Come on people and review, I'm beginning to feel unloved. Anyways, enjoy.

Chapter Four:

            Mordred had waited till Ezra, Isaiah and their aides filed out of the room before pulling a dagger and leveling it on Choice's throat. Like his mother, Mordred revered close quarter combat. His knives were stainless steel with a deadly, slow-acting poison (developed by the Dark Prince for his lover) burned unto the blade. It was designed so that even if the victim survived the cut, they would not survive the venom.

It was so much like Mordred was, a combination of the Dark Prince and Jack the Ripper, all of their skills and prowess with none of their inhibitions and faults. He was all at once Silas without pride, Jacqueline without blood lust and Severus without humanity. A child bred like the Coven was bred: completely loyal to the Dark Arts. He had been cared for by some of the Prince's greatest enemies and allies for the distinct purpose of one day bringing about his demise. Jacqueline had allowed him to live because she knew he would be her strongest tool against her and Silas' creation. Silas weaned him on Dark Arts, and it's dealing and how to keep it under a perfect, unmarred mask. Eoin had undertaken his formal training, teaching how to fight the Auror inside of Severus, and that great and sinister teacher known as Imre teaching him how to fight the Prince.

Severus himself had taught Mordred. When he had come of age, Mordred had been sent to Hogwarts where Snape, fresh from Azkaban, had begun teaching the same. Being a Gryffindor, Severus ignored Mordred for the most part- except during class and only then to find fault. His only memories of his father were the cold, short sentences in which Snape addressed him only as Eames. During those days, he had hated Snape, more so then he did now. This great man couldn't recognize his own son? Had Azkaban broken him? Had humanity broken him? It was then Mordred had fully understood his divine crusade in life. He would destroy the man who'd been given the world and threw it away.

"You better have one hell of a good reason for coming here and acting like you're loyal to me." Mordred said quietly, pressing the blade against Choice's neck.  "Last time I saw you, you were trying to kill me. Now, are you brave or just suicidal?"

"I was told to come." Choice whispered. "Imre believed I could be of use to you…"

"You'd do well to befriend Imre right now, my friend. You're going need his death dealing."

"Get your hands off him before you'll end up needing him."

Mordred pulled his hands off Choice as soon as he heard the voice of Imre's guardian. The man entered, followed by Imre Macardit himself. The demon crossed into the room with all the air of barely contained power that made all Death Eaters fear and envy him.

Imre's reputation came like all of the great Death Eaters had, birthed from half-truths and fed by the imagination of those weaker and intimidated by this silver haired magician. It was said that even Eoin Malone, Voldemort's herald and chamberlain, feared Imre's power because he was said to hold the power of life and death in his frail hands. But Imre himself never showed his power, relying rather on any show of strength to be displayed by his guardian. This fallen Auror was never seen without his Master. They said that he was killed and Imre enslaved his soul to serve only the Necromancer. It seemed true too, because despite all his evident power, the Auror never so much as closed a door without Imre's blessing. Only Imre could control him, and only Imre knew the full, devastating truth about him.

"Now, now, Daemon." Imre chided calmly. He reached over and patted the golem's arm. "Mordred was just venting his anger, weren't you?"

"Actually, I was about to kill this traitor."

"Kill him," Radella reminded him, "And you lessen Voldemort's defenses against a mortal death. Imprison him."

            "If you want to protect Lord Voldemort from a mortal death, you'd listen to what Imre is proposing." Choice said, suddenly. He moved and sat on the desk, calmly as if he held all the cards and was controlling the situation. "He's found a way to give Voldemort what he truly desires…"

            "Why would you care what Voldemort wants?" Mordred countered.

            "Because it'll bring Kaiya back."

            "Now, I know he's lost his mind." Mayon spoke up, his hand idly tracing Coven spells unto the air. "No spell can reawaken the dead."

