Author's Note: Wow, that last chapter was longer than I thought it was going to be. I had planned to put the first POV from this chapter into that one as well, but it was far too long, and people might not have had the time, or the attention span for that amount XD Hope you enjoy this one.

Marcus Lazarus: Thanks very much about the battle scenes, and about the look into Zariel's head.

Mrs. Mina Harker: Heh, don't worry; I'll elaborate on Ezekiel and Mina…

LotRseer3350: Aren't mysterious third parties fun…?

BloodMoonLycan: Squee – thankies for the review, buddy! XD

Ceru S: Thanks! Glad you liked it all; that makes me a happy little author :)

Sholto: O.O ZOOEE! Great to hear from you! Squeee! XD I actually did that out loud when I saw who it was, hehehehehehe. Thanks so much for the review! Glad you like it :D

And now for the next chapter of Eternal Midnight…

Tilting the barrel of the old hunting rifle away from his eyes, he stared intently as he saw the werewolf collapse backwards, body slumping in a way that screamed his losing consciousness. With a grin, Donovan waved a hand to his men, indicating to the downed supernatural pair who lay motionless on the rooftop a handful of buildings away. Shouldering the powerful rifle, he shrugged, balancing the weight easily before he followed to the fire escape. He could hear the roar of the large vehicles on the street below, and made his way quickly and swiftly down the metal steps to the sidewalk, where he hopped up onto the side of the first truck. It moved forward immediately as he did so, and he clung to the wing mirror with ease as it drove.

It took them only a collection of moments before they were pulling up next to the building where Masters had successfully tranquilised the vampire and the werewolf – Harker and Exuro, as they had been called. Donovan started silently issuing orders with swift and precise hand signals, and the soldiers leapt into action, heading up the building using both the internal access and the fire escape up its side, in order to get to the roof. Of course, a chopper would have been more convenient, but it would have attracted far too much attention, and the containers wouldn't have fit.

He had estimated the drugs would take effect for fifteen minutes with each dose he had pumped into them respectively. The vampire would be down for about half an hour, and the werewolf double that. Donovan had ensured he hit the wolf with twice the dose in order to rest assured that he would knock him out cold and definitely. He didn't trust the drugs – no matter how powerful they were supposed to be – to work too well on him for too long.

Sprinting up the steps after shoving the rifle into the hands of one of the drivers, he made it to the roof as the men were retrieving their targets. Their bodies were limp, and the werewolf's head lolled to one side, his hair tumbling across his face messily, as with the vampire's. The men, naturally, had more trouble shouldering the weight of the lycanthrope than the vampire, given his subtle bulk, but with a harsh gaze from Donovan, they were soon heaving him up all the way from the floor, and carrying him off the roof. Those with the vampire weren't far behind, and Donovan gazed around quickly to ensure the other creatures were nowhere to be seen. The last thing they needed was to have been noticed by them.

Confident that they hadn't been spotted, he bounded down the steps after those carrying the werewolf and vampire, and supervised the loading into the containers. The vampire in one; the werewolf in the other. Time was ticking away, and the longer the loading took, the less time they had to get them back to base before they regained awareness. Donovan wanted to be back in the grounds of headquarters before they were too conscious. He had a sneaking suspicion the wolf would need dosing again, even in removal from the container; in fact, it would probably be best to hit him again before even unfastening the door, which was locking as he stood there pensively. Seven bolts slid heavily and creakingly across the portal that gave the werewolf freedom, and shut out the light, save for ten small aerating slits down each side of the metal containers. He was going to have trouble with him… Donovan knew he would.

The vampire seemed like she wouldn't prove to be too much trouble. After all, her behaviour had been exactly as they had predicted so far. The blood they had lured her away with had worked like a charm, and had successfully attracted her attention. They were lucky the other two vampires had ignored the pull of its appealing scent.

As the second door clanged heavily closed, Donovan nodded approvingly to all the men, telling them silently that they had done well, before he climbed into the passenger seat of the first truck, reclaiming his trusty rifle, and signalling to the driver that they get underway.

Larson would be pleased, no doubt.

In the midst of the combat, Illyria had made her way quickly back to her lover's side, dodging the six raging werewolves as they fought and tore at one another, intending to slash the throats to the ground and spill blood as generously as possible. She couldn't believe her eyes; she had seen Zariel fight before, but… never had she seen a sight so vicious. It was carnage, in its purest form; raw and intent, all clawed and fanged and primal.

Dark eyes scanned the scene as she and Ezekiel crouched up on the level of a fire escape closest to the ground and aide should they need to supply it, and furrowed her light, feminine brow, turning her head to her lover without tearing her gaze from where she had last seen a certain fighting pair.

"Love," she began in a smooth whisper, calling his attention instantly, "where is Mina Harker? And the wolf, Exuro?"

Ezekiel followed her gaze immediately and exactly, coming to the same realisation she had. They were gone. There was only a silver dagger on the ground to attest to the fact that they had ever been there at all… the vampire and werewolf themselves were nowhere in sight.

