A/N Hi, here is the next chapter. It was pretty much ready yesterday but I wanted to fix it up before posting. I don't know when the next will be done as I am working on a couple things one of which is another story (not CA related).

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Cartusu paced his cluttered small one room apartment in the Woodford area of London. It wasn't cheep to live there but it was away from the bustling temptation of the humanity that was downtown. The crowds of people bumping into one another on the streets, squeezed together in the underground, the delicious scent of their fears and desires pouring off of them. Sometimes he had the urge to kill not to relieve his own hunger but to put the poor mortals out of their misery. The wider spaces of Woodford gave him a respite.

"When will she be here?" he asked himself. "Patience, Anatoly," he responded. He still thought of himself as his last incarnation. He had been Anatoly Florescu for seventy years before the body wore out at its age of ninety two. After seventy years of being someone else it was hard to get used to the broad pudgy face that now stared back at him every morning. Sighing he sat in the battered arm chair. He wished he would have taken his time before choosing this vessel. He had been so desperate when the body had suffered a stroke he grabbed the first one to come along. Mustering up all the strength he had he took the orderly who came to change the wet sheets he was laying on; dank with urine from his then uncontrollable bladder. Unfortunately the young man, Peter Cartusu didn't even realize he had cancer and advanced cancer at that and neither did he until the second before the exchange was complete.

Smiling to himself he remembered the look in the eyes of the incapacitated body of Anatoly Florescu, the shocked look of the soul of Peter Cartusu trapped in the shell. If he could have he would have gladly sucked the fear that came off the old man in waves into himself but that would have been dangerous. Now he needed a new host. The lives he took from the women kept the cancer at bay but it was impossible to stop but he found a new vessel and quite by accident. Oh and she was delightful. Really he hadn't wanted to be a female again. Too many problems; pregnancy and menstruation to name two; of course modern science had seemed to make those things more bearable. He still he hated being petite and weak but the angel. "What a wonderful name for her," he thought. "She will be my saviour." She was strong; he had seen that the way she resisted him at in the garden, letting him think she was dead yet springing to life. One day, maybe once she arrived even, he would tell her how grand he found that.

No, he wouldn't tell her that until he took her and he wasn't ready for that yet. She was too much fun to play with. He was the cat and she was the mouse. Then he corrected himself she wasn't a mouse, mice are too tiny, no she was a rat; smart and strong. He would help her find the man she called Anthony only in her own mind and never out loud. Then he would take her and enjoy as she watched what she thought would make her happy become lost to her again.

The man, Anthony, he worried Cartusu. There was something about him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He had seen in Dylan's dreams the man had no fear. There was no one who had no fear. Fear is what made mortals who they are because all fears came down to one thing, fear of death. Whether it was fear of the dark, fear of heights, fear of spiders, or something else why were people afraid? Because their true fear was that those things could harm them and place them face to face with the Grim Reaper himself. "Ah Dylan, come to me and we will find your friend and I will make him afraid. I will make him very afraid."

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Alex, Natalie and Bosley stepped out from the police station into the mid- morning sun. They hadn't discussed Dylan's behavior in the cab ride over because none of them were sure just what to say. "I just don't know what has gotten into Dylan," sighed the brunette shielding her eyes with her hand.

"I know what you mean, she has never been physically violent towards anyone before," said Natalie then she added, "with out just cause anyway. Do you really think its just stress?"

"She has been stressed before and it hasn't been like this. Plus she passed the last physical and psychological with flying colors," said Bosley. After Madison Lee jeopardized the agency when she was an angel Charlie had initiated semi-annual physicals and psychological tests given by the best physicians and mental health professionals in California. "In fact she showed up more stable than any of us. I know I'm not supposed to talk about it but seeing I had to file the reports I happened to see the tests. Hell I thought that one inkblot was shaped like a potato. Apparently that means that I have some weird sort of .." He faded off as he noticed the women giving him odd looks. "Anyway she seemed fine until yesterday."

"You know. I was going to go by this address that the Inspector gave us for Cartusu and ask him some more questions. Maybe he will give us a clue as to what is wrong with Dylan," said Natalie.

"That's a good idea. I'm going to go by the last place he worked; according to this it was Cromwell Hospital. It's not far from here. Bos, maybe you could go back to the hotel and check on Dylan?" asked Alex.

He responded by giving a small salute, "No prob." With that the three of them separated each hoping to stop a killer and to discover why Dylan was acting strangely.

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Natalie took the underground from Charing Cross station to Green Park where she transferred to the Piccadilly Line and headed towards the address in Hounslow. In the Green Park station however she became a bit distracted by buskers in the tunnel. The men were of Caribbean decent and played steel drums, the rhythm of which went right to Natalie's hips. "Yo mon, look at the white girl!" called one with a knit hat pulled down so far only the tips of his dreadlocks showed. "Dance to the island beat," called the other. The men hadn't been making much only a few pence lay in the bowl at their feet, until the angel joined them. Suddenly a crowd gathered around the street musicians and the lithe dancing blonde. It wasn't long before money including pound notes began flowing over the bowl.

As the song ended Natalie placed her hand to her pounding heat and laughed. It felt good, she felt good. "Thanks guys, that was great."

"No don't go. We give you a third of what we make," said the one with dreads.

