"Sarah!" Marco's voice cracked midway through his friend's name, making it sound like a croak. He winced and rubbed his throat. He'd been calling her name for an hour and was starting to lose his voice. It didn't stop him though. She'd never been late before; something terrible had happened to her. He'd thought the idea foolish earlier, but his misgivings the previous evening coupled with her tardiness today . . . Well, he wouldn't rest until he'd found her. He'd given her his word.

Still, it would be nice to get a drink of water . . . He coughed loudly—an extremely painful sound. He was going hoarse and his throat felt like sandpaper. At the rate things were going, Sarah wouldn't even be able to hear him. He desperately took in his surroundings, looking for a stream, puddle, or even a fallen leaf filled with the last remnants of the morning dew. Anything would do at this point.

He almost missed it at first—the sound of water dripping. He was on the verge of dismissing it as a figment of his imagination when the breeze picked up, blowing shockingly cool air across his legs. Cool and moist he noted with no small amount of glee. Looking around, it didn't take long for him to see the source: a small hole in the ground. He was lucky that he hadn't stepped in it, as he probably would have broken his ankle.

Upon closer inspection, what he'd first assumed was a small rut in the ground actually turned out to be a decent sized opening. Cool air blew across his face again, indicating that it stretched fairly far into the earth. It wasn't nearly large enough to be called a cave, but was just wide enough for an ambitious young man to wiggle into, which he proceeded to do.

There was something creepy about the tunnel—it was obvious that's what it was as it seemed to stretch on forever—and he hesitated on the threshold between light and darkness. Glancing over his shoulder, he gazed longingly at the sunlight in the trees and for a moment, considered turning back.

In that instant of doubt, another wave of cool air caressed his face, beckoning him onwards. With the promise of cool comfort and water, the light was totally forgotten and Marco pressed on towards his death . . .

"Rest?" Lina muttered curiously. "What are you talking about?" She loved her sister, but it never ceased to amaze her—and infuriate, to be quite honest—that Luna always seemed to excel at everything.

Since they'd been children, Luna had been far more than a beloved sibling. It wasn't even hero worship really, although Lina was aware that she'd tried to emulate her sister in everything from mannerisms to hairstyle. No, Luna had been an ideal—the ideal—something to strive for.

Even now, Lina wondered if she would ever measure up to Luna's standards.

Apparently, she wasn't measuring up tonight, as Luna was obviously disappointed with Lina's performance. "Honestly. Must I spell it out for you, Lina?" the elder Inverse asked with a sigh of annoyance. "Rest. As in, this child is no longer with us." Turning a favoring smile upon the boy, she added, "And yet, here he stands, looking like the personification of youthful exuberance." The smile turned cruel as she gazed into his glassy eyes. "Well, not so exuberant at the moment, but it's quite understandable given what he's been through."

"What you did to him, you mean," Lina corrected icily. She wanted to keep Luna talking and, more importantly, to keep her attention off the child. Her sister had already admitted to losing control once and Lina would rather be the target of Luna's wrath should it happen again.

"So very rude," Luna replied with an irritated shake of her head. "If you must quibble, then yes, I've hurt this child and worse; I've killed him. I've been feeling a little under the weather lately and I needed . . . sustenance."

"You killed an innocent child?" Lina whispered in disbelief. She knew what vampires did, but it was still unthinkable that Luna would do such a thing. "Defend the innocent from darkness," she said, unconsciously invoking the Slayers credo. It seemed that her sister was little more than a twisted mockery of her former self.

"Oh spare me the theatrics," Luna said with a sneer. "I know the rules better than you do. Tell me, Miss High and Mighty, have you ever had your face scraped off? No? Well, take my word for it that it stings like a bitch. I was starving when I took this boy two nights ago. I bled him dry, tore him to pieces, and sucked the marrow from his bones."

Marco glanced up at Luna, wearing an expression like a rabbit caught in a hunter's snare—talk of his own death was a little upsetting, it seemed—but thankfully, she seemed to only have eyes for Lina in that moment.

"It was pleasurable. Pointless, of course, but pleasurable. It's hard to draw nourishment from something that's little more than a sad memory given shape." Luna shook her head irritably. "But, we're not here to talk about me and my feeding habits. We're here to help Marco."

She was about to continue, but paused and cocked her head. Lina heard it too; Gourry was calling her name. Far from making her feel better, it made her even more fearful. Gourry had no idea of what he was getting into.

"Well, it looks as if things are about to get interesting. Marco?" Luna clapped the boy on the shoulder to get his attention. "Run and hide, will you? I'll be along shortly." She watched him stumble away for a moment. "He's going to die again, you know," she said, turning her attention back to Lina. "He's lost too much blood. I expect that he'll pass out somewhere out in the woods and not wake up again." She grinned wickedly. "Get by me and you might be able to save him. But, before we get to that, I've got a question, Lina."

Lina nodded, indicating that she was listening.

"You didn't seem surprised to see me. Well, not as surprised as I'd hoped. I expected you to bawl your eyes out—you were such a whiny child—but you showed a lot of spine. How'd you know?"

"A couple things," Lina said with a shaky sigh. "It was the sword—your sword. When I saw it again, I just knew. And Amelia telling me about the purple hair and the singing. You've always had such a beautiful voice, Sis. That was part of it." She ran a hand through her hair, mussing it even more than it already was. "But, you know what the first thing was? The thing that really made me start to think? It was just after I left Sairaag. Do you remember that?"

