To fall unconscious is a most unpleasant thing, sometimes more so than others. It is far better to faint completely rather than partially, for falling into a half-conscious state is far more agonizing for the one who endures it than the more merciful feeling of sleep which comes with utter oblivion. For Victor, fainting was no extraordinary occurrence—only an inconvenience which he tried to rid himself of without the greatest success. When he was pushed by some unknown force out the other end of the portal, he ceased breathing, took a few faltering steps in no particular direction, and fell into a semi-swoon. He was not entirely unaware of all that took place about him, yet his body had gone pitifully limp and he seemed lifeless. He could dimly hear voices, and he knew that someone was carrying him; after a few moments he was laid with the utmost care down upon a hard, cold surface. Ears ringing unbearably, he tried to raise his head; chilly hands forced him to remain still, and the worried voices became louder as he regained consciousness.

"Off my counter, get him off my counter! Mon Dieu! We cannot have this!"

"Easy there, Paul. The poor thing's fainted."

"Looks familiar, doesn't he? Haven't we seen him before?"

"We have. I know the boy personally—Victor? Victor Van Dort, can you hear me? It's Mayhew!"

Victor moaned as he forced himself to breathe deeply. If he could not speak, he could certainly think—and all he wished was that the talkative spectators surrounding him would let him rest, if only for a mere second.

A chilly hand was pressed lightly against his forehead and he cried out, startled. Eyes opening halfway, his gaze fell upon a familiar visage and he sprang to his feet.

"No," he whispered as he was compelled to seek the support of a nearby table. His eyes rolled slightly. "This can't be."

Smiling sweetly, Emily waved at him. "Didn't expect to see you again," she said..

Victor's eyes roved the room, searching for the portal that had brought him there. Thinking that he spied it, he stepped in its direction—but his legs gave way beneath him and he fell to his knees.

Emily rushed to his side. "Paul! Fetch him some water, quick! Oh, Victor, lie back—you're too weak to stand. What are you doing?"

It had fallen from one of his coat's pockets and lay close by his left hand. Victor gazed at it quietly before tucking it away in his coat, but not before Emily had caught sight of the image he had looked upon with such awful grief.

"Victoria?" she whispered. A frown crossed her face, but it was one born of compassion and not dislike. "You've nothing to worry about, Victor. This unexpected occurrence isn't going to last."

Balanced skillfully upon Paul's head was a platter bearing one tall glass of water; hurrying towards Emily and Victor, he cried,. "Your water! Voici une tasse de l'eau!"

The corpse bride raised the glass from its platter. "Here, Victor. Drink this up."

Victor lifted the glass until its rim brushed against his lips, but he did not drink. "What does this portal mean?" He wondered aloud. "And—and is that one?"

Emily looked swiftly in the direction he indicated. She nodded in silence, gazing at a mass of colors that twisted about as they formed a circular, shimmering mass of light. As the two watched it, the strangest of sights were revealed to them—cities reeking of mystery, creatures which they had once thought to exist only in the wildest of their dreams. Entranced, Victor rose from the floor and stepped a tad closer to it.

"Would it truly take me—out there? To those places?"

Emily watched him anxiously, a little afraid that he would have yet another fainting fit. "I haven't any idea," she said, "for those of us who passed through it—well, naturally they can't—can't—" her voice grew fainter as she watched the portal with growing horror.

A deathly silence fell as the occupants of the pub stared at the image which the portal now displayed. It was a chamber, richly furnished yet possessing a gloom that even its large fireplace, well-stocked with wood and blazing admirably, could not disperse. And there was Victoria, dozing as she lay in her cozy featherbed, unaware that over her sleeping form a long knife was held poised.

Victor screamed and dashed towards the portal, but he was stopped from entering it by Emily.

"Don't," she whispered. "Something evil is taking place here. We don't know where you could appear—stay!"

Victor strove to move past her even as the knife descended slowly until it rested against Victoria's throat. The one who held it could not be seen, for the portal seemed to grow cloudy over him.

"Rise, Victoria," a voice hissed, "it is time for us to depart."

Victoria's eyes snapped open and she voiced a feeble shriek of terror. Victor called her name, trying harder still to reach the portal even as the corpse bride easily resisted his efforts and held him back simultaneously.

"Let me go," Victor whispered, pausing for the slightest instant, "please, Emily. You do not understand; if anything should happen to her—"

Emily remained unmoving. "I've lost Bonejangles," she said, her voice shaking, "and others. Are you asking me to watch you disappear, likewise?"

Victor fell on his knees at her feet. "Let me go to her!" he cried, "I beg you! I am asking you to watch me disappear, Emily, and..."

"You might die..."

"And would that not be but a small price to pay? Emily..."

She turned away from him, biting her lip viciously. "I—I—" she whispered.

"Oh, please, won't you let me...no...Victoria!"