Chapter 15
A/N Nope, still don't own a thing. Darn! Gotta warn you now, folks. More violence (Lots!) and a little romance, plus a surprise for Yuri! So, click BACK if you want your little virgin eyes spared! And this one is loooong.
They were gathered around a small campfire with an old iron pot suspended over it, bubbling with stew. The aroma had enticed both Yuri, whom Koudelka knew had a hollow leg, and the old hermit, Roger Bacon, drawing them from their scavenging of the ruins. The old man had taken a bit of the stew on his bony finger and declared it fit for Heaven's Table and sat down to a bowl with them. They ate in silence for a while and, once the stew was finished, Yuri turned to Roger Bacon.
"Well Rog, I guess we gotta do it all again," he said and the old hermit looked up at the young man with curiosity.
"Do what again, youngster?"
Yuri sighed and aimed his chin at the clearing at the foot of the road. "Build your house. Well, it should go faster this time around – I've had practice. But I gotta tell ya, I ain't eating yer cookin' this time."
Koudelka and Roger both looked at Yuri and Koudelka chuckled.
"Well he's a lousy cook," Yuri said and grinned.
"I can do some of the cooking then," Koudelka volunteered. "Just don't expect too much," and she waived at the remains of their simple meal.
Yuri grinned. "Tasted just fine to me," he said and then belched. "So, Rog, where ya sleeping tonight?"
The old monk looked up at the darkened monastery and shrugged bony shoulders. "Inside I imagine."
"No," exclaimed Koudelka. "That's not necessary. We've got the tent; you can have the spare bed."
Yuri, one eye narrowed at the old man, turned toward the gypsy woman. "That's not necessary, is it Roger."
"Yuri, he can sleep on the spare cot," Koudelka repeated and her voice did not brook a refusal. From across the fire Yuri felt a sudden frisson, and a squirming in his head as his fusions moved restlessly. He winced, blinking into the dark, and then nodded.
"O-okay Koudelka, whatever you want babe."
Roger glanced at Koudelka from his side of the fire and nodded. "So, Yuri, tell me about this house."
Yuri sighed. 'It's always the same... about the house...boring,' he thought, then began telling them about Roger's house, the one he had seen the first time he had come to Wales.
The night was again overcast with winds sending the clouds scudding across the sky in tatters of grey and black. That same wind howled like a banshee through the hollow ruins of Nemeton and Yuri sat up in the cot and listened. Beside him Koudelka, wrapped in the blanket and breathing softly, was making soft vocal noises, her voice rising occasionally in bothersome dreams. On the other side of the tent was Roger; he too slept with groans, moans and grunts that only a hollowed out fossil could create. Yuri listened intently for a moment then climbed from the cot and pulled on his trousers and boots. He snagged his tattered shirt on the way out and stood for a moment outside the tent as he pulled it on. The crash of the surf below the cliff was the same as always; too loud to have a conversation over but not so loud that it was annoying. If anything Yuri liked the surf, it smashed against the cliff wall with insistence, whittling away at the mother granite year after year. In another millennia, the cliff might not be here. Shuddering, he checked on the old horse then climbed up the road to the monastery gates.
The huge gates were still closed and barred, the fire not touching them. In his mind, Yuri had a brief flash of memory, of a time when he blew the gates to pieces as Seraphic, and making love to Koudelka next to those gates. But with a shake of his head, the memories scattered and fled like the clouds above and he breathed deeply, his mind suddenly troubled.
'If this is what I have to do… go back again to rescue Edward … well, then I gotta,' he thought. He looked up the road toward the graveyard, old and fallen into ruin, and found his feet carrying him there. The bulk of the graves had fallen, some rolling down the cliff face, others merely cracked and broken, lying on their faces. In the far corner, another grave was split in two and he crossed the desolate space to kneel at the gravestone. Carved into the cracked and broken marker were the words, Charlotte, RIP and an unreadable date.
"Man I really fucked that up didn't I?" he asked the grave. "If I'd given Koudelka those letters, maybe… maybe… ah hell, you probably wouldn'ta listened anyway," he finished, but he reached forward and brushed dirt from the little grave and sat on his heels for a minute, a wordless prayer going up for the little ghost of a girl who had died on her birthday. After a few minutes, he rose and kicking at the dirt, looked sheepishly at the lowered sky.
"Yeah, rest in peace princess," he said and then turned toward the other grave marker – the tall Celtic cross a black shadow at the edge of the cliff. He leaned against the marker, resting his arms on the top and looked out over the dark surge of the Irish Sea. He felt a weight in his chest and a wave of sorrow that stirred his fusions and he wondered just how bad he had made things this time. Here he was, in 1898... somewhere in China he was just turning ten and his mother was butchered before his eyes... and his father was dead or dying in Kuihai tower and he was embarking on a long and lonely journey toward...
"Toward what?" He suddenly realized he had no idea what happened afterward; the images of the silver-haired Charlotte leapt into his mind but the ghost was wearing a blue ribbon in her hair and giggling and he felt a stirring inside him that longed for that beribboned ghost; longed for her in ways he thought might be just a tad strange even for him.
"You'd have sex with a corpse?" he heard James' voice echoing in his mind and he knew that was exactly what he'd do, if he could fix things... if he could remember what it was he was doing... and for whom. He felt a sudden frisson and looked up, his amber eyes scanning the dark of the monastery and he could swear he saw a shadow leaving the main gates… those same gates were now smashed and broken, one pulled from its hinges the other hanging crumpled against the stone retaining wall. Yuri blinked and rubbed his face, looking again only to see the gates whole as before and he shuddered.
"What the fuck is happening to me?" With a shrug, he turned back down the dirt track toward the tent and wondered how long he'd be here with just Roger and Koudelka; and how long he had before he forgot everything.
The tent was snug against the blowing wind and he tied the flap shut once more upon entering; he kicked off his boots and climbed back into bed not bothering to remove his trousers. He snuggled close to Koudelka, putting one arm over her shoulder and as he courted sleep, he listened to the wind howling in the ruins of the monastery.