"It was the little care package," Luna muttered thoughtfully.

"That's right. I saw the clothes—clean and mended—the stakes, and the dagger and that's when I first got this stupid little idea." She laughed, but didn't really feel it. The only emotion that she could conjure at the moment was sadness. Somehow, seeing her sister here was worse than knowing that she was in a grave somewhere. "It was like . . ." She shrugged helplessly, trying to find the words. "I don't know . . . it was like . . . like you were there, looking out for me again. Like when we were little." Sensing tears stinging the corners of her eyes, she chuckled and snapped her fingers as if just remembering something—anything to stave off her crying. "Oh, and your grave was empty. That clued me in a bit too."

"Empty?!" Luna blurted out before she could catch herself.

"Yeah . . . empty," Lina repeated, sensing that something was amiss. Why should Luna be surprised that her grave was vacant? She was up and walking around after all.

"Well, it seems that even I miss things once in a while." Before Lina could even ask what she'd meant, Luna waggled a finger and said, "That's enough chit chat. Let's begin, shall we?"

Lina's expression hardened and she gave Luna the slightest of nods. Dropping into her stance, she had to mentally remind herself to breathe. Now wasn't the time to be trembling either. She'd beaten Hellmaster, right? Surely she could beat a run of the mill vampire . . . who happened to be her sister . . . the sister that had taught her everything . . . outclassed her in every way . . . and was currently running away . . .

"What the hell?!" Lina incredulously exclaimed as she watched Luna's cloak vanish into the forest.
"Lina? Lina?!" Gourry called, time and again. He didn't really expect an answer—he'd been calling her name for ten minutes now—but it made him feel useful at least. She might be out there somewhere unable to answer. If she heard his voice, she might . . . He shook his head in irritation. He was working himself up over nothing at the moment. He didn't know why she had stormed off all of a sudden. Worrying about it wasn't doing anything for either of them.

He knew that in his head, but his gut told a different story; Lina was out there and she needed him—maybe more than ever before. And if he kept dragging his feet, something horrible was going to happen to her.

Referring to what he was doing as "dragging his feet" was a little unfair on his part; every few feet he'd come across a particularly dense bit of brush—always sporting innumerable thorns—or got tripped up on a concealed root or vine. His progress was maddeningly slow and he had thoughts of his much smaller companion casually skipping through the obstacles as if they weren't there.

Somehow, that angered him even more. She was so far ahead by that point that it was a lost cause, he was sure. And it didn't help a bit that his surroundings seemed to be actively hindering his progress. Grunting in frustration, he ducked, narrowly avoiding a tree branch that snapped back and threatened to lash him across the face; the infuriating thing was that he didn't even remember pushing it out of the way to begin with.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back, it seemed. Subtlety be damned, he thought as he drew the Sword of Light. He may as well have painted a target on his chest for all the light he was giving off, but it was worth it. The blade shone with near blinding intensity, casting a golden hue on everything around him.

Huh. That was odd. Gourry raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the sight of a narrow dirt path stretching out before him. Had he just not noticed it while stumbling around in the dark? He looked around briefly, partially to assure himself that nothing unfriendly had taken an interest in his light, but more out of simple curiosity. The trees were strange. It looked as if they'd actually receded a bit. He started to wonder at the phenomenon, but quickly nipped the thought in the bud; Lina was waiting for him somewhere ahead.

He broke into a run—heedless of whatever danger might lie ahead—and exploded from the forest in a flurry of leaves a few moments later. A fairly large clearing stood before him, dominated by a majestic oak tree and a small pond. Gourry the swordsman analyzed this information in an instant and determined that it would be foolish to walk into the open without knowing what awaited him.

Despite what his instincts were screaming, he walked out anyway. It seemed that the swordsman in him was easily vanquished in the face of love and devotion to duty. He'd spied a familiar and much beloved redhead in the clearing. "Hey, Lina!" he called out, raising his hand in greeting. All thoughts of danger cast aside, he sheathed the Sword of Light. The area was immediately plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the pale stars above.

Lina's greeting wasn't nearly as pleasant as he'd expected. "You idiot!" she bellowed, running towards him with arms waving. "Draw the sword! Draw the . . ."

Gourry was immediately on edge and reached for his sword again. He hesitated for a split second, however. His senses screamed at him that something was amiss in the scene before him. The sounds he was hearing didn't exactly match what he was seeing. Lina was running at him and he heard her warning and the rustle of her footsteps in the grass; that much made sense. What was utterly perplexing was the fact that he heard a second set of footsteps that fell perfectly in time with hers. Except . . .

They were coming from his right. He mentally cursed himself for not getting it sooner, even as he turned to face his attacker. "Light come . . ."

"None of that," Luna hissed as she closed the distance between herself and the swordsman. She lashed out with a kick and connected with Gourry's sword hand, driving the weapon back into its sheath with a loud click.

Gourry grunted in pain, but somehow managed to maintain his hold on the hilt. His hand stung horribly, but he didn't think any of his fingers were broken.

God, the woman was good, he noted. She'd left no opening after her initial strike and was already rearing back to hit him again. That was a mistake though. If she was pulling back—even for an instant—it gave him all the room he needed to draw the Sword of Light again.

A smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips, Gourry tightened his grip on the sword and pulled it free of its sheath. "Light come forth!" he yelled. He was rewarded with light that rivaled that of the sun and the shadows were driven back.

