As Nosgoth's stinted sunlight threw its last dying rays across the crumbling walls of the Razielim compound, Isca made his way up to the heavily shuttered chamber that Freya had appropriated as her quarters, his expression naming him as the bearer of sad tidings. Since their return to Nosgoth's devastated future lands, and Raziel's consequent departure to Earth, the woman had dedicated herself to a full evaluation of the documents for which she had paid so high a price. In order for Nosgoth to be restored, a means must be found to bring Raziel back, and Freya was still fervently hoping that the aging parchments she was now translating might divulge that very secret.
As the door creaked open, Freya lowered the Sarafan book she had been examining and leaped to her feet, the echo of a half-buried hope twisting her brows. Isca stalked hesitantly towards her, two gleaming objects clanking together in his extended claw.

"It is beyond our skill." He advised her with some regret.

Freya took the two halves of the katana from him without a word, her face shadowed with loss.
Breaking the mournful silence, he indicated the texts, asking: "Have you found out anything useful?"

Freya replied in the negative. "Raziel didn't know how he got here either."

Isca leaned contemplatively against the wall near a shuttered window. "What about you?"

Freya considered this for a moment, recalling each of her shifting experiences. "Each time I came here, this katana was involved. It came through with me the first time, and I was holding it the second and third - although I've no idea what the correlation might be."

"Is there no-one in this time we might ask?"

Freya shook her head. "The Lieutenants are all destroyed, I doubt the humans would be much use to us, and Kain is off somewhere in the time- stream . . ." Freya paused, an idea germinating as she thought of Kain's own early adventures. "The Oracle. . .although he must be long dead by now."

"Then we will go back to when he is not." offered Isca.

A quick trip through the warp gate in the cellars of the Razielim stronghold brought the two to the vicinity of the time-streaming device, only to realise that neither of them had any idea how to activate it. Several hours and various failed experiments later, they hit upon the secret, which soon set the room alight with a pulsating glow before catapulting the adventurers back to the requested time.

Freya was hard-pressed to decide whether the Oracle was helpful or not. True, the old man had been only too willing to talk when Isca had imposed his considerable influence, but the ancient sage seemed to know nothing but half-truths, riddles and hints of mysterious omens. Freya sighed - the information was not what she had hoped for, and Isca was starting to lose his patience with the nervously prattling ancient. However, as she rose in resignation to leave her sire to indulge his whims, the Oracle's panicked voice cut across her reverie.

"I can do what you wish, P'ramma. I can send you to Earth!"

Isca's powers of persuasion were evidently having some effect at last, and Freya was more than intrigued by the fact that he should call her by her former Sarafan title.

"You will help us? What do you want in return?"
The Oracle shot a glance at the bared fangs that were hovering inches from his throat. "J- just your guarantee that you will not harm an old hermit," he replied, a pleading look on his face.

Isca released the man reluctantly, urging him to tell them quickly how the shift might be achieved. The Oracle was only to happy to comply.

"There are various nexus points across the length and breadth of Nosgoth and Earth where the two worlds draw close to one another on the ethereal plane. Occasionally these points can be breached."

Freya nodded - she already knew the location of a few: There was one in Uschtenheim, another above the Abyss, one in the cave system where she had met the Blood Demon what seemed like a lifetime ago, and apparently, one in the Razielim Hall.

As though reading her thoughts, the Oracle added, "There is also one here."

"How do we return?" asked Isca, a note of concern tingeing his voice. He had no desire to be marooned on another world, in spite of Nosgoth's current condition.

"Return to the nexus point when you have found Raziel - this charm will open a rift." He added, handing over a small vial. "Now, prepare yourselves."

Freya halted the Oracle before he could proceed with the ritual, her eyes seeking Isca's before pulling him to one side, entreaty marking her attitude.

"Isca, we're going to my world, and there will be times when I will ask you to do things you won't like. I need your assurance that you will do as I say."

Isca's displeasure at her demand was all too clear. "You presume much, 'fledge'. Do not forget who sired whom."