The howling didn't stop even though he had found shelter; the wolves were relentless when they hunted and the pack had been on his trail for most of the day. He had despaired finding shelter from the storm and the wind and snow had been a constant trial, but at last he found an old burnt farmhouse on the edge of the forest and he huddled inside the lee of the roof, teeth chattering and mind gibbering in fear. Outside he felt like ice, the cold and snow riming him with an icy veneer; but inside he was a furnace, an empty furnace, but a warm one. He didn't understand what was happening – hadn't understood anything at all these past days, not since his mother … Against his volition those images waged war in his mind once more, the friends and neighbors of the village pushing in the door, tramping in with mud and rain on their boots and death in their eyes. He hadn't known that at the time, but his mother had, pulling him back to shelter behind her skirt; but it wasn't enough. They slew his mother, his lovely, caring mother – the one light in both his and his father's life – slaughtered her and left him to fend for himself. Well, no, that's not quite what happened, he thought. He had vague memories of coming awake, a fire burning in his guts and a scream of insane hatred ripping from his throat and the urge to kill – nothing fancy, just rip and tear and shred - and when it was all over, standing half naked in the little house, blood spattered on the wall, dripping down in rivers to the matting on the floor and the monsters, nee his neighbors, were pulp at his feet.
With a bone-shaking shudder, Yuri thrust away the memories that ran through his mind like liquid fire. His mind didn't burn the way it had, his blood yet remained magma, but his soul quacked in dire and abject fear – the same fear he felt for those rapacious wolves. If he could last out the night, last until first light, then he stood a chance of surviving. His only hope had been in flight – not to Jilin, but north and east. East, to his mother's homeland, to Russia. He didn't know if he had family there – didn't matter really, but he knew that in China, an orphan would soon end up as a slave or worse; he had no intention of ending up as someone's work horse or in the carnal pits of Shanghai or Beijing.
Huddling down against a burnt out wall, he lay his head on his bent knees, and let the tears flow, quietly at first, then more intensely, silent but with shivers that wracked his small frame. He wanted so much to change what had happened, change his failure into success; his father had made him promise to protect his mother while he was gone, but he'd been gone so long this time and the monsters came – and really, he was just a little boy. No! I'm a man; I have to be a man, especially now, he thought and he could almost hear an echoing rasp of laughter through the howls of the wolves. He looked up and scanned the dark ruin, holding his breath, but could see no one.
"Wh-who's there?" he called softly, his voice quavering with more than the cold, but the haunting laughter did not return so he put his head down and fell asleep. And instantly he wished he were awake. Oh, he knew he was dreaming – he had to be, for what else could a place like this be but a dream. He looked around, seeing the large iron gates closed tightly against his retreat and swallowed. Timid steps took him down the steps to the stone path, to his left a pair of grave markers each bearing strange symbols. To his right, three more and directly ahead a lone gravestone stood, desolate in its isolation and all the more frightening because of the glowing symbol on its face. He knew that symbol, had seen it in his nightmares: it was the symbol for Darkness, his own symbol his mother had once told him.
He was about to investigate the grave more closely when he heard cackling laughter, and he looked over to the verge before a huge mausoleum. He knew that place, had seen it in his dreams, and hated it. Floating in front of the mausoleum were four freakish masks, not unlike the beloved Fox mask his father had bought him. He could feel his heart suddenly pounding in his chest and sweat beaded up on his brow; this was more than a nightmare, he could feel himself drawn to the steps leading to the mausoleum and he could not resist. A handful of scree lay in front of the stairs and he stopped when his bare feet touched the small sharp pebbles. Blood oozed between his toes and he could feel his feet getting wet from the blood; he looked down and realized the pebbles were razor sharp and he had lacerated the bottom of his feet.
One of the masks, a strange one with swords thrusting through it, cackled at him and swooped down the stairs to stop inches in front of him, sharp swords flashing sharp and frighteningly deadly.
"Who- who are you?" he asked and his voice cracked and the masks cackled with amused glee.
"They are your judges, boy," a raspy voice said from near the gravestone, the one with the darkness crest. Slowly Yuri turned frightened eyes toward the stone and his heart leapt into his throat; leaning almost negligently against the dark grave marker was a creature from his earliest nightmares. It stood taller than his father, toping at six feet; dark skin clothed it, knobbed and wrinkled like a lizard. Two skeletal wings rested easily on its back, the membranes thin, but strong. But the face was what truly terrified young Yuri for it was a face like a skull, bony, ridged and utterly evil. Dark energy crackled in its eyes, and when it smiled, the black lips pulled back to reveal even blacker fangs. Yuri moved back a handful of paces, looking from the masks to the monster and felt his heart racing, pounding like a drum from the summer festivals.
"You can run but you cannot hide, boy," the monster said and, as if hunting prey, the monster suddenly swooped across the ruinous graveyard toward Yuri. Instantly the boy's legs were moving, pounding down the paves back toward the distant gate, but before he could reach that barrier, before he could even attempt to climb those restraining iron bars, the monster had him, and he screamed.
Koudelka and Roger Bacon were sitting by the newly stoked fire, Koudelka stirring a pot with oatmeal. The winds had abated only slightly in the night, and the temperatures had dropped while thick clouds were once again building on the horizon, threatening rain. Both had awoken early, Roger from out of a lifetime of habit, and Koudelka had started breakfast with the thought that Yuri would need the extra sleep. They both jumped to their feet at Yuri's fearful scream issuing from the tent and, even as the scream gurgled down to silence the tent exploded upward, tatters of tent and poles and bedding scattering in the wind as the black-winged monster rose into the windy sky. Koudelka knew instantly it was one of Yuri's monsters, but Roger huddled down at the fire, muttering a prayer.
"Yuri!" Koudelka shouted but the winged creature did not respond. Instead, he swooped upward, skimming the top of the monastery wall and riding the winds upward to spiral around the smoking ruin of the bell tower. Then, with a flip of a wing he headed north, up the coast to Aberystwyth. Koudelka turned and helped Roger to his feet, a feeling of dread clutching at her. "He's gone, Roger. And I think he headed for the town."
"God have mercy on them. What – what was that, my dear?"
Koudelka shook her head and turned toward the elder monk. "That was Yuri," she answered but could not continue. Roger watched her with unblinking eyes then shrugged, his bony shoulders rising and falling and shifting the ragged robes he wore.
"Well there is nothing we can do about it, so why don't we start cleaning up this mess."
In the skies overhead, the clouds continued to gather, dark and pregnant with rain, and the madly flying fusion soared on the winds until he was just outside of Aberystwyth. He let the wind catch his wings, yawing a bit and used the momentum to strafe the town's main street; at that early hour the traffic was small, but a few families were out and farmers, herders, and merchants soon found themselves diving to the ground as the dark angel of death swooped overhead, devilish red glee showing in eyes and teeth - the monster was so close to them. Past the town hall and over the spire of the nearby church Death Emperor flew, circling around to strike viciously at the church's cross above the spire, ripping it free and carrying it along before turning back toward the center of town.
