Renfro whistled loudly as they stepped back into the sunshine on Figeroa Street. "Whoo boy! Can ya believe that one, Sam? Dacron daggers, yet. No wonder they kicked her off the force."

Blinking at the brightness of the sun, Gerard glanced back up at the windows of Lockley's office. The blinds were wide open. He filed that away, along with the feeling that was just one more piece of useful information about the woman. They were definitely going to talk again soon. "I'd like a little background on Kate Lockley, Cosmo. Why don't you go ask around and meet me back at the hotel?"

Renfro's eyes narrowed suspiciously, as he reached into his pocket for a pair of sunglasses. Slipping them on, he asked, "You're getting rid of me? Why? You're not thinking of going back up there and tryin' to sweet-talk her, are you?"

Gerard's face creased into an easy grin while his mind raced. He knew where he was going next and it would be easier alone. "Would I do that?"

"You would, if you were able to," Renfro shot back. "I wouldn't try it if I were you."

"Not gonna. I've got other plans."

"Such as?"

"Oh, you know, catching some sun, finding out if there really is a Dagger of D'akkronn, that kind of thing."

Snorting, Renfro shook his head. "You're not gonna waste your time with that, are you?"

"She seemed to believe it."

"She also had a wooden stake on her desk. You gonna start lookin' for Dracula, too?"

Gerard fought back a wince. He'd noticed the stake, too, not to mention crucifixes over the door and windows, and one around Lockley's neck. "Just get me that background, will you?"

Renfro bared his teeth in an imitation of a vampire. A very bad imitation. "I vill get your background and maybe I suck your blood, too."

"Knock it off, Cosmo." He made a mental note never to send Renfro in undercover if this was the best he could do.

"It was a stake, Sam, and she didn't look like the type who likes to go camping, either." At Gerard's scowl, Renfro stepped to the curb to hail a cab. "Okay, okay, I'm going."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This is very nice." The clerk peered over his glasses at Gerard, watery grey eyes broadcasting his interest in the dagger. In the background, Muzak played softly, while other clerks examined other items brought in by people who hoped they had a priceless treasure instead of worthless junk. "Where did you get it?"

"The where's not really important, is it?" Sam flashed his I'm-just-a-civilian-and-not-too-bright grin at the auction house clerk. It would be easier if he could pass for another hopeful, rather than explain the dagger or its recent history. "Could be I just found it in my attic, know what I mean? I'd like to know if it's worth anything."

The clerk blinked and then lifted his head to look Gerard fully in the face. "Well, of course it's worth something. This hilt is gold and these stones, semiprecious though they may be, are flawless. I'd estimate the age at Twelfth Century."

Now that was interesting. Odd enough that the weapon wasn't your run of the mill jailhouse shiv, Gerard mused, but for it to turn out to be a Twelfth Century antique... "What else can you tell me about it?"

Blinking slowly, the clerk's grey eyes seemed less watery. "You're in the wrong place, detective."

Damn. So much for the just-a-civilian grin. With a sigh, Gerard produced his badge, confirming his identity for the clerk. "Why am I in the wrong place?"

"Ah...so I was right...you are in law enforcement." The clerk bared a grin of his own. "Weatherby's doesn't deal in this kind of antiquity, you see. You need...a specialist. It just so happens I know such a specialist."

This case and the people he was meeting working it just kept getting weirder. "What makes my dagger different than, say, the one on the wall behind you?"

"You'll find out, detective. Certainly, you will."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later, Gerard was standing in front of the address the Weatherby's clerk had given him. Looking around, he double-checked it. The beaten up store-front declared the place to be a pawn shop, rather than a dealer in antiquities. At least the name was right. Kober's.

He stepped inside the door, a bell ringing to announce his presence. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked around for Kober or anyone else. The shop seemed to be deserted. The counter display case was filled with hunting knives, a few Walkmans and some cheap-looking jewelry.

"You must be the detective," rumbled a voice to his right.

Gerard whirled. He always checked the corners and it wasn't like him to miss a guy this big. "Kober?"

"That's me." Kober was easily six-five, with a pockmarked face, thick lips and eyes Gerard thought were brown but then suddenly seemed yellow, like a cat's. He held out a hand, fingers flicking impatiently. "Let's see it."

It wasn't procedure, really, to open the evidence bag, but Gerard did it anyway.

