Blood Dance Chapter 5: Part 5, a gundam wing/ac fanfic

Blood Dance —
Part 5
by Mina

Standard disclaimers for Gundam Wing apply. Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton, not me. All other deranged characters in this rather deranged fic—yes, that includes the screwy plot—belong to me. Oh, wait. Saitou and Kenshin belong to Watsuki Nobuhiro and Sony. Damn; guess another set got away from me. ::Mina turns even chibier than she usually is and wails, "It's just not fair!"::

Warnings: ::Mina steps out in full angelic array—which is completely marred by evil glinting black eyes and the fangs peaking out.:: "Ossu, minasama! I have another engagement at this moment, and so I have relegated my glorious muse to give you the low down. It's all yours, K'lendel-musuko!" ::Scampers off before she can be hauled back in and held accountable.::

::K'lendel wanders in—correction, stumbles in as Mina gives him a shove from behind—looking rather distressed.:: "Ano ne, kaachan…anou, Mina-sama…eeto…"

::Mina peeks around the corner to glare.:: "Just get on with it! My ship leaves for Eden in two minutes, so make it snappy if you want to come."

::K'lendel looks horrified and nods, burgundy hair flying wildly.:: "Hai, kaachan!" ::Turns to the audience, looking serious.:: "Okay, minasama, here's the situation. The following fic contains language, most of it not very nice. This fic also contains adult themes in a vast array of citrus flavours. This fic is dark and contains possibly disgusting and graphic descriptions of horrific things. This fic may 'squick' some people's sense of propriety, this fic may 'squick' several people's sense of morality, and that's the way it's going to be. There will be no revisions to the plot of this portion of the fic; it will stand as is except for minor tweaking." ::wink:: "Shitsurei shimasu, but I'd better catch that ship to Eden before you begin to read. Ganbare, minasama!"

Waking up was strange. I'd done it thousands of times before, but it felt different this time. Something in my chest felt heavy, and my head felt as though it were filled with cotton. There was an air of density in the room, a strange sort of almost humid thickness that pervaded around me.

Mentally, I giggled; heh, too many molecules in the room again… Er, sorry, Cuervo hallucination flashback.

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking back tears as light flooded in and burned. Funny; now that my eyes were open, it felt as if my face was on fire where the light touched me, as well. I rolled and wiggled in an effort to get away from that evil heat source, finding a cooler spot in the sheets to press my face.

Ah, bliss!

With the muzziness still influencing my head, I tried to think back on what had happened the night before to put me in such a state. I remembered the dance club with Wufei; I remembered staring at Wufei's leather clad ass as it wriggled in through the window and thinking lascivious thoughts; I remembered pinning Heero to the bed and kissing him—and doing a few other things; I remembered Quatre's interesting attire when we boarded the bus for Féeriques Coteau, as well as Trowa's unusual accessories; I remembered finding out that Wufei had a pet demon; I remembered finding out that there was such a thing as a cross check-in girl; I remembered finding out that Trowa had a weird relationship with the moon; I remembered a beautiful but untouchably cold redheaded vampire named Damian and the endlessly amused, carefree-seeming Jason-the-werewolf; I remembered that Heero was Jean-Claude's son; I remembered that Anita was a necromancer who somehow could channel lycanthropic power; I remembered that I had spoken with a pretty half-Sidhe woman who owned the café; I remembered that I had changed into a fucking big, black cat…

Then I remembered that I had tried to jump nearly everything with two legs afterwards.

Stifling a very inarticulate groan, I buried my face deeper into the cool sheet. What the hell had I done last night? Lost that thing resembling sanity…again…apparently, the nasty portion of my brain retorted.

Have I mentioned that all of my brain seems to be rather nasty lately?

The door opened, but I didn't look to see who it was. I didn't have to look and see who it was. I recognised the light, stealthy-yet-bouncy step across the floorboards, as well as the faint hint of sandalwood and cedar.

"Come on, Duo, it's time to take your medicine," Quatre chirped, collapsing bonelessly beside me on the floor.

…It's really disgusting how flexible the little neo-hippie punk is. All that stupid yoga shit, no doubt.

"Duo's dead," I muttered, spitting sheet from my mouth. Damn Quatre and his cheerfulness. Besides, if he'd made the 'medicine' I was supposed to take, I didn't know if I wanted to take it. I kind of have this little thing in my head I like to call self-preservation, and currently Quatre was still on my self-preservation no-no list.

Damn, stupid herbal-supporting neo-hippie punk. …Great, I'm repeating myself now.

Quatre laughed at me, scraping bangs from in front of his big aqua eyes. "Oh, come on, Duo, it's not that bad. It's just a little something to help keep the hormones suppressed. You know, so you'll quit jumping everything that breaths."

I turned just enough so that I could give him a good glare. "I was not jumping everything that breathed," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. It was really hard to do, since I knew he wasn't that far off.

Rolling his eyes, Quatre said, "Sure, Duo, you keep telling yourself that. Denial is an ugly thing, but I can understand why you'd rather live in your own little world."

His expression turned serious, mouth hardening, eyes steely. "However, I'm not leaving here until you drink every last drop of the potion I brought you. And I'm not turning you loose from this room unless it all slides down that pretty little throat of yours, my friend. So, in other words, if you want to know what's going on and want to help us catch the fucked up bitch that did this to you, be a good boy and drink Bachan Quatre's magic brew."

Bachan Quatre… I couldn't help it. I rolled over in hysterical laughter, tears rolling down my face as I clutched at my aching abdomen. "Bachan Quatre," I gasped. "Magic brew? Shit, Quatre, you sound like something out of Hansel and Gretel!"

Sighing, Quatre rose to his knees, leaning across the bed and brushing hair out of my face. "I mean it, Duo," he told me softly. "You're a danger to us and to yourself if the glamour takes hold again, and this is the best I can come up with on such short notice."

He was serious, and he was worried. Quatre worries about us all a lot—he's kind of like a mother hen, in that respect—but not necessarily with unfounded reason. I mean, it's not like we're the most stable fivesome wandering around. I hated when he worried, though, and not just because he got all puppy-eyed and pouty. My blonde friend may be sadistic, he may be cold and cruel, he may be cunning and vicious, but he is the only one out of all of us that can manage a pure smile. "Fine, Quatre, I'll take the medicine."

"Yatta!" Quatre's fist punched the air, his face splitting with a wide grin. I felt the bottom of my stomach drop out at his expression, and a cold, sinking feeling filled my chest. For some reason, I felt as though I had just signed my soul over to Satan. "Here you go," he said, handing a styrofoam cup to me. "I put it in your coffee, so you shouldn't even be able to taste it."

I groaned, burying my face in the sheets again. Was I ever going to be able to take coffee from Quatre again without having it laced with drugs of some kind?

Sitting up with a sigh, I scraped my hair behind my shoulders, wincing when my fingers hit some nasty tangles. I was going to have a hell of a time brushing my hair out later, and I was not looking forward to it. Taking the cup, I took the lid off, sniffing the faintly steaming liquid suspiciously. Well, it smelled normal. Hopefully it would taste normal, too. "Kanpai!" I declared with a lot more confidence than I felt, tipping the cup back and downing a good third of the contents in one gulp.

"Still think you're going to die?" Quatre asked a couple minutes later, chin cupped in his hands as he stared up at me.

Shaking my head, I drained the last of the contents from the cup, reaching over his head to toss it in the trashcan. "Ch', if I've managed to make it this far, I'm sure that I'll make it for at least another two to three hundred years without any major crisis' occurring."

Chuckling, Quatre reached out a hand for me to help pull him to his feet. "Good attitude, Duo! Now let's go out and get 'em tiger—er, panther."

Sighing, I helped him to his feet, gazing up into his big aqua eyes with a wry smile. Quatre's sense of humour was strange—not as strange as Wufei's, mind you, but it was definitely in a league of its own. "Guess it's time for me to face the music." Hopefully someone would tell me what all I had done last night—nicely—and I wouldn't have to find out the hard way.

"The music isn't that bad," Quatre said with a laugh, tugging me in the direction of the door.

I arched an eyebrow at that. "That depends on what music's playing," I murmured, following him with only a slight stumble in the doorway. Damn; kept forgetting about that hole in the doorway. I really needed to write down somewhere a memo for me to remember to take care of that.

"Trowa cooked breakfast," Quatre remarked, leading me unerringly for our little kitchen/dining room area. "I wasn't sure if you'd want anything or not, but we saved a waffle for you."

"Sankyuu," I said, blowing jagged bangs out of my eyes with a puff of irritation. I had just realized that I'd left the sanctity of my room without checking my appearance over or without taking care of my hair. I never do things like that. I'm very vanity-conscious.

Things seemed normal enough. Trowa's lanky form was sprawled out across the couch, his head barely visible over the top of the newspaper he was reading. When we came in, he looked up, gifting Quatre with a brilliant smile and me with a nod. Heero's laptop was sitting out in plain sight on the middle of the table, monitor flipped up, but the little sticky notes that had so annoyed me before were, thankfully, in absence. Heero himself seemed to be in absence as well, and Wufei was just coming out of the kitchen. He gave me a small smile—you know, one of those little ones that makes you just wanna melt and coo "Sexy!" I tried to keep my mind on task, though, and headed for the second couch.

"So what's the plan today?" I asked, throwing myself down onto the other couch. I grimaced as the couch groaned and creaked beneath me. Patting the cushion, I thought, I know how you feel, aibou.

"Well, Anita will be here to pick you up in about an hour for lunch," Wufei said, sitting down lotus-style on the floor below me.

"Lunch?" I turned my head, eyebrows drawn together—not to mention that my sense of self-preservation had just kicked itself into overdrive. "Why am I going to lunch with Anita?"

"Because she wants you to meet Shinta, the guy who might be able to help you," he said, head lolling back and the couch cushions. He smiled up at me, sloe eyes blinking lazily. "I think she also just wants to spend time with you and get to know you. She had kind of 'motherly' feelings for Nathaniel—don't you dare tell her I used those words—and I think she's transferred those feelings to you."

I chuckled at his wording, tapping him on the end of the nose. "Feeling transference?" I repeated. "Sounds kind of mystical to me." I didn't really believe what he was saying, however; I'd paid attention to the looks Anita had given me last night. She didn't see me as a person, she saw me as a thing—a powerful thing. I'd had people look at me like that my whole life, both before and after becoming a pilot for Deathscythe-Hell. I was a Newtype, after all, and we weren't exactly overpopulating the world or anything.

"It could be," Quatre chimed in, handing me a plate with the aforementioned waffle—loaded with peanut butter, whip cream, and chocolate syrup, which just happened to be my favourite way to eat waffles.[1] "It's hard to tell with women." He shared a knowing looked with Trowa, who was nodding and smiling ruefully in agreement.

Frowning, I began to pick at my waffle, absently shoving sticky pieces into my mouth as I thought. The way I saw it, I was adapting remarkably fast and well to the shocks and weirdness that had been thrown my way. I was coherent, for one thing, and I was almost certain that there were times yesterday I hadn't been. I also seemed to be perfectly okay with all the strange shit that had happened. Hmmm… Had Quatre slipped me a little something more than hormone suppressants?

"So I'm going to lunch with Anita alone?" I asked. My voice sounded awfully small to my ears, and I wondered for a moment if it had been my voice that had spoken. Like I said yesterday—or, at least, I think I said yesterday—I trusted Anita about as far as I could throw her, underwater, with one arm tied behind my back.

"It's not like she's going to bite or anything," Heero said as he strolled into the room, shrugging out of his jacket. Quatre might have given me something to take care of the glamour, but it was beginning to become rather evident that my attraction to Heero and Wufei was not glamour induced.

Well, at least, that's what certain portions of my anatomy were telling me.

Of course, the fact that Heero was wearing little more than a see-through white t-shirt and ripped, baggy jeans that showed more than they concealed wasn't helping matters. Neither was the fact that Wufei was currently playing 'connect the moles' on my arm with a cute scowl of concentration, tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips.