Once, twice, thrice the hell spawn strafed the town before turning inland once more. He over flew several herdsman shepherding a few cows in the field and swerved back to wreck havoc, scattering the herdsmen and the cattle before landing in the tall grass. With a look of hellish glee the fusion monster leapt at a lone steer and plunged the church's cross into the hapless beast, impaling it on the metal of the cross before grabbing it by hip and horn and ripping the beast in two, scattering entrails over the grass and himself before tossing the carcass aside and flying off toward the monastery again. When he returned to the monastery, he landed at the clearing before the gate; Koudelka and Roger had gathered the remnants of the tent and the cots and blankets, stacking them near the outer wall. The horse had remained pegged and one look at the bloody fusion monster sent it into a panic, rising up onto its hind legs and screaming in fear.
From inside the crumbling monastery the cries of the old horse echoed amidst the tumbling stones and Koudelka looked up, a look of horror on her face. A sudden frisson clutched at her and she ran through the ruins toward the gate, fear clutching at her heels. She pulled the post door open and stepped outside; below her was the dirt road leading off to town and to her right the small gassy verge where they had left the horse. But now the monster had gotten to the horse and… Koudelka screamed, stepping out from the doorway and raising her arms above her head, summoned her flare magic. Seconds later an explosion of fire burst over Death Emperor's head as he was rending and dismembering the old gelding, blood and bits of entrails still dripping from his claws. Mindlessly he screamed in pain, the fire washing the fusion clean of the bloody gore and burning away the mad glee that had filled its dark heart; and then the flames receded, leaving behind a char of smoking horsemeat and a crumpled Yuri.
Shock and dismay warred inside Koudelka as she approached the supine monster slayer; here was the man who had fought by her side, the man whom she had made love to in the swaying grass. Yet this man had become a mindless monster, attacking and slaying her old horse and god knows what else; dared she trust him again? Each step brought her closer to the unconscious man and her heart was beating hard and painfully in her chest, and when she knelt at his side, pulling him over to see his face, she sighed in relief. Yes, it was Yuri again, not the monster. But what would he be when he awoke, she wondered. She tapped his face with one finger, poking him gently until his eyes fluttered and opened; those amber orbs looking confused then brightening as he smiled.
"Morning," he muttered and Koudelka suddenly reached back and slapped him, his head ringing with the blow. "What!"
"You killed my horse, bastard!" she exclaimed and rose to her feet. "Get up."
Rubbing the red mark on his cheek, Yuri rolled to his feet, standing unsteadily on the churned up and charred ground.
"What happened here? A bar-b-que?" he stupidly asked then noticed the charred remains of the old swayback horse. "Hey, who killed the horse?"
"You did," Koudelka replied, her voice hard edged. "Why did you suddenly change like that Yuri? What is wrong with you?" she asked.
Yuri turned confused tree sap eyes onto his gypsy lover and shrugged. "I dunno. What did I do? I don't remember anything after…" he paused, rubbing his hands over his face, "after I came back in and went to sleep. I maybe had a dream or somethin'."
"And that would cause you to turn into one of your monsters and terrorize the valley?"
Yuri looked up suddenly, surprised. "I did what? Oh." He looked around their camp area, noting finally the tent folded away and their goods looking broken and bent but otherwise safe along the monastery wall. "I don't know, Koudelka. I maybe lost it in my sleep?"
Koudelka snorted. "If that was a maybe, then I don't think I want to be around you," she said and stormed off, her steps leading her down the dirt road to the small stile crossing the creek.
Shit, he thought. What the hell did I do and why? He looked around for Roger Bacon and found him inside Patrick Heyworth's partially destroyed mansion. He was crating up the books and manuscripts that remained. But when he offered to assist, Roger told him instead to gather the books in the library. Put off, Yuri wandered back to the library, crossing the inner grounds of the monastery. He paused at the church entrance, still smoking but now totally charred and tumbled down in ruin. He rubbed his neck, feeling the hairs prickling beneath his rough hand and he shuddered.
'I better get a-hold of myself,' he thought and looked up at the roofless church. One wall stood with the remains of the Rose window, glass shattered and sprinkled like crimson fairy dust over the grounds, while the remaining graveyard wall rose in charred and silent accusation. Looking around the ruin of the monastery, he felt himself lost, as if the world were spinning crazily around him. Listening he could almost hear the crunch of gravel under boot heels outside the western wall, and the tap-tap-tap of a wooden staff along the roadway. He blinked and felt a shadow lifting from around him and he looked up, but the same grey and depressing clouds scudded inland from the Irish Sea that had been lowing these last few hours, even to when he arrived yesterday. Shaking himself, he made his way across the grounds to the library to begin packing.
By nightfall, Roger and Yuri had gathered the remaining manuscripts and tomes and stacked them in the lower library. Then, over the fire that night, Yuri listened as Roger regaled him with ideas for his magnificent new house. Across from them at the fire sat Koudelka, her eyes dark, her look even darker. She refused to speak to him and Yuri was both angered and hurt by the cold shoulder.
'You'd think I was a vampire or something,' he thought irreverently, poking the fire with a stick and pushing ashes around the charcoals. Smoke rose in wisps and grey tendrils and he shuddered, suddenly feeling cold. 'It's not like I did it on purpose. What does she think I am – a monster?' With a jerk, he suddenly looked up at the gypsy woman and rose to his feet, tossing the stick into the fire.
"Fine, be that way. See if I give a damn!" he turned on his heels and stormed back into the monastery grounds, leaving both Roger and Koudelka stunned.
"Eh? Now what?" Roger asked, looking from Koudelka to the retreating back of the young harmonixer, his ancient visage wrinkled in confusion.
"I don't know," Koudelka said then shrugged. "I'm going to sleep now Roger. Bank the fire before you come in, will you?" And she crossed the clearing and entered the newly erected tent, closing the flap behind her.
