I'm really sorry about the huge delay for this update. What can I say? I think I was just suffering from Almost Finished Fic Syndrome. (You can check out my rant on my LiveJournal if you're so inclined. My username is lunasky. I'd just put in the web address but doing that seems to put story into a formatting nightmare for some reason. *shrugs*)

I just want to give S4L a big thanks for looking this over for me and pestering me every few weeks to remind me that people are still reading this.

Part 18b is already in the works so no more 10 week delay in updates, I promise!

So, here we go! (Don't forget to leave some feedback…it really makes my day!)

Part 18a

Did you write the book of love,
and do you have faith in God above,
Because the Bible tells you so?
And do you believe in Rock and Roll,
can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?



Dawn pursed her lips together angrily. "You want me to do what?"

Sark stood up and started to pace around his living room giving her time to digest all that he had told her. Finally he turned back around towards her, his face earnest. "Don't you think that that is what they always wanted? I know that you never knew your grandfather, but you have to know that Irina loved him very much. Didn't it ever seem to you that something critical was missing in her life? The same with your father? There were too many reasons why they could never be together in life, shouldn't we give them that peace now, when those reasons no longer matter?"

Dawn stood up, unable to hold Sark's glance and walked over to a window; her anger dying slightly because she couldn't deny his words. She knew they were true. She remembered well the haunted look in her father's eyes when he was thinking of her mother. And to a lesser extent she had seen a bitter look of loneliness often in her grandmother's face as well. Could the pinnacle of a quest spanning three generations be resolved so simply?

"Why me? You need my father's blood, not mine." Dawn was surprised at how hollow her voice sounded.

Sark waited until she turned to face him again. "True. I don't need you for your blood. Your mother stole some of your father's blood, the night that they rescued you. Because your father had already been exposed to the virus and then the antidote, his blood already contained the antibodies that the Flute requires. I stored the antibodies and still have them. I think you can use them. Because of your familial relationship, your body shouldn't reject and destroy them. They will supply the power that the Flute needs."

Dawn looked away, again.

It all sounded too simple.

Sark was a killer. She knew that. Her father had always told her how ruthless he was. And she now knew first hand. He had betrayed her. He had tricked her. He had made her fall in love with him.

She looked back into his face, expecting to see the monster that he was, but all she saw was sadness. And she had to force herself to remember that he had lied to her, even if it was only through omissions.

But he claimed that he had actually never spoken a lie to her. How could that be true? How could he be all that she knew he must be, and yet still claim to love her?

Dawn suddenly felt very tired. Her head hurt from thinking and her heart felt heavy in her chest. All she wanted to do was to lie down and give up, even for just a moment. She just wanted a simple moment, where everything wasn't so complicated.

But the silence was weighing down heavy in the air around them.

Dawn suddenly wondered what would happen if she did what he asked? Would Sark then destroy all the Rambaldi artifacts and then her and her family would be free forever? Would all this actually be over then?

Could it actually be that simple?

Would it actually be such a difficult thing to do?

Maybe this whole drama just had to be played out to completion, and then it would be over. There would be nothing left to do. She could bind her family together and give then the peace that they needed and at the same time, give herself peace as well. No more running away. No more hiding. No more lying.

Just peace.

"Fine." Dawn replied quietly, feeling empty inside. "What do I have to do?"

She turned back to Sark, expecting to see his triumphant gaze but instead he looked just as hollow as she felt. And Dawn wondered briefly why this moment didn't hold the happiness that the final victory should for him.

…

Sark opened the door for her and let her slide into the passenger side of his car. She had not spoken to him much since he had outlined to procedure that would have to happen but rather she had pursed her lips tightly together and followed him out the door.

For hours Sark drove through the night and they sat in silence. Dawn watched the scenery change as they drove along the coast, crossing over state lines until they ended up in Maine. And still he drove. Dawn saw the signs pointing to Baxter State Park. In the distance she could see the sun starting to rise over the Appalachian Mountains.

After half an hour, the road began to deteriorate and Dawn saw Mount Katahdin. After some time, they turned off the main road and followed a private road, higher up the mountain. There were no other people in sight but given the early hour of the morning and their remote location it didn't come as too big of a surprise.

"Everything you need is here?" Dawn asked skeptically, turning to him.

Sark nodded. "Yes. But don't worry. I have the very best people at my call. You will be safe."