"Are you absolutely certain?" I asked, trying to get my thoughts back on track. I couldn't remember the last time I had ever been so confused. Only a couple of days ago I would have said that Wufei was nothing more than my best friend, and that Heero was the resurrected guy of my dreams. Now I was having the hardest time discerning the fine line between the two; any time I tried to see if there was a difference in my feelings for them, things got kind of…fuzzy. Not as in an 'I can't see very well' kind of fuzzy; more like a 'which one is Heero and which one is Wufei' kind of fuzzy.

Heero smiled, eyes hooded. "Well, if she does bite, I guess I'll just have to owe you something."

I rolled my eyes, sighing in exasperation. "Considering the fact that one of her lovers happens to be a vampire—your otousan, I might add—that's not exactly a very comforting thought."

…Until she proved otherwise, I wasn't going to trust Anita. I didn't exactly trust Jean-Claude or Richard either, but I trusted them more than Anita. There was just something…off, about Anita, and I think that her lovers knew it as well.

"You'll be fine," Wufei said, patting my arm reassuringly. Then he turned towards Heero, gesturing him over. "Take a seat and let us know what you found out."

As if there were no bones in his body, Heero collapsed onto the end of the couch, arms thrown over the back. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he sighed. "I wasn't really able to come up with very much new information," he said at last, opening his eyes and glancing at all of us. "Even down within the depths of Féeriques Coteau and despite their age, Asher, Damian, and Jean-Claude couldn't fight the effects of the sun much later than about eight this morning. However, Richard was able to pull up a little bit of information on why Ellinea dared to break Seelie Ward and enter our world again."

Oooh, a story! I leaned forward, resting my elbow on the arm of the couch, propping my chin up. "Okay, so spill," I said, hoping that I didn't sound too eager.

Wufei chuckled—apparently I was too obvious—casting me a sly look. "Why, Duo, if I didn't know better, I might think that you had an interest in Ellinea."

I glanced at him as if he'd grown horns, hoping I looked as repulsed and shocked by the notion as I felt. "Puh-lease! As if trying to deal with you and Heero isn't enough. There's no way I'd be interested in the faerie bitch from hell. Personally, I'd like to kill her reeeaaalll slowly for what she did to me, but I have a feeling that it's going to be awhile before I get to do that."

Yes, I am now a prophet as well. Duo Maxwell, Newtype Extraordinaire: can become a snarling black panther with cobalt-coloured eyes as well as predict future events with fucked up and accurate abilities.

Wonder if Professor G. can suggest a good shrink nearby…

"Unfortunately, I have to concur," Heero said with a twist of his lips, more like a snarl than a smile. "Miburou commands a kiss of at least a dozen vampires, and Jean-Claude says that a minimum of four are masters allied with him. His powers are over shadows, deception. He can cloud your mind without your realisation, and he can hold minds in thrall for longer than any other vampire Jean-Claude knew of. Even the Traveler, one of the vampire Council's strongest masters, is wary of dealing with Miburou. No one could come up with a reason that Miburou would have allied himself with Ellinea. He bears no ties to the Sidhe, and tends to avoid anyone outside of the vampiric circles."

"So how'd the guy get so powerful?" I asked with a frown. "I mean, your dad's nothing to laugh at." Truth told, Richard and Jean-Claude had scared me more than Anita—well, at least in one sense. They seemed a bit more trustworthy in my eyes than Anita, though, and I couldn't really explain why.

Heero smiled at that, prussian eyes flashing in amusement. "My father has turned down a seat on the Council for over two hundred years. However, the Council never bothers to fill the position with anyone else. Especially since Anita accepted the fourth mark, no one has dared to challenge their right for the Council seat. Even though Jean-Claude doesn't sit on the Council in name, he is a Council member.

"However, even Miburou could be a challenge for Jean-Claude. There are very few among them that can even cloud the mind of another vampire, but Miburou is one such person. He's been around as a vampire since the end of the Meiji Restoration in Japan, which, as far as the ages of masters go, doesn't really seem like that long of a time. However, before that he was Shinsengumi, much as you had mentioned last night. He led one of their squadrons, and was well renowned for his skill with the sword. Not necessarily a hitokiri for the Shinsengumi and the Bakufu, his skills were such that his kill ratio was higher than most."

He paused, lips pursed in thought. "Anita thinks that what made him so powerful is the fact that he didn't live for the kill, he lived for the domination. He wanted power over others, not necessarily by violence. If he could overwhelm someone through words or actions, it was just as thrilling as if he had proved he were the better swordsman. It wasn't always that way—his long history with Shinta is one such incident."

Well, now I had lots of food for thought. Anita wanted me to be with her when she met with Shinta. Shinta was supposed to be the guy that could give us a clue as to why Miburou had teamed up with the psycho faerie. And apparently Shinta and Miburou had a past history together.

…I still didn't like the fact that I was going to have to have lunch with Anita on my own; Shinta was, as of yet, an unknown equation and I didn't know exactly where to tally him in my ever-growing list of names.

"So, how does Shinta know Miburou?" I asked, brows drawn together.

It was Quatre who answered me. "Shinta is from the same era as Miburou. He fought during the Bakumatsu no Douran for the Ishin Shishi—in other words, against Miburou. That's where they originally met, anyway. They've encountered one another countless times since then."

"So, what? Shinta's a vamp too?" I asked in bewilderment. Had I somehow gotten myself in the middle of an old, bloodsucker family feud or something?

With a laugh, Quatre shook his blonde head. "No! You'll have to ask Shinta just what he is, because even I don't know; I have my suspicions, but I've never really had them confirmed. I just know that he's been around for a while. We've got people checking into it, but the going's been slow."

A while, huh? I raised an eyebrow at that, but remained silent. And he had people checking into it? Who? Did he just run around with people in his pocket that he could pull out at will and send off on random errands? I sighed, shaking my head. It wouldn't do me any good to press further, despite my rampaging curiosity. Instead, I turned back to Heero with what I was hoping were wide, pleading eyes. "So, tell us the rest about why Ellinea is here."

Chuckling, Heero poked me on the tip of the nose before subsiding back into his corner of the couch. "All right, my impatient one." Impatient one? Well, at least he hadn't called me his little one so far. "It seems that Ellinea had come into our world searching for a new power source. Anita has suspicions that it may have been Ellinea that was after Quatre's mother so long ago, but she can't be sure. In any case, she somehow designated you, Duo, as the person who will provide her with this new power source."

"Me?" I hooked a finger at my chest in disbelief, eyes wide. "I might turn into a big, black cat, but how does that make me any different from the rest of you? Forgive my phrasing, but it's not like I'm the only freak among our little family. If she were to go after anyone, I would think it would be Quatre."

"You're just saying that 'cause I'm cute," Quatre said, beaming at me with his finger pressing dimples into his cheeks. Then his expression sobered, and he said, "Seriously, Duo, I have a feeling that there is a very big reason behind her decision to pursue you rather than one of us. Part of it could be because of your ties to the rest of us; you're probably the only one that shares such close ties with every other Gundam pilot. I mean, it's not like we aren't all friends, but the relationships are stronger through you to all of us than, say, mine with Heero or Wufei. I have a close relationship with Trowa, but part of what makes my relationship with him so close is you."

I scratched my head in utter bewilderment. "You lost me," I said.

That didn't seem like such an unusual thing to say, unfortunately.

"Basically, you're the thread that holds us all together," Wufei said with a grin, pressing his cheek against my arm. "Sure, Quatre's more level-headed than you, Trowa has better forethought, Heero's more responsible, and I'm more practical, but you're the only one who's able to counter-balance all of us. In a way, we feed off of you more than you feed off of us, and that is part of why Ellinea picked you."

To say that I was at a loss for words would have been a vast understatement. I quite literally didn't know what I could say. I was used to Trowa being the one to wax eloquent on me, not Wufei. More than that, I could sense that all four of my friends believed what Wufei had said. Personally, I'd never really thought of myself as the thread that held us all together. I'd always thought of myself as the laughing, light-hearted joker; you know, the comedy relief guy for when things got too serious.

"If Ellinea wants you for power, you can be sure that we'll fight her, Duo," Trowa said, speaking into the silence and startling me from my inner thoughts. He gave me a feral smile, revealing slightly prominent canines; someone had been spending a little too much time in wolf form. "It's taken me time to learn what a true pack is, but I've had a lot of help along the way—especially in the last two years. Catherine may be my only living blood relation, but I consider you my family nonetheless. I won't let some psychotic faerie bitch try and take you without giving her the fight of her life."

Beside him, Quatre giggled wickedly, his aqua eyes narrowed. "Too bad for Ellinea, she didn't realise just what kind of friends you had, Duo. Or what kind of relatives you and your friends had."

I thought on their words, my mind turning inward. I felt kind of warm and fuzzy from Trowa's words—for some reason, the guy just had that kind of effect on me—and I really appreciated what he'd said. And, yes, guys can feel warm and fuzzy too, without being gay. Seriously, all that "gay men are more in touch with their feelings" bullshit never made a whole lot of sense to me. Just because we don't squeal and bawl our eyes out like girls do… Oops, got off topic again.

At the same time, however, I wondered if Quatre was right. What if Ellinea was using me because she knew about my and their relatives? Surely she hadn't just picked me on sight alone. Besides, she'd known my name last night, which made me think that she had planned at least a little in advance.

Sighing, I shook my head. "Did we find out anything on the plasmababies?" I asked. I knew that had really been bothering Wufei when we'd been at the club last night, but I couldn't remember for the life of me if we'd ever come to a conclusion as to what was going on.

"Come to think of it, Asher mentioned something about that this morning," Heero said with a frown. "If I remember correctly, it had something to do with addicting humans to vampire blood. It was like having what Anita calls a human slave, a human who has multiple vampire bites and can be called by a particular vampire, but has no fringe benefits from the arrangement. These plasmababies, however, aren't bitten by the vampires, but seem to be hooked as if they had been bitten simply by becoming addicted to the vampire blood."

I felt one eyebrow rise and my lip curl. "Sounds real appetising," I said dryly.

"Speaking of appetising…" Trowa glanced down at his watch, brushing his bangs aside to reveal two laughing green eyes. "Duo, you've got less than a half hour before Anita shows up. If you want to look a little more presentable before you go to lunch, I suggest you get moving."

Squeaking, I jumped up from the couch, diving over Wufei and somehow managing to land on my feet. "Shiiit!" I wailed as I raced for my room. Behind me I could hear my friends dying of laughter.

I decided I'd plot my revenge later.

I don't know how the hell I managed to do it, but I made myself presentable in twenty minutes. That was including the almost-mishap I had while trying to put one of my boots on. Let's just say that Quatre's tea set will never be the same. I was just double checking to make sure I had all the essentials while I waited for Anita to show up—fake ID card, stolen credit card courtesy of OZ, extra hair tie, pepper spray, handcuffs, lipstick, fish net tights…

Okay, so I really needed to clean my backpack out.

Hearing someone choking back laughter from just beyond my shoulder, I turned my head and looked up to find Heero peering into my bag along with me. His eyes were crinkled just a little at the corners, and he was biting his lip to keep from laughing outright in my face. I merely arched an eyebrow at his little display, wondering which of the interesting array of items had set him off.

Giving me a smile that showed what I was almost certain was a hint of fang—I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it last night, though—he said, "Can I see you in the fish net sometime?"

My eyes got really big for a moment. It was still a bit weird to hear stuff like that coming from Heero; lines like that were usually mine to say. However, I wasn't going to look a gift invitation in the mouth…. "Maybe," I purred, lowering my lashes coyly.

Heero laughed again, fingers slowly trailing up my spine the same way his voice was inside my head. "On what condition?" he asked, fingers threading their way into my hair, turning me ever so subtly so that I was facing him.

Conditions… I was going to have to think about that one, and I had a feeling that Heero wasn't going to give me time to. I mean, I had one or two ideas that I'd been plotting for some time now, but I wasn't sure I wanted to use them. I was going to give it a try anyway, though. "Next time someone has to crossdress for a mission it's not gonna be m—Heero!"

I was seriously beginning to wonder about this new mission of Heero's. He still hadn't told me what it was exactly, and from what I'd seen it involved most everything that revolved around hedonism. Not to mention the fact that he had a serious fixation for my neck that was a bit disturbing after last night's revelations. Currently he was working his way up my throat, small, sharp nips alternating with apologetic tongue.