"I've got to go to work. Thanks though," she said. As the airpressure changed with the coming of the train down the tube, "Oops there's my train." With that she took off down the tunnel to the platform.

"Come back again soon," said the other and then turned to his friend, "That girl got a lot of style." Then picked up the mallet and began playing again.

Natalie enjoyed the ride toward Hounslow. It wasn't as long as she expected and the walk to the address she had was pleasant enough. As she opened the gate leading up to the rickety house a dog barked. She heard the sound of a woman's voice yelling at it. Putting her biggest smiled on she knocked on the door.

"Just a minute," called the woman from inside. A few seconds later a small hunched silver haired woman with a crooked nose opened the door. "Yes?" she asked peeking out from behind the chain.

"Hi, my name is Natalie Cook. I'm with Townsend Investigations in Los Angeles. We're assisting Scotland Yard with a case. Would it be possible for me to speak to Peter Cartusu?"

The old woman took in the perky blonde and unlatched the door. "I'm sorry Miss."

"Cook," said Natalie filling in the blank.

"I'm sorry Ms. Cook but my son doesn't live here anymore," said the woman as she attempted to close the door.

The news that Peter Cartusu no longer lived there had thrown her off. Sticking out her foot to stop it from shutting surprised the angel said, "This is the address that he gave Scotland Yard yesterday."

"Is he in trouble?"

"He was arrested but the charges were dropped I just wanted to ask him a few more questions."

"Come inside." Mrs. Cartusu opened the door wider and stepped back so Natalie could enter. Inside was dark and cool compared to the warm sunshine outside. "I knew that Peter would get into trouble sooner or later," she said with a thick accent. "What was he arrested for?"

"Attempted murder."

"Murder?"

"Yes, but as I said the charges were dropped."

"Arrest him. He did it," said the woman with certainty. "You look surprised that I, his own mother could say that. Come with me into the living room and I will explain." Thanking her Natalie followed her into the room which hosted flowered furniture dressed in plastic slip covers. "Please have a seat." Mrs. Cartusu opened the curtains and let the sun in. It gave the room an entirely different, less eerie appearance.

Natalie lowered herself onto the plastic covered couch as her host walked over to the mantel piece and took a small framed photograph off. Handing it to the angel she said, "Well Peter. He was a good boy. Made good grades, went to a good school became a doctor. No, not a doctor what is that called that he does?" She tapped her finger tip to her chin as she searched for the word.

"An orderly?" asked Natalie.

"Yes! That's it an orderly. I never understood what they did but he liked helping people. Then one day he changed."

The angels scooted forward on the couch and asked, "Changed how?"

"He wasn't my son any more. When he talked he sounded like him but if you looked in his eyes it wasn't him. I don't like telling people about this because they don't believe me. They call me a crazy woman but I am not. I am not!"

"Shhh." Natalie tried to calm Mrs. Cartusu down. "It's okay I believe you. So you looked in his eyes and he wasn't himself? Was he on drugs?" It was a possibility. Natalie knew that sometimes it happened in environments such as the hospital where drugs were readily available.

"I wish it were drugs. I didn't think it was possible here. Maybe in the old country but not here but I suppose their evil knows no bounds."

"Who's evil? Mafia? Drug lords?"

"You aren't listening," yelled the woman getting more excited. "It has nothing to do with drugs except maybe the drug of power. They like wielding it over us, the common man like kings and emperors. They are a family a family that kills. They call it survival but I call it damnation."

She was becoming more confused. "Can you tell me who they are?"

"Of course Ms. Cook, they are around you. You won't see them but they come and take what they want." Then she leaned over so closely that Natalie could smell the coffee that Mrs.Cartusu had finished drinking before she opened the door. "Vampires."

"Vampires?" She wasn't sure what to think. The woman believed that her son was a vampire. The man they had assisted in arresting the day before didn't look like a vampire. He had a healthy pallor and was out during the day. She even recalled seeing his reflection in the door of the police car.

"Not like Hollywood makes them out to be. Not like that man.Mr. Stoker, the one who wrote that silly book about a so called Count Dracula. Nothing like the real man. The author should have done research before writing that. They don't drink blood." suddenly she became very quiet. "I can't tell you more or he will know."

"Who will know? Your son?"

"My son is dead. The one who inhabits his body now will know. Peter's father tried to stop him and lost his life in the process. I cannot tell you more other than arrest the man. It won't stop him. They can only be stop." the woman stopped again and grab her heart.

"Mrs. Catusu are you okay," asked Natalie as she sprung off the couch to kneel next to the old woman. When she didn't answer Natalie went to look for a phone and found one in the kitchen. Quickly she dialed 999, "Hello yes I need an ambulance right away." She gave the operator the address and stayed at the old woman's side until it arrived.

"It will be okay. I've called an ambulance." Then she proceeded to talk calmly to the woman about things other than her son. She didn't want Mrs. Cartusu becoming more upset that she obviously already was.

As the door flew open and the paramedics entered, "Take this," groaned Mrs. Cartusu in pain. "It will protect you." With her left hand she thrust an object into Natalie's hand. The angel looked at what she had been given. In the palm of her hand was a medallion like the one that both the Thin Man and Max wore and she wondered why this case was becoming so strange.