Dawn tried to ignore his concern and merely looked back out the window. She didn't care too much about her safety any longer. She was just tired. She wanted everything to finally be over.

Finally, Sark pulled over to a small clearing and got out. She didn't wait for him to open the door for her.

As she looked at the small clearing that they were in, she noticed that the mountain still went up a ways, but that the bush was becoming sparser. This clearing was the last good place to camouflage the car. She watched as Sark followed a small trail up the mountain before deciding to follow him.

It didn't take them long to reach his hideout.

A large metal door was built into the side of the mountain, where vehicles could drive in. Sark opened up a smaller door cut inside of the larger one and held it open for her. A guard stood on duty inside and he greeted Sark when they came in.

Sark turned to Dawn. "Let me show you around."

Dawn stopped him by standing firmly in place. "Don't bother," she replied. "Let's just get on with it. We've waited long enough."

"Fine," Sark replied, giving up and turning to the guard. "Radio Dr. Wester and ask him to come here at once."

The guard nodded and complied.

…

That afternoon…


Sark sat in his office, deep within his hideout, staring transfixed at a nondescript spot on the wall. A sharp knock brought him out of his reverie.

"Yes?" Sark answered sharply.

A large burly man opened the door and came inside. He gave Sark a short nod in greeting. "Mr. Sark."

"Hello, Andres. I assume everything was kept in order while I was away?"

Andres nodded. "Yes, Mr. Sark. But there were a few minor problems. I dealt with them appropriately but I still thought you might want to know about them."

Sark nodded and motioned for the man to sit down.

"I had a problem with a few of the men. They had talked to some of the older men and gotten some ideas in their head about the possibilities of Rambaldi's works. It seems they weren't content with just the immortality of youth. I caught them tinkering around with some of the devices so I made an example out of them, but I'm still a little worried. You employ over two hundred people here; their restlessness for results may have spread to others."

"Is the arsenal ok?"

Andres nodded. "Yes. Your most trusted people work there, maintaining the warheads. But I've seen the girl. If she's able to do take her father's blood and use it, then you won't need the energy provided by the nuclear chambers, correct?"

"Correct. But only if the surgery is successful and if her body can use her father's antibodies. That's a lot of ifs. But regardless, I can't afford to have men working for me without something that doesn't ensure their loyalty." Sark opened up his locked safe and pulled out a small radio receiver, no bigger than a quarter. He also took off his watch and snapped the radio receiver into the underside of his watch. A small beep echoed throughout the room, indicating that he had activated it.

"You can let it be known that I am wearing the biometric activator for the warheads. If these fools get any ideas into their thick skulls about pulling any stunts, they should be reminded that if my pulse stops, then theirs will as well. We are sitting on a 200 kiloton nuclear weapon. They'd best be remembering that."

Andres nodded. "Oh, one more thing. I just found out that one of the men deserted, a few hours after you arrived."

Sark raised his eyebrow. "Who?"

"Michiel Reiger. He's an old one. He was left over from your partnership with Sloane."

"Have we ever had any problems with him before?"

Andres shook his head. "No. That's why you decided to keep him. He always did what he was told, with no complaints."

Sark shook his head. "That's strange. So why did he leave today?"

Andres shrugged. "I don't know. But apparently it was after he saw the girl."

Sark clenched his mouth shut angrily. "Did he leave with anything?"

"I don't know. I've already started some men on taking inventory. But with over four hundred pieces in storage…it will take some time before we know."

"Well you have two hours. By then Dawn will be out of surgery and recovering. We will want to start right away. I need to know if this man took off with anything of mine."

Andres nodded and stood up.

Sark watched as he left the office. As the door shut behind him, Sark allowed his fist to clench as he slammed it on his desk. We have come so close…he thought. It's almost all over. I hope this damn fool hasn't stolen anything! I have more important things to be doing than chasing down all these artifacts again.

…

An hour later...


Dawn forced her eyelids open though they still felt heavy. Her throat was dry and ached horribly but as she moved her head to look around, Sark came into her view.

"Relax Dawn, everything is fine. It's done. The flute is yours now. Relax and sleep. The anesthetics will still take a few hours to wear off completely. Sleep now."

Dawn let her eyelids close as she moved her right hand up to her throat, but it was swathed in bandages. She felt Sark take up her hand and hold it gently as unconsciousness claimed her again.