Luna's face—what there was of it in any case—was illuminated for a moment before she ducked under his opening slash. She lost a bit of her cloak, but it was a fair trade for keeping her head. Her skin gave off wisps of dark gray smoke and sizzled in the artificial sunlight, but she moved as if she didn't even notice. Even before he'd finished his swing, she'd struck again—a stinging blow across the top of his forearm.

He hadn't been ready for that. Although the blow barely hurt, it added a great deal of unanticipated momentum to his strike and his battered fingers were unable to maintain their grip on the sword. A confused expression on his face, he watched as the blade flew through the air, extinguished, and came to rest somewhere in the bushes skirting the clearing. Well, that certainly wasn't good.

There wasn't any time to ponder the loss of his sword, however. In the next instant, he felt Luna's hands on his arm. She turned, exposing her back to him.

An almost inaudible grunt was the only indication that what Luna did next was anything but simple. In a single fluid motion, she leaned forward and flipped Gourry over her shoulder and onto his back at her feet.

The air was driven forcefully from his lungs on impact. He briefly recalled that he'd often been on the receiving end of this kind of treatment during his training with Rodimus. His mistakes during practice were usually followed up by the view of his master standing over him with the point of a sword aimed at his throat.

The only difference now was that it was a small woman that had laid him low and it wasn't a sword hovering over him; it was her foot, raised and on the verge of driving downward into the bridge of his nose. She was going to kill him.

Lina tackled the cloaked woman and drove her to the ground just before Luna's heel came down. The two women rolled around on the ground struggling to bite, kick, and claw at one another; at least, that's what he first thought. Quickly regaining his feet, he watched the tangle of limbs briefly for a moment, marveling at their technique. They weren't so much striking one another as trying to break, dislocate, or otherwise immobilize one another's extremities.

It actually made a lot of sense, he thought as he turned to search for the Sword of Light. He wanted to help Lina and the best way to do that was to find his sword. After all, he wasn't a chef.

Lina had explained to him one night—repeatedly—the vampire rules. You had to use a garlic steak to kill them; nothing else worked. Except for the Sword of Light, of course. He paused with his hands in a patch of poison ivy to ponder that for a moment. Garlic didn't really taste that good on steak, but it seemed to be a little extreme to die from it. And did that mean that his sword was made of garlic? He hadn't noticed an odor. Oh well.

Anyway, since vampires could grow anything back, including their heads, punches and kicks didn't really do much to faze them. Breaking limbs was a good way to slow them down though. It took them a few minutes to sort injuries like that out, possibly buying Lina enough time to serve them their steak.

Gourry grimaced when he realized that his hands were still in the poison ivy, but his irritation quickly turned to joy; the Sword of Light glinted enticingly from its spot atop a pile of nearby leaves.

Before he could pick it up, he heard the rustle of cloth and was enveloped in a white cloak. A moment later, he felt cool arms encircle his neck and Luna's weight was suddenly on his back. He coughed roughly as her forearm slammed into his throat, cutting off his air supply.

Even as his face began to turn blue, Gourry was still struggling to regain his footing. Luna was much smaller than he was—no taller than Lina, really and light as a feather. Still, every time he tried to rise from a kneeling position, she was there to kick his legs out from under him. And all the while she hung on with the tenacity of a tick.

His vision starting to go black around the edges, he finally decided to surrender. Better to be awake and her hostage than unconscious and of no use to Lina at all.

Luna sensed his struggles weakening and swung him around so that he was between her body and Lina. "Not one move from either of you!" she snarled in his ear, thankfully loosening her grip on his neck so that he might draw breath.

Gourry saw Lina running towards them, but she stopped short at her sister's command. He briefly wondered what had taken her so long, but saw long scratches on her arms and legs. Blood trickled from her nose; he couldn't tell if it was from a blow or because Luna had nipped her during their scuffle. Luna fought harder than she'd anticipated it seemed.

"Don't worry about me, Lina!" Gourry yelled, struggling to free himself from Luna's grasp despite her threats. "Cook her steak!"

"What?!" the sisters exclaimed in unison.

Luna was the first to recover her composure. "Oh my. Lina, what have you been telling this man?" She sniggered loudly in his ear, barely controlling her mirth. "A master Slayer indeed . . ."

"No!" Lina yelped, waving her arms frantically. "No, that's not what I told him! Gourry, you stupid jellyfish!"

"Oh that's lovely!" Luna said, laughing even louder at Lina's embarrassment. Her voice a sensuous purr, she whispered, "You know, I like you. You're cute and funny." She playfully flicked his earlobe with the tip of her tongue and raised her voice just enough for Lina to hear. "Just what are you doing with a homely little mongrel like my sister? I'm sure she's . . . 'energetic', but wouldn't you prefer a real woman?"

Gourry swallowed nervously as he felt Luna mold herself to his back. Everything about her was like Lina, yet somehow more erotic. Their voices shared the same playful quality, but there was something more mature about Luna's. Her touch was almost like electricity—the idea being reinforced by the fact her hands were being quite adventurous at the moment—far heavier and yet at the same time gentler than Lina's less experienced caresses. Then there were the breasts pressed firmly against his back; they made a silent and very compelling offer of pleasure like he'd never experienced. Lina could only dream of breasts like . . .

Then it hit him: every sensation he'd just experienced—every thought—they all came back to Lina. His Lina. He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at her, hoping that even in the dark she could see it and somehow know how he felt. Luna's cruel little game wasn't going to work.

Thankfully, Lina seemed to get it. He could see her relax just a bit, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly and her fists loosening. She wasn't going to do anything stupid, it seemed.