Groaning, I released my hold on the backpack, winding my arms around Heero, baring my throat even more. He paused once he reached my jaw line, and I felt his fingers tracing over the curve of my cheek. Slowly he tipped my face back down, hooded eyes staring into my own with such intensity that I almost froze in fear. However, when I looked a bit deeper, drowning in prussian blue, I saw a light burning there; a light of desire, of passion, of hunger…maybe of love.

I didn't care what it was; suddenly I wanted Heero's lips on mine and I wanted it last year. Not that Heero complained when I plastered myself against him, hands wandering eagerly as I nipped at the corners of his mouth, plunging my tongue inside that welcoming cavern. Heero didn't taste like anything from heaven; he tasted of everything dark, menacing, and lonely. Those had been fangs I'd seen earlier, and there was definitely an art to tongue-kissing someone with eyeteeth that prominent. I was determined to be a quick learner, though.

"Heero, quit molesting Duo in front of the guests," Quatre scolded as he walked past. "Besides, you're setting a bad example. Now Anita's going to think that sex is all that's on our minds."

I briefly wondered if Quatre had some sort of ESP that let him know when I was making out with Heero. He was two for two on interrupting me in the last two days.

As I stepped back from Heero with a guilty start—and I was willing to bet money that I was blushing—Anita said dryly, "When you've been around as long as I have, you learn that not only is sex the only thing on the male mind, "sex" covers a wide variety of things. Take Jean-Claude for example; he's got to be the only person I know that relates food flavours with various aspects of foreplay."

"Is that where I get it from?" Heero murmured with a laugh. "I always wondered why hot fudge sundaes made me think of Duo and Death By Chocolate Cake made me think of Wufei." Laughing again and giving me a sly look, he said, "Guess I know why, now."

"A hot fudge sundae?" I repeated with a raised eyebrow.

Heero shrugged, grinning as he added, "With a Maraschino cherry on top."

All I could do was sigh and shake my head. Heero had one strange puppy for a father, and he had unfortunately inherited most if not all of that strangeness; at least I had a place to point fingers, now. Before we always joked that Doctor J. had dropped him on his head one too many times. I reached down and picked up my backpack again, slinging it over my shoulders. "If I make it through this lunch alive, I'll see everyone later," I said brightly. I wasn't being sarcastic either; I'm not usually all wishy-washy and doomsday-ish. I figured that it was about time I tried to return to normalcy—well, as normal as I ever was, anyway. Well, and I was also serious about not being sure if I was going to make it through lunch; I mean, I was going with Anita.

I stepped forward and gave Heero a quick kiss on the lips—I really did want to practise french kissing a dhampire some more, but it wouldn't do to be rude to Anita…or, at least that's what I kept telling myself.

He laughed at my disgruntled expression, tapping me on the end of the nose. "Don't forget to say good-bye to Wufei, mon petit," he told me. "He'll be very distraught if he finds out I got a good-bye kiss and he didn't."

Arching an eyebrow, I replied, "Distraught? Wufei only has two modes, Heero; calm and pissed. I'll take a wild guess and say that "distraught" falls into the "pissed" category?" When Heero smiled at me, I knew I had my answer. "Fine," I sighed, stalking off across the room.

I checked the kitchen first and found it empty. Trowa was the only one in the living room; he was still hiding behind his newspaper. I decided to check Wufei's room, and sure enough he was sprawled out across his bed as if he didn't have a care.

He looked almost as though he were asleep. His hair was loose, spread out across his pillow with a single stray lock lying on his cheek. His tanktop had ridden up, revealing a tempting hint of taut, bronze-coloured abdomen. I stepped further into the room, slowly moving closer to the bed. Wufei had one arm thrown over his head, the other off to the side. His eyelashes made thick, sooty crescents against his cheeks, and his lips were damp and slightly parted; all in all, it was a much too tempting vision to resist.

I reached down and gently touched a finger to his lips, tracing from corner to corner. He really was cute, lying there asleep, and I wasn't sure I wanted to wake him. But Heero's warning was still fresh in my head, and I knew Wufei well enough to know what kind of things happened when he was pissed—most of them involved explosives. I sat down on the edge of the bed, gently shaking Wufei's shoulder. "Wufei, wake up."

Wufei smiled, sloe eyes opening with humour shining in them. "I was never asleep," he said.

"I should have known," I grumbled. Really, I should have; living with four other guerrilla terrorists for the past two years should have taught me something. At least, that's what you'd think.

"So, what's up, Shi-chan?" he asked, lacing his hands behind his head.

The movement caused his hair to fall in even more disarray, and I reached out without realizing it to smooth the ebony strands away from his face. Surprising myself a bit, I allowed my fingers to linger on his face, tracing over the contours of his cheek and jaw. "Anita's here," I said, pursing my lips as I thought about my semi-strange behaviour. I was going to have lots of questions at lunchtime I realised. Wufei and Heero were the subjects of many of them.

Cocking his head to the side, he asked, "Is something wrong, then?"

Other than the fact I was going to lunch with Anita…? Laughing, I shook my head. "I hope not! Personally, I think we have enough shit to deal with at the moment without something else going wrong. Heero thought I should come and say good-bye, though."

"Oh?" Sloe eyes narrowed in contemplation, pink tongue darting out to lick dry lips. "What did he mean by that?"

I knew damn well what Heero had meant by that, and I had a feeling that Wufei might too. But thinking about it was pointless; I'd tried thinking about it earlier and had gotten absolutely nowhere, other than even more confused. Instead, I gave in to the temptation of sexy, sleep-mussed Chinese boy and pressed my lips against his. I was going to keep the kiss close mouthed—part of me was still having problems relating 'best friend Wufei' with 'sexy, object of attraction Wufei'—but Wufei had other ideas. With almost industrious fixation he used lips, teeth, and tongue to pry my mouth open, and by that point I figured, Why the hell not? I gave in completely, learning the contours of Wufei's mouth, learning texture of his tongue, tasting him as I had Heero earlier. Wufei was dark promises, warmth, and seduction; in the back of my mind, I knew that, between the two of them, I was lost.

When we finally broke the kiss for air, I could see the smug satisfaction on Wufei's face. "See you later, Duo," he said, lips twitching as he fought not to smile.

My mind was still fighting for coherency; all I could do was nod in reply. "Uh, yeah," I murmured in vague agreement, pushing myself back into a sitting position. I somehow managed to get my feet underneath me without falling over, hitching my backpack back onto my shoulders. I paused in the doorway as I was leaving his room to look back at him over my shoulder, my lips pursed in thought, eyebrows drawn together. "Wufei, what's going on?" I asked softly, knowing that he'd know what I was referring to.

Sitting up slightly and giving me a small smile of reassurance, Wufei replied, "Nothing that wouldn't have gone on eventually, Duo."

Blinking, my eyes widened at that statement. "Are you saying that you and I… For how long?" I demanded, hands on my hips.

Laughing at my expression, Wufei flopped back down on his bed, messing the sheets and blankets up even further. "Long enough, Duo; long enough."

I mulled his answer over as I made my way back out to the living room. I'm not usually as blind as a bat when someone's attracted to me, so it was a bit disturbing to finally realise that Wufei had liked me as more than a friend for some time. Of course, that didn't disturb me as much as the idea that both Heero and Wufei wanted me and didn't seem to mind sharing in the least.

I was going to have a lot of adjusting to do.

Trowa had finally put his newspaper aside—probably due to the fact that Quatre had commandeered the use of his lap. Heero was talking with surprising animation to Anita, standing near the door. Maybe if he trusted her, then I should try as well… As usual, he was the first to spot me.

"So did you find Wufei?" he asked, grinning like the cat that'd gotten the cream and the canary.

So I decided to grin right back; the bastard seemed to know already, so I might as well play it up. "As a matter of fact, I did," I said, batting my eyelashes.

Anita frowned at us, tapping her foot. "Okay, enough with the hormonal frenzy shit. We're supposed to meet Shinta in half an hour, Duo, and it's at least a twenty-minute drive to the restaurant. If you're ready to go, then let's get going."

Absently I closed my jaw, blinking my eyes like an owl. Damn but Anita reminded me of Sister Helen when she did that. Well, the later part of her statement did, anyway.

"All right," I said as meekly as possible. Hell, the woman was fucking necromancer; I wasn't going to piss her off without due cause. And right now, I didn't have any due cause that I could think of. I reminded myself, kind of like a Buddhist sutra repeating over and over again in my head, that I was going to try and give her a chance to prove herself stable and trustworthy.

"Good," Anita said, gifting me with a smile. She led the way to the door, motioning me to exit before her; I kind of got the feeling that she didn't like being treated like most people thought a girl should be treated.

I got into the passenger side of the car with a small hint of trepidation. I knew that I should probably trust Anita, but some of my old habits were just too ingrained and they warned me that I was being to complacent in doing all this. I felt like I was having a miniature war go on inside my head over whether I was doing the right thing or not.

"Ready, Duo?" Anita asked, giving me an unreadable look with eyes so dark brown they were almost black.

"For what?" I asked. I had a feeling that she wasn't just referring to our lunch meeting with Shinta.

She started the engine, and over the roar I could hear the murmured words, "For the beginning of how the rest of your life will be."

For some reason, I was not reassured by those words. Not reassured at all.

Anita had called the place a restaurant, but it was more like a family-style diner. We managed to get there about five minutes ahead of schedule, much to Anita's relief. She had the waitress take us to a booth in the back, and I was a bit shocked as I realised that she'd picked a perfect place to sit. We had views of all the entrances and exits, we were away from any of the major windows, and there were plenty of places to duck for cover if need be. I might have picked that spot because I was a terrorist wanted by several different factions of various governments; I wondered why Anita had picked that spot though.

Something of my train of thought must have shown in my face, because when we sat down Anita gave me a humourless smile and said, "Okay, ask."

Slipping my backpack off, I glanced around to makes sure that we weren't being listened to. "Why did you choose to sit here?" I asked softly.

Shrugging, Anita said, "I didn't make it this long alive without learning a thing or three. Back before Brewster's Law went into effect, I was the vampire executioner for a tri-state area. I was also a member of the Regional Preternatural Investigation Team; I hung out with cops as well as monsters. I had people trying to kill me right and left for one reason or another. And I didn't always have a master vampire and alpha werewolf to bail me out of trouble."

Bracing my chin on my hands, I asked, "How did you end up with those two?"

Laughing, Anita countered with, "How did you end up with a dragon master and a dhampire?"

"Blind, deaf, dumb luck," I muttered, ignoring the dragon master part of her comment. Yeah, I still wasn't exactly sure what the hell Wufei was, but I knew it had something to do with a demon named Shenlong. I figured that he and I could have a nice long discussion on holy dragons later, though.

At that point, the waitress returned and asked if she could take our order. Anita ordered a Diet Coke and foot long submarine sandwich, and looked as if she were having an argument with someone momentarily as she tried to decide if she wanted turkey breast or steak. After a moment, she swore and ordered it with steak, muttering something about at least getting her Diet Coke.

Amused and wondering just what was going on in her head, I ordered the good old American affair of a hamburger and Pepsi and waited for the waitress to depart.

"Jean-Claude was arguing with me over what I should eat," she said in explanation once the waitress had left. The look of disgust on her face made it seem as though it were a common occurrence. "He can be such a pushy bastard."

Pushy, manipulative…Heero had so much in common with his dad it was scary. "So what's this Shinta guy like?" I asked, changing the subject from significant others.

The waitress returned with our drinks, and I waited as patiently as possible for Anita to take a sip from hers before she answered. "Shinta's a bit different from other people." Leaning over slightly, she said softly, "Don't mind him if he does a little bit of narrow-eyed staring. That's just how he is. And if he seems a little vacant and out of it occasionally…well, that's just how he is, too."

Staring at her wide-eyed in puzzlement, I asked, "Just what do you mean by—"

"Hush," she murmured, holding a hand up. "He just walked in and is heading this way."

I barely even noticed Shinta—if it was indeed Shinta—walking towards our table. All I caught was the vague flash of old, traditional Japanese attire before the person slid into the booth beside Anita.

Anita smiled, gesturing to the person—the short person—beside her. "Duo, this is Shinta; Shinta, this is Duo."

