Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.

Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates. And now, with help from TJ4ev and whimsyfox, I give you my first reveal...


Birdsong cut off abruptly when Hal & Alex appeared. They were in front of the rusty old container door that disguised the entrance to the Archive. The birds didn't like teleporting vampires any more than he did, Hal thought.

"Shit. What do we do, knock? You didn't have an exact appointment," Alex stated. They both glanced up to the tiny camera that couldn't see either of them.

"You could have brought us directly inside."

"Oh, and give some poor bloke a heart attack?"

"Knocking then," Hal conceded, but Alex was already gone. If there had been a guard, they would have been quite startled. She opened the door for him from the inside. Her grin lit up her face.

The first person they encountered was Mike Nave. The newest member of the Regulatory Office of Constructivism was carrying a file in one hand and a fresh cup of strong-smelling coffee in the other. He stopped in his tracks, startled, "Hal! You're... uh, how did you -"

"We let ourselves in. Apologies," Hal answered politely before Nave finished.

Nave paused, looking at the empty space next to Hal. "Alex, hello." Alex smiled at his attempt to be courteous to someone he couldn't see. "I meant how did you get here?" Nave continued, "We're expecting you, but your car hasn't moved since this morning... I was supposed to alert Mr. Rook when you were on your way..." Hal raised an eyebrow.

"They're still tracking the car?" Alex said. "And we're the ones who are supposed to be creepy..."

Hal didn't feel like explaining the wonders of rent-a-ghosting for Nave. All he wanted was to get this over with and go home. "Well you can alert him now. He is in his office, I presume?"

"Yeah, go on then," Nave waved down the corridor beyond them with the file he was holding. He still couldn't get past the fact that Hal Yorke was far more ancient than most vampires they encountered. It was unnerving. With Hal's departure Nave tucked the file under his arm and reached for the nearest internal phone, "Sir? They're here."

Rook was seated at his desk and expecting them when his office door opened. Noting that the door had closed on its own accord a pause after Hal entered, he greeted, "Mr. Yorke. Miss Millar."

Hal crossed the room and sat down. Alex did the same, scuffing the chair rudely as a return acknowledgment of her presence. "Mr. McNair and Miss Larkin? I trust that they are well?"

"They're both in class, as I'm certain you know," Hal stated without veiling his irritation.

"Excellent," Rook ignored the barb. "I'm glad everyone is adjusting so well."

"What couldn't you say on the telephone?" Hal pushed to the point.

"You traveled here unconventionally," Rook stated, ignoring Hal's attempt to steer the conversation. "I had wondered if you could still do that. Miss Millar informed us that was how you escaped the bomb at Stokers."

"You couldn't ask me over the phone about rent-a-ghosting?" Hal was getting exasperated. His temper ran short when it came to Rook.

Alex put a hand on his arm, "Maybe we should have driven. Sorry Hal."

Rook watched Hal listen to the ghost and smiled, "It simply makes matters more convenient. The Department needs your help, but allocating your travel could look questionable at the moment."

"Travel?" Alex perked up with the prospect and Hal merely raised an eyebrow.

"You need you to visit the Outer Hebrides."

"The fuck we do?" Alex asked.

"Excuse me, why?" Hal narrowed his eyes at Rook.

Rook pushed his chair away from the desk and stood with his hands behind his back. "Your colleague was called away because at seven-hundred hours yesterday morning, there was an incident. The club near your office, one of your firm's older holdings in London, was bombed."

Hal furrowed his brow, but before he could even ask Rook opened one of the files from atop his desk. In it was a spread of photographs. Stone, rubble and brick, a blackened hole, a railroad tie violently impaled through the street. Alex recognized what was left of the railway arch from their trip to Crucifix Lane.

"Due to the hour of the incident, no one was hurt. At least, no bodies have yet been found. You know as well as I do that wasn't merely a music club."

Hal was flipping through the pictures. It looked as if the bomb was set off underground. When Hal finally spoke, all he said was, "They took out the ring."

"Yes. And this wasn't the first." Rook seated himself once more at his desk, folding his hands neatly upon it. "Six weeks ago, a warehouse in Sheffield met a mysterious end. And then, another in Derby. Just after we relocated you back to Barry, an isolated quadrant of the Clifton Rocks Railway imploded in Bristol."

"They're all dogfight rings," Hal recognized.

"Yes. We know. Our intelligence points to at least two other incidents. One in Bolivia, and another in Brazil. All within the last ten weeks."

"Werewolves," Hal stated.

"Certainly. What reason would vampires have to be targeting their own properties? Now, we know your household was not involved. You were... detained for most of the past occurrences."

"Why wasn't I told about this? Surely Richard..."

"Because we're very good at our jobs, Mr. Yorke. I doubt your partner knew, until now. He has been rather preoccupied as well, you see."

"Why would anyone have told you Hal?" Alex asked.

Rook observed Hal pause and look to his left. "They are Turner and Yorke properties, Alex. Old One investments."

"You invested in dogfight rings?" She asked incredulously. Hal met her eyes, then looked away. There were many things in his past he wasn't proud of and the operation of dogfights was certainly one of them. Especially after having known and earned both Leo's friendship, and now Tom's.

