1 Author's pre-note: so, here we are again! Of course, I would to thank each and every one of you that reviewed my story. In the famous words of Irish Evil Eyes . . . reviews are motivating! And it's true! So thank you, all of you! Your kind reviews mean so much to me. Sorry if I haven't been posting more chapters lately. RL's been kinda hard on me lately. Plus, I've been working on a Lost World/Lord of the Rings crossover that I started last December. I'm a HUGE fan of LOTR just as much as I am of TLW . . . I thought it would be interesting. So hopefully, that'll be posted here soon (my second fanfic . . . yaaay, go me!). Anyways, on with chapter seven!



2

3

4 Chapter Seven—The Night Stalker

John Roxton gulped as the colour flushed from his face. He stood silently staring down at Marguerite, his mouth open, taking in deep heavy breaths.

Marguerite worriedly looked into his face. "John. . . ?" she whispered, holding up a shaky hand to touch his cheek. "John . . . for God's sake, please, say something!" His silence was beginning to panic her. What if he hates me now? She asked in her mind, what will I do? I can't raise a child by myself! What is this going to do to me?! She closed her eyes. Calm down, Marguerite. Remember what Challenger said . . . John loves you. You love John. John loves you. You love John. . . .

Challenger, Veronica, and Malone all stood across the room, staring at the couple in bewilderment, their breaths all held. They silently waited for a response. Truthfully, they had no clue what Roxton was going to do or say. Marguerite's declaration (at least to Malone and Veronica) had been a complete surprise for them, and had all knocked them off their feet, practically. Slowly, they all turned their attention to Roxton.

The hunter was the most surprised of all. He didn't know what to say, and he didn't know what to think. All he knew was that a strange sensation had begun to stir deep inside of him. The sensation began to build and rise up, driving him to the brink of insanity. It bubbled and fizzed, and then completely erupted inside of him . . . causing his straight lips to bend into a huge smile. His dark eyes sparkled, as he took in a deep breath and laughed joyfully. "Oh, Marguerite!" he cried, and gathered her into his arms and whirled her around in excitement.

"John!" Marguerite laughed. Once again, her eyes began to tear, and soon enough, she was crying happily. As soon as she saw the smile on Roxton's face, her worries and doubt had entirely cleared from her mind.

Malone let out a sigh of relief, as did Veronica. Challenger just stood there, smiling knowingly, and watching the couple kiss passionately. He had to admit, he wasn't entirely

sure of what Roxton's reaction would be, but . . . he knew it would come out for the best. He was so happy, especially for Marguerite; that afternoon had really brought them closer together, in a father-daughter relationship sort of way.

Marguerite broke her kiss with Roxton to turn and glance happily at the others. She ran towards Challenger, who welcomed her with open arms and wrapped her in a gentle embrace. "Marguerite," he said, "you worried for nothing!" He laughed. "Congratulations, my dear!"

"Yeah, congratulations!" Malone said, smiling and shaking Roxton by the hand. "You know, that's the second time I've said that! Are you two planning to drop any more surprises on us, here?" He laughed and slapped Roxton on the back.

Veronica was simply overjoyed. She was also teary-eyed, much to her embarrassment. She laughed and pulled Marguerite into a hug. "I don't know what to say!" she cried, "except that . . . I'm so happy for you!" She and Marguerite giggled like little girls.

Veronica turned to Roxton and also strangled him with a hug. "Roxton . . . congratulations!" she said, and with a twinkle in her eye, added, "way to go, dad."

"Dad?" Roxton asked. He looked up and smiled, as if trying it on for size. "Dad. I like the sound of that." He took Marguerite's hand in his and kissed it lightly.



Later that night. . . .



Marguerite blew out the match she had used to light a few candles in her room with. A small line of gray smoke hovered in the air. She suddenly shivered; she was only wearing her silky, white, sleeveless nightgown. Plus, the cool night air that blew in from outside had filled the room.

The cold feeling suddenly disappeared, as she felt Roxton's warm hands on her shoulders. They caressed her smooth, creamy skin for a while, and then ran down her arms. "Are you cold?" he whispered in her ear.

"Mmm," Marguerite sighed, turning around to face her hunter. She smiled seductively. "Not anymore." She leaned over and planted a small kiss on his lips. She broke away, her face suddenly turning straight.

"Marguerite?" Roxton frowned. "What is it?" He sat her on the bed beside him.

"You scared me today, when you didn't say anything to me after I told you my news." She titled her head, her dark locks falling down her back. "Why?"

"Marguerite," Roxton raised his callused hand and ran it down Marguerite's soft cheek, "I'm sorry if I scared you. I was just trying to get used to the idea that I'm going to be . . . a daddy soon." He smiled softly. "But truthfully, Marguerite . . . I'm so happy. I really am." He put a hand on Marguerite's abdomen. "I love you. And I love our child, even as it grows inside of you."

"Oh John." The seriousness from Marguerite's face vanished, as she smiled. "I love you too." She paused. "The both of you."

They kissed again. Cold wind blew inside the bedroom, causing one of the candle's flame to flicker on and off. Slowly, it began to rain. Cold drops fell from the skies.

But nothing could stop the warmness in that room now. Well . . . except maybe one thing, had they been aware of it:

They were being watched.

Outside, way down below at the floor of the treehouse, a person stood in the rain, soaking wet. He watched in amusement as Marguerite and John kissed and embraced zealously.

So, he thought, Lord John Roxton had found a lover. A lover who was pregnant with his child, yet. Oh yes . . . he had heard the conversations going on that afternoon. After all, he had been below the balcony, listening into the discussion between the woman and the scientist earlier. All of this was useful information. He needed this information, and more that had yet to come.

The stranger cocked the rifle he was carrying. Oh, how he wanted to storm up there, burst into that bedroom, and shoot Roxton right in the chest, all the while amusing himself at seeing the dumbfounded and angry look on his face. He raised the rifle and aimed it into the window, where the hunter's head was in clear view. . . .

But no.

No . . . he was going to wait. Much more preparation had yet to be done. Everything must go according to his plan.

But what was his plan?

The answer was simple: to murder John Roxton and get his revenge.

The stranger smiled once again, and let out a short laugh. Satisfied, he lowered the rifle, slung it over his back, and crept away.

But he would be back . . . soon.