A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I never meant for it to go this long. I hope you can forgive me. Here's the next chapter as an apology.

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Alucard pulled at the tie around his neck, feeling the sweat roll down his back. He was almost afraid to remove his hat. He looked around the clearing, trying to get his mind on something else other than his discomfort. He walked through the tall grass, eyes scanning the scene. They were close to a small wooded area, away from the prying eyes of the city. A perfect spot to dump a body.

"So, this is where you found the first victim?" Alucard asked.

"Yes. She was the one who had the note," Murdoch explained.

Alucard ran his hand across his brow, wiping away the sweat. "Three more will die, then you," he said.

"Yes," Murdoch replied.

Alucard found himself reaching into his pocket for his phone. Chuckling to himself, he pulled his hand out of his pants pocket again and tapped his palm against his leg. Less than a day in 1895 and he was going through technology withdrawal already. Technus would hate it here. Alucard rubbed his eyes, the heat was starting to get to him.

"And you found the first of the three victims...where?" he asked.

"She was on the steps of Station House Four," Murdoch told him.

"That's bold...or brazen," Alucard commented. He walked around, trying to focus his thoughts. "Were there anymore murders?" he asked.

Murdoch shook his head "No, there wasn't," he answered.

"Okay, so, if you want to look at it, Collins was the second one to die," Alucard stated. "So, that just leaves one more."

Murdoch could feel his hands begin to shake again as Alucard's words sank in. Alucard looked over to see the worried look on the detective's face. He walked over and patted Murdoch's shoulder.

"Don't worry, detective, we'll find these men and put them behind bars before they get to you," Alucard assured him.

Murdoch gave him a tight smile and Alucard could hear the doubt rolling around in his thoughts. He patted Murdoch's shoulder again and headed back towards the bikes. Murdoch followed him, rubbing his hands together. The two detectives made their way back to the city and went back to the station house. Murdoch sat down at his desk as Alucard leaned up against the table, crossed his arms and stared at the blackboard.

"Two victims, no suspects," Alucard muttered. "Can't really rule Collins' death a murder since no one actually killed him. So..." He hummed in thought.

"Is there a problem?" Murdoch asked.

"I may have been wrong before," Alucard replied.

"How so?" Murdoch questioned.

Alucard pushed away from the table. "Whoever killed those two girls couldn't possibly have known Collins would be plucked from this time and dropped into mine," he explained. "So, there are still two people left. But, I would much rather figure out who killed the first two ladies before anymore bodies start showing up on the station house's doorstep."

"As would I," Murdoch agreed.

Heavy footsteps scuffed across the worn wooden floor. Alucard stopped in front of the door of the room he had rented. He unlocked the door and stepped into the room. There was a single bed pushed up against the far wall on the left side of the room, a small bathroom was located on the opposite side across from the bed. Alucard closed and locked the door before heading over to the bed. He dropped his jacket and hat on the bed.

He was thoroughly exhausted, and the humid summer heat wasn't helping. Alucard unbuttoned his vest, dropping it on the bed. He then worked on the tie and shirt. He peeled himself out of the shirt, exposing his tribal tattooed torso to the scorching heat. Alucard went over to the window and pulled the curtains across. He stepped into the middle of the room and took a deep breath. He exhaled quickly and large black wings unfurled from his back. His hair turned from jet black to snow white. Alucard sighed in relief as he stretched his wings.

He wrapped his wings around his body, enveloping himself in some much needed cooler air. Alucard crossed his legs, hovering in mid-air as a bubble of air formed around him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. His mind drifted back to his own time. He wondered if Technus was working on a way to get him home. He thought about the two murders and who could have committed them. His mind began to wind down and soon he was falling into a deep, dreamful sleep.

Brackenreid walked into the station house to find everything in order. His constables were at work, Murdoch was in his office, and there was no sign of that Alucard Raven fellow. The Inspector smiled to himself as he walked into his office. Perhaps the whole thing yesterday had just been a bad dream. Brackenreid placed his hat and jacket on the coat rack and sat down at his desk.

He hadn't been sitting for five minutes before he heard a phone ring across the bullpen. He turned to see Murdoch answering the phone. The detective quickly hung up and grabbed his hat and coat, calling for Crabtree and Higgins. Brackenreid shot to his feet and hurried out the door.

"Murdoch, what's going on?" he called out.

"It's detective Raven, sir," Murdoch replied. "He was attacked."

Brackenreid cursed under his breath and grabbed his hat and coat before following Murdoch and the Constables out the door. Murdoch led them to where the call had come from. Alucard was sitting on a store step, fanning himself with his hat when they arrived. Murdoch looked around. Three men lay unconscious on the ground in front of the store.

"What happened here?" Brackenreid asked.

"Noah Collins' men," Alucard replied. "Or, some of them, at least."

"What do you mean 'some of them'?" Murdoch wanted to know.

Alucard nodded across the street at something that clearly wasn't there anymore. "Three more had been watching from a wagon across the street," he explained. "I guess they thought they could catch me off guard."

"Are you all right, sir?" Crabtree asked.

"Oh, I'm fine," Alucard answered. He pointed at the men on the ground. "It's them you should see too."

Murdoch and Brackenreid looked at each other. The Inspector gave the Detective a wary look. Murdoch knew what that look meant. They hadn't seen the last of Noah Collins just yet.

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