Scratching my head in absolute confusion, I glanced across the table to the guy sitting in the seat opposite me. I fought the urge to shrink back in my chair and duck under the table; as it was, I had to settle for wide eyes and chattering teeth. Let's just say when Anita had described her friend, I hadn't pictured the guy sitting across from me.

Sure, he seemed nice enough—he had wide, slightly tip-tilted almond-shaped eyes the colour of a good cut of tanzanite, and thick, hip-length hair the colour of crimson pulled back in a messy, loose ponytail that nearly any female I knew would envy. His clothes had seen better days; both the grey kimono and blue hakama were beginning to inch past the point of 'threadbare.' Shinta's face was a study insomuch as it was both angular and sharp at the same time that it was soft and fine-boned. There was something in his eyes, though; something that sent shivers down my spine at regular intervals. The guy was clearly not normal.

Whohoo! I don't think I'd met a single normal person in the last two days. That had to be a new record for me.

"Pleased to meet you," I said politely, extending my hand across the table. I liked to think I was getting better at the whole social thing. I hadn't said anything rude so far. Of course, it was only the first time I'd opened my mouth since Shinta's arrival. I was certain I'd have plenty of opportunities to open my mouth and insert my foot before the nighttime rolled around.

Tentatively, Shinta accepted my hand with a smile. "The pleasure is mine, de gozaru."

Did I mention that Shinta was, like, way archaic? The guy had fought during the Bakumatsu no Douran on the side of the Ishin Shishi, according to Quatre. I was a little bit worried as to how Quatre had come across that little piece of information, so I hadn't bothered asking just how he had known that. Of course, Quatre hadn't bothered to say just what it was dear Shinta had been doing for the Ishin Shishi. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know that, either.

The waitress returned without lunches, setting them down in front of us. She asked Shinta if he'd like to order anything, but he politely declined, saying that he'd already eaten. Meanwhile, I was busy digging into my hamburger; true, I'd just eaten breakfast an hour before, but that didn't stop me from being hungry still. I was a growing teenage boy, after all. At least, I hoped I was still growing…

After a moment I realised that Shinta was staring at me. Self-consciously I licked at my lips, wiping my fingers on my napkin. "What?" I asked, glancing down to make sure I hadn't spilled anything on myself. Finding nothing and still not having had my question answered, I scowled at Shinta. "What is it?" I snapped.

Shinta turned to Anita with his head cocked slightly in confusion. "He looks familiar to me, Anita-dono. Have I met him before?" he asked, eyebrows drawn together in a frown, completely oblivious to my anger.

Anita laughed a little nervously, glancing back and forth between the two of us. "Not really," she said after a moment, crossing her hands together on the table. "You see, Shinta, Duo shares your blood from way back. That's why he seems familiar to you."

I arched an eyebrow at that little tidbit. Shared blood? As in, Shinta and I were related? Ho-boy; for some reason, that prospect of sharing blood with Shinta frightened me. It wasn't like I didn't have enough problems to deal with; now I was related to yet another wacko.

How many more strange ghosts—monsters, demons, freaks of nature, etc.—were going to pop out of my closet before the week was over? I wondered.

"I see," Shinta murmured, nodding his head. I could have sworn I saw a flash of gold pass through his eyes, but it was gone before I could do a double take. He smiled at me disarmingly, reminding me of a little girl I'd once seen on the streets of L-2. "Then I am doubly pleased to meet you, Duo-san."

Did I mention that that little girl could make a mean car bomb?

"Just Duo, please. Calling me 'Duo-san' makes me feel old," I said with a dismissing wave of my hand.

His head turning to face out the window, Shinta murmured, "Being old can be a curse. Feeling old can be twice as worse, though." When he turned back, I saw that his eyes were glassy.

A sliver of fear stabbed through me, and I glanced at Anita with my eyes wide. She was calm, completely unfazed by Shinta's weird behaviour. Catching my eye, she winked and gave a slight shake of her head. Apparently this was what she had warned me about. Apparently, my however many times great-grandfather waxed lyrical and looked like he was stoned when he was 'out of it.' I wondered how often he lost touch with reality. I was betting that it was frequent, for some reason.

Jewel-toned hair flew in an arc as Shinta shook his head, bringing a hand up to press briefly against his closed eyes. "Sorry," he said with a rueful smile, opening those bright, laughing orbs again. "I'm afraid I lose touch with reality sometimes, de gozaru."

I grinned easily and said, "That's okay, I do that sometimes too." I didn't add the fact that I was usually quite drunk when that happened. See? I was being nice today.

Shinta nodded and turned to Anita with a curious expression. "Why is it that you wanted me to meet you here? Asher said last night that it was urgent. I would have figured it easier to meet at the club, but Asher insisted that it be here and at this time."

Anita smiled grimly, her dark eyes narrowed. "We have a problem in town. A big problem. Jean-Claude figured that you would hear about it eventually and thought it would be best coming from us. Miburou is in town, and it appears that he's given his entire kiss to the control of a renegade Daoine Sidhe."

I found it utterly fascinating the way Shinta's eyes went wide, his face slack. I tried hard to see what was going on behind those blank, pretty eyes, tried to read what visions were flashing there. There was fear, anger, and hate lying just beneath the surface—I could smell the emotions on him, they were that strong. But there was something else there, something that I couldn't really put into words. I don't know if anyone could have put it into words. There was a longing, a hope, a hurt, a denial, a passion buried deep behind all those other predominant emotions. They made me wonder just what type of relationship Shinta had had with this "Miburou" in the past.

"Are you certain?" Shinta asked coldly, his eyes narrowing suddenly. I could definitely see the gold in his eyes now. He looked like a feral hunting cat ready to protect his territory from invasion.

Curls bounced wildly as Anita nodded her head. "Duo was the only one who saw him, but the physical description he gave matches Miburou perfectly. Duo, tell Shinta what the man looked like. The man you saw with Ellinea last night."

I made a face at the mention of the faerie-bitch's name, but nodded in agreement. "He was tall—really tall, although I guess that's not saying much, since I'm short. He wore an outfit kind of like yours except that his kimono was a different shade of blue, with a blue haori that had jagged white patterns on the sleeves. His hair was thick and black, swept up into a high ponytail. He had long, thin bangs that slid into his eyes in about four or five different spots. And his eyes were thin, angular, and brilliant yellow."

Laughing softly, Shinta shook his head. "All these years… He agreed to leave me in peace here in Kobe the last time we met."

"But how long ago was that, Shinta?" Anita asked softly, her expression solemn. "Remember that time passes differently when you don't die or age."

Looking pensive, Shinta put a finger to his lips as he thought. "I don't know," he said after a moment with a shrug. "It's been at least four decades, maybe more. You know that my touch with reality comes and goes. The only thing I remember from the last time we met was that it was raining. He killed me that time."

To say that I was confused would have been putting it mildly. I was starting to put some things together on my own, but they were pretty incoherent. I'd gathered that Miburou, the guy from last night, was a Master vampire, and he'd lent his kiss out to Ellinea. But Miburou had a past with Shinta—which I was still completely confused about—and apparently they spent their years of immortality trying to kill each other. And, according to Shinta, he'd died at their last meeting. Which kind of had me wondering just what the guy was doing sitting across from me talking and breathing.

"Duo, is something wrong?" Anita asked, leaning across the table and touching my shoulder to stir me from my inner musings.

"Other than the fact I'm confused as hell, no," I responded with a grin. My cheekiness earned me a glare from her, but a brilliant peal of laughter from Shinta.

Anita sighed in exasperation, shaking her head. "Fine. What are you confused about?"

I pointed my finger accusingly at Shinta. "What the hell is he?" I asked. I had to suppress a snicker as Shinta's eyes got very round.

"Oro?!" he exclaimed. "Sessha?!"

"Yeah, you," I reiterated, crossing my arms over my chest. "Jean-Claude's a master vamp, Richard's an alpha werewolf, and Anita's a necromancer. Ellinea, the psycho faerie chick who wants me for some reason, is an exile from the Seelie Court and her friend, Miburou, is a master vampire. Heero's a dhampire and Jean-Claude's son, Wufei has a pet demon that he somehow shares a body with, Trowa is a werewolf, Quatre's a witch-sorcerer guy, and I turn into a fucking panther. So what's your story, morning glory?"

Heh, look at me: I'm a rhyming fool.

Shinta blinked at me, his eyes still very wide. I wondered briefly if I'd overloaded his scattered brain cells. "I'm…what I am," he said after a moment, looking at me with his eyes suddenly lucid. "I've been told I'm of the old Sidhe blood, those that came before the current Seelie Court Sidhe or the Unseelie Court Sidhe. All I know is that I can't truly die. I can be killed, but once my body heals, I awake again and live." He glanced away, and the light flashed off the cross-shaped scar on his cheek. "All I know is that I am alone."

Ouch. Now I felt bad for bringing it up. Unfortunately, I didn't know of any way to recover after that incident gracefully. "So…what do you do then?" I asked lamely. "I mean, you don't just sit around some room all day and do nothing, do you?"

Cocking his head, Shinta smiled slightly at me. "I guess we both share the talent for putting our feet in our mouths," he said, making me blush. He laughed at my expression, eyes crinkling in true humour at the corners; I decided then that, despite his eccentricities, I liked the guy. "I go through bouts of depression in which I do nothing but sit around a room and try to waste away, but I haven't done that in a couple years. Jean-Claude gave me a legitimate job about two years ago, and I absolutely love it. I think it's the first job I've had in a very, very long time that I enjoy every aspect of."

"Oh?" I asked curiously, propping my chin in my hands. "So what do you do?" I was still itching to ask him questions about Miburou, but I wasn't going to press my luck. I had already begun to realise that Shinta balanced very precariously along the line of sanity/insanity, and I didn't want him slipping over that insanity line when I was his target. I still hadn't a clue as to what he had done for the Ishin Shishi, and I really didn't want to find out the hard way.

He smiled mischievously, eyes narrowed playfully. It was an expression I'd seen on my own face numerous times—guess I now knew where it came from. "You've heard of the Shiroi Karasu?" he asked.

My eyes went wide. "Un! It's only the most popular nightclub in the New Kobe club district. I've heard that some people save for months to be able to go there for just one night, and even then you might not get in if the proprietor doesn't want you there."

"Shiroi Karasu is a club of Jean-Claude's," Anita said with a smile at my expression. "He opened it about six years ago as a trial venture, but the club didn't hit it big until about two years ago."

"That's when Jean-Claude made me a job offer," Shinta murmured. "I was just curious enough to give it a trial run—it wasn't something that I'd ever done before as a professional—and I enjoyed so much that I began working the club full time."

"But what do you do?" I asked again, knowing that was beginning to whine. But, dammit, I really wanted to know!

Giggling wickedly, Shinta leaned forward and whispered, "Sore wa…himitsu, de gozaru."

I could have screamed in frustration. I settled for clenching my jaw and my fists, glaring at him. If I ever had kids, they weren't ever going to learn that word. 'Secret' was not going to be allowed in their vocabulary. At least Shinta was more humble when he said it, though; I guess that was an indirect point for him.

"Settle down," he said with a lazy wave of his hand. His mood swings were seriously beginning to annoy me more than they were frightening me. "If you really want to know, be at the club before ten tonight. Maybe we'll talk afterwards and see if there isn't something I can't do to help you with your problem." He slid from the booth, rising gracefully to his feet. I thought it was strange how he could make his scruffy clothes look as though they were being worn by a queen. He gave Anita a smile and a deep bow. "Thank you for inviting me to lunch, Anita-dono. I found it pleasant, de gozaru."

Anita nodded, though she seemed a little worried. "Will you be all right, Shinta?" she asked him quietly. "If there's anything that we can do…"

He shook his head, smile not wavering. "I'll be fine. The stakes are different this time. He brought a relative of mine into this; he should have known from before not to do that." And with that, Shinta turned and left the diner without giving either of us a backwards glance.

"Sooo, what do you think?" Anita asked once Shinta had disappeared out the door, poking me in the arm. She grinned at my annoyed expression, sipping from her Diet Coke.

"Why am I related to a bunch of psychos?" I asked acerbically. "Why are all my friends related to a bunch of psychos? What did I do to piss God off this much?!"