Unfortunately, Luna noticed that the tension had abated as well. Sounding almost genuinely hurt, she snarled, "That's fine. That's just fine! There's more than one way for us to play!" Her grip turned to iron, her fingers digging painfully into his chest. Thankfully her hand hadn't been down there when he'd upset her. Her other hand seized a handful of his hair and his head was violently yanked back, exposing his throat. The last thing he felt was her soft lips on his neck followed by pinpricks.
"You came out here to help Marco," Zelgadis whispered as he held Amelia close. There was no question in his tone. He knew that was why she had left her bed. Just as he knew that she'd teased the tiger—Fangs had been his name—as a child. She'd tugged on his tail from behind the safety of the bars until he'd been whipped into a frenzy. He'd later attacked his handler when he'd tried to feed the animal. Nobody was hurt, but Amelia had been so frightened and ashamed that she'd never told anyone what had happened.

Yet, Zelgadis knew. Amelia's past was there for his perusal; he could call any of it up at a moment's notice. Thankfully, the emotions associated with those memories had faded when he returned some of her blood. Now the information was just there—dry as the pages of a history book. He breathed a sigh of relief at that. It was bad enough sharing his mind with a demon. Any more people up there and it'd be terribly crowded.

Grou made a rude comment, eliciting a chuckle from Zelgadis. The demon was still with him then. He'd been worried about how much he was giving Amelia. Strange as it was to admit, it was a relief to know that Grou was still tucked away in the recesses of his mind. That was something that he hadn't wanted to share at all.

"Share what?" Amelia asked, reaching up to stroke Zelgadis's face. She loved his face. It was a kind face, full of compassion when he wasn't thinking about himself.

Zelgadis smiled at her and shook his head. There was that. Not telepathy or anything like that, but they did have some sort of connection now. Inklings of what the other was thinking—little more than flashes, really—and a deep comprehension of one another's feelings marked their bond. It was empathy.

"You wanted to help Marco find Sarah," he repeated thoughtfully. He concentrated, drawing up the necessary memories before continuing. "Sarah's a young lady of eleven? And she's been missing for a day now? At least, that's what Marco thought, right?"

Jillas had all but given up on trying to understand what was going on, but his ears perked up at the bit about a missing girl. That sounded familiar. Amelia and Zelgadis didn't notice at that moment.

Zelgadis shuddered violently as a wave of fear washed over him. "What's wrong?" he asked, noting that Amelia was shaking in his arms. She stared at him as if she'd seen a ghost.

Amelia sensed that she was upsetting Zelgadis and forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down a bit. She didn't want to worry him, but . . . "Mister Zelgadis, how did you . . . um, how much do you . . . ?"

". . . Know?" Zelgadis finished with a sigh. Better to get it out in the open than try to hide it, he supposed. "Everything," he admitted, with a guilty little shrug of his shoulders. It wasn't his fault really, but he still couldn't help feeling responsible.

"Everything?" she whispered nervously. "No, really. Everything?" She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. Not that she was upset or anything; she'd dreamed of sharing her life with Zelgadis someday, but . . . "Everything?!" she repeated again, just to make sure that he understood exactly what she meant.

His face quickly turning a bright shade of pink, Zelgadis nodded.

"Oh my," she whispered. "You know about," she paused for a moment, trying to pull up a particularly obscure memory, "Fangs?" She smiled at him, hoping that he'd answer in the negative. "Do you know about Fangs?" Her answer was another reluctant nod. "Oh my," she mumbled again, repeating it like a mantra. She squirmed out of his grasp and scampered a few feet away. "Um, do you know what I was thinking a few nights ago? The night before we arrived here, I mean?" Almost inaudibly, she added, "When we were sitting around the fire together?"

Zelgadis cocked his head thoughtfully for a moment. Was there a specific memory that she . . . ? Oh . . . Wow . . . Um, okay, this was interesting. He slapped a hand over his eyes in embarrassment, his face going from pink to beet red in an instant. He couldn't bring himself to look at her in that moment. Witnessing the memory was like peeking at her while she was changing; it was something he didn't want to see unless she actually wanted to share it with him. "Can . . . can I ask you a question?" he mumbled, his face still hidden behind his hand.

"What's that?" Amelia cautiously asked in return.

"Are . . . are you really that flexible?" The image he was seeing in that moment was—well—impressive to say the least, but he'd meant the question as a joke. He desperately wanted to lighten the mood and set her at ease. To say that it didn't really have the desired effect would be a colossal understatement.

Her face redder than Zelgadis's by that point, Amelia stammered, "W-Well, I'm an acrobat and you have to be limber—you know, t-to do that stuff—the t- t-tumbling, I mean—and well it was just a silly little thing and I didn't know that you were going to know about it—I mean, how could I?" She could sense unease growing within him and tried to bring herself to look at him and maybe smile and tell him that everything was okay.

She couldn't do it though. Try as she might, she couldn't do it. Everything wasn't okay. Things were far from it, in truth. And although it wasn't really his fault—she knew that much—it didn't make her feel any better about it. Not having anything better to do, she burst into tears. She felt her own pain wash over Zelgadis and come back to her redoubled. An instant later, she heard him begin to quietly sob as well. That didn't do anything to help her disposition.
Lina wanted to do something to help Gourry, but found herself rooted to the spot trying to sort through the gamut of emotions she had gone through in last few moments. She'd been terrified for him at first, then angry, then relieved, and now she was struggling to cope with the idea that her sister was feeding on the man she loved. No, she corrected herself; Luna was killing him.