Yuri kicked his way through the ruined monastery wall and into the inner grounds. He stopped at the now dry fountain and picked up a rock, lobbing it across the grounds, and hearing a ping-ping-thud as it careened across the flags and hit the church wall. With a smirk, he reached for another and threw it hard, listening with a grin as the stone smashed against the church. Kicking at a tangle of weeds at his feet, he turned toward the arbor and kicked open the grated door. Inside, the floor bathed in blood, was still sticky wet. He knelt beside Ogden and Bessie, the old caretakers still lay beside the guillotine, their bodies bloated and swollen in death; maggots had clustered from the flies and he poked idly at the old woman's breast, oozing out stinking, putrefying fluids onto his unprotected fingers and a skittering sound came from beneath her dress and Yuri watched as a rat wiggled free and scurried away. Yuri sighed.
"That's for poisoning me, bitch," he muttered. Without thinking, he rifled her apron pockets but snorted when he found nothing. "Cheap whore," he commented then swung around the dead bodies to the ladder behind them. He looked down and saw more blood on the floor below. "Lousy housekeepers." Kneeling, he descended the ladder.
The room below looked much as it had on his last visit: the floor awash with sticky blood, and on a dissection table in the middle of the room, a corpse lie rotting, bits of flesh still attached by thin ligatures. He paused to look at the body, noting the sunken features and the one hanging eyeball. Yuri shook his head.
'These guys are unreal,' he thought. Across the room were the shattered bronze doors, one crumpled and crushed, the other shredded like paper. He stood for a moment, remembering that brief moment when he had caught up to Koudelka; his hand reaching through those self-same doors, the one panel bent and he leaning against it, the cold of the metal seeping into his skin. He felt her had reaching through the metal doors, touching his seeking hand with cool fingers and he felt her breath on his cheek again, and wished she were truly there with him. But no, she was above, in the clean air of the hillside, probably sleeping peacefully while he, he festered here below. Shaking himself, he scowled at the bloody room before stepping through to the cesspool beyond.
"It's yer own damn fault, stupid!" he growled and heard his voice rebound in the dark chamber. "Ah fuck it." Beyond the crushed doors was the septic tank and the font; this he stopped at and washed his face, letting the cold water dribble down his arms and chest, spattering his worn boots. He ran wet fingers through filthy hair and remembered briefly another time and another place and someone's repressed giggles over his filthy hair. He looked up at the glittering water that lapped at the feet of the statue on the other side of the font, the blue of the water rippling in the pool. He wondered whose giggle it had been, thinking it was Koudelka for a moment then suddenly collapsing to his knees on the platform.
Images crashed in his mind, water lapping at his hands at he splashed muddy rainwater onto his bloody face, wiping it clean with the offered hankie – a delicate lace hankie that smelled of lilacs. He could still feel the cold rain as it pattered on the muddy ground around them and the little noises it made as it struck his trench coat. He took off the coat and offered it to the lady, draping its warm weight around delicate shoulders and smiled, taking in the small figure beneath his hands. He looked at her through rain-dappled eyelashes and blinked the rain from his blurred vision; she looked so delicate, so pale in the cold night air. He wanted to tell her so, wanted to bend down to kiss her but something in her eyes, something in the set of her mouth told him he'd better refrain. And when he offered her back her dirty hankie, that same mouth moued before smiling, the silver blonde head shaking as she turned away, and suddenly his world grew just a little dimmer.
Yuri blinked, scattering the light refracted images in his eyes, looking around at the underground font. He ran one hand over his face and exhaled breathily, wondering silently what he thought he was doing, day dreaming alone in the monastery basement. 'If I'm not careful I could be lunch for something,' he thought then without a backward glance, he left the font, taking the corridor leading to Charlotte's quarters. Even as he climbed the stairs to her second floor room, he chided himself for a fool, wishing he'd thought of those letters sooner, remembering he'd broken his stupid hand in getting them and then passing them off as nothing. Jumping down from the narrow access, he paused at the empty dinning table, its cutlery dusty with age.
"Charlotte, I'm sorry," he said to the quiet of the room. The silence was accusatory and he felt the prickle of guilt on the back of his neck. "I admit, I'm a stupid bastard sometimes, an' I don't always know what's best. I shoulda given those letters to Koudelka right away." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the hairs prickle under his fingers. "Anyway, I'm sorry. I hope yer restin' in peace and all." There it was again, the prickling at the nape of his neck. He turned just as a shadow leapt from the doorway, pushing him up and over the table, scattering the cutlery over the ragged carpet.
Yuri grappled with the huge beast, shoving it off him long enough to identify it; a strange zombie hound. The beast was as big as him, with human legs but huge hound front paws that sported long claws; its canine head was just as large, with sharp fangs, and Yuri clamped one hand around its neck trying to keep those fangs away from his face. The dog monster pushed forward relentlessly, a growl deep in its throat and Yuri found himself breathing hot canine breath.
"God damn stupid fuckin' beast," he growled, pushing harder, then rolling slightly to get a boot under the animal's belly and shoving hard. The zombie creature exhaled fetid breath as Yuri shoved it a few feet away, shoving it hard against a nearby bookshelf and climbed quickly to his knees to follow that shove with a right hook to the monster's head. The fist connected with a thick sound and the creature's head snapped around, the massive neck muscles the only thing keeping the head from breaking.
"Die you sonofabitch," Yuri ground out between clenched teeth and reached for his knife, only to realize he'd left camp without any weapons. "Ah fuck me!"
The next few minutes were frantic as Yuri changed tactics, trying instead to get a grip on the massive beast, but the creature was fast, leaping in to grab a snarling mouthful of Yuri's trousers before he could jump out of the way, and then sinking those same fangs into his leg. Poison dripped from razor sharp fangs and Yuri could feel the fire of its passage as it burned upward into his body and he cursed vociferously, calling down curses from every corner of every dock he'd ever worked on. Finally giving up on getting another grip on the fast moving monster's neck, he kicked out again, slamming a booted heel into the chest of the zombie hound and sending it skidding back a few feet to land on its tail.
"You'll wish you'd never fucked with me, you bastard," the harmonixer spat out and reached for a fusion. His soul merged and joined with the powerful fire fusion at his beck-and-call, summoning Inferno from the depths of his mind and transforming into the lower level embodiment of Fire. In a heartbeat, the giant fusion swung on the hound, now once again snapping at his heels and two massive fists connected with its ribs, caving in the bones and tissue and sending the beast back, yelping in pain. Then with a black-lipped snarl, Inferno summoned fire, a ball of blinding flame that exploded between his outstretched hands and engulfed the zombie. It struggled futilely for a moment, its body immolated by the searing flames, and it tried to escape only to turn into char in a half dozen steps. Satisfied, Inferno turned his magic on himself, using a healing warmth to burn away the poison in his system and then, with a huff, he was released and Yuri stood free, surrounded by smoking ash that that once been the bedroom of little Charlotte.