…

Several hours later...

Dawn opened her eyes again. The lights were dim in the room but she could make out David's slumbering form in the armchair next to her bed. He looked so peaceful sleeping that she was almost able to forget exactly why they were here.

She tried to swallow but her throat felt raw and dry, though she was not in as much pain as she thought she would be. Not considering that Dr. Wester had just implanted the Flute into her throat.

It was a part of her now. The power of Rambaldi was inside of her.

She shivered slightly despite the warm blankets overtop of her and it caused Sark to stir. She watched him wake up and she was surprised when the veil of innocence didn't entirely lift from his face. He looked down at her with concern.

"Here, your throat is probably dry, try drinking some water," he helped her sit up and then handed her a small glass.

Dawn tried to sip but the liquid burned her throat and she started coughing. She felt his hands on her back trying to soothe her past her coughing fit until it subsided.

"Ok, well that won't work, I suppose. Let me give you an IV. It will help you feel less thirsty in the mean time. I really want you to sleep for the rest of the day. I know you wanted to start right away, but we can start tomorrow. I'm not going anywhere. We can easily wait another day." Dawn watched as Sark gently inserted the IV into her arm and taped the needle in place. He then picked up her hand and patted it gently.

They sat there for a few minutes in the silence, with him holding her hand.

"I love you Dawn," his said finally, his voice quiet.

Dawn looked away to hide the tears that were starting to form in her eyes. It took her a moment to compose herself and then she turned back. She looked at the sadness in his face and she didn't doubt his words.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice cracked and it caused her throat to ache again. Sark motioned for her to be quiet but she tried again, whispering this time. "Why did you do all this? Why couldn't you have just asked for my help, in the first place?"

She was surprised at how loud her words sounded in the room, but then compared to the silence that followed, the heart beating in her chest sounded loud.

Sark looked down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Because it wasn't just about getting your help. I swear." His voice was equally as soft.

For a moment Dawn thought that she could forgive him, but that moment passes when he continued, his voice becoming slightly harder. "But even if it was, would you have helped me? Honestly? Would you have helped me if you had known everything about me?"

Dawn bit her lip angrily and forced the words out of her aching throat. "You damn the world because they never gave you a chance, but you never gave me a chance either. I might have helped you regardless. I might still have loved you, even knowing who you are. But now I can't. Now you're just another person that I can't trust."

She saw his eyes darken as he stood up and he placed her hand back on the bed. "Then just rest for now, and we'll start first thing in the morning. Then you will be free of me forever, I promise."

He turned quickly and left the room before she had time to say anything more.

As Dawn lay in the darkness, she realized that the IV was helping because she didn't feel as thirsty as she did before. But as she looked around the room, a wave of loneliness hit her, bringing the tears back into her eyes.

She tried to tell herself that she was lonely for her family and that's why she was doing what she was doing. That's why she was lying on this bed, in a room built into the side of a mountain, and crying. She was crying because she missed them. And not because of the hurt look on one man's face.

In fact, she tried very hard to ignore the possibility that the tears streaking down her face were in fact for the man that had just left her. Because she couldn't still love him, with everything he had done. It just wasn't possible. Was it not?

…

Sark slammed the door to his office shut; the sound reverberating around him. She had every right to hate him, he understood that, but it didn't make the dull pain in his chest any easier to bear.

He sat down at his desk and pulled the bottom drawer open so fast that he almost pulled the drawer all the way out. But at least it made reaching for the bottle of scotch at the back, that much easier.

He looked around for a small glass to pour himself a drink with but he didn't see one anywhere and he wasn't in the mood to go looking for it. So he merely opened the bottle and drank straight from it.

And then he remembered why he hated scotch. He hated it because it felt like fire going down his throat and it was bitter and vile and he had always been under the assumption that nobody really liked scotch anyway, they just liked to pretend that they did. That was why he kept a bottle here in his office. So that he could offer it to the people he disliked that had occasion to visit him. It was really just an excuse to feed them poison under the pretension of looking polite.

But he took another drink and slammed the bottle down on the desk.

A knock on the door caused him to take out his pistol but Andres looked unperturbed as opened the door to see it aimed at him.

Sark contemplated shooting him briefly, but he realized that Andres was one of the few people that he trusted marginally and he had information that he currently needed.

"Is the inventory complete?"