Chilled by that thought, Lina surged forward, meaning to bowl them both over—anything to distract Luna from her prey.

She needn't have worried. Luna was all too willing to be distracted from Gourry. With a gleeful laugh, she flicked the clasp on her cloak and whipped that towards Lina.

Lina wasn't going to be fall for that; she'd used a similar trick on Eris in their confrontation a few weeks ago. Sweeping her arm out in front of her, she caught the mantle and flung it to the ground. What she wasn't prepared for was what lay behind it.

Gourry stumbled forward—shoved by Luna while her sister was distracted—somehow managing to look both sleepy and surprised at the same time. He toppled onto Lina, dragging her roughly to the ground.

"Oh, come on now!" Lina loudly protested. "Gourry, get off me! You're heavy!" She put her hands on his shoulders and shoved as hard as she could, grunting with the exertion, but making very little headway. Blood from the wound in his neck trickled over her hand and she wondered just how badly he'd been hurt. There wasn't time to worry about him though. Luna was going to kill them both if she didn't stop her.

In spite of the fact that she knew better, she wasted a second to caress his face with her fingertips. Still warm—still pink, she realized with a sigh of relief. He'd be fine, provided they both survived the next few minutes of course.

"C'mon, help me out here, Gourry," she quietly pleaded as she shoved against him again. Maybe he heard her or maybe it was just the adrenaline working, but somehow she managed to shift him to the side this time.

She scrabbled to her feet just in time to catch Luna's first strike—a crescent kick aimed at her temple. She shoved hard against the extended leg and was rewarded by a vile curse from her sister as she staggered back, totally off balance. Encouraged, Lina moved in, throwing a flurry of strikes to keep Luna on defense.

Luna laughed as she gave ground before her former student. She didn't even bother to block, instead opting to shift ever so slightly to avoid each of Lina's blows. Her movements resembled nothing so much as a cobra dancing to the music of a snake charmer.

Lina swore loudly, wasting valuable oxygen. It wouldn't have been so bad if Luna had been struggling to avoid her, but this was just ridiculous. Every attack she launched connected in some small way; she'd feel cloth flutter against her knuckles or just a hint of cool skin at her fingertips—reminding her that she'd missed her target by fractions of an inch. "Damn you!" she shouted, knowing perfectly well that Sis was letting her get this close, just to tease her.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Luna was getting noticeably faster the longer the fight wore on. She was finally beginning to look like her old self again as well. Thin moist patches of skin had begun to spring up on her face like some sort of bizarre mold. Purple hair was sprouting from her skull, quickly growing to its old length—the way it had been before she died. Her empty eye socket was suddenly full again; an eye had popped into existence with a moist sound.

Luna actually made an effort this time to block one of Lina's blows. Not out of necessity, it seemed—the smile on her face had grown more infuriating if anything—but more from a desire to show her sister that, yes, she could stop every single punch if she wanted to. "Getting tired already, Lina?" she called out teasingly.

"Well . . ." Lina gasped, swinging all the while, "Some of us . . . aren't dead . . . and still need . . . to breathe . . ." She was already slowing down. Days spent with too little food and rest had taken a toll on her. But, there was more to it than that. She was feeling queasy again, just as she had that morning. Of all the times for it to happen . . .

She took a wild swing, abandoning technique in her frustration. Of course, she didn't connect—Luna had seen it coming a mile away—and she overbalanced and staggered a few steps off to the side. It was only when she felt icy water around her ankles that she realized that she'd stepped into the pond.

Before she had a chance to turn, she felt Luna slam into her back—almost folding her double—and drive her face first into the black water.
Jillas didn't know what was going on. First, Miss Amelia had been dying and then the boss had helped her somehow. After that, they'd been happy for a few minutes, which in turn made him happy as well—after all, it was a lot easier serving two masters who loved one another and wanted to be together—but now that had changed again. Now they were both weeping and refusing to look at one another. It was so terribly confusing!

Fox ears drooping, Jillas started to sniffle himself. Why were they so upset? They'd been so cheerful not five minutes ago! Not knowing what else to do, he lunged forward and flung his arms around Amelia's waist. It wasn't really a statement about which of his master's he preferred; Amelia just happened to be closer to where he was standing. Had he been looking at Zelgadis instead of burying his face in Amelia's chest, he would have been puzzled to see a look of intense gratitude on his master's face. You'd think that he didn't want a hug or something.

"I'm sorry ye couldn't 'elp the boy!" Jillas sniffled. That was obviously what had upset Amelia so. She'd been trying to help that Marco boy, but she'd lost him somehow. That was the last thing that she and Zelgadis had discussed that made sense. "I'll try t' do betta'! We found one kid; we can find anotha'!"

"What?"

Jillas looked up to see Amelia looking at him, her tears momentarily forgotten. His spirits soared; he was helping! He was really helping! "Ye lost th' boy—not your fault of course—but don' ye worry, Sis! I'll find 'im f' ya!" He shrugged and helpfully added, "I mean, 'e don't have no scent, don't leave tracks, and is jus' as fast as quicksilva', but I'll find 'im!"

"No," Amelia said with an impatient shake of her head, "go back a bit, Mister Jillas. You said you found another kid."