Freya continued undeterred. "This is important, Isca - the rules are different there."

"The rules of combat?"

"The rules of survival. If you do something to make the humans there uneasy, they will not hesitate in calling in the authorities."

"So?"

His nonchalant attitude sparked nightmare visions of the media circus that would inevitably surround the finding of a real live - or rather, undead - vampire on Earth.

"So it's better if we just keep a low profile. Which means no killing," she admonished, waggling her finger as an extra warning.

Isca stuck out his bottom lip in an overt show of petulance.

"Time waits for no man," advised the Oracle with a pointed stare, interrupting the discussion. "You have a destination in mind?"

Freya nodded, and, after she had explained to the Nosgoth-born seer where they wanted to go, the wizened one raised his hands to open the gateway, and the two passed out of the twisted beauty of the Vampire Planet the grime and heat of Earth, the Oracle smiling at their departure.

*

The location in which Isca and Freya now found themselves -an abandoned warehouse on the waterfront- was perfect, and, unlike the majority of the situations in which Freya had found herself immediately after shifting, completely deserted. The woman soon devised a plan which involved the procuring of a pair of long coats to hide their outlandish clothes, the location of a dark hideaway where she could rest undisturbed through the daylight hours, and the discovery of Raziel's whereabouts by means of the Internet. The first two parts of the plan completed successfully, Freya soon found a late-night Web Café from whose windows light was still spilling onto Newport's main street.

The woman indicated their destination to her companion, only to stop in her tracks a moment later with a muttered curse. "We're going to need money."

Isca raised his brows questioningly.

"Currency - to give to the owner in exchange for information." She explained.

"I could charm him," offered the vampire.

Freya gave a humoured chuckle. "I really don't think diplomacy is one of your strong points."

The vampire frowned in annoyance. "Not charm; 'Charm' - the Dark Gift."

"You have that ability?" she asked in surprise.

"Possibly." Seeing her confusion, he added, "When Raziel reaved Turel's soul, he acquired all the vampiric gifts that the bastard had stolen for himself," He paused as Freya stepped closer to him, the memory of Turel's use of his Mutate ability on her vampire friend still horribly vivid. Isca slipped an arm about her shoulders before continuing.

"The Gifts, like all the metamorphic features, are beginning to filter down the bloodline."

Freya shrugged. "Can't hurt to try."

As the pair stepped inside the internet café, the rapid clicking of mice and clacking of keys silenced as Isca's presence made the room seem somehow smaller and a great deal darker. Several people got up and left. The clerk approached from the desk at the back of the room.

"Help you?"

Freya glanced to her left where she perceived that Isca had his claws to his temples, eyes closed in fierce concentration. Sure enough, the clerk's eyes shortly glazed over, the pupils becoming misty and the gaze vacuous. Abruptly, the man turned on his heel, marched straight toward the back of the room and deactivated the light-switch.

Isca broke contact. "I think I need to work on this."

The woman sat down at a nearby terminal, grinning sardonically. A half- hour later, Freya had found the information they sought and she rose to exit the café, passing the good news to her companion as she did so.

"According to this schedule, Raziel's human counterpart will be making an appearance at a Press Conference in three days' time." She informed him, eyes glued to the printout. She stopped short as she found Isca's looming frame blocking the doorway.

"Three days?"

Freya nodded.

"I am to remain on this human-infested planet for three days - with no food?"

Freya poked him in the side with a sarcastic - if appreciative - smile. "I don't think you're going to waste away to nothing in that short a time."

The vampire remained where he was, an unmoving incarnation of menace in the eerie glow of the computer screens. "Quite correct. However, the Thirst may well send me into a killing frenzy before then."

The woman was appalled at the news, even more so because she knew it would affect her too. The moment of tension was broken as a malicious chuckle cut across the silence.

"Fooled you."