"God had nothing to do with it," Anita drawled, shoving a pickle into my mouth before I could continue my ranting. I scowled as I chewed the dill pickle, but decided to stay quiet. She still had six inches of a sub sandwich on her plate. I wasn't going to risk having that shoved into my mouth.

Some days, I wondered what I was still doing alive. Then I would remember that God had to have someone to drive insane, and order would be restored to my universe.

I can be so pathetic.

After lunch, Anita insisted on taking me shopping. I looked at her as if she was nuts. "Forgive me for being blunt, but you don't strike me as a shopping type of person," I said.

"I'm not," Anita said with a grin. "I absolute hate shopping unless it's for artillery, but that's beside the point. The point is, I want to take you shopping and we are going to go shopping. Understand?"

I gulped at her intent expression, sitting back in my seat. "Yep, I understand," I said, nodding my head vehemently.

Smiling beatifically, she said, "Good. I would have hated for that to turn ugly. Now that that's settled, let's head for the mall."

"Which one?" I muttered darkly, slouching down dejectedly in my seat. I was going to go shopping with a nutcase. Granted, she wasn't as much of a nutcase as the rest of the psychos I'd met in my life, but she was potentially a lot more dangerous than the rest of those psychos.

For one thing, she was sitting only two feet away from me.

A maniacal gleam in her eyes as she pulled out into traffic, Anita told me with a wicked grin, "We're going to hit them all."

If I could have screamed, I would have; New Kobe had no less that three malls, one of which could have housed at least three entire Mobile Doll squadrons. I had a feeling that Anita would be unfazed by that as well, however. So, instead, I settled for another heart-rending sigh as I resigned myself to my fate. Life was not only unfair, it was fucked up.

How come I was the only one not thrilled by this fact?

I was decked out in the now-nicest set of clothes I owned, courtesy of Anita's credit card. I kept trying to tell her that I had a credit card paid for by OZ, but she just gave one of those 'don't argue with me if you value your life' looks and I decided to bite my tongue. Who was I to argue with her? I had to admit, though, that she did have good taste in clothes. She told me that it was all Jean-Claude's influence; back before she'd taken his marks willingly, her idea of dressing up was a non-black t-shirt, black jeans, and bloodless Nikes.

Her idea of dressing nice had come a looong way since then. I was now the proud owner of a nearly see-through long sleeved shirt in a lovely shade of vermilion. I've always had a thing for red—not that you could tell by my usual choice of everyday clothing. The shirt's sleeves were very baggy, so that they kind of draped across your arms with about six inches of extra material hanging loose, and it had a high Chinese tunic-style collar. There was some sort of metallic thread in the shirt that made it shimmer like liquid whenever you moved, but the material felt almost like silk. The leather pants I'd found were a lot like the ones Heero had worn the night before except that they were suede. And the boots…well, Anita sure knew how to shop for a short person. I might finally make one hundred and sixty-three centimetres with those boots on.

She dropped me back off at the safe house at around eight that night. We'd managed to spend the entire day since lunch doing nothing but shopping and talking. I think I'd done most of the talking, and though I'd tried to keep talking about myself to a minimum since I wasn't sure how much I could trust her, I think she probably knew as much about me as any of my friends. Hey, I'm not always good at keeping a low profile. I'm not stupid, I just get…carried away.

When I walked inside, the first thing I noticed was that it was quiet; way too quite for a place where five teenage boys lived, even if they were terrorists on the run. I prowled around the darkened house, turning on lights here and there. Eventually I came across a note that had been pinned to my door, written in Quatre's neat and tiny kana.

'Duo— We left to get dinner at about a quarter to eight. Don't expect us back any earlier than nine. And don't forget that we're supposed to be at Shiroi Karasu before ten. It wouldn't do to piss your many times great-grandfather off, now would it? Later! Quatre, et al.'

My eyes widened as I read that last sentence. Quatre had known and he hadn't said anything? That sneaky little neo-hippie punk bastard! So, I had at least an hour to myself. Well, I figured I'd just be selfish and indulge myself in a half-hour long shower, and then I'd get ready to go to the club.

With a cackle of delight I raced for the bathroom, carefully shedding my clothes before turning the water on as hot as I could stand it. One of my hidden hedonistic qualities was that I loved to take long showers—long, hot showers. And now I had the perfect opportunity to drain the hot water heater of all its contents, and there was nothing that any of my friends could say about it.

Being devious was so much fun.

Nine-fifteen rolled around, and Quatre and the others still weren't back. I was standing in the hall between the kitchen and our rooms, tapping my toes like a girl waiting for her prom date, when the phone rang, and I rushed to answer it. "Quatre?"

Quatre's tinkling laughter rang in my ear. "How'd you know?" he asked. "Never mind. I was just calling to let you know that we're going to be late. We'll just go ahead and meet you at the club. Oh, and Wufei says don't drive like a bat out of hell or he'll kill you himself. Anyway, see you in a bit!"

The phone clicked dead, and I slowly drew the receiver away from my ear so that I could stare at it in numb shock. Quatre had just hung up on me, and the only thing I'd been able to get out of the one-sided conversation was absolute confusion. I'd been in that state for pretty much the last two days and I didn't like it one bit. Nope, I didn't like it at all.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw that it was now twenty after nine. I would have to hurry if I was going to make it across town and in the club before ten. Screw what Wufei wanted; I wanted to know what it was that Shinta did at the club and if I had to drive like a bat out of hell to get there on time, I would.

Not bothering to throw a coat on, I grabbed the keys to our jeep and raced out the door.

The sidewalks outside of Shiroi Karasu were literally crawling with people. If it hadn't been for the fact that Anita had said that Asher would meet me at the door, I wouldn't have had any idea how to get in. As it was I had to push and weave my way through the masses like a snake; I felt rather pleased with myself when some beefy jerk tried to elbow me out of the way and I managed to elbow him right back and face first into the side of the building. What could I say? I was finally beginning to feel more like my old self, and venting my frustrations on other people has always been one of my less-than-admirable traits.

Finally managing to make it to the front doors, I looked around for Asher, spotting him almost right off. The guy was a bit hard to miss; he kind of stood out like an angel that had dropped down from heaven to mingle with the mortals. I mean, I've never actually met someone with gold hair before. That's what his hair looked like, the colour of a newly minted five yen piece. And his eyes, like Jean-Claude's, burned with a strange inner light that was frightening at the same time it was intriguing. The colour was close to the shade of Dorothy Catalonia's, but much, much bluer.

Pushing away from the wall he was leaning against, he moved forward until he was standing just in front of me. I had to look up—really look up—just so that I could be looking at his face instead of his chest. That seemed to amuse Asher immensely; he started to laugh as soon as he realised how much I had to crane my neck.

"Sorry," he apologised, still smiling in amusement as he took a small step back. "You think I'd know by now not to do that."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked defensively, arching an eyebrow.

"Nothing, nothing," he said with a wave of his hand. "It's just that I've known Anita for a very long time now, and she is only slightly taller than yourself. I meant no slight," he added, eyes shining at my disgruntled expression.

I decided at that moment that vampires as a race must come with strange senses of humour. There was just no other explanation for the fact that I seemed to amuse every vampire I'd met thus far, and I would no doubt continue to do so for as long as I lived—however long that was. I still hadn't gotten an answer on why I wouldn't have to worry about turning old and grey, and I wasn't so sure I wanted one now.

"Have my friends shown up?" I asked, allowing Asher to lead me into the club. Immediately off to the right was a small counter where a pair of girls sat smiling at the customers that came through. They looked like identical twins and were dressed in identical outfits; I wondered if Jean-Claude had been raiding someone's Nyan-Nyan source, somewhere, since that was what the two girls reminded me of.

"Not that I know of," Asher replied, smiling politely at the two girls. "Are you wearing a cross tonight?" he asked, arching a golden eyebrow.

Shaking my head, I said, "Actually, I think I left my cross with the last cross check-in girl."

Asher snickered at me behind his hand, and I heard him say something about my having blacked out the night before. Raising both eyebrows and glaring up at him, I asked, "Do you want to trade places? You're welcome to my life for a whole twenty-four hours, if you'd like."

Shaking his head, Asher said, "Non, non, mon petit. I have enough problems to deal with as it is. Returning to the life of a teen would be pure hell."

I had to agree with him on that one—the part about being a teenager being pure hell, that is.

"Jean-Claude gave you his table up at the front of the stage," Asher told me after a moment, leading me through the tables and chairs that had been set up in front of an elaborate stage. I sat down when we reached the table, stretching my legs out in front of me and lacing my arms behind my head as he continued. "When your friends show up—"

"Asher-oneesan!" one of the check-in girls carolled, waving at him as she ran down the aisle. "Asher-oneesan, there's a message here for you."

Asher rolled his eyes at the girl's "oneesan" comment and stepped over to her. The girl beamed brightly, handing him a slip of paper and stepping back, her arms behind her back as she rocked back and forth, waiting. Asher grimaced after reading the note, handing it back to her with a sigh. She bowed to both of us before taking off back up the aisle.

"That was from Anita," he said as he stepped back over to my side. "Your friends called to say that they're not going to make it on time."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I scowled in disbelief. I had been ditched by not one, not two, not three, but all of my friends. I was in the middle of one of the largest clubs in New Kobe, sitting by myself at a table at the front of the stage, courtesy of Jean-Claude. I glanced up at the clock on the wall, noting that it was nearly ten. Well, at least Shinta should be making his appearance soon and some of my curiosity would be appeased. However, I was going to have some serious words with my friends whenever they did decide to put in an appearance.

"It's okay, Asher," I said, giving him a wry smile. "I came to see Shinta, anyway."

Smiling, Asher nodded. "You'll get to see Shinta, mon ami. If the others show up before the show is done I'll make sure to send them here."

"Thanks, Asher," I murmured, glancing around me with interest. There were so many different people in the club, some wearing expensive business suits and evening gowns, others wearing almost nothing. Shiroi Karasu attracted an interesting crowd, that was for sure.

"Pardon my intrusion."

Whirling in surprise, I nearly fell out of my chair. I raked hair out of my eyes with an irritated scowl, glancing up at the man—the very tall man—that had startled me. His long black hair was swept completely back from his face, giving him a pleasantly open appearance. He smiled in apology, inclining his head. "I didn't mean to startle you," he murmured, his eyes shadowed so that I couldn't tell if he was amused or not.

I shook my head. "No, no, that's okay," I said with a grin. "I was a little lost in my own world, that's all." Ch', the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I shared a lot of traits with Shinta. I wasn't so sure that that was a good thing.

"I know someone like that," he responded quietly. Then he grimaced, shoving his hands deeper into his long coat. "I really hate to bother you, but I'm afraid they booked more seatings than there are seats. The man at the door saw that you were at your table by yourself and told my that I might ask if I could join you."

Blinking, I said, "Sure, why not? My friends ditched me, so I was just going to sit here by myself. Feel free to join me." Well, at least I would have someone to talk to until the show started. And the guy seemed likable enough, not to mention the fact that he wasn't sore on the eyes.

Inclining his head again in a slight bow, he said, "I thank you." He removed his trenchcoat, revealing a clean-cut, expensive-looking business suit. "My name is Saitou, by the way: Saitou Hajime."

"Duo Maxwell," I said, extending a hand to him. He accepted without hesitation, enclosing my hand in his much larger one. I felt a strange sort of tingle run through me at the contact, different from the feeling I got when the glamour kicked it. It made me glance at Saitou curiously; this was a club of Jean-Claude's, so I was wondering if he was human. My bets were on the big 'N' 'O.'

"A pleasure, Duo," Saitou said softly. He collapsed his long frame gracefully into the chair beside me, crossing his ankles. "Is this your first time to Shiroi Karasu?" he asked me, head tipped slightly in my direction. We were both facing the stage as we waited for the show to begin.

"Yeah," I said, wrinkling my nose as the lights began to dim. "A friend invited me to come and watch the show tonight." Hey, saying 'friend' sounded a lot better than saying 'many times great-grandfather.' It also sounded a lot more plausible.

"Oh, I'm certain that you'll enjoy it," Saitou said with a chuckle, dark undertones lacing his voice and laugh that made me shudder.