            "Have you learned nothing, Coven?" Imre asked, sitting down in the seat his guardian offered. As he sat, he began to idly twirl his cane between his hands. Mayon began to shift uncomfortably.  "Spells, and spoken incantations are the most rudimentary forms of magic. There is a type and breed older then written or spoken word. You are Coven, you know by merely signing a character of a dead language unto the air you can tap into a greater, consuming power." Mayon was beginning to struggle for air, as Radella and Choice started to shift from the pain they sensed. As the last members of the Coven, the mental bond they felt with each other was stronger then before, letting both feel Mayon's approaching death. "But you…not being naturally born into the power are weak. Fragile."

            Mayon fell to his knees, struggling for air. Radella felt Choice grab her arm for support. Mordred stood entranced- both horrified and awed by this display.

            Imre was still twirling his cane.

            "For years people have tried to tap into the greater depths of magic- through cults and ethnic cleansings…even the Muggles have, with their Hispanic witch doctors and Voodoo priests. " He was saying. "Slytherin himself believed that purity of blood was the key, a principal adopted by Hecate's cult of mystics who call themselves the Kaga- keepers of pure magic and those who would protect it. They're right too. The magic has to be in your blood, in your very make up. To control death, you cannot learn to defeat it. You must be born into it."

            And as if something just occurred to him, Imre looked up- breaking his eye contact with his cane. Mayon collapsed on the floor as air came rushing into his lungs. Choice and Radella both exhaled, and helped him up.

"I have study my craft for years beyond your comprehension." Imre was focused intently on Mordred. "And only now, had I discovered what could make my sorcery complete."

"You've found the key to true immortality?"

"Better, I've found Death incarnate. The ultimate truth, the ultimate evil is made real and corporeal. Think about it, which such a tool Voldemort could control not only this world, but also whatever one lies beyond. Imagine him, not just a lord but a god."

            Mordred couldn't explain the sensation he felt in his soul at Imre's words. He could feel the weight and conviction behind the old man's words and knew in his heart, they were true. Something was being birth in Mordred, something he had never understood or felt before but he knew he couldn't show it. Not yet. "Where do us petty mortals come in?"

"St. Michael has long known of Voldemort's quest for immortality and was wise to learn exactly what Voldemort had. He knew of this tool was bound to be discovered and has spent years trying to discover it before I did. Three days ago, Michael stole it from me and has taken it to where he knows the Death Eaters can't touch it."

"Yet." Choice said, mirroring Mordred's earlier speech.

"Michael has taken the weapon to Hecate?"

"Why not?" Imre said, "With the Kaga there, what better place to secure a weapon of such magnitude?"
            "How did Michael convince Hecate to take it?"

"Michael is an Auror." Choice supplied, simply. He was staring at his hands. "An Auror that Kaiya was very close friends with in later years. He trusts me, I can get to him and find out where the tool is being hid and what are the Aurors doing to try and defeat Voldemort. I can deliver Michael to you."

"Which would be enough to convince the vampires to join you during the final battle." Imre advised, "You need both the vampires and the werewolves if you hope to defeat Hecate, and Hogwarts- the Death Eaters aren't strong enough alone. The werewolves you have, Ezra likes you but the vampires are fiercely loyal to Michael. If you prove to Isaiah you can destroy Michael, then you've proven that you can destroy Hogwarts and Hecate."

"How do we know we can trust him?" Mordred said, jutting his chin towards Choice.

Imre glanced at the prodigal, and smiled. "Because he knows if he betrays me, I can send Kaiya into a hell where he'll never see her again, in any life."

"Are you coming tonight?"

"I might come by later, right now I have killer hangover and something very important I have to take care of."

"Am I allowed to know what it is?"

"No." 

"At least your honest." Hawke said, deciding a change in subject would be better then attempting to butt heads with his counterpart. "Oh, I heard about what happened in the bar, Beckett. What did you think you were doing, calling Alexander the Prince in public? What if you were heard?"