Ezekiel looked unsettled, and at once, he stood on the railing of the fire escape, and held his fingers to his lips, letting loose with a sharp and loud whistle that succeeded in ironically attracting the attention of all the scrapping lycanthropes.

For their part, Gladius and Zariel halted with fangs bared just inches from one another's throats; Dmitri had Lacertus pinned powerfully against a wall; and Falx was climbing back to her feet with a bloody nose from a blow Anise had dealt.

"I don't know if any of you have noticed in your fits of rage, but we're missing our respective leaders," he called over the group of combatants, not too unlike an announcer at a fight. "I'd say that's a problem for all of us, Quattuor or not. Maybe we should stop tearing each other's throats out and make sure they're all right? Hmm?"

Illyria smiled at the respect her lover's voice commanded so effortlessly, and rewarded him with a kiss filled with discreet passion and warmth as they crouched gracefully on their shared perch. Together, they watched as the wolves reluctantly backed down from one another, skulking off into individual shadowed corners and alcoves to redress and make themselves presentable. The two vampires waited silently until this was achieved, and all six werewolves reappeared in human forms, clothed and much neater. Lacertus was pulling on his boots with a glare aimed at Dmitri, with blood down one side of his face. Falx wiped her hand across her upper lip, removing it of blood also, and Zariel was rubbing the back of his head with a scowl aimed at Gladius.

"That's more like it," Ezekiel murmured. With a glance to each in turn, he said, "Now… let's see if we can find our friends, shall we? Anise, you might want to claim that dagger Mina dropped. We wouldn't want someone finding it, would we?" With that, he and Illyria burst into twin flocks of bats which mingled flirtatiously for a moment before swarming up to the rooftops. With a melody of growls, the werewolves bounded up the walls after them, and stayed behind them, running agilely over the buildings to try and find any trace of their wayward leaders.

With a light groan and – to coin an English phrase – a cracking headache, Mina rolled over onto her back, wincing at the movement from beneath her. She could hear and feel the motion of a vehicle, and as she looked around blurrily with swimming vision, she recognised… very little. In fact, she could see only slithers of light, and when her stomach promised not to empty on her, she claimed her footing, and tried to see outside the holes, finding they were big enough for her to poke some of her hand through, but not without risking the sharp edges. She managed to cut her palm on the surface, and hissed slightly, pulling back and actually sucking on the wound to stop the flow. The cut healed quickly, and she resorted to simply gazing out and trying to recognise anything.

She had seen only brief glimpses of trees, if that. She wasn't even sure; her vision was far from reliable at the moment. Resigning herself to this fact, she sat against the wall of whatever she was trapped in, and rubbed her hand, trying to figure out what had happened.

Was this the Quattuor's doing? Or had Exuro been captured as well? Focusing and concentrating as much as possible, she closed her eyes, and reached out with her senses… finally centring on a second engine. There was another vehicle; another truck.

Which could quite possibly indicate that Exuro had been captured along with her. Which only meant one thing, really.

There was a fourth party in all this…

… And if what Exuro had claimed in the alley was true, then they had been the ones to murder Woods.

Falx had overtaken the two flying vampires when she had locked onto Exuro's definite scent, and by the time she landed on the roof where it lost consistency, her heart was racing faster than a speeding bullet. She gazed left and right and all around, before she started to shake her head… and felt something brush her boot. Gazing down with crystal eyes, she crouched and recovered the dart. She stared at it in almost in accusation, and felt Lacertus come up beside her.

"Falx?"

She didn't respond.

"Falx, what is it?" The younger werewolf sounded concerned, and he reached up and took the dart from her fingers, before smelling the needle's tip and grimacing. "Ugh…"

"What is it?" came the voice of the Frenchwoman, Anise as she cautiously paced closer. Falx didn't move, only stared straight ahead, too stunned to do anything else at that moment. It couldn't be… he couldn't have…

It wasn't possible.

"Tranq' dart," Lacertus replied shortly, and gave Anise the dart without a hesitation, gazing to the others. "His scent is fading. He didn't walk away from here."

Falx whirled then, her eyes wavering into black suddenly as she snapped, "Don't you say that!"

Lacertus seemed taken aback, and he gazed to his alpha female, saying, "Falx… I want to hope as much as you do that he's okay, but–"

"No… be quiet."

"Falx… think about it. Look around you." Though his voice was gentle in actuality, to Falx it sounded harsh and almost mocking, and that did nothing to improve her mood. With a savage snarl, she lunged at Lacertus, knocking him down to the ground as she pinned him, baring elongating fangs.

"No!" someone yelled, and arms wrapped around her and lifted her up roughly, pulling her off the startled Lacertus, who sat up and stared with wide eyes at the raging Falx, who soon realised what she was doing… and felt overwhelming shame at attacking one of her pack. She collapsed in the arms at once, and they lowered her to the ground.