Shaking his head Yuri looked around at the mess he'd made and sighed. "Sorry Charlotte," he said and turned around to take the side passage to Patrick's mansion. Or rather, what was left of it.
In point of fact, there was still considerably more of Patrick's mansion than at first glance; but the fire had damaged supports and walls and blackened everything. The once fine gilt work was now dim with smoke and the once fine parquet floor was covered with grimy ashes. The upstairs library was a shambles, and Yuri knew that most of the books had been removed already, but he was curious about the vestry and chapel they had reached through Patrick's office. Yuri stood at the bottom of the stairway and shook his head. They were gone; only the pulley system they had rigged to remove the books was left and so with a shrug he instead entered the picture gallery beneath the stairs. It too had suffered heavy damage and the font, which once had bubbled clear and cool, was now cracked and broken, never again to burble with holy water. But what surprised Yuri was the left-hand wall next to the door. He hadn't been here since before the fire and now the entire wall was gone – he could enter the vestry. Kicking through the debris he climbed through the burnt out and tumbled stone wall into the first floor vestry; it too showed heavy damage, and the small shrine was a melted slag.
To his left the metal doors were open, the metal now a fall of stream-like metal that had pooled on the once ornate parquet floors. And the vestry hall, with its small lady chapel to the right was gone, the only thing standing were the iron doors at the end of the hall. Curious Yuri kicked his way through the charred ruins to the door. He recalled seeing them before, but neither James nor Koudelka had even mentioned entering. He tried the door handles, but could see that the hinges were melted. Rummaging around he found a bit of the metal that once had graced the gates into the church and pulled it free of debris. Hefting its still sturdy mass, he returned to the chapel doors.
He jammed the iron bar into the doorframe and pushed, bending the doorjamb barely an inch, then he slammed his booted heel against the frame as he pushed harder. One melted hinge popped free, dropping to the floor beside him and with a smile of grim determination, he went to work on the other hinge. After another minute of applied pounding and kicking, the second hinge crumbled and with a nod, Yuri kicked in the iron door. It clanged loudly in the silence of the burnt out church and Yuri stepped through, holding the iron bar like a weapon; something was moving in the shadows and the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling. He shrugged his shoulders, knowing that feeling meant trouble, but not afraid. A dry dragging sound came from the far end of the chapel, and Yuri stepped through the ruined door and paused. Ahead, on both sides, were towering columns, heavily veined with gold and still attractive in their smoke grimed clothing. A thick pile carpet lead up the central isle of the chapel to the font, and it muffled Yuri's boots as he walked up to the holy fountain. It lay against the far wall, surrounded by once beautiful guilt work, and the marble was still white; but the font was dry and Yuri smirked.
"Looks like no water for you," he muttered and turned to leave when the dry feather sound echoed in the chambers above him. He looked up into the dark vault of the chapel and watched as something moved slowly down from the roof and a frisson played on his spine as he wondered if it was that damned gargoyle. But no, this was no gargoyle. It was huge, much bigger than the stone embodiment of malice. This thing had feathers, and was ... Yuri blinked as it descended to the font and hovered mere inches over his head. It was floating on two huge pairs of wings, rainbow colored and beautiful, and totally upside-down.
Yuri snorted. "What, you don't know yer up from yer down?" he laughed dryly then brought up the iron bar and waived it at the monster. "Okay, I got yer compass – right here." He gave it no thought, just leapt at the bird-like creature and slashed across its large belly, sending it wheeling and gyrating in the air above, spiraling around him and coming back to the font, undamaged. "What the fuck?"
Shaking his head, Yuri moved back, scanning the enclosed chapel. There was nothing here he could use as a weapon – or was there? Along the chapel isle were long seats, like benches made of stone, but on the platform itself were set chairs: regal shaped, and made of heavy wrought iron. With a grin, Yuri ducked under the bird-like creature and grabbed up one of the heavy chairs, hefting it easily by its tall, straight back and, swinging it around, slammed it into the bird's winged back. The monster spun in place, wings fluttering to catch itself, and its strangely elongate beak, shaped more like a trumpet, swung around and slammed into Yuri, knocking him hard into the fountain wall.
With a groan, the harmonixer climbed to his feet, shaking his head.
"You just aren't gonna go down easy, are ya?" he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Man, it's never easy," he grumbled his favorite complaint and jumped away from the platform, ducking as the flying monster swiped at him. "Guess I gotta go for the big guys," he said.
Stepping back, Yuri considered his options. Alone, without support from Koudelka, he knew he'd have a fight on his hands. Part of him relished the idea, and he felt an upsurge of confidence and as he rotated his neck and shoulders in preparation, he laughed softly.
"Oh, yer gonna wish you'd never come down outa yer holy tree," Yuri said and reached for his fusion. "Oh yeah, I ain't messin' around here, buddy." In the next instant, Yuri's body warped and changed, shifting to that of his fusion. Only slightly taller with black wings, Seraphic Radiance stood on the chapel floor for only a moment before gently lifting off the sullied ground. For a moment only his sable eyes stared at the floating monstrosity before him, sparks of energy arching up and down his pale body. Then with an almost negligent wave of his hand, he pulled down power from the heavens, a huge black ball of spatial energy that exploded like a sun in the dark chapel. Like a nova, the light and energy pierced the darkness of the chapel, cascading like a blessing from God and bathing all in its pure light. And the monstrous bird, the apostle of darkness in the monastery, took it all in like mana. Seraphic Radiance frowned.
The monster still hovered over the font, its wings flickering. Unexpectedly it moved, faster than it had before, spinning around and arcing up to the vaulted ceiling before spiraling down to swipe with sharp claws at the black winged fusion. Startled, Yuri almost lost the fusion, flicking one wing to escape injury but taking a buffet to the head with a pair of heavy wings as the monster flew by. Part of him wanted to retaliate while part of him thought this whole thing was beneath him. What a contemptuous creature, he thought. What a pain in the ass…
Dark eyes narrowed as he looked up at the retreating monster, long taloned fingers flexing, and then suddenly he was a blur of motion; with a snap of his wings he was rising toward the ceiling, power forming like a mist in his hands and by the time he caught up to the monster, in barely a heartbeat, the energy crackled at his fingertips. The Seraphic Radiance reached out, thrusting his arms forward, catching the retreating winged monstrosity with taloned fingers and sending a shot of energy into the creature's body. The bird-like monster shuddered, reeling in the air at the apex of the chapel roof and then suddenly spiraled down, one taloned claw raking across the fusion's arms as it went by. Dark blood welled up and dripped down Yuri's arms and he spun around, hitting his feet on the ceiling and using the contact to push himself down so rapidly that he reached the floor before the monster. One bloody, clawed hand reached out, grabbed the creature's leg and pulled; the monster found itself being dragged across the chapel, and then pounded into the stone floor as Yuri levered himself in mid-air and pounded the large body again and again into the floor before letting it go to slump down against the stones.