The relief Freya felt at his words was tinged by the worrying thought that she still had no idea when her sire was joking. With an annoyed mutter, she pushed past him, seeking the relatively familiar and predictable atmosphere of the outside world. Three days until the Conference, she mused, and all she had to do was keep her companion out of trouble until then. They would be the longest three days of Freya's life.

*

Javier was freaking out. He had never known such dogged pursuit before, and to make matters worse, he had rarely come across a fan who had refused to be placated by the offer of freebies. The woman's latest comment was what worried him most, however, as she seemed to be under the impression that he was 'Nosgoth's saviour'. More than ever before, he regretted his impulsive actions at that long-ago Conference - it had obviously led some of the more deluded lunatics to involve him in their own idiotic fantasies. He began to back away towards his door.

"Well, OK then." He dissembled nervously, "But how about if we talk about this in the morning? I really need to get my head down for a few hours if I'm going to save the planet."

"We've delayed long enough." replied the woman, her companion ascending the steps to stand beside her and adding his concurrence with a heartfelt rumble. "Besides, it's fairly clear you don't believe us."

Javier shrugged and gave a wry smile. "Would you believe you?"

The man now stepped closer to Javier, an unreadable expression on the hollowed curves of his death-pale countenance. "We faced Turel together."

Javier tilted his head, intrigued at last. Turel had not yet been dealt with in the released game.
Seeing that the phrase had some effect, Isca continued, "He had plans to possess Kain as a child, and rule Nosgoth through him. He almost killed the both of us," he added, indicating the woman at his side, "But you defeated him - with her sword."

Javier was staring at him open-mouthed. How could this man know the intricate details of the acid-induced dream that had so influenced the recent years of his life? None of these ideas had even made their way into the scripts yet, so that precluded the possibility that these people had read them on the 'Net. Eyeing the pair closely one final time, he nodded assent.

"Alright. Ten minutes. But either one of you pulls anything funny . . ." He took another glance at the towering figure before him and decided it would be prudent not to finish the threat. Turning once more to his front door, he approached it with a sense of renewed purpose - it would not defeat him in his newly sobered and enlightened state. With a thinly- disguised sneer of impending victory, Javier located the lock at the first attempt and promptly snapped the key.

"Mierda."

*

Two hours and several cups of coffee later, Javier sat with his head in his hands in a massive armchair, his brain whirling and thumping alternately. He was torn between the desire to believe the uncannily convincing story the two had related in the past few hours, and the months of aversion therapy that even now had a powerful hold on his psyche. The woman, Freya, had gone so far as to stick her finger in his fish tank to demonstrate the effects of water on fledgling skin, and had pulled out the remains of a demon-hilted sword to serve as evidence of her companion's story. The man, Isca, by dint of his very stature and temperament, was almost proof enough in himself of the existence of the undead. It was to the presence of the latter that Raziel finally contributed his reawakening. His memories of Nosgoth, suppressed by psychotherapy and yet still an ever-present force, were even now beginning to assert themselves anew in all their nightmarish glory. As he viewed the man's golden eyes and glimpsed the formal Clan regalia that he wore beneath his trenchcoat, Raziel was reminded to the point of final and utter conviction of his ever-present fledge Isca, at whose side he had indeed fought in the last days of his incarceration in the form of the Soul Reaver.

"!Hijo de puta!" He spat, rising to his feet. All those months of psychiatry and he had been telling the truth! Freya glanced up expectantly from where she sat nursing her burnt finger to see that they had at last been successful. He believed.

The youth paused in his pacing, a look of fierce purpose in his eyes. "So how do I get back?"

"We can take you there," replied Freya. She glanced behind her to locate Isca, who was currently growling at an oversized promotional poster of Kain. The vampire returned to the conversation as he saw the two were ready to depart, a sombre, puzzled look furrowing his brows.

"Only one question remains," he began, glancing from Freya to Raziel in turn. "Why are you not a vampire?"

*

Author's Notes

* Ooh! New reviewers! *blinks* Where'd you lot come from? *grins* Nice to see you - do call again.

* Deionarra: You're back! Where you been, girl???