"Everyone in that bar knew the Dark Prince was defeated, Phoenix. The underworld has been talking about nothing else since May. Another thing? That…demon you've got helping us is not Alexander Rouge. Rouge died a hero with his squad."

"Is that what the scene was all about? Merlin, that was almost twenty years ago."

Beckett Stallens stopped in the hall and kept her eyes staring impassively at the space in front of her. Her fists seemed to quiver and eyes swell with a wealth of emotion she refused to release. "And they're still dead."

"It wasn't his fault they died. He couldn't have saved them…"

"No, but he could have at least been there."

"How long will you hold that inside of you? It's destroying you. Don't you see that? This isn't you. You were Kaga once. That has to mean something…"

"Don't look into the abyss too long, Phoenix. It'll consume you." Becka was studying him through lids half-closed with sleep. Her entire body was aching from the booze and work but still her spoke with all the security of a well-dressed counterpart. "Now, tell me why you called me back."

Hawke inhaled sharply and turned to study a window. "Who is this man I've granted asylum to?"

"He is the Dark Prince. A man who made war, not butchery and will serve this army as he has his own."

"But he will not deliver You-Know-Who directly to us, will he?"

"His loyalty is a double edged sword. He will help you but it'll be on his terms. You cannot ask him to betray his personal code of honor." Becka said. "It's all he has left."

"But I can I trust him? My father says yes, but I cannot overlook the doubt in my mind. Snape's been too long out of uniform, and in the shadows. How do I know I can trust the Dark Prince?" He turned to look at Becka again. "Voldemort's prized soldier? Too many people depend on me to fight this war, how can I do that with a Judas on my hands?"

"And now not only do you have me on your hands, but a Potions Master who looks like Bela Lugosi."

Hawked stopped himself, frowning. Before he could say anything, Becka had walked calmly two steps in front of him.  He tilted his head. "You don't believe he's a Judas?"

"I think he's a war profiteer and believer in purity of blood." Becka said, calmly. "But he is no more a traitor to Hecate then you are. I'm the only Judas still alive from those times."

"You've only done what you had too…"

"Why did you call me back?" She countered. The way she folded her arms over her chest and watched him was such that it could always intimidate even an older, stronger man like Hawke. Again, and like it was an ill-fitting robe, she had shed the appearance of sloppiness for almost sage-like stillness, possessing a wealth of power and wisdom unseen through her dim eyes. "Was he the only reason?"

"No." Hawke allowed. He looked at her, trying to see pass this guise as he had the drunkenness and wondering which was the true nature. "Three days ago a group of Muggle Voodoo priests were slaughtered in West Africa. Governor Drame of Arsan Duolai sent three Kaga to investigate. They said it looked like the priests were trying to defend something, something that was stolen."

"If this concerned you, why didn't you ask me to go with them?" She murmured. "I had just come from Africa to England when you called me back. I was only a fireplace away from returning."

"An odd coincidence, don't you think?"

"I believe in coincidences, coincidences happen everyday."

"You said they were practitioners of Voodoo, it means they believed they could conjure the dead." She was staring idly at her hands. "What does the local governments say?"

"The government believes it was mercenaries or drug traffickers, that the Voodoo priests were protecting gold or diamonds. Something easily traded on the black market."

"They were men of faith. They would have had no need for currency."

"Then what were they protecting?"

"Samedi."

Hawke stopped, and watched as the woman continued ahead of him, towards the private wing of the Kaga Companions. She was going to see the head of the Kaga Order, in regards to whatever she had discovered in Africa. He knew she had discovered something, he could see it in her eyes. They held the passion only felt when someone embraced a cause worth dying for. It was something he had not seen in that woman for many years.

She had was been the Companion of a powerful Auror once, before she was shamed and went into a self-imposed exile. Upon returning she had done her duty with none of her former conviction.

Odd, that she would find it again in death, Hawke thought to himself. He turned and continued to his home.