Andres shook his head. "No, sir. In fact, we discovered that large parts of the storage room have been trashed making the work harder. But I think that it's likely that he was looking for something. I have people cleaning it up right now and sorting through everything."

Sark picked up the bottle and threw it against the wall. The bottle shattered, spraying the brown liquid everywhere.

"I hate scotch."

"I know, sir."

Andres stood up. "I will have a bottle of '99 Lafleur sent up to your room?"

Sark shook his head. "No, send it to the storage room and send all the workers away. I will go through the mess myself tonight."

Andres pursed his lips together. "Sir, if I may say so, you look like you haven't slept in two days…"

"I haven't slept in three days actually, except for a few hours, but it doesn't matter. I'm going to the storage room now. Make sure that everyone has left. I want to do it alone."

Sark watched as Andres nodded and left. He made sure the door was fully closed before he allowed himself to collapse into his chair. He held his head in his hands and for the first time in perhaps over seventy years, he felt tears forming in his eyes.

He quickly brushed them away and stood up. I'm not doing this here, he thought to himself. Reaching into reserves he never knew he had, Sark steadied himself and then turned and exited his office.

…

Several hours later…

Andres knew his boss; he had been serving him well for over twenty years. And though he had seen Mr. Sark angry on occasion, he had never seen him lose control. But, then he had never seen him frayed around the edges either.

Andres wondered briefly if the latest turn of events was a cause for concern, but then he brushed it aside. Things were moving along, right on schedule.

As he approached the storage room, he paused briefly at the door. If he opened it and Mr. Sark had found what had been taken, he knew that he could easily be on the wrong end of a pistol again, and not necessarily because his boss knew the extent of the deception that had taken place. But if he didn't check in, then he couldn't send his report to his true master. And Andres' true master did not like incomplete reports.

So Andres listened at the door, but he didn't hear any noises. If Mr. Sark was still looking through the artifacts, then at least his temper had died down so that he wasn't throwing them about. This fact alone gave Andres the courage to open the door and brave a quick look around.

In all the time that he had worked for Sark, Andres had seen many strange, wonderful and down right frightening things, but the sight in the storage room scared him more than anything else ever had.

There were boxes and ruined artifacts thrown about haphazardly and entire shelves had been upturned. Priceless works of art, and rusted pieces of antiquity stood cast about or broken but in the center of it all, was Sark. He was passed out, sitting up against a large box, with the bottle of wine by his side. His head was leaning awkwardly against his shoulder and as Andres approached him quietly, he thought he could see the faint tracks of dried tears along his face.

Andres pushed his fear aside and quickly made use of the situation that had presented itself. He quickly moved to Sark's side and found his left wrist. With sure movements, Andres turned off the biosensor that was part of Sark's watch and flinched as the small beep sounded from the sensor. He watched Sark's face for any signs of waking before deciding that it was safe to continue. Andres quickly searched Sark for his weapon but to his disappointment, Sark had come unarmed to the storage room. Andres quickly beat a retreat to the door. His real master would be very happy if he could put a bullet through Sark's head, on top of retrieving the girl, but he had no time to waste. He had to act fast and go back down to his quarters, get his own pistol and come back. Because even without a weapon, he doubted he could take on Sark when he was fully conscious.

As Andres was about to exit he looked back at the sleeping form on the floor and felt his fear return. Mr. Sark had changed since the last time he had seen him, and that was never a good thing. Andres had grown to depend on his boss's stability and cool demeanor. Something was causing him to behave differently and he didn't have time to try and understand what that was. The temper…the tears…it was all very bizarre. And that meant that Andres couldn't quite predict Sark's actions any longer. Hence, the cold knot of fear forming in his stomach.

But this was his chance, and Andres didn't plan on wasting it. So he quickly shut the door and raced to his room to get his weapon.

As fate would have it though, the quiet sound of the door closing was enough destroy Andres' plan, and set the stage that had been prophesized over three hundred years ago.

…

Sark heard the click of the door from somewhere in his alcohol induced daze but it took him a moment to truly understand his surroundings. And as he looked around at the maze of destruction that he had helped contribute to, he felt his anger returning. Thankfully though, at least the self-pity that he had been wallowing was subsided and now all that was left was anger. And a burning desire to be done with it all.

He forced himself up, brushed his pants off and kicked the empty bottle of wine away. Without anymore thought, he stormed out of the room and went to get Dawn. They were going to be done with this right now. No matter what.

