heart, is that you never, ever, turn your backs on anyone in trouble."

At that, Frank looked up. "Mar?"

"I recall quite a few people finding out how much you couldn't be stopped, once you locked onto a problem." Mar got up to refill her coffee mug. "I suspect that some folks here are about to get a similar lesson."

Blank, he had to keep his face blank. Frank wasn't sure he could manage "puzzled", not with Mar watching him. Joe wasn't even trying; he stared down at his coffee mug, hands clenched around it.

"There's rules we run on." Quiet, calm, serene. "Things that we'll say, as a…oh, what's the current phrase…a reality check. The first, there's no such thing as coincidence."

"Dad says that," Frank said. "Once is chance, twice maybe coincidence, three times conspiracy."

Mar nodded. "We normally don't wait for the conspiracy. Everything happens for a reason…though admittedly, sometimes the reason is 'just because'."

Frank and Joe looked at each other. It'd hit the conspiracy stage, definitely. But Frank held his silence.

"Two, if you find the problem, be ready to find the solution. If you ask the question, you're ready to hear the answer."

"Kris and Josh said that in New Orleans," Joe said. "Right before they hit us with the voodoo stuff."

Frank only waited. Mar was like this. It had to be important, even if he couldn't see why at the moment.

"The most important," Mar said, as if she hadn't heard Joe. "Be aware of your choice. And beware refusing it."

…be aware of your choice, chè. Maybe I'll see you later…

Frank stared. He couldn't have heard that. "Death—I mean, Duveé said that, to Joe. Before…I mean, before we…"

"No." Joe looked as if he'd been smacked with a board. "He told me to beware my choice."

"It's one and the same." Mar's gaze rested on Joe. "The first part, to be aware. The cost of your decisions, the consequences. Whether you're willing to pay it and inflict those consequences on everyone around you." Joe opened his mouth; Mar raised a hand, stilling him. "New Orleans. You both made choices: Frank, to go for help, and you, not to run —"

"Mar, if I'd run, Thatcher would've moved them! He would've known I knew —"

"And beware refusing it," Mar said gently.

Joe looked away.

"I'm not arguing your choice, dear. You both chose. You both followed through. You brought down two killers. You saved lives."

No blame. No anger. No demanding to account for every little action, every choice, every hurt, every scar…

…and Mar sounded proud of them.

"As I said, you both knew the immediate consequences. But it fanned out — your family, the Blades, the Association. Like a pebble dropped in water, the ripples spread. That's what that means, my sons. What you do, what you don't do, it comes back on you, and you'll have to live with it, you and those around you."

That had sounded like a gentle rebuke on what had just happened with Joshua — it had gone from a question about vampires to this. Frank rubbed at his forehead, careful not to touch his tender eye and cheek. "So it's a warning, then."

"A reminder. Be aware of the whole situation. It's too easy to develop tunnel vision and decide that your way is the only one." Now Mar's gaze settled on Frank. "Keeping silent won't free you from those consequences, either."

Frank glanced uneasily at Joe. Yeah, a very definite rebuke.

"But your instincts are usually good," Mar went on. "You and Joe see with mind and heart. That's a devastating combination." Mar's voice turned decidedly dry. "Though I will say, the right choice for Frank at the moment is to get to Trevor and get that black eye seen to."

Frank sighed. "Yes, Mama Hawk."

Getting to her feet, Mar patted his shoulder. "It won't hurt for us to check on the Cabal again. I'll remind Joshua. But now, you've got an appointment with Drake. Trevor first, then I'll show you to the gym."

Frank helped Joe up. He and Joe were new; he had to keep that in mind. He didn't want to drag Joe into anything like New Orleans, ever again. But all Frank could think of was the teen claiming he was a vampire, and Joe talking about that scared little girl with the scabs on her neck…

…ran like a coward and left him to die…

Then…

"Be aware of your choice, my sons," Mar said.

Frank had already met Trevor, the linebacker who'd scowled over Joe's legs yesterday. Trevor tsk'd over the black eye and swollen face, then laid a gentle hand on Frank's face. A static-electric sting — Frank forced himself to still as the pain faded, save for residual tenderness around his eye.

"Not broken. That'll take the swelling down, but you're stuck with the bruises." Trevor handed Frank two aspirin. "Come back here after Drake if the pain gets too much."

Then Mar lead them to the gym, another amenity Frank hadn't expected. Kris had given them a tour after they'd arrived, pointing out other living areas, work spaces, a pool — which had looked like no pool Frank had ever seen, surrounded in real earthworks, trees and plants inside a giant greenhouse. All of this spoke of serious cash, a serious investment in people…but for what? What return did the Association get on all this?