"Um . . ." Jillas said, stalling for a moment. "Well, it was a littl' girl. But, ye see, sh' weren't really alive when w' found 'er . . ." He grinned apologetically—as if this particular detail were somehow his fault—displaying a row of needle sharp teeth. "But, sh' been dead fo' a while. Years even. Don' ye worry, though! I'll find th' boy long befo' that!"

When his assurances went unappreciated, Jillas noted that Miss Amelia and the boss were exchanging identical thoughtful looks. Both had an odd glint in their eyes and were chewing their lower lips thoughtfully—one of Amelia's habits. He sighed, just knowing that he'd missed some important detail again.

"A little girl . . ." Amelia mused aloud.

". . . dead for years," Zelgadis finished without missing a beat.
Two dark shapes erupted from the water in tandem, flinging drops of water that, for an instant, sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight. One gasped for air as she scrabbled inelegantly to her feet in a sad ruin of a dress. The other laughed aloud, having left behind the need for breathing with her mortality. She easily stood in the knee-deep water as if she belonged there; even a tussle in the mud couldn't faze her. "Stop playing around, Lina!" she called out, her voice full of mad mirth, "Either kill me or die, I really don't care which!" She dropped into a defensive stance, eagerly awaiting Lina's inevitable attack.

Lina's mind was willing although her body was a little more reluctant. She glared at Luna—her eyes flickering with righteous anger—and tried to summon up the strength to pursue the attack. She'd been held under the water for a good minute before wriggling free of her sister's grasp; she was more than a bit winded at the moment to say the least. Her breath came in loud ragged gasps.

"Oh god," she moaned, feeling a familiar sensation of illness wash over her. Not now, she silently pleaded—any time but now. Her stomach felt as if it were trying to turn itself inside out, to say nothing of the fact that she couldn't see straight again. Life had taken on an unpleasant blur and vertigo threatened to drag her back down into the pool. She fought with all her might to keep her footing and . . . Her world lurched sickeningly and she staggered. Um, okay . . . you know what? She could fight almost as well from her hands and knees. No biggie.

With that, Lina's knees gave out and dumped her back in the water. Somehow, she managed to catch herself before completely submerging. If she went under, she knew that she wouldn't be coming back up. Her arms trembled dangerously as if she were struggling to carry a heavy load instead of just propping her head up. Just breathe and it will pass, she told herself. There's no time for dying. You still have a job to do.

Determined to finish the fight, Lina exerted a phenomenal effort in crawling on hands and knees over to where her sister stood. She noted with no small amount of irritation that Luna had an amused look on her face. That was fine though. Let her laugh; she'd be dead and cremated soon enough.

"Ugh," she groaned, clapping a hand over her mouth. If it was possible, she was feeling even worse. A moment later, she gave up the fight with her stomach and vomited up a disgusting mash of half digested pecans. Great, there went the only food she'd had in the last twenty-four hours. Just lovely.

This wasn't looking good. Gritting her teeth, Lina reached out and grabbed Luna's leg. She was starting to understand that she probably wasn't going to walk away from this fight. Still, she thought—feebly tugging on her sister in a vain attempt to drag her down—she wasn't going to quit without a struggle. If she could get Luna off her feet, that'd be something right . . .?

Luna watched her sister's pathetic display of defiance with the look of a bored cat playing with a half dead mouse. "Oh, get off," she said with a sigh of annoyance. Lina's hand was kicked away from her cloak with absolutely no effort at all and she took a step back as her fallen sister began to topple over.

That was all she had left to give, Lina realized as she overbalanced and fell face first into black water. She floated there, not even bothering to try to prop herself up again. Her arms were a liability at that point, little more than dead weight holding her down. To make matters even worse, she felt Luna's foot come down on the back of her head and force her further under. As if it was even necessary . . . She couldn't breathe anyway. Just before blacking out, she wondered what would kill her first: her sister or her affliction.

She sucked up a lungful of water and wasn't quite sure of what happened after that. The pressure on her head receded and she had the vague notion that she was flying. That couldn't be right though. She could hear the water dripping off her body and hitting the pool below. Carried then. Luna was carrying her to shore to more conveniently dispatch her. Another few seconds and she'd feel her sister's fangs on her throat.

But it seemed that Luna wasn't quite done toying with her. Lina felt herself come to rest on solid ground—a little ways away from the pond it seemed as she felt grass tickling her nose instead of cool mud on her face. Then the blows started; Luna rained merciless palm strikes down upon her back with horrible regularity. Lina would shudder from the impact, have exactly three seconds to recover, and then be struck again.

She was just coming to the conclusion that Luna meant to beat her to death when a particularly sharp blow caused her to sputter for a moment before coughing up most of the water she'd inhaled. She spent the next few moments retching uselessly—there was nothing left to come up—before groaning pitiably and resuming her breathing. She emphatically wished that she could die. Her lungs ached, her throat felt as if she'd gargled with razors, she still felt as if her insides were trying to consume themselves, and on top of all that, her head throbbed angrily—she had a bitch of a headache, it seemed.

In all that darkness and pain, Lina fancied that she heard Luna ask her what was wrong. The perplexing thing was that her sister actually sounded concerned about her. But, that couldn't be right; this thing wasn't the Luna she remembered. It was a vile and wicked creature and was probably trying to lull her into a false sense of comfort.

Well, she could forget that! Lina smirked inwardly. She was in too much pain to be lulled into anything resembling comfort. Hell, she could barely remember what comfort was. Luna may as well beat her again; at least the blows took her mind off of everything else that was wrong.

