Three years later

In the darkness of New York City, a group of vampires entered the Temple of Eternal Night. The first one down the ladder was a young blond woman. She was petite and fragile looking. She took a few steps away from the ladder, hand protectively on a pouch at her waist, as the others came down behind her.

The blond delicately sniffed the air. Just as she remembered from three years ago. Only colder, staler from being closed up for so long. She looked around for a moment more, then turned to the others.

"I want you all to stay here," she said, "And keep on the lookout; I've got the feeling we might have company."

Then she turned away, and walked down the hallway. The pouch at her side seemed to be emitting light, and some sort of energy made her fingers tingle. Her golden blond hair fell in soft ringlets around her face, almost totally hiding the com link looped over her ear. Her dark brown eyes slowly surveyed the hallway as she walked, her footsteps silent on the soft dirt floor.

Her jeans were red, with black Chinese dragons embroidered up the legs. Her shirt was black, and she wore a denim jacket with a golden eagle on the back. She, was Grace. Three years older, three years tougher. Grace hadn't been back to the Temple since the night of La Magra's summoning. All of a sudden, the floor beneath her boots was no longer dirt, but a smooth, off white stone.

She could faintly hear the others talking among themselves through her com link. Other then that, and the sound of her own footsteps, all was silent. Grace emerged into the cylinder shaped chamber. She paused at the edge to look down, then made her way down the stairs. She reached the bottom half of the room, and as she looked around, it triggered so many memories she wanted to forget.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the center of the room, and undid the latch of the pouch at her side. Dipping her hand inside, she pulled out a glowing, blood red orb of energy. It felt warm in her palm as she stretched out her arm. The orb hovered in midair as Grace dropped her arm to her side, and stepped back a few feet.

She began speaking in Gaelic, the old language the spell was in. Slowly, the orb changed from red, to pure white. Grace closed her eyes, still chanting. She could feel the air around her growing warm. The spell reached a crescendo, and her eyes snapped open. Her eyes…for one second, were blood red…

Suddenly, the orb exploded in beautiful brilliance. Her heart raced. For a moment, it was too bright to see anything, as the light filled the entire room. The light faded, and Deacon was standing where the orb had been. Grace found herself taking a step forward, the apprehension within her almost too much to bare.

"Grace?" Deacon said, confused. The last thing he remembered was fighting Blade. "What happened? Where's Blade?"

Grace suddenly realized she'd been holding her breath. "Deacon," she whispered, taking another step closer, "You don't remember, do you? Blade k-" her voice cracked as tears came to her eyes, "-Killed you. It's been three years."

She put her arms around him, crying silently, but now, tears of joy. He held her, but didn't share her joyous emotions.

"Grace, what the hell is going on?" Deacon asked.

Grace almost smiled. He hadn't changed a bit. She pulled back to look up at him. "I watched you die-again," she said quietly, "And now I've brought you back."

Suddenly, she heard gunfire from the other end of the com link.

"Come on love birds, we gotta fly," Reinhardt shouted.

Stepping away from Deacon, Grace cursed, then sighed. "All right, we're coming," she said.

"What. Is going. On?" Deacon repeated.

Grace hesitated, "It's a long story. But we've got to get out of here now, okay?"

He stared at her for a moment more, his gaze questioning, "Alright," he said, "But you've got a lot of fucking explaining to do."

Grace nodded, knowing she did. She turned and headed for the stairs, walking quickly. She knew Deacon was beside her, but for a moment, neither spoke. Grace took the steps easily two at a time. The noise over the com link grew louder, and she muttered under her breath, breaking into a run.

"What's wrong?" Deacon asked, keeping pace beside her.

"The vampires I came here with ran into a little trouble," Grace replied.

"What kind of trouble?"

She glanced back at him. "Vampire Nation s.w.a.t. force," she said bitterly.

Within moments, they reached the entrance hall, where the fight was just winding down to a stop. When Grace came around the corner, her eyes instantly scanned the scene. There was only one vampire soldier left, and he was slumped against the wall, stunned from a blow to the head. The Bloodpack was about to kill him too, but Grace stopped them.

"Leave him," she said, speaking mainly to Reinhardt.

Looking up at the sound of her voice, Reinhardt started to object, but then thought better of it. He looked past her, to Deacon, whom he eyed suspiciously. "It worked?" he said to Grace.

Grace waved the question away, her eyes on the dazed soldier. She kneeled beside him, her eyes suddenly hard, and said, "You tell who ever the hell your superiors are that they've failed. Deacon Frost is back. And tell them that Grace Senese isn't taking orders from them anymore."

The vampire glared at her for a second, then leaped to his feet and vanished up the ladder.

Grace stood, ignoring the questioning looks the others were giving her.

"Yes, it worked," she said to Reinhardt, as she walked back over to Deacon. "There's no time for proper introductions, but Reinhardt, this is Deacon Frost."

Her gaze flickered from one to the other as they stared at each other. "Come on then," she said at last, "Let's get out of here."

"I don't like him," Deacon said to Grace in a low tone, not taking his eyes off of Reinhardt, as if he didn't trust him.

Grace merely giggled and shook her head.

They all headed up the ladder, emerging out into the night. It was calm, and the dead silence was a little eerie. A black helicopter sat silently in the darkness. Grace was usually the one who piloted it, but now she was suddenly tired and weak. Immediately, she knew it was from the spell. It drained her energy. She started to speak, but found herself too tired and passed out. Deacon caught her in his arms, concerned, but not showing it.

Everyone else stopped too.

"She'd better be okay," Deacon said to no one in particular.

Reinhardt rolled his eyes, "She'll be fine," he said sarcastically, "Mother hen."

Annoyed, Deacon growled, "You're not the one who's been dead for three years."

"This is who Grace spent two fing years trying to resurrect?" Chupa said.

But that set Deacon off, and in a few seconds, the three of them were talking at once, cursing, arguing. And unconscious Grace was forgotten.

"Stop it!" Verlaine shouted at them in Czech, "All of you!"

Surprisingly, they did, even though Deacon didn't speak Czech.

Still talking in Czech, Verlaine continued, "Now is not the time to start arguments…you know what Grace would do."

"Speak something I can understand," Deacon said to her in the Vampire Dialect.

So Verlaine replied to him in the Vampire Dialect too, saying simply, "Think of Grace." Then she turned, and headed for the helicopter.

And since their usual pilot was unconscious, Reinhardt took the job.

They were headed for home.