The monster of the font, the dark apostle of the monastery, slowly righted itself, one wing bent at an awkward angle, no longer able to lift itself into the air, its long trumpet-like beak scared and chipped and Yuri nodded once in satisfaction.
"See? I told you," he said darkly, his voice resonating.
The winged monster wobbled to its clawed feet, bent wing draped crookedly over one massive shoulder; it raised its ugly head and piped a sound from his horn-like beak, and the world stopped for Yuri and Seraphic Radiance.
As the sun came up Koudelka took towel and soap and retreated to the stream and the small stone bridge. She paused at the base of the bridge, kneeling at the streamside and wetting the cloth. She passed it over her face, wiping away sleep and grime then lathered up the soap to wash. When she was finished, she leaned on the damp stones of the bridge. The wind was blowing from off the ocean and brought with it dampness and grey skies and she sighed; how she loved the grey and dreary atmosphere of the coastline of Wales; not like inland where the snow fell and people congregated like cattle. Breathing in, she caught the smells of manure and hay and the clean smells of farm and forest.
"Ah damn," she muttered, climbing up stand on the bridge, looking down on the greenish water of the streambed. She pulled the cloth from her ponytail, shaking out the tangled hair and running her fingers through it, pulling out burs and twigs while she thought. "He's such a bastard," she breathed. "I should let him go; let him find his own way … live or die."
The wind shifted, blowing her coppery locks around and into her face and she closed her eyes, raising her face to the sky and felt the winds moving over her.
"He is so lost; so confused." She looked back up the long road to the monastery, its spires lost in low lying clouds as well as graying smoke. How the old buildings had changed since she rode in the other afternoon. Was it only two days ago? And in two days, how much had that young man changed? She remembered the cocky vibrant youth whom she surprised in the upper loft of the caretaker's quarters and compared it to the half crazed, bewildered man who had transformed into a monster and terrorized the nearby village of Aberystwyth and killed her horse. That same young man whom she felt attracted to and with whom…
She touched her chest with one hand before pulling her hair back into its ponytail. Something was wrong; both with Yuri and with her and she needed to find out what it was. This did not feel wrong but it did not feel right. There was a stirring inside of her that made her feel uneasy. Rising to booted feet, she made her way back up the road, pausing at the bend where Yuri had laid a pile of stones to mark Roger's new house. If he planned to build such a grand structure, it could be years in the making. But did he have the time?
At the top of the road, she came upon old Roger sitting at the fire. The tent flap was blowing in the morning wind and the old man was huddled around the fire, the cook pot bubbling.
"Roger, any sign of Yuri?" she asked, taking a bowl of hot cereal.
Roger looked up at the monastery behind him and shook his boney head. "No; I fear something has happened to him. He's a troubled young man," the monk replied.
Koudelka nodded as she spooned hot food into her mouth, blowing on it as it scalded her tongue.
"It helps to blow on it before you put in inside," the old man laughed.
Koudelka nodded and looked past the fire to the monastery walls.
"He went in there, didn't he? Inside the monastery."
Roger looked up at her, seeing the lines of worry around her eyes and he suddenly understood. She had feelings for the crazy young man.
"I may be old, but I understand a few things; you may be angry with him but you also care for him, do you not?"
The gypsy turned startled eyes onto the old monk and then smiled, setting the now empty bowl down by the fire.
"Yes, unfortunately."
"Well then, child, is it all right for you to leave him alone? In there?" he asked, pointing with one bony finger at the dark stone walls.
"No, no it's not," Koudelka replied. She rose from her seat by the fire and strode to the old gates. The postern gate swung open with a shriek of protesting metal, and Koudelka winced. She looked up at the inner grounds, scanning the dim interior and wondering where Yuri could be hiding. Stepping through, she paused and noticed a stature for the first time. It stood by itself to the left of the main gate and was more bizarre in nature than were any of the other statuary in the monastery.
'Patrick certainly had odd taste in art,' she thought as she approached the huge piece. Formed of metal, it was a male torso on top of a pedestal, the arms raised above its head and holding… Koudelka frowned and climbed up onto the pedestal to read the metal plate: The Holy Blade Sacnoth. 'What the--?' Reaching up, she touched the strangely wrought blade and felt a surge of power in her fingertips. She pulled back and stared in amazement.
"Oh if we'd had this…" She reached up again and removed the sword from the statue's hands, gripping the oddly shaped weapon by the haft, hefting its weight. It seemed inordinately heavy for a brief moment, then lighter and lighter until the sword's solid bulk rested easily in her grip. "Magic indeed. Well, I wonder what you can do."
Hefting the sword again, Koudelka followed the path through the monastery's inner grounds, going around the fountain and heading in an easterly direction for the church itself. The sun had risen above the horizon an hour ago and the light filtered in through grey clouds to wash the smoldering ruins in orange light. But looking over the buildings, deceptively quiet in their haunted emptiness, she could see no movements, no flitting shadows of beast or man. Her gaze took in the broken spire, the once proud bell tower now a tumbled down ruin and the dome and spire of the smaller Lady Chapel to the south of the main church. Feeling oddly curious, she took the path to Patrick's mansion, but before she had taken a dozen steps, the paves shook beneath her, the ground swelling out from the chapel and lifting her off her feet, carrying her back toward the fountain and the arbor. She landed with a crash onto the stone steps just past the arbor, the blade Sacnoth miraculously still in her hands while stones, paves, bits and pieces of roof tiles, an arm from a statue, part of the gold work from the Lady Chapel, all crashed around her, falling like rain.