…

Dawn stood in the center of the room as Sark stood slightly to her right. "So this will end now then?" she asked quietly.

Sark nodded and finished injecting the small vial into her arm. He removed the needle and wiped her arm with a small cotton swab.

Dawn looked around the room. It was a laboratory, but all of the equipment had been pushed off to the side, leaving a large empty space in the middle.

"Do you remember the instructions that I gave you?" Dawn nodded but Sark continued anyways. "Start with the Summoning Melody that I showed you. It will bring forth all the souls that are linked within the Flute. I assume that they will be visible at that point but at the very least you should be able to feel them through the instrument. Start with your mother and father, they should be the easiest because they are closest to you. I showed you the basic Joining Melody, but somehow you are going to have to incorporate them into it. I'm not sure how, but I suspect it will be obvious to you when the time comes. After it's done, you have the option of releasing them from the Flute, or leaving them bound to it and to you. It's up to you."

Dawn nodded and rubbed the last remaining sleep out of her eyes. She hadn't expected to be forced out of bed so soon, but truthfully, now that she was awake, she was happy to be doing this as soon as possible.

She turned to Sark. "So who will have fulfilled the prophecy then? My grandmother, my mother or myself?" She didn't mean for her voice to sound so hard, but it came out brittle and sharp anyway.

She watched as Sark's forehead twisted in momentary confusion at the change in topic, so she elaborated. "My father told me about the prophecy. It had my mother's face on it. But he also told me my mother looked a lot like my grandmother and that I looked a lot like the both of them. So now tell me, as I am about to bind everyone together, who has fulfilled all the prophecies? And did we ever really have a choice in the matter? Was this all predetermined at the time of our birth?"

Sark sighed and moved closer. "Of course you have a choice in the matter. We all did. But the problem with prophecies is not that they take away your free will, it's that the choice is irrelevant. Your grandmother, your mother and now you will each have fulfilled the prophecy. But each of you did it not because of a choice in the matter but rather because of the tragic flaw within each of you."

Sark raised his hand to stop Dawn from interrupting. His voice grew harder, his anger returning. "The woman here depicted will possess unseen marks. Signs that she will be the one to bring forth my works...bind them with fury; a burning anger. She will render the greatest power unto utter desolation."

"Irina bound everyone together the moment that she confided in William Vaughn or maybe it was the moment that she made her pack with Arvin Sloane. I don't know. But she could never have done anything but. Why? Because she was proud. She knew she was smart enough to outsmart Sloane and all her old Russian bosses. But she was too proud to beg for help. Life would have turned out very differently if she had gone to Jack and told him everything. But that would have involved asking him for help. And Irina was incapable of that. And from what I know of Sydney's and Jack's life after she left them; she caused them a fair bit of desolation. As for Sydney, she bound everyone further onto this path the moment that she stole your father's blood. She spurned his love and let her anger consume her. Sydney had so very much anger in her all the time. Imagine what would have happened instead, if she had allowed Vaughn to help her? If she had remembered that she loved him? But I don't think she even remembered who she was at the end. I remember. I saw the burning anger in her face. She didn't even respond to her name anymore. A lot of good climbing Mount Subasio did her, if she wasn't even herself at the end. Tell me, didn't she cause her fair share of misery by dying?"

"How do you know all this?" Dawn whispered.

Sark shrugged. "I've been in the intelligence business too long and have had too much time on my hands not to put together all that I've seen."

She watched him as he continued his tirade relentlessly. "But you forget that there were two other prophecies as well Dawn. Your father and his father were also in a prophecy. 'This man holds the secret to life and such also the secret of death. Hidden within him lies the code for both, because one cannot exist without the other. Though his blood has been shed for many, for nothing, a single drop of his blood can bring the greatest music to life'. "

"You never knew William Vaughn and neither did I but I think that his sin was probably sloth. He took the easy way out. He killed himself. No work required there. And he got to reap the benefits of being noble. But his blood bound Irina too. If he hadn't died, perhaps she would not have been constrained to the life she was. As for your father…well obviously his fault was lust. Oh, some might call it love, but it doesn't matter which. The point is that your father couldn't recover from the pain of losing Sydney. He obsessed about it. I know. I watched him. He loved her too much and because of that, he was willing to die for it. Hell, willing…he wanted to die, simply so that his body would stop aching for her loss. His blood bound you to the course that you're on and now you're going to bring the music to life."