"You've seen it before?" I asked quietly, glancing around the room. Nearly everyone was riveted on the stage, leaning forward in the chairs and across the tables as they strained for a better view.

Wicked laughter, again. "Let's just say that I'm one of the biggest fans of this particular show."

The lights dimmed completely to blackness. Stage lights came up as the curtains drew back, revealing an elaborate yet whimsical set. It was a fairytale-looking set up, which had me wondering just what kind of a show I was in for. The colours were mostly soft and warm, lots of pale blues and blush-hued reds. Glitter and sequins sparkled everywhere, and gauze-like wisps of fabric floated in the air as if waving in a breeze. It was hard to tell what the scene was supposed to be exactly, but that added to the intriguing quality of the whole idea.

As the actors—correction, dancers—came out and began their performance, I began to realise that I was witnessing something beyond even my wildest dreams. I'd never heard of a fairytale in which the highly erotic dances going on before me occurred. Everyone was fully clothed, but the clothing was artfully arranged, giving you a hint here, a peek there, making you wonder, making you want more. Their movements were sometimes sharp, sometimes jerky, but mostly fluid and seductive. I couldn't help thinking that Jean-Claude had found a beautiful cast of dancers for his show; graceful, fair of face, and utterly androgynous. Jewellery glittered and chimed, but it added to the ambiance rather than distracting from it.

"Shinta won't actually show up for about another twenty minutes," Saitou murmured from beside me, watching the performance through lidded eyes. "I assume that's who you're here for. That's who nearly everyone in this club is here for."

"What do you mean?" I asked, not tearing my eyes away from the stage. It was too fascinating for me not to watch—which, I'm sure, is exactly what Jean-Claude had intended. At that point I had figured out that Shinta must be one of the dancers in the show, and while I had to admit that he was good-looking, I couldn't quite understand why Shinta would be everyone's reason for coming to the club.

Saitou chuckled darkly, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I noticed that his eyes, which were narrow and angular, seemed somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place why that was. "Everyone comes to see Shinta dance. He's the club's number one attraction."

"Is that why you come?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. Yes, I am nosy. No, I don't care.

"But of course," he replied with a bow of his dark head. Glancing briefly at the stage before turning back to me, he said, "I've always had a fascination for watching Shinta."

Warning bells went off in my head. I peeled my eyes away from the stage long enough to hazard a look at him. His expression was bemused, far away, and his thin lips were pursed in thought. "Shinta has this…quality…about him that I've always found intriguing. Surely you've noticed it." He turned his attention back to me, arching a slender black eyebrow.

"When he is or isn't homicidal?" I asked dryly. Sure I'd noticed there was something about Shinta, something different from normal people, something different from abnormal people. But I'd also noticed that he was, how should we put it delicately, completely out of touch with reality 22/7? That was just a little frightening when you considered the fact that the guy couldn't die.

Saitou laughed again at my remark, a smile curving his lips. "Both facets! From the first moment we met I was drawn to him."

I sensed a story in his words, a story I wasn't sure I wanted to hear. But I had at least fifteen minutes before the main attraction hit the stage, so I figured that I might as well hear it. "So tell me about the Shinta you know," I said. The guy was my only living relative, so it wouldn't hurt to learn a little bit more about him.

"Do you know why he is the way he is now?" Saitou queried, lacing his hands together in his lap and relaxing like some sort of large predator into his chair. Personally, I hadn't thought such a position was possible and could still be comfortable, but Saitou seemed perfectly at ease.

"Not really," I said with a shake of my head. By that point I'd already decided that Saitou wasn't human. I wasn't sure what it was that had made me reach that decision—after all, I had a lot of things to choose from—but I was dead certain of it now. No pun intended, really; I'd been hanging out with the wrong crowds recently, that's my only defence. With Saitou, though, it was almost as though he had this presence about him that simply screamed 'other.' "I know that he worked for the Ishin Shishi during the Bakumatsu no Douran. That's about it."

Sighing, Saitou unlaced his fingers and steepled his hands, glancing down at them. "Shinta was a hitokiri for the Ishin Shishi. He was their best, their brightest, and their strongest, but they used him the wrong way and burned him out early. He was disillusioned, felt lost and betrayed, and felt far older than his tender years. He left the Ishin Shishi without a word, disappearing for over ten years. Later, a bumbling little rurouni showed up in Edo, which had by that time been renamed Tokyo, and stumbled upon a place known as the Kamiya Dojo. He fell in love with the ojouchan that ran it, and after a few years of hardship trying to keep them apart, he married her. He settled down into married life almost as if he'd been born for it, content to live out the rest of his life with his friends and family around him.

"But Shinta was different, something that most people had known for a long time. And his kind of different was bound to attract attention. Some people had begun to notice that Shinta never seemed to age, but they passed it off with a shrug. His wife, however, had noticed it and begun to worry. She went to talk with an old woman living in the wilds above Tokyo, asking what she should do. She was told to take some of her husband's hair and bind it with horsehair and silk to a piece of iron, and spill her own blood onto it. She was then to cast it into a fire made from the branches of sakura trees. The poor girl had no idea what she was doing in reality. The old woman knew what Shinta was and knew exactly what she was having his wife do. The hag-appearance was merely a disguise; she was a kyuuketsuki, a vampire who had been around for many years and held a grudge against Shinta, for he had unwittingly slain many of her kin over the years.

"When Shinta's wife made the talisman and did as the old woman had told her to, it made Shinta fall deathly ill. He was rushed to a friend's clinic, and the doctor worked day and night to try and figure out what was wrong with him. Meanwhile, however, the old woman attacked the dojo. She pretended to seek entry to ask Shinta's wife how things had gone, and once she had entered the house, she struck. She killed Shinta's wife, their infant daughter, two members of the Oniwabanshuu who had come to visit and pay their respects, his wife's student, Shinta's friend who had once served in the Sekihoutai, and two little girls whose grandfather had worked for the dojo. She drained them of their blood and then proceeded to remove their heads from their bodies. Lastly, she set fire to the dojo, burning the dead so that there was no chance of them rising as vampires.

"With his wife's death, the talisman was no longer good. Shinta recovered rapidly, but by that time the news had reached the clinic: everyone at the dojo was dead. He was wild with grief when he heard, and after being subdued by several police, the doctor gave him an injection to make him sleep."

"Holy shit," I murmured, my eyes wide. I wasn't really looking at the stage anymore; Saitou's tale was a bit more interesting than the dancing, at the moment. Shinta had been an assassin for the Ishin Shishi, as well as had his whole family slaughtered by a vampire? No wonder his hold on reality was tenuous at best. I mean, it wasn't like I had the best of holds on reality either, not after the upbringing I had, but Shinta really took the cake.

"Indeed," Saitou agreed humourlessly. "However, the vampire wasn't done with Shinta. She had heard that there were still others he had cared for; the doctor who had been tending him, his toddler son, his old instructor whom was guarding the boy, and a man who had once gone by the name of Miburou."

"Miburou?!" I sat up straight, turning to stare at him in surprise. "Shinta was friends with this Miburou guy? I was under the impression they hated each other." Guess you learned something new every day, ne?

"Appearances can be deceiving," he said with a small laugh. "Shinta shared a strange relationship with the man called Miburou. Miburou had been Shinsengumi to Shinta's Ishin Shishi back in the days of the Bakumatsu no Douran; they went back a long way. During those days, they eventually clashed swords and were forced to break off their dual before a winner was decided. Some people said back then that they were each other's only match in talent. Miburou was furious that the battle had been unresolved, and even more furious when Shinta disappeared. When he resurfaced ten years later, Miburou was working for the government police. He couldn't resist antagonising Shinta into a fight, however. It didn't take too much goading; Miburou had learned how to pull Shinta's strings. It was what Miburou had lived for, all those years that Shinta had been missing. All he had wanted to do was to fight the hitokiri side of Shinta again, to find out who was the strongest. And that was how their relationship remained throughout the next couple of years. Cool, seemingly without purpose. Deep down, however, both of them knew that if the other was to die, they would be without a true purpose in life anymore.

"Getting back to the story, the vampire knew that she had missed the doctor, the son, the teacher, and Miburou. It was impossible for her to find the instructor and the boy; the instructor was from an ancient and powerful clan of nearly immortal onmyouji and had taken Shinta's son into the protection of his clan's hidden enclave. It wasn't very hard for her to kill the doctor; she was very good at playing the part of the ailing old woman. As she had done before, she burned the body so the doctor could not rise as a vampire.

"But getting Miburou was a bit harder. For one thing, he was out of town at the time. For another, his wife was home, and she was a sly woman. She knew right away that something wasn't right with the old woman, and so she denied entrance to the vampire. But late that night, before the body of the dead doctor had been discovered, the vampire managed to call to one of Miburou's children. The child invited the vampire in and promptly lost his life, as did his two sisters. The vampire tortured the wife before she killed her."

There were only about five minutes before Shinta would put in an appearance, and I was beginning to get antsy. Not because the story was boring, but because I wanted to know how it ended. It was absolutely amazing that there were all these other species out there, all these different types of people. It was even more amazing that they'd been around for so long. To think that Shinta could have not known what he was, not known what his teacher was, was almost unbelievable. "So what happened when Miburou got home?" I was betting that he'd been just slightly pissed. Just slightly, you know.

Shrugging, Saitou said, "Not much. Miburou lived long enough to be fully aware of what had happened to his family. The vampire was still there, waiting for him to return, and wasted no time in killing him as well. However, she did something a little different when she killed Miburou; she drained him to the point of death and carried his body to her home in the wilds, waited for him to rise three nights later, and then made him drink her own blood. You see, she had realised the one thing that would make Shinta's suffering even sweeter: finding that Miburou was dead, and yet lived as her puppet, would make Shinta writhe inside with anger that he could never truly find out who was stronger. Miburou was dead and no longer had a will that was truly all his own."

"Come on, there's got to be more," I said, leaning over the arm of my chair.

Saitou smiled grimly, glancing at me. "When Miburou awoke from his death, and after his hunger was assuaged by the farm tenants the hag had brought to him, he blamed Shinta for the deaths that had occurred. After all, the hag all but ruled his consciousness at that point, and it was easy for her to turn his thoughts in that direction. He was still disoriented from waking after death, and his memories of his life were hazy at best. Shinta, when he awoke from his drug-induced stupor and realised what happened, blamed himself for the deaths as well. That's what began the life and death cycle they've continued for hundreds of years."

"So who died that first time?" I asked softly, gaze drifting back to the stage. The ambiance had changed, so I knew something was going to happen, but I was still deeply interested in Saitou's story.

Softly—so softly that I barely caught it even though the music was fading to almost silence, and I was certain I couldn't have heard him right—he said, "He did. And it was like a taste of heaven before the light died."

I'm not much of a "music person." I like music, I like to dance, but that's about as far as it goes. I hadn't really paid all that much attention to the music that had been playing throughout the first part of the show, but I knew it had been different from that that began playing a moment after Saitou quit speaking. It was trance music—pure, synthesised progressive trance, without rock or alternative influences—and the new ambiance of dry ice and soft, throbbing lighting fit it perfectly. The music grabbed me instantly, pulsing within my veins like something primal.

Those psychologists I've had to see off and on throughout my life had the right idea when they said that rock was evil because it was primitive, sexual; personally, I agree, but I don't care. Trace is kind of the same way, deep, throbbing beats with pulsing, changing rhythms intertwined throughout it. I don't really think of it as sexual, more like sensual. I loved trance, because it was one of the best varieties of music for dancing to, for swaying seductively, wrapping your arms around yourself, touching yourself, and not having to feel ashamed because the music tells you not to be.

I'd been so absorbed by the music that I almost didn't notice the figure rising up out of the fog of dry ice. Slender, petite, ethereal, and utterly graceful, Shinta glided through the fog like the otherworldly being he was. Like the other dancers, his clothing was intended to be concealing as well as revealing, but his costume stayed true to his native heritage. The yukata was almost gauzy, shimmering iridescently under the lighting. It was a pale lavender patterned with plum branches, the obi the same shade as the plum blossoms, and it had most definitely been made for him. Silver glittered at his wrists and ankles as he writhed and twisted with the music, the sweet chime of jewellery a perfect counter.