Painfully she sat up, brushing the stone dust from her as she climbed to her feet. And looking up she saw the church was – gone! The old church, the Lady Chapel, even Patrick's Mansion... all were gone, replaced by a crater over twenty feet in diameter and when she approached the crater's edge she hesitated, her mind reeling with confusion and not a little fear. There in the center was a monster, with green colored feathers and huge wings, one obviously broken; standing only a little off was Yuri – as the black winged fusion she had seen before. His eyes were scarlet and glowing with unsuppressed anger. In a flash of understanding, Koudelka knew that he must have been fighting this creature for quite some time; and he was not winning.
From the bottom of the pit, Yuri/Seraphic looked up, his eyes catching a flash on the rim; Koudelka stood on the edge, a sword in one hand and a look of concern worn on her face. He knew she would come down, that was her nature; he knew and didn't see any way to prevent it unless he took her out of the action himself. That was something he would not do. Turning once more, his sanguine gaze upon the verdant feathers of the monster, he smirked. Yes, perhaps between them both... she could distract it. But his own power had not conquered this monster; no, not even his most powerful attacks. The creature absorbed his magic; absorbed his physical attacks – save that one time when he had succeeded in breaking the wing. How could the two of them destroy this creature of the nether regions?
Koudelka scrambled down the steep decline to the bottom of the pit, dirt and pebbles cascading down with her and pinging off the back of the winged monster. It turned slightly, noting her approach and its wings fluttered in agitation. A sudden frisson caused Koudelka to throw herself to the ground, rolling the rest of the way to the bottom and settling against Yuri's feet, while the space she had occupied but a moment before was suddenly shimmering with a spell that jostled the stones and pebbles left there and shattered them. Koudelka took a breath, checking the sword still clutched in her hand – it was undamaged, and looking up she saw the black winged Yuri offering her his hand.
"We must combine our efforts," he said, and the voice both did and did not sound like Yuri and Koudelka shuddered. This was more the monster than the man, and she felt trepidation that this thing might turn on her when all was concluded here. But she nodded instead, stepping around him to stand at his shoulder, sword at the ready.
"Tell me what to do," she said.
The fusion eyed the strange sword that Koudelka raised in front of her in a defensive stance and a wicked smirk played across his mouth. "I will bring it to you," and he gestured to the sword, "and you will kill it."
Koudelka swallowed audibly then nodded, setting her feet firmly on the soil at the bottom of the pit.
"A-all right."
The fusion nodded, eyes glowing ethereally red, and gestured with one hand; a white light formed in his fingers and then covered them both. Koudelka felt herself suddenly full of energy, her heart beating strong and fast in her chest, her mind preternaturally alert and she gripped the blade Sacnoth a little tighter. She nodded once toward Yuri and then watched as he took off for the skies, his black wings carrying him swiftly upwards, only to flip around and steak back toward the ground.
The wind was cool chill on the fusion's face, his own heart beating a solid tempo that accompanied his beating wings. Ahead was the monster, its one broken wing held off to the side, while it gyrated in place, keeping itself too active for magic or normal fighting to do much damage. Something in its magical makeup used motion as a recuperative and Seraphic was going to use that motion to his advantage, for while it moved around, gyrating on its own internal axis, it was vulnerable to a non-directed attack. Seraphic beat his wings once more, speeding his downward flight that much more until he was now several yards from the monster in the pit. There stood Koudelka, his woman, her eyes bright and her stance perfect. He was proud of her strength and would now use that very strength against the Nemeton apostle.
Seraphic came up behind the apostle of darkness, its own wings and girth blocking its view; he slammed into the bird-like creature with his shoulder, causing it to spin around, its wings wobbling as it tried to keep from falling. The monster let out a call to its own power, bugling a thunderous attack of its own, sending a wall of sound and magic toward Koudelka – but with Sacnoth in hand, the young gypsy fended off the magic, using the sacred blade like a shield – and the magic passed her by, its force slivered and shredded and striking the ground behind her. Meanwhile Seraphic had returned to the monster, landing behind it and using one clawed foot in a sliding kick, knocking the avian monster aside, and then with a swipe of his clawed hand he set it to spinning faster. Grinning like Yuri the Radiance pulled back a fist and slammed it into the monster's belly as it passed, sinking it deep into the feathered gut but not puncturing it. The creature's magic instantly healed it, but the fusion was unconcerned; he now had his hands on the flying monster.
Gripping the creature's diminished legs, the Seraphic Radiance pulled, guiding it to the end of the pit. The apostle struggled, using its one good wing to keep it self-upright, but battering futilely at the fusion with its injured pinion. Seraphic's grin grew wider as he suddenly pushed, his own wings beating strongly, lifted them both up, above Koudelka, above the pit, above the monastery. The monstrosity still struggled in the Seraphic's grip, but strong claws dug in, refusing to release the monster. Struggling, together they arced into the cloudy sky, circling around the outer perimeter before heading back toward the pit and the waiting gypsy woman. Then they were headed down, faster and faster as the Seraphic's wings beat the air; spiraling down past the monastery gates with their iron spikes, down in an air screaming passage toward the pit and Koudelka; and in another moment, they collided with her.
The gypsy woman waited in the pit, her feet set apart, her hands gripping Sacnoth firmly. She watched with nervousness as the black-winged Yuri attacked the monster, spinning it around, then launching them both skyward. Craning her neck she followed their crazy flight as they swept past her and up over the monastery buildings. Then they spun away, the fusion grappling with the monster as it tried to free itself. Koudelka swallowed, saying a silent prayer, and wishing James were there by her side; then collecting herself she waited, catching sight of the twain as they circled back toward the monastery.
Koudelka bit her lower lip when she realized they weren't slowing down, but were coming much faster than they should have. Was Yuri going to crash into the ground with the monster? Would that do any good? How was she supposed to kill it if...? Watching in alarm now, she saw them heading straight toward her and she lifted up the sword. In the next second, her world exploded around her as the monster and Yuri collided with her; a mindless scream was coming from somewhere in front of her, then all around her and she closed her eyes to escape the reality in front of her- for Yuri had flown rapidly down, and skewered the monster onto the holy blade Sacnoth. Koudelka found herself splattered and drenched, as blood and ichor, flesh and feathers exploded upon contact with the blade. The monster's scream of pain and death echoed in the monastery grounds, in her ears, and in her mind.