Kober closed his eyes and lifted the blade to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Oh, this is....yes....a treasure....I can smell her blood on it."

Okay, Gerard told himself, this was obviously some kind of nutcase, but he'd go with it for now. "Can you?"

Opening his eyes – and this time Gerard was sure they were yellow before they morphed back into a normal-looking brown – Kober nodded. "The Dagger of D'akkronn. Do you know its story, Detective?"

"It's Deputy, actually," Gerard corrected him. "And no, but I'd love to, if you've got the time."

"D'akkronn was the leader of the Arnokk Clan, which was based in China. It was there the Slayer was called. She was powerful, this Slayer, and killed most of the Clan. D'akkronn decided to make war on the Slayer and so had this dagger made. He called up upon the Old Ones and had it blessed with dark magicks." Kober sniffed the blade again, reverently. "He killed her with it. Another was called and she vanquished D'akkronn and so the blade was lost. Or so it was believed."

Gerard knew he was going to regret asking, but he did it anyway. "What's a slayer?"

"You don't know." Kober set the dagger down onto the glass counter and leaned down to peer at Gerard more closely. "You held this blade in your hands and you don't feel its power, do you?"

"Not really," Gerard admitted. "It's just a knife."

"No!" The word thundered in the small shop. "It is not just a knife. This blade was called again into service when the First Evil declared war on the lineage of the Slayers. This was intended for the dark one. Faith."

There it was. The connection. It didn't mean a damned thing to him, not yet, but whatever Kober was trying to tell him was a piece of the puzzle. "You know her?"

"If I knew her, I wouldn't be standing in front of you." Kober's face creased into a pitying look. "You have no idea what walks this earth, do you, Deputy? Tell me, Deputy, have you ever seen evil?"

"I –"

"Of course you haven't. You've seen human approximations but you don't know." Reaching for the dagger, Kober held it out to Gerard. "This isn't your fight, Deputy. Go back into the light and forget what you've learned today."

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of hearing that."

Kober's eyes blazed yellow and this time Gerard was sure it wasn't a trick of the light. The man's entire face seemed to change and where there were once teeth, now there were fangs. Kober, if that's what this thing was, growled.

Gerard took a step back and eased a hand towards his gun.

"I could rip out your still-beating heart out of your chest and eat it in front of you before you could reach for that gun, Deputy," Kober rumbled. "Even if you could reach it in time, a bullet won't stop me."

Swallowing at the sight before him, Gerard's fingers rested on his gun. "So what are we gonna do here, Kober?"

"We?" Kober seemed to shrink and his eyes were a normal brown again. He thrust the dagger at Gerard. "We're doing nothing, friend. You're leaving."

As Gerard took the dagger, he noticed Kober's hand for the first time. It looked like a claw.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I want answers."

Kate Lockley raised an eyebrow at Gerard as he slammed her office door shut behind him. "It seems to me like you got some already, Gerard, but you don't know what to do with them."

The man was clearly agitated as he started to pace and despite herself, Kate felt a little sorry for him. She got up, pour him a cup of coffee and handed it to him.

He sipped it slowly and peered at her over the rim. "Are we going to have a conversation now or are you going to get all cryptic and throw me out again?"

And just like that, he went from bulldog to hangdog. Kate sighed and wondered if she was going soft or just wanted somebody normal that she could talk to again. "What did you find out, Gerard?"

"Call me Sam and I'll tell you."

"You've got a deal. Sam."

A few minutes later, Kate listened to him finish telling what she was sure was an abbreviated version of what really happened. He looked at her, his brown eyes weary and said, rather than asked, "You know about this stuff, don't you? Slayers and first evils."

"I know a little something about it," she admitted, refilling his cup. "The question is, Sam, do you want to know about it? Think before you answer because if it's yes, everything changes. Everything you think you know, everything you think you understand. Are you ready for your colleagues to start calling you Mulder?"

"You really believe this stuff, don't you?" Sam asked, while his eyes searched hers. She was sure he was looking for evidence that she was crazy.

"I do," Kate admitted. "And so will you, but there's a price. Once you know what I know, you can't go back. Ever. So ask yourself if it's worth that price. Look at me and ask yourself if you could handle having it happen to you."

Even before he opened his mouth, she knew what the answer was going to be.