You could tell that Shinta lived for the music, for the dance. His hair was mostly pinned up in an ornate yet simple-looking design, small tendril's framing his angular face. His face was flushed, his eyes closed, but his expression was utterly euphoric. He moved with inhuman grace, with uncommon ease in winding figures, hands moving in a dazzling pattern as if he were casting a spell. Dragging my gaze away just long enough to glance around the room, I realised that, perhaps, he was. Everyone in the room was utterly enthralled and entranced, watching the stage almost unblinkingly. I could even see some people who were at the point of falling out of their chairs as they tried to inch closer to the stage.

Time seemed to cease its passage; I had no idea how long Shinta's movements held us captive for, and I wasn't so certain that I really cared. When the first piece of music ended, it was as though there was some unspoken agreement between the crowd and him; no one rose to their feet and applauded, though I knew we all felt as though we should.

"Look at the kind of power he has," Saitou murmured, not tearing his eyes from Shinta's form. Shinta had bowed his head and turned slightly away from the audience. "His ability to snare the attention of hundreds has nothing to do with magic. It's just who he is. He could have anyone, anything he wanted, but there is only one thing that he desires."

I wanted to ask what that one thing was, and how Saitou could possibly know, but the next piece began, ending my desire to question and anything else Saitou might have said. I'd thought Shinta had poured emotion into the last piece he'd danced to, but it was nothing compared what he did with the new piece. He danced as if his life depended on it—and maybe it did. In the strange out-of-touch realm he lived in, dance might be all he had to live for. His movements were full of barely contained energy, but they weren't frenzied or hurried.

Again I was reminded of a hunting cat stalking prey as he drew closer to the edge of the stage, smiling wickedly at the audience. 'Let me show you' the lyrics said, and he was doing just that. Just watching him move, it was easy to see how he could have been one of the strongest swordsmen alive. Hell, if you put a sword in his hand at that moment, I was sure he'd still be one of the strongest swordsmen alive. Was this dance any different from the one he had danced before? Maybe no one was physically being cut down, but how many people would leave the club tonight with their hearts and souls completely intact?

This dance…this was part of the passion I'd sensed earlier in him, this need to dance. Shinta was pure sensuality, pure passion, pure desire incarnate as he danced. I had a feeling that the intense emotions he poured into his display were also tied in with a desire to kill, something that was simply a part of him—and I was a little worried that that prospect didn't bother me as much as it should.

"Tease," Saitou growled as Shinta's movements brought him closer, yukata sleeve brushing the edge of the stage, his hand darting out in a graceful, slithering movement past it before its owner pulled it back into the sanctity of the stage.

Nodding my head in agreement, I continued to stare wordlessly. How could Shinta manage to convey so many things in his dancing: threats, promises, possibilities, and eternity were all there in his actions. Had anyone other than his deceased wife ever dared to reach out and take what those seductive hands promised? Had his wife even known about this side of him? For some reason, I doubted so. Maybe she had known about his past, but I don't think she could have known what kind of creature she had briefly held in her arms. If she had, she never would have doubted him, never would have gone to that vampire that lived in the Tokyo wilds—and I might not be where I was at that moment.

I almost didn't notice what happened next; Saitou, whatever he was, was good. He held the entire room in the grip of his mind, and they were oblivious. I almost was too; I was guessing the only thing that saved me was my tie to Heero and Wufei—possibly my tie to Shinta, as well.

Saitou stood in a single fluid movement, hand darting out and snatching up Shinta's. Shinta stilled in shock, turning to confront him. His pale lavender eyes went wide, his mouth gaping open in surprise. "You…"

Smiling wolfishly, Saitou leaned in closer. Later I would think it funny how Saitou was still taller than Shinta even though Shinta stood on a stage a foot above the floor. "Hisashiburi, ahou," he said with a low laugh.

Shinta's eyes went hard, gold flashing through them. He opened his mouth to snarl a retort, and I think that I was as surprised as he was by what happened next; Saitou leaned in and kissed him. Not just any old kiss, mind you. No, this wasn't a chaste peck on the lips by any means. Saitou fisted one hand in Shinta's hair and locked his other arm around Shinta's back, making escape difficult—more like impossible.

I couldn't help noticing that Shinta didn't seem to be trying to escape all that hard, though. His eyes had been wide in shock at first, but now they were closed as if in resignation. As I watched in dismay, his slender arms moved to wrap around Saitou's neck. Nooo, no chasteness there. They were lip locked like they meant it—and utterly oblivious, I might add. They were kissing as if they were starving or dying; maybe both, since one of them growled while the other groaned when they finally broke for air.

Tanzanite eyes were wide and confused as Shinta stumbled back, drawing his arms around himself. "Why are you here?" he asked miserably. I could sense the hurt behind his words; the anger had faded behind its weight.

Saitou shrugged, tipping his head to the side. The band that had contained his long black hair had been broken—probably by Shinta—and his hair floated around his decidedly wolfish countenance like an ebony curtain. It was then, when slim tendrils slipped in front of his golden eyes, that I realised who Saitou was: he was Miburou, the man who had been with the fey bitch the night before. "Why do I ever come to see you, Kenshin? Does anyone really know?"

Shaking his head, Shinta seemed to draw in on himself even more. "You promised you'd leave me alone," he whispered, head bowing.

"A promise made eighty-seven years ago in grief when I realized that I'd killed you again!" Saitou snapped, eyes narrowing. "A promise that you dragged out of me, knowing how much it would hurt for me to keep it. Hell, Kenshin, New Kobe wasn't even all that new yet."

Suddenly, it was as if something inside Shinta had snapped. His eyes narrowed, expression going flat as he stood up straighter. Tipping his head to the side, he said, "So, was allying yourself with the Sidhe bitch an act of vengeance?"

His voice was cold, almost completely devoid of emotion. This was the side of him that could kill without regret, without remorse; this was the side that Miburou had first fallen for. "That boy that she set her sights on has many powerful friends."

Again, Saitou merely shrugged, seeming nonplussed. "I know." He didn't even look at me; I wasn't sure if he didn't know that I was still cognizant, or if he was simply ignoring me.

"Did you know that she cast a glamour on him, one that could kill him?" Shinta continued, slowly drifting forward. His grace and attitude reminded me of a snake at that moment. And I was betting that Shinta would be a very poisonous snake should he choose to strike.

"No," Saitou said, a frown appearing on his face. "Ellinea mentioned nothing of a glamour."

Shinta stopped when he was but inches away from Saitou once again. "Then, I take it, you also didn't know that he is a descendent of mine. I like him, ookami; I won't let her have him without a fight."

A sharp hiss escaped Saitou's lips. He glanced back at me in surprise. I just shrugged, my expression bland. What could I say? I was beginning to find out I had weird relationships with weird people. It was also beginning to seem rather commonplace to me. "I didn't know that he was related to you," he said softly, fists clenching. "I knew that he was the boy Ellinea was hoping to use to further her plans, but I didn't know that he was yours."

Hmmm, I wondered, my eyes narrowing. Was the whole 'relations' thing a sore spot back from when they'd died? Anou, when Saitou had died and Kenshin had found out he couldn't die? Shinigami-sama, that could get confusing!

Confusion returned to Shinta's face, making him seem delicate in his bewilderment. "Then why did you come here, Saitou?" he asked. "If it wasn't about revenge…"

Saitou laughed softly, a gentleness that I'd never seen before—and would never have expected to see—coming to his eyes. "Why would I want revenge, Kenshin? You're the one who always dies." Blushing, Shinta looked away, fists clenched. Saitou's hand reached up, gently turning Shinta's face back to him. "I hate you for goading me into killing you, for being able to run away to your own reality," he said softly. "But even that first death wasn't about revenge. I was angry, I was lost, and, as usual, you were right there. You've always been the only person I've felt safe taking my emotions out on. You always come back. Not to mention the fact that you always seemed to have the world's worst—or best, depending upon how you look at it—timing."

Blushing slightly at the 'timing' comment, Shinta tried to look away. His voice was harsh, as if laced with painful emotions and tears. "Why?"

"I don't know." Saitou's thumb brushed Shinta's lips. "Why do you cry when you die?"

Shinta's eyes closed briefly. "I can't remember," he said tremulously. "I think it's because I'm sad."

"Sad?" A slender black eyebrow arched. "Why are you sad?"

A single tear slipped from the closed eyes, tracking down a pale, golden cheek. Shinta didn't even seem to notice, but Saitou did. His fingers touched the tear almost reverently, bringing the crystalline drop to his own lips. "Because death is lonely," Shinta whispered at last, opening his eyes. They shimmered with the rest of his unshed tears, making his eyes look like jewels in the lighting.

Saitou smiled at that. "So quit dying," he stated, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Shaking his head, Shinta closed his eyes and said, "It's not that easy, Saitou. It's not a cycle I can break from. It's my destiny to die, over and over again. Just as it's my destiny to be killed by you, over and over again."

Snorting, Saitou rasped, "Is that you what you really think? You think that we've been tied together for over four hundred years simply for me to follow you around with the express purpose of killing you? Except for the first time, I have never set out with the intent of killing you. But you, as usual, goad me over the edge. You know how to push my buttons the same way that I do yours. In the end, however, you always give up. You let me kill you. It's time to quit running away, Kenshin. You think that you're the only one who cries when you die?"

Eyes fluttering open, Shinta stammered, "W-what do y-you mean?"

A grim smile made its way to Saitou's harsh countenance. "You think I enjoy killing you, Kenshin? The only person that ever truly understood my nature? You know it was never the killing I sought in a fight, it was the dominance. Every time you died it was another chance blown, another time that there was a possibility for clarifications to be made got screwed up. The memories you retained after death always painted me as awful—don't bother denying it. This last time that I killed you, I wanted nothing more than to walk out in the morning sun because I knew that you would wake up hating me completely once again."

"No!" Shinta shook his head sharply in denial, reaching out unconsciously for Saitou's hands.

I couldn't help but smile behind my hands at the two of them. Sure, Saitou had helped to get me glamourised by a faerie even more psychotic than Lady Une, but he was apparently enamoured of my many times great-grandfather. True, he'd apparently killed said many times great-grandfather a few times, but it sounded to me like Shinta had asked for it.

My logic was beginning to sound reeeally fucked up.

But just why the hell did Saitou keep calling him 'Kenshin'? Shinta, Kenshin. Shinta, Kenshin. I wasn't seeing a relation there. I didn't think it was a pet name—maybe it was just me, but Saitou didn't seem like the type to go in for that kind of thing.

"It's true," Shinta said, turning his head away as if he were ashamed or embarrassed. "Every time I awoke after dying, all I remembered was the bad." He gave Saitou a weak smile. "I've never exactly been known for my attention span."

Saitou snorted. "That's for sure, ahou."

"Oro?!" Shinta squawked indignantly, stomping his foot like a girl in pique.

Chuckling at his expression, Saitou drew him forward and into his arms again. "I'll explain everything that's going on tomorrow, but not before. If I do, I risk injury to the plasmababies, not to mention injury to your relation should Ellinea discover things prematurely. Tell Jean-Claude to keep his hounds off my trail until tomorrow night, please. I promise I'll explain things then."

"Tomorrow?" Shinta shook his head, gazing up at Saitou in confusion. "Saitou, what are you involved in?"

Smiling grimly again, he replied, "Something that may get us all killed."

Sighing, Shinta nodded in assent. "All right, I'll talk to Jean-Claude." His eyes wide, lips pressed together, he added, "I'm trusting you, ookami."

"Thank you, Kenshin," Saitou murmured as he bowed his head towards Shinta.

When they kissed for the last time, I looked away. It wasn't just because I'm not big into voyeurism—well, not usually, anyway—it was because I felt like it was something special. Yeah, I know that probably sounds corny, but it's true. With Shinta's seeming split-personality/reality problems, I had to wonder just how much of his life was missing from him. It seemed to me that Saitou cared about him an awful lot, and had for some time. Besides, they deserved a small moment of privacy, considering the fact that I was the only one really watching them. The rest of the audience was still ensnared by Saitou's mind—a fact that I found kind of amazing. He had to be pretty strong if he could hold so many minds for so long. Then again, Heero had told me that morning that even the Council feared Saitou's talents, so it shouldn't be any big surprise that he could do what he was doing.