Luna surprised her yet again. Her cool hand came down upon Lina as expected—she'd been right about that at least—but it was with the most gentle of touches. The redhead felt the sodden mess that was her hair being brushed to the side before her sister began to stroke her, making long slow figure eights across the length and breadth of her back with her fingertips.

She'd tensed up a bit at Luna's touch in anticipation of more pain, but when she realized what her sister was actually doing, Lina released a reluctant sigh of relief. This was wrong, she told herself. This wasn't what Luna was now, but . . . the feeling was so familiar. Not to mention amazingly soothing.

It took her back to her childhood, bringing with it the phantom aroma of good hot soup—Ceiphied knew if she didn't feel so sick, she'd love a bowl—and her sister's tender ministrations. She'd been ill, almost fatally so, when she'd been ten. She'd been suffering from a particularly bad bout of pneumonia, but she didn't know that. All she knew was weakness, a lack of appetite, and a quiet wish that she'd just go ahead and die.

Those moments were the scariest; no child of ten should ever wish for death. In those darkest moments, the only thing that had brought her comfort was Luna. Her sister had sternly—yet with an amazing amount of patience—coaxed her into eating, even though she was never hungry. The meals were invariably followed by the backrubs that were so amazingly similar to the one she was receiving now. Luna would sit with her for hours on end, sometimes humming some tune under her breath, other times in silence, but always rubbing, occasionally using her nails to alter the sensation.

In some strange way, it'd worked. It hadn't lessened the misery any, but somehow made it feel more distant. Lina had mended then and several times since. To a lesser extent, it was working in that moment as well. Just before she drifted off to sleep—it was far easier than staying awake at that point—she thought that she heard Luna singing softly again. That pleased her to no end and the last of her reservations about her sister fell away with her consciousness.
Gourry staggered drunkenly towards the trees, a hand clapped to the side of his neck. Blood seeped from between his fingers, but it wasn't the torrent that he'd expected; Luna had just nipped him lightly, it seemed, which was kind of strange. Lina had mentioned that most vampires ripped out the throats of their victims in their zeal.

Still, there was no time to think about that, he thought. Dropping gratefully to his knees—the world didn't sway quite so much from this position—he began to sweep his hands through the leaves again, searching for the Sword of Light. It only took him a moment to find this time; he'd made a mental note of where it'd been before.

Blinking sleepily, he scooped it up on his second try. His clumsy fingers hadn't wanted to close around it at first. Okay, that was done. Now he just needed to save Lina. He climbed to his feet—either he was feeling better or getting used to the world swaying—and turned, expecting to see Lina locked in a life or death struggle with her sister.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw her lying in the grass, motionless. Uttering a strangled little cry of hopelessness, he lurched forward, praying that she wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead, right? She'd been fighting as hard as she could a moment ago. It couldn't all be over already, could it?

Then he saw Luna raise her head—she'd been lying on the far side of Lina, obscured from view—and he knew what had happened: the vile thing had killed her. He raised the Sword of Light over his head, on the verge of uttering the words to activate it, when he saw that he'd been at least partially mistaken.

He'd first assumed that Luna had been looming over Lina in an aggressive manner. Upon second glance, however, she was actually hugging the redhead. Tears sparkled in her violet eyes as she looked up at Gourry questioningly.

"You . . . You're not going to do it, are you?" She sighed sorrowfully at the confusion written on his face and looked back down at her sister. "I knew you wouldn't," she whispered, gently stroking Lina's cheek with her fingertips. "You should. Kill me, I mean. I killed Amelia, or would have anyway. Either way, she's dead. I tried to kill you and Zelgadis." A strangely hopeful sound in her tone, she added, "I just tried to drown Lina."

Gourry shook his head mutely and sheathed the Sword of Light. If he'd seen any malice at all in Luna he would have killed her on the spot, but there was nothing in her demeanor except sadness at the moment. She hadn't done any of the things she threatened. Amelia had still been alive when he'd left her—although he had a hunch that he shouldn't mention that—and it was obvious that she'd pulled Lina from the water.

Kneeling beside the sisters, he momentarily marveled at the similarities in their appearance. They both had the same facial features: slightly roundish faces marked by large expressive eyes and snub noses. The only major difference was their hair; Lina's was long, fiery, and untamable—although the mud and twigs might have had something to do with that last part—compared to Luna's shoulder length, straight, amethyst tresses.

"She's sick," Luna said in answer to his unspoken question. "I could smell it on her when I pulled her from the water. It's horrible, unlike anything I've ever encountered before." She watched, a small smile on her face, as Gourry reached out and brushed a few strands of hair out of Lina's face. "You love her," she whispered. It wasn't a question.

Gourry nodded, never taking his eyes off Lina. She didn't appear to be in too much discomfort, which relieved him to no end.

"Does she love you?"

The question rattled him for a moment. Did she? He knew that he loved her with all his heart, but as for her feelings for him . . .

"Now, that's interesting," Luna muttered thoughtfully. "You don't have an answer for me?" She sat up, running her nails down Lina's back a final time before reaching into a pocket. "I'm not surprised. She's a stubborn girl. I doubt even she knows the answer." Sighing in exasperation, she mumbled, "Now where did I put it . . .? Here we go." She produced a small envelope and offered it to Gourry.

Gourry stared at the small parcel as if Luna had offered him a particularly large and venomous snake. "Huh?"

Apparently annoyed by his lack of action, she muttered something under her breath and thrust the envelope into his hand. "Go on, take it. It's a bit damp, but I expect a little pond water won't ruin it. It's medicine."