"But don't forget, I'm not free of this sick web either. 'My heir, the inheritor of my legacy and my would-be redeemer…My greatest prize… He will be a man once marked and yet also the man who will plunge the world into darkness. His very sign will extinguish the light of the world…Weep, weep, weep young children for the ending of an age!' " Sark laughed tightly. "Weep, indeed."

"And so we come to me. I guess you could say that my sin is gluttony is it not? I have done all of this," Sark waved his hand around him, "to indulge in my desire to know love. I've destroyed and conquered all so that I could have a taste of love. But some people are just not meant to know love, don't you think? Shouldn't I be able to live without it? I don't require it to live? Isn't that the definition of gluttony? Desiring things that you don't need to live? But because I did, I have fulfilled my own destiny. I have banished the only light that I ever had from my life. I have succeeded in driving you away. Because you are the light of my world…"

Dawn listened to the silence as Sark paused momentarily. There was so much anger and bitterness between them, but she was helpless to stop him from continuing, even though she knew what was coming next. She didn't want to know what Sark was going to say next, but she was incapable of stopping him.

"As for yourself, well your fault is envy, is it not?" The anger was back in Sark's voice, making it cold and unforgiving. "You've always envied your friends' normal lives and normal families. But mostly you've always envied the love that your father had for your mother. Haven't you? You've envied it and then felt ashamed that you could not inspire that much love within him. Not enough, to keep him alive anyway."

Dawn trembled as he spoke, but he did not pause. "But your sin isn't what's driving you, it's the redemption of your sin. That's why you're doing this and that's why you can't just leave right now. Even knowing everything that I am telling you, though your fault is envy, you are doing this all to try and compensate for it. Unlike the rest of us. You are actually trying to be better than you are. Maybe that's why you're the last key to this puzzle…"

Finally Dawn exploded in anger. "This works out very nicely for you doesn't it? Everyone has their own critical fault that prevented this from turning out exactly the way that it has? Well, you're right about me. You are. I do feel guilty for not being enough of a reason for my father to live, and my grandmother. And I will make it up to them by doing this. Consequences be damned. But you forgot about one sin. You forgot Greed. There are only six of us trapped in these prophecies, but there are seven deadly sins. So you see, it doesn't work out perfectly. And I know how that upsets you. Because maybe that means that this wasn't all meant to work out like this. Maybe it means that we are responsible for our actions even if they are a result of our faults and not directly our choices. Maybe we are accountable for everything that we do! Maybe I am going to fulfill this prophecy now, knowing that I am going to bring great desolation, and that doesn't matter to me. I am going to be doing this consciously and willfully, simply so that I can see it done, once and for all!"

"And maybe, if everyone had been willing to take responsibility for their actions from the beginning, none of this would have been necessary."

Dawn stared at Sark as her anger caused her to shake slightly. But she saw him looking at her sadly.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe we are each responsible for the roles that we've played," he said quietly.

Dawn turned away from him and went to stand in the center of the room alone.

…

Sark stood to the side and let the silence fall between them. Looking at Dawn as she stood alone, trying to compose herself, whatever was left of his heart shattered. He knew the role that he had played to bring her to this point. He also knew that when she found out exactly what he had done, there would be no redemption for him.

He truly had lost her. And when she discovered his role in the death of her father and grandmother…well, she would have every reason in the world to do the same to him.

And then perhaps this tangled web of fate would all be complete.

Sark glanced down at his watch to check the time and froze.

…he will extinguish the light of the world…

But what if Dawn was right? What if they did have a choice in the role that they played? Maybe the rest of the world didn't have to suffer for his mistakes. Maybe…if this was to be his last act, he could in fact still redeem himself, even just a little.

Looking back up at Dawn as she stood in the center of the room, Sark decided to freeze this memory of her forever in his mind.

She was standing with her eyes closed and her head slightly back. Her arms were held out slightly from her body as she stood perfectly still. He was almost surprised at how strong and unafraid she looked. But then, she truly was Irina's granddaughter and Sydney's daughter.

He watched her draw in a deep breath. As she opened her mouth, and a pure, haunting melody rose from her throat, Sark made his decision.

Without taking his eyes off of her, he deactivated the biometric activator on his watch.

...