I was startled when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to find Saitou staring down at me with a thoughtful expression. I smiled tentatively, wondering if he was being friendly or if he was about to pull a big, bad vamp trick on me.

"You're a little too much like him for your own good," Saitou said at last, smiling as he shook his head. "I think that if you and he were locked up in a monastery somewhere, the world would only have half the problems it does."

Arching an eyebrow, I asked dryly, "Isn't that a lot of blame to put on two people?"

Snorting, he replied, "Not really. With the kind of people you attract, Duo, I'm surprised this hasn't happened to you before now."

Thinking about that for a moment, I kind of had to agree with him. "Part of it probably had to do with the fact that I spent a few years in a church orphanage," I said at last.

Saitou nodded in agreement. "That would probably do it. For some reason, there's just something about Christian churches that's a big turn-off for the Shadowkind." He smiled, glancing briefly at Shinta who was lost in thought. "Take care of him."

He didn't even have to ask; Shinta simply inspired familial instincts that I hadn't known I had. "Of course."

At my answer, he made his way towards the darkened back of the club, disappearing into the shadows completely. After a moment, the crowd began to shake their heads as if waking up, murmuring amongst themselves. Shinta had a smile on his face and was bowing rather prettily to the crowd as if he'd just finished his dance. People slowly rose to their feet, clapping and catcalling, some asking for an encore. I knew that Shinta, even if he had wanted to, didn't have it in him after the encounter with Saitou. Instead, my immortal relative waved to the crowd, threw a small number of kisses and coy winks, and then disappeared back into the curtains.

I stood up, moving through the tables back towards the front of the club. Halfway there, I ran into Asher and Jason, neither of whom looked very happy. "Mon chere sent us to retrieve you," Asher said, glancing around at the crowd. "Jason will take you to the others; I'm going to need to run crowd control." I nodded and watched him walk past.

"Asher is the only one other than Jean-Claude that can clean up after Miburou," Jason said as he led me past the bar and behind a partitioned off area near the back. He opened an innocuous-looking door, which led to a flight of stairs. "And since Jean-Claude is on the phone with an extremely pissed off Traveler, Asher's the one that gets to deal with the patrons."

"So why's the Traveler pissed?" I asked curiously. From what I understood, the Council members mostly stayed at their enclave in Europe, so I was a little confused as to why they would care about what was going on here.

"They found out about Ellinea from the very irate Seelie Court retainers that came to petition them for help. Apparently the power hungry bitch is wanted by her people dead or alive; they seem to be leaning heavily towards the 'dead' side. By the way, Anita told me to let you know that calling Ellinea 'faerie' is insulting to her. The Sidhe prefer to be referred to as 'fey.'"

Grinning, I couldn't help by say, "Then it's a good thing I call her the psycho faerie chick. I'd hate to think I was giving her a complement."

Jason chuckled, swiping hair out of his eyes as we walked down the stairs. I was grateful for the conventional lighting; I still hadn't quite gotten over yesterday's torch-lit walk. "Anita also managed to find some old videos of you as a kid—a really little kid. You were so cute, running around with a pair of black cat ears peaking out of your hair and a tail that never stopped moving, growling at all the other little kiddies that tried to steal your food just because you were the smallest."

It really shouldn't have shocked me to hear that; it really shouldn't have, but it did. "Let me get this straight," I said, taking a deep breath to try and stay calm. "Anita has bribery material of me, and apparently I used to run around in some half-and-half form when I was a kid?"

"Basically," Jason said. "Hey, it's not so bad. There are a lot of lycanthropes that would give their arms and legs to be able to have a half-and-half form."

I waved a hand, trying to convey that it was just a little shocking. "It's just taking time to get used to things, you know?" I said, lacing my arms behind my head. "I mean, I didn't know about most of this stuff until yesterday. I don't have a lot of memories up until about age six or seven, but it never really bothered me. Finding out about what my childhood was like is kind of disturbing since I never knew I had one."

We reached the end of the stairs, and after opening another door we were in yet another Jean-Claude influenced office. His taste in furniture was unmistakable now that I knew what to look for.

Jean-Claude waved at us distractedly, still busy on the phone with the Traveler. They were speaking in French, and Jean-Claude was talking so fast that the words all sounded crunched together. Anita was talking with Damian, who seemed to be sulking in the corner of the office. And, much to my non-surprise, my four missing friends were huddled together with Richard.

Quatre looked over at me guiltily, shrugging as if to say 'we tried to make it.' I just gave him a look to say that he'd be questioned severely later. Trowa was trying not to laugh at his lover, but wasn't being very successful. Wufei and Heero looked up at the same time and gave me identical smiles, which had me laughing so hard that I had to grab onto Jason's shoulder so I wouldn't fall.

Jason looked over at me in confusion, his blonde eyebrows drawn together. "What?" he asked.

I shook my head, still gasping for breath. "Nothing," I managed at last. "Just that the two men in my life are utterly, fucking priceless."

Jason sighed as he caught sight of Anita and Damian. "Damn, he's still mad," the werewolf muttered.

"What did you do?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Fidgeting, Jason blushed slightly—something that I didn't think Jason knew how to do—and said, "Well, Damian told me earlier to quit teasing him. It was right after he'd woken up and fed, and I was just screwing around, nothing unusual. But there was just something about the way he said it that took me off guard. I told him that I wasn't teasing, and he practically threw me through the wall and took off."

Snickering, I couldn't help but think the cliché phrase, Ah, young love! "Don't worry," I said consolingly, doing what manly men do and smacking him hard on the ass. He let out a yelp, and I laughed even harder.

"Duo, could you please quit flirting with Jason?" Wufei asked with both of his eyebrows raised. Heero had his arm draped over Wufei's shoulder and was nodded in agreement.

Putting a finger to my lips, I pretended to think about it. "Well…" When they gave me identical puppy dog expressions, I capitulated. No one, not even Shinigami, stood a chance against Heero and Wufei puppy eyes. Walking over to them, I said, "All right. But just because you asked nicely."

Wufei smiled at that, glancing over at Heero. "Did you hear that? If we ask nicely, we get what we want."

Heero leered at me over Wufei's shoulder, his prussian eyes looking me over consideringly. "Do we get everything we want?" he asked.

Laughing, I shook my head. "You two are too much," I said. "How the hell am I supposed to handle both of you?"

Richard decided to put in his two cents at that point. "Only God knows, and even he is doubtful, pond skipper," he intoned in English with a really bad Asian accent, chocolate brown eyes brimming with humour.

"You got your religions and regions crossed there," Heero drawled, though he had found it funny. It was just to good of an opportunity to pass up, teasing Richard.

Sniffing like a girl, Richard turned his back on us, saying, "Well, I'll just take my marbles and go home. I can see that you're nothing but a group of kobolds, come to ruin my opium dreams."

"Someone's been watching a little too much Wizard of Oz," Wufei muttered, glancing at Heero.

"Either that, or someone's had a little too much opium," Heero added.

None of my friends had dressed up for the night, but that didn't stop Heero and Wufei from looking utterly irresistible. Heero was still wearing the same clothes he'd had on that morning, and Wufei was wearing a navy blue tanktop and a pair of baggy, faded jeans. He hadn't bothered to comb his hair back into a tail, so it fell around his face freely. I thought it was cute how every now and then Heero would deliberately cause a strand to fall into Wufei's face, and then Wufei would scowl and push it back. He didn't bother to remove Heero from his shoulder, though.

"You know, I was mad that I had to sit alone at that table tonight," I said, moving to stand just in front of them.

"We're really sorry, Duo," Heero apologised. "We tried to make it on time, but then we ran into an OZ patrol at the pizzeria of all places. It seems that the OZ/Romefeller/White Fang talks aren't going all that well."

"Not to mention the fact that we were being tailed by a pink limo the whole time," Wufei grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

I nearly choked at the mention of the pink limo. "You mean…she's managed to find us?" I squeaked. Shinigami, I hoped it wasn't so!

"We lost her, but she knows we're here in New Kobe," Heero said grimly.

At the thought of Relena being in the same town, I suddenly felt very proprietary. Relena didn't like me, and I really didn't care. I thought she was somewhat psychotic considering the fact that she hated me because I'd shot Heero, who'd been trying to kill her at the time.

Her twisted sense of logic confused me. …Of course, lately, a lot of things confused me.

I couldn't wait for normalcy to return.

She'd been a constant thorn in our side for the past two years, giving away our hiding places as she tried to track down Heero, whom she was convinced was in love with her. It turns out that Relena doesn't like very many people at all. She's "in love" with Heero because he was the first to say to her face that he didn't care for her. Not to mention the fact that she's turned-on by death threats. Apparently she also developed a crush on Wufei after Noin told her about Wufei's disdain for women. It's one of those 'woman-hating enigma' types of things; you know, she'll be the one to "change" him, to make him open up.

Upon reflection, I was shocked that Relena was still alive.

However, if she tried to make a move on either Wufei or Heero, she was going to find herself in a catfight, pun intended. I wasn't going to share, especially with a spoiled, fanciful princess.

That decided, I smiled up at Wufei, blinking my eyelashes coyly. He gave me one of those 'What are you up to?' looks that had me all but purring with mischief. I reached up and tangled my fingers in his hair, pressing myself against him as I kissed him. Wufei opened his mouth without much preamble, and I let myself drown in his taste again, letting the warmth seep into me. I could feel someone moving my hair aside, and then lips pressed against the back of my neck. I knew that it was Heero, and I didn't care that we were in the middle of a room full of people. I freed one hand to rake my fingernails down Wufei's back, laughing into the kiss as he let out a groan and arched his back. Heero was pressed up against my back, his hands sliding up Wufei's bare arms even as his teeth scraped against my neck before he nipped my ear. Smiling in pure abandon, I tore my lips away from Wufei's and turned my head just enough to catch Heero's mouth in a deep, probing kiss. I slid my hands across Wufei's chest, wishing that we were at home so that I could run my hands over bare flesh rather than annoying fabric.

A very exasperated cough made me sigh and break away from both Wufei and Heero. I didn't feel the least bit embarrassed or sorry, but I was rather pissed that we'd been interrupted. However, when I looked at Anita's face, I realized that she would have physically dragged me away from them if she'd had to. And if Anita'd gotten physical, it probably wouldn't have been pretty.

Anita tugged on one of the curls beside her face, arching an eyebrow. "Care to say what brought this on?" she asked, blinking at me expectantly.

"A pink limo," I replied with a straight face, ignoring my friends as they dissolved into hysterical laughter

"A pink limo," she repeated. Giving me an unreadable look, she said, "Remind me to ask you about that later. Anyway, since Jean-Claude's still tied up, Asher's smoothing the ruffled feathers out in the crowd, and Damian's pouting and Jason's trying to clear things up, you might as well take these two up to meet Shinta. Just ask the cross check-in girls to point you in the right direction; and don't worry, they're expecting you."

Expecting me. Well, that was nice since it would keep me from having to make a long, convoluted explanation as to who I was and why I was looking for Shinta. I wanted to check on him anyway to make sure he was okay after what had happened, so it seemed like a perfect thing to do while I wanted for the various crisis' to be resolved.

Turning to my significant others I gave them a grin. "Come on, I think you two will enjoy this." I knew that I was going to enjoy their expression when they began to realise just what kind of a person I was related to.

All in all, the day had been rather good. I was still alive, I had retained my meagre sanity, I had two gorgeous, more-than-human Gundam pilots at my fingertips, I had a living if not quite sane relative, and I was finally returning to normal. All that I needed now was to kill the insane faerie and convince Relena to take a long walk off a short pier.

However, with the track record I'd had in the past two days, I had a feeling that could take awhile.

[1]. ::sweatdrop:: I don't know what happened there. I was trying to think of something weird to eat on a waffle, and for some reason that's what I came up with. Blame the muse.

K'lendel: Oi, kaachan!

P.S. Look, Ten, only one little random floating number thingy! My dependency is lessoning. Actually, I've just decided to exert authorial privileges and say that if you don't get it, oh well. It's my dementia anyway, right? And, um, Shinta's yukata…yeah, it's a furosode. I seem to have this weird habit of making people cross-dress without the intent of having them cross-dress.

[Part 6]