"The Bermondsey bombing, as they're now calling it I might add, is a little too public for us. It has been an inter-departmental nightmare. You see, most of the other agencies are not aware of our work," Rook leaned forward. "This incident already had Interpol, Special Branch and City Public Works involved before we could be on the scene. Our hands are tied."

Hal was quiet, thinking through everything Rook had told them. "Richard - he will be implicated?"

"Mr. Turner already has been. Or else, it is just a matter of time. We are doing what we can, but Special Branch will connect the dots to the other properties. Richard will be questioned, possibly detained. You are aware we cannot allow that to happen."

"Richard has a front for the company - a spokesman. In the event of matters such as these -"

"The one who passed away in 2010? Hal, I daresay you are behind the times. Mr. Turner has been too preoccupied or too complacent to find a suitable replacement. Things do look quite bad. Shit has hit the proverbial fan." Rook said it casually, like this were an everyday occurrence. "We may not have a choice but to remove Richard from the picture. And unfortunately, to add insult to injury, Stokers fits the profile as well. The explosions were caused by the same propellant." Rook let the implication that this could come back to Tom lay silent.

"I find it hard to believe there is nothing else you can do," Hal replied.

"Without risking the exposure of my entire department and therefore our very mission? No. All we can hope to do is to find and implicate the Type Three's who are actually responsible for these attacks."

"Shit. Holy Mission Impossible, Batman," Alex enthused sarcastically. "I still don't get what the upper reaches of Scotland has to do with it though."

"Alex wants to know what the Hebrides has to do with it," Hal translated.

"Ah yes. This is where your unique position comes in. We have reason to suspect the Brazilians. They are the only congregating order of their Type that we are aware of, and quite furtive. One of them recently defected from their pack and relocated to the western Isle of Harris. We need you to speak to him. Find out what he knows. If anyone asks, you will be visiting Yvonne Bradshaw on Grimsay. It is public knowledge she sought refuge at Honolulu Heights so that should -"

"What on earth makes you think this werewolf will talk to me?" Hal interrupted Rook's scheming. "Wouldn't Tom have better luck?" Hal wasn't overly eager for any of this to begin with.

"Because Hal, the Brazilian is the partner of an old friend of yours."

"That I doubt. Most of my old friends are dead."

"Even Mr. Corinth?"

"Carl..." Hal looked disbelieving, "Carl's alive?"

"As much as we can call any of your kind."

"This is all well and good, but he's missing one problem." Alex interjected. "I can only rent-a-ghost that far if I've been there. And I've never been to any of the Hebrides. Inner or Outer."

Hal, recovering from shock over his friend, relayed "Alex has a point. She can only teleport to places she's been."

"How far north can she travel then? We will arrange for a car to be waiting."

Hal stood abruptly, shocking both Rook and Alex. "I need to think about this."

"Mr. Yorke, time is of the essence," Rook stood as well.

"I'm aware of that, Mr. Rook. But I don't work for you."

"No. You don't. You work in housekeeping."

Hal clenched his jaw and felt Alex take his hand. "As do you, Dominic. Good bye."

Hal turned to go, pulling free from Alex's grasp. She glanced back at Rook. His face was turning red with anger. "Hal, but what if we can help?" She asked, following him.

"I'm sure we could. However if I don't leave right now someone is going to get hurt," Hal muttered.

He was through the door when Rook shouted after them, "This affects all of us! You have a responsibility. Hal!"

Hal was already halfway down the corridor.


Outside the sky was aglow through the trees. Hal left the containment of the Archive and kept walking. Alex was quick to catch up to him and reached for his hand. He pulled away again, tapping his fingers in a quick pattern.

"Just - give me a moment. Please."

Alex hung back, but gently asked, "Bloodlust?"

Hal snorted, "No, for once." His stalking pace started to slow. "I'm merely hacked off." Hal took a deep breath. The container was already out of sight. They could be anywhere in the woods. "I don't enjoy being manipulated. Rook -"

"Is doing his job."

Hal didn't say anything to that, just continued to even his breathing and tap his fingers while he gazed out at the trees. Alex glanced back the way they had come. The forest was quiet without any sign of pursuit from Rook. She returned her gaze to Hal's fidgety stance and tried again. "Look - I really couldn't give a rat's crease what happens to Richard. But what about Tom? What about you? He was there - we all were."

"Tom isn't involved in this. There is no evidence to connect -"

"And you don't care that they're blowing up your ring-whatevers?"

"No, actually. I really don't." Hal took a deep breath and returned his gaze to her. "I know that we are in that man's debt. That's fine. A favour is one thing. But don't you see? This is more than a favour. This is us getting involved again. In exactly what we're all trying to avoid."

"Hal," she scoffed at him. Actually scoffed. "You are involved."

His barely-under-control temper flared again, but he dampened it. She was right. And his anger wasn't with her. "I know," he agreed finally.

"Aren't you the least bit curious?" Alex asked. She sure was.

"About Carl? I haven't seen him in over a century. And I doubt he'll be too keen to see me. Rook thinks we have an in, but it's really not much of one. Especially if he's with a werewolf..."

"But if what Rook said was true, this could lead to the exposure of the supernatural world. Isn't that bad? Isn't that precisely what we stopped the Old Ones from doing?"

"The Old Ones wanted to rule the world, not merely