Gourry's face lit up. Medicine was good. "Hey, thanks!" He hastily stuffed the envelope into his pocket.

"Mix it with boiling water and make her drink the broth when she wakes up. She'll whine about it I'm sure, but do it anyway. I don't know exactly what's ailing her, but this should do something to help her." Luna stood and brushed the grass from the front of her cloak. "And don't thank me. I'm not doing this for her benefit. When she does wake up, tell her to take care of Marco and then to go home."

She may as well have threatened Gourry with violence. "She doesn't want to go home," he protested with an emphatic shake of his head. "She wants to stay here." He protectively gathered his bedraggled companion into his arms as he spoke.

Luna stared up at the stars for a moment—still as a statue—and Gourry briefly thought that she hadn't heard him. He opened his mouth to reiterate his previous claim when he heard her whispering. "Sirius, Erulogos, and Almayce . . ." She nodded at the sky overhead when noticed him observing her. "The Watchers," she said in way of explanation, pointing to the three brightest stars in the night sky. "Do you think they look dimmer this evening?"

His argument momentarily forgotten, Gourry squinted up at the stars overhead and shrugged. Had he ever looked at the stars before? It seemed that there was always something more interesting happening closer to home. "They look about the same to me, I guess."

"No, they're definitely dimmer," she immediately retorted, pointing at a particular spot in the sky. "Look up there. Val looks as if it's all but extinguished." The star that she was pointing to shone weakly, barely making an impact on the darkness around it. "They're supposed to be eternally vigilant—making sure that we don't stray from the path of light." She sighed. "At least, that's what the holy texts say."

"Holey texts?" Gourry mused aloud. "Did the bookworms get them or something?"

"Bookworms?" Luna repeated thoughtfully. She smacked her forehead and groaned. "I said holy texts, you halfwit!"

"Um, yeah, okay," Gourry mumbled with a confused little shrug. She really was Lina's sister, he thought as he watched her face go crimson with anger. They had the same reaction to a simple question. Speaking of Lina . . . "What does this have to do with Lina?" he asked.

"Everything," she replied, getting herself under control. "Blasphemous as it may be, I'm beginning to fear that the Watchers see nothing. If they did, how could they allow such wickedness to spread through this world? They're blind, Mister Gabriev. They're either blind or apathetic. And I'm not quite sure which possibility troubles me more."

Gourry's utterly perplexed expression must have disheartened her a bit as she fetched a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, but you lost me back with the bookworms," he apologized.

"I don't expect you to understand, but it's something that I think about once in a while. If the Watchers are blind or uncaring, who's going to protect you from the darkness? That's where Lina comes in. She has work to do and despite what you or she might wish, that work will lead her away from this place. She'll go home."

"She doesn't want to go," Gourry growled threateningly. "I won't let her." He understood this much at least; Luna wanted to take his Lina away—to drive her back to the place that had hurt her before. He laid a hand on the Sword of Light while holding the redhead close with the other.

Luna threw her head back and laughed, sounding genuinely amused. "You won't let her? I'd like to see you try to stop her; Lina's about as stubborn as a mule once she makes up her mind." Her expression became deadly serious as she continued. "She will leave. She knows what I am—what I do. Every life I take will be on her head. And I'm always hungry, Mister Gabriev. Yes, I think I'll be seeing her soon." She grinned wickedly, as if remembering some cruel joke. "Besides, in the near future, I believe you'll both find this place far less hospitable than you first thought."

Gourry opened his mouth to ask her any number of questions. What did she mean by that? Why wasn't she dead? Why was she following Lina? How did she know who he was for that matter? Most confusing, what was the deal with the stars? Wondering if there were answers to be found in the heavens, he lifted his gaze skyward for a moment and when he looked back down a moment later, Luna was gone.
Next Chapter: Homecomings and leave takings

Notes: Well, we have some foreshadowing, a bit of character development, and just a smidge of action as well! Mission accomplished! This chapter went through so many revisions; it's not even funny. Even the beta didn't get to see half the pages that I threw out on this. It all came together pretty well in the end, methinks. Um, not really much to say, so I'll get to the reviews!

Reviewer Response:

Very enigmatic there, Ichiban. Even I don't know what "other things" you're talking about!

To you I say, "Baggy clothes and a cloak," Wesley! As for Zangulus, well . . . wait and see.

Thanks for the compliments, GetitCJC. Did Gourry seem too smart? And I'm keeping Grou kinda vague on purpose. Zel doesn't hear him talk so much as get ideas from him.

Yeah, the woman thing was about where I hoped that most people would start thinking about Luna, Stara. Nope, no bloodthirsty tendencies from Amelia, but she's got other problems now.

Otaku girl, I never said the vampire was Xellos! Amelia did! I'm innocent of all wrongdoing. And yeah, Amelia got a look at the afterlife. And I get plenty of sleep now! In fact, just last night I got 4 ½ hours!

Thank you, Samantha!

Glad you were surprised, Miss Gabriev! And nope, no vampirism for Amelia. It's all explained in, um, 32, I think. Yes, I'm too lazy to check. Horrible huh?

There's going to be more interaction between Grou and Zel now, Ari chan. That should be interesting to write . . .

Hi, Pogo!! Glad to see that you're not dead . . . or something! I know, the scene break thing is horrible, but it wouldn't put those nifty little lines in when I told it to . . . Hope you get back soon.

And what do you think of what I did with 38, hmm, Kaitrin? Thanks for the betaing!