A hand was stroking her tousled hair from her face, and she thought it was probably Gladius, for some odd reason, perhaps trying to rectify his earlier mistakes in this time of dismay by comforting her, but when she concentrated on the person before her, she shoved them away at once with a mumbled, "Leave me alone; I don't need your sympathy."

Anise Delacroix heeded the command, and turned the palms of her hands outward to show she meant no harm, but stepped away to an agreeable distance all the same. Falx simply knelt there for a long time, with everyone looking at her, save for the two vampires, who were trying to find any evidence of a trail for them to follow. Lacertus had furrowed his brow in concern, and if nothing else, that spurred her into standing again, feigning indifference and an outer appearance of strength and power. She was an alpha… she was a leader, and she had to act like it. With Exuro missing, she was in charge of the lessened Quattuor.

And she would get him back… and tear out the hearts of those responsible for this.

With a gasp, he awoke, and sat up all too quickly for his body's liking, and he nearly retched, groaning loudly and holding a hand to his spinning head as he closed his eyes tightly. He lowered nearer to the bottom of the… wherever he was, for a few moments more as he collected himself, and then opened his eyes, looking around with narrowed and pained eyes, the headache almost tearing his skull apart. He hauled himself over to the wall of wherever he was, and touched a hand to its solid surface. He tapped it experimentally, and furrowed his brow. It was a solid metal, cold to the touch, and he ran his hand over it, searching for any weaknesses as he slowly gathered himself to his feet. They were moving slowly; a truck, he guessed.

If he hadn't seen her fall from the sky like a dead weight, he would have blamed Mina Harker for this. But as it was, she had been downed first, so unless it was all a cheap trick, then they had both been captured by whoever was at the wheel.

After pacing around the entire interior of the large container, he came to the unwilling conclusion that it was solid, and had been constructed for one purpose, and one purpose alone.

To hold a creature like a werewolf.

We'll see about that, he thought stubbornly, and tried to call on his wolf… only to find it lacked the strength to respond to his command. It tried… and failed somewhat spectacularly. "Damn," he muttered, and was assaulted by a vivid and blinding mental image.

Chasing up stairs… firing his rifle… running… a man jumping through a window.

"Damn…"

He growled and slammed his fist into the side of the container with a clang before dropping somewhat weakly to his knees, pulling in deep breaths as his head pounded mercilessly, and he almost emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor in front of him. Holding it back, he rolled back onto the ground, just lying there for a while to collect his strength and thoughts.

Whoever was behind this would seriously regret opening that door…

The three remaining members of the Quattuor had been off to one side of the roof for some time now, Anise realised as she paced with Dmitri. She looked up at the large and compassionate Russian, who in turn, gazed down at her with a sigh. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, and he touched a hand to her shoulder.

"This is just an unexpected turn of events," he said to her quietly in attempted reassurance. "Albeit an awkward one… but something that can be rectified none the less."

Anise closed her eyes in silent and inner defeat, and felt Dmitri pull her to him, and embrace her comfortingly with inevitable sadness in his eyes.

"We will get them both back," he murmured to her confidently, and it was the strength in his voice that returned her own resolution to her. She pulled in a deep breath, and pulled away, smiling up at her old friend with thanks in her gaze. He returned it, and tucked her hair behind her ear, before gazing behind her with an almost curious and surprised light in his eyes. He glanced down at Anise, and then back to where he had first averted his eyes.

Anise cautiously turned, and to her surprise, found herself coming face to face with the fiery Falx. Though the fellow female werewolf looked far from happy about the proximity, Anise was to be startled further when one of Falx's hands extended outward… an offer.

A truce.

Gazing to all the others on the rooftop, Anise didn't know what to do. Dmitri stood behind her solidly. Zariel, Ezekiel and Illyria watched from near the edge of the building, and Gladius and Lacertus weren't far behind their own leader.

Swallowing somewhat dryly, Anise reached out with her own hand… and clasped Falx's firmly, holding it there as the taller lycanthrope nodded once with a stern expression. Her eyes said it all; they were to work together to get their people back. Anise returned the gesture, and the two simultaneously pulled their hands away.

"Now what?" Lacertus asked softly, almost as if he were not comfortable voicing his queries around anyone outside his 'pack. He looked to everyone though, not just Gladius and Falx, and the female of the two gazed to Anise inquiringly, as if for her opinion… which threw Anise for a loss once again.

Pull it together, a stern voice commanded in her brain, and she responded to Falx with a seemingly confident, "We have somewhere not far from here. We can gather there and… try to figure something out."

Falx looked as though she wanted to roll her eyes, but refrained, nodding after a moment with a mumbled, "All right. Come on; we have a car. The vampires will have to fly, though. There's not enough space."

Ezekiel and Illyria didn't seem fazed by this, and immediately swarmed off into the night in their flocks of bats, heading back to the apparent new base of operations. Zariel gazed around, and then said, "I'll follow them," with only a brief indication to the vampires before he bounded off in pursuit. Either he was ridiculously uncomfortable near the Quattuor, or he had come to the same conclusion as Anise.

Even with only five, it would be a tight ride in their car.