Koudelka dropped the sword, letting the remains slid from its unmarred surface, the oddly formed blade yet shiny and clean in the aftermath of the destruction. Koudelka felt a sudden fatigue wash over her as the magic withdrew, leaving her sore and achy and not a little disgusted by the results. She stood head to toe in blood and ichor and a fleeting thought asked her if she would ever be clean again. Across the pit, the monster that was Seraphic Radiance came to a delicate landing on the bloody ground and shimmered, warping back into the young fighter she knew – Yuri. Suddenly it was too much for her and the fighting and the blood and the smell... she slid to her knees amidst the oozing remains and began to cry, hot, smelly tears bubbling from her eyes and leaving pink streaks down her cheeks.
Yuri came to her side, pulling her up into his arms and held her close, her sobs growing stronger now and shaking her body.
"It's all right now, Koudelka. It'll be fine; I have you. I'll protect you – always."
Yuri pulled closed the tent flap, securing it with twine before returning to the cot and the bundle that was Koudelka. He had taken her to the river and together they had washed her, Koudelka at first refusing to let him touch her, but then relinquishing when she could no longer hold the cloth. Yuri wiped away the blood and gore that he was responsible for bathing her in and each wipe with the cloth made him wonder what he thought he was doing. He used her as a weapon; well, actually used the sword Sacnoth. But why?
'Okay, so the Seraphic was getting his ass whomped, not like it hasn't happened before ... well not to him anyway... but still, why did I use Koudelka that way? Ferchristsakes she's a woman – she shouldn't have to do that sorta thing,' Yuri chided himself then realized as he finished washing the gypsy woman and wrapped her in a bit of blanket, that it was more Seraphic's doing than his. 'Damn him anyway. I let him get too much ahead of me. But if I hadn't...'
"Come on Koudelka, I'll take you to the tent; you can rest there." He picked her up and carried her up the road, her feet dangling off his one arm and her head resting against his chest. She felt so cold, even though he wrapped her in the blanket, her skin was cold and her face... so pale. Laying her on the cot in the tent, he went back out to ask Roger to make some tea and then returned. Now watching her shiver in the blanket, he wished he could do something more for her. Finally, with a concerned frown, he stripped his clothes and, grabbing the other blanket from Roger's cot, climbed into the cot with her, pulling her close before putting the blanket around them both.
"Yer freezin', Koudelka," he said softly.
"Mmm," she said softly and he wasn't sure it was a reply.
Yuri pulled her tightly to him, his arms wrapped around her and his cheek resting against her hair, his breath ruffling her bangs.
"I'm here, Koudelka, I'm here."
In the middle of the night, the wind died down for a bit and the sudden silence woke Koudelka. She felt warm, and she felt constricted. Opening her eyes, she was greeted with a warm, golden face, long eyelashes shading the cheekbones and a shock of dark hair. Yuri was holding her closely, much too closely, but he was warm, and she was warm and she liked it. Moving her shoulders only brought Yuri's strong arms closer around her and she felt herself stifled in his grip. She nudged him with her knee, pressing against him somewhere but he didn't respond.
"Yuri," she whispered. "Yuri, you're crushing me," she said and her breath washed over his face, ruffling his bangs. That produced a reaction, but not one she expected. Twin red orbs opened, glowing beneath those same dark lashes, before fading slightly to the rusty color of tree sap, and his arms tightened, threatening to crush her.
"Y-Yuri, please," she said softly, her voice a rasp of breath.
"Oh, oh," Yuri suddenly realized what he was doing and released her, pushing back and falling out of the cot. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered, bewildered and tangled in the blankets.
Koudelka could not stifle the giggle that bubbled up inanely and she smiled down at the fighter as he scrambled in the blankets, climbing to his knees.
"Are – are you feeling better, Koudelka?" he asked, pulling up the blanket then letting it fall in a rough tumble around his knees. He leaned over the cot and looked at her, face to face, as she leaned out to him as well, and their lips met briefly.
"Ah- ah," Yuri breathed then laughed softly. "So, you forgive me?" he asked.
Koudelka blew softly on his bangs. "I suppose so. But don't do that again, all right?"
Yuri smiled and chuckled. "Okay, whatever you say, babe. I—" he hesitated, looking down at beautiful woman leaning close to him, her breasts partly covered by her arms, goose flesh forming in the cold night air and their breaths mingling. "I love you, Koudelka."
"Yuri, there's something..."
"I want to make love to you," he pursued, and Koudelka laughed softly.
"Since when is that something new?" she replied and Yuri's rough hand took her shoulder and pushed her back to the cot, her head resting on the pillow.
"I'm going to make love to you until the sun comes up," he said as he climbed back onto the bed, covering her with his warm body and laying kisses as his first line of assault.
"Yuri, I think you need to know...
"I know everything I need to know, babe, to make you sing like a canary." He wasn't paying attention to her words, but let his own mouth work its hungry way down her neck, along her shoulder and pausing at the point of her shoulder to look up at her as she reached up and took a handful of his hair. "What?"
"Listen to me, Yuri."
Yuri pulled back, settling his arms on either side of her, resting on his elbows and kissing her breasts, suckling gently each rosy nipple before looking up at the dark-eyed gypsy.
"I'm pregnant, Yuri," she said softly and waited for Yuri's reaction.
The young fusionist blinked dumbly for a moment, the words worming their way into his brain before he responded.
"Yer... what? How'd you do that?"
Koudelka grinned, letting the hand full of hair she had held onto fall free from her fingers, and running those same fingers down his chin, noting the soft stubble of early beard.
"It takes two, Yuri," she said with a smile.
Yuri looked dumbfounded for a moment, and then chuckled quietly. "I know that," he said with a drawl. He squinted in the dark tent, his eyes boring holes into the woman beneath him. "I'm just wonderin' is all."
"Wondering what?" Koudelka asked, as she trailed her fingers down his chest, circling the small buds of his nipples, and trailing down a little further.
"Whose kid is it?"
"What?"
"Mine," Yuri grinned, "Or Seraphic's." His response stopped the slap from landing as Koudelka instead grabbed a handful of shaggy brown hair and yanked. "Okay, okay," Yuri said through muffled laughter. "But I wanna make sure here so," he planted his lips on her mouth, sucking in her breath and fully exploring the limits of her mouth with his tongue. When he pulled back, both of them breathless, he smirked.
"Yuri," Koudelka said with a smile, "I'm already pregnant. You can't change that."
"Yeah, well, if you aren't, I'm gonna make damn sure you are when I'm done with ya."
A/N: Reviewer Comments:
Aegis: Well, it wasn't that fast! After all, dew formed, that takes time. And Yuri's not that fast... oh, wait, he probably is, but not that way... oh shoot! Shutting up now!