Hammond's words came back, disquieting, uneasy: we don't know enough about them. In case you start wondering who you work for.

"You're not coming in?" Joe said, as Mar turned from the gym door.

"The Blades' sessions are in the evening, dear. I have to do a full grocery run this morning."

"So I'm not in the Blades, either," Frank said. It wasn't a question.

Mar sighed. "My son, this is open session. Drake needs to see where you're at. I can only tell him so much."

Well…that made sense. But…

"However," Mar went on, "feel free to show up tonight, if you wish. Drake'll be happy to pound you to the ground with everyone else."

"I'm scared to death of this man," Joe muttered, as he and Frank went into the gym, "and I've barely met him."

A number of other people were already in the gym, working in a variety of martial arts styles, including a trio involved in intricate movement that looked more like slo-mo dancing than fighting. Jamie was one of that trio, and from his brother's sudden stop, Joe had seen her, too.

In the center of the gym, directing the sparring, was a stocky, well-muscled olive-skinned man, shaved bald, black t-shirt, black jeans; the man's arms were seamed with scars, his left sleeved in an intricate tattoo of a dragon encircling a Star of David. Frank recognized him from last night: Drake. Drake caught sight of the brothers, came over, giving them both a scowling stare.

"I think the password is, 'Mar sent us'," Joe said.

Drake's expression didn't change. "Can you move without the crutch?"

"Some," Joe said. "Not very good."

"Show me." When Joe didn't move, Drake gestured. "Put that thing down and walk."

Joe handed the crutch to Frank, then staggered a few feet away and back; it hurt to watch. Finally Drake had Joe stand and resist his push, both against the shoulders, then against one hand at a time.

"What type of therapy did they have you doing?" When Joe looked confused, Drake made an impatient noise. "Physical therapy. What were they doing?"

"None." Joe looked away. "They said it wouldn't do any good."

Scowling silence. "That better not have been Boston Center."

Joe shook his head. Frank answered for him. "No. Specialists in Bayport." He didn't add that Dad couldn't see the reason for going all the way to Boston when there were "perfectly good doctors in Bayport".

"Idiots." Drake regarded Joe for a long moment. "Mar said you both have had karate. Belt level?"

"None," Joe said.

"Brown," Frank said. "I've been running him through kata for the last couple months."

"You mean you've been using it as an excuse to beat me up for the last couple months," Joe murmured.

Drake raised an eyebrow. "Oh? We have an expert here, do we?"

"No, sir," Frank said. "Mar was beating the crap out of me yesterday."

For the first time, Drake cracked a smile. "Don't call me 'sir'. I work for a living. Qiao, Adam —" That, across the floor, and two of the slo-mo dancers came over, an elderly wrinkled Asian woman in sweats and a balding, red-headed man with a pot-belly, "— this is Joe. Start him on Rising Sun form, full sequence. Focus on feet and legs and keep him grounded and rooted. He's mage-gifted, so incorporate the energy work and keep after him until he does it right."

"Young people, bah." The old woman eyed Joe up and down, then poked him in the hip, frowning. "Never know how to stand properly. Over there. We start easy. Won't hurt."

"Much," the red-head, Adam, said, grinning. Jamie had come up behind them, eyeing Joe curiously.

"You're really Mar in disguise, admit it," Joe said to the old woman, Qiao. It earned him an eyes-narrowed look.

"There went the 'won't hurt' part," Jamie said. "For a Naive Farm Boy, you like living dangerously."

"It's a dirty job —" Joe's voice cut off in a yelp; Qiao slapped his hip with a sharp burst of Chinese and pushed him towards the other end of the gym.

That left Frank standing in front of Drake. Drake gestured for Frank to follow and stopped in the clear space in the middle of the mats. "Now. Let's see what you really know."

Then he attacked.

Frank had been expecting it, but wasn't prepared for the speed. He dodged, keeping his stance defensive; he'd already decided that the best way to handle Drake was to not close with him. Drake got solid blows in — pulled, about half-force, but still enough to sting — and after about a minute, Drake suddenly wasn't doing karate, altering form and attack and forcing Frank to improvise, pushing Frank to the edge of his range and beyond. Frank kept with the stay-away tactic, and finally, Drake backed off.

"Okay," Drake growled; he wasn't even winded. "Mind telling me why you're playing dodge ball?"

Frank forced his breathing to slow, but didn't drop defensive stance. Drake didn't seem angry, but hadn't formally yielded, either. "The idea's to stay alive, right?"

There was a pause. "Well," Drake said, "now that you've proved you've got more brains than most of my students, we can get serious. Terah, Phillip — stop staring and get back to work. And you two, center. Now."