"Nice work," Alyssa tossed a towel to each of them. Zoe sat next to her, reading The Emerald City of Oz.

"Did you kill the bad guys?" Zoe asked, innocently.

"No, we did worse," King waved at her and disappeared to shower.

"It's nearly dawn," Caulder checked his watch. "What took so long?"

"Hazardous materials," Abby shrugged out of her leather vest and accessories. "The warehouse was full of chemicals."

"We know," Gidge offered, still focused on his computers. "I cracked the medical supply company shipping records about two hours after you left. They've got their own mortuary set up running there, or so they claimed on their invoice."

"That sounds about right," Abby mused, "we nearly got embalmed."

"What's that mean?" Zoe piped up.

"Formaldehyde," Abby explained, mostly for the others' benefit, "among other things."

"Interesting," Caulder murmured, rubbing his chin. His degree was in biochemical engineering; behind his blank expression, complicated reactions were being run, balanced, tarried and weighed.

"Learn anything?"

"Yeah," Abby retreated to the kitchen for some bottled water. "They know Blade's alive."

"They said that?"

"They thought we were him." She gulped the water, greedily. "Good for us. Put them off their game. Only three were vampires that I saw." To Gidge, she nodded, said, "I put that device you wanted on the computers there. Did you get everything you need?"

"Done and done," Gidge gave her the thumbs up. "I'll blow it when we're out of here. Will keep the cops distracted."

"Good work," Alyssa congratulated her. "Hon?"

"Mm?" Caulder replied, not really hearing her.

"What are you thinking?"

"Not sure yet."

"Then it can wait till we've all had some rest," Alyssa stood up from the couch. "You want first shift?"

"Sure," Abby raised and dropped her shoulders, indifferent. "I won't be able to sleep for a while."

"Good, I'm dying. Gidge?"

"Yeah?" He said, in that off hand way of the perpetually pre-occupied.

"Rest."

"In a minute."

"Hon, you, too." Alyssa grabbed at Caulder's hand, pulling him after her, giving Abby's shoulder a squeeze as they went by. "Anything comes over the wire from Stone or Fox, you'll come get us."

"Sure," Abby nodded, crossing to the couch, collapsing next to Zoe.

"Can we shoot at the targets again?"

"You know it," she winked at the little girl then glanced down at the book. "You've been reading?" Zoe nodded, closing the book and holding it to her chest. It was the Braille copy that belonged to her mother. That was all Zoe had taken from their old base. She was the only one who could read it, now.

"Can I use your bow this time?"

"Not yet, Zoe. You have to work up to it." Zoe pouted, throwing herself back against the couch and wiggling her legs dejectedly. "Hey, cheer up," she elbowed the girl. "You don't want to grow up too fast, do you?"

"Yes, I do," Zoe grumbled, sounding completely serious.

Abby sighed. "Yeah, I bet you do."

The call from Fox came about three hours later. Abby had lined Zoe up with her old practice bow and drilled her on it for about two hours before Zoe wanted a nap. To the girl's credit, she worked the entire time, not complaining about how her arms hurt, which they must have, Abby knew from experience. And Zoe was getting better; she hit the targets reliably now, if not precisely. Still, it was eerie what a driven little girl was capable of.

"Whistler!" King called out the window to the ground floor. He held his pinky and thumb extended from his fist and wagged it back and forth by his ear. There was a call.

"Coming," she confirmed, taking one last shot of her own. In her hands, the arrow found the target, perfectly bisecting the arrow planted deep in the heart-shaped red section of the dummy. It wasted one arrow, maybe both of them, but it gratified to know she could do it.

Fox, it turned out, was a tanned girl with raven-black hair, and a noticeable tattoo over the left side of her neck. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed suspiciously at both Abby and King, but Gidge's recognizable blood-shot eyes and hang-dog visage reassured her.

"Hey gang," Fox greeted them. "You're the new guys?"

"In a manner of speaking," Abby answered. "I'm Abigail Whistler, this is Hannibal King." She gestured to King who mock saluted Fox with two fingers.

"Whistler?" Fox smiled. "How about that? Name's Fox, Alexandra Fox. Call me Alex and I kill you."

"Fox, you got anything for us?" Gidge had not, despite Alyssa's order, taken his rest period yet, and his exhaustion showed.

"Well, I can tell you that sharks aren't prowling the Bay any more than usual. Not the ones in the water, at least."

"Stone?"

"He took a dive, he'll be back in a while to let me know how that went."

"Stone's an ex-SEAL. He does aqua-recon," Gidge elaborated.

"If anyone's grabbing the midnight warriors, he'll know."

"Where've you been?"

"Out to Oakland and back. The cell there says it's got nothing for us. They were going to pack up and hit Sacramento."

"That's what I suggested," Abby interjected, testily.

"Nice thought, Whistler, but it's a dead end. They're non-combat. They want to do recon there. Good for us, though, we can have their San Fran place while we're up here."

"We?"

Fox nodded. "You better get your asses up here if you want a piece of this."

"Is it Girl Scout Cookie time again already?" King looked unimpressed.

"Yeah, made from real Girl Scouts, pretty soon."

"That bad?"

"Worse. Gidge?"

"Yes'm," Gidge muttered, fingers flying over keyboards and calling up a schematic. Abby shuddered. Even in just the basic blue and white of architectural plans, it looked uncomfortably like a plant.

"What you're seeing here," Fox narrated, "is what the Oakland crew had for us." Gidge scrolled along the digital file, starting from the top left and working down and right. "From what Alyssa gave me on the plant you described, I'd say we've got another in Marin county. Not as large, which is what worries me." Gidge clicked back onto Fox's video feed.

"Why?" Abby asked.

"Two things. One, they've easily got enough anonymous streetwalkers, performers, tourists, hikers, campers, and sportos in this area to make a monstrous facility. So, why isn't there one? You could hide something built to these dimensions in a typical two-floor apartment, and those are a dime-a-dozen. Two, if there are more than one of these places, where are the other schematics? Other addresses? This is all the Oakland folks had, the only one listed in a database busted off a low-level familiar."

"Ask the familiar again," Abby suggested.

"Can't. They bought him out for the info, but he didn't survive long enough to make any other contributions."

"Still, no reason to panic."

"Maybe not, maybe so. Gidge, exhibit B, please." Another file popped up and over Fox's stream. "What you're looking at now are the telephone records for a Christopher Leung."

"Who's he?"

"At this point, we're not sure. Leung's probably a familiar, though the crew up here hasn't attached him to a master yet."

"Why him?"

"Guy has no experience in the bio-medical industry. Last year, he pushed papers in an accounting firm. As of three months ago, he was the official spokesman and correspondent for Biomedica Industries."

"Talos' corporation," Abby said.

"Bingo. Only he doesn't seem to have been slowed down by the destruction of the facility down by you, or even by the deaths of Talos' themselves. By now, I think it's logical to assume he knows they've been dusted. Whether or not he knows about--" Fox hesitated. When she spoke again, her voice possessed a reverent air to it. "I'm not sure if he knows Blade was involved. But he's not altered his schedule at all. He's giving a conference on the future of artificial blood in America."

"I don't follow."

"A group of Eastern European scientists are attending this. They want to use the recent passage of stem cell research funding laws to begin a massive undertaking involving the production of bone marrow banks that would also be capable of generating blood. Basically, Leung's been calling across the globe, making promises of cash and whatever else to get the best of the best over here."

"Why not use local sources?"

"I don't think he's importing only doctors. His phone records flagged a few numbers in the Czech Republic, Germany, Romania, and Russia that are known to be vampire contact numbers."

"He's making dinner plans," King whistled lowly.

"I think so. He gets a few of the old school, maybe even pure-blooded vampires over here, or their lieutenants. In the name of science, he brings over a couple of the firsts, maybe second generation, if he can."

"Which means a new influx of powerful vampires into the state of California," Abby scowled. "Great. Fine, we'll be ready."

"How'd the Daystar go?"

"We've got a decent sample. We tested it again last night."

"Still good?"

"Yeah."

"So, there's going to be a bunch of purebloods arriving up at SFO on a late-night charter in the coming week. Doesn't that make you want to come up here and play?" Fox reappeared as Gidge closed the window, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin Abby'd ever seen. She glanced at King; he nodded, and she turned back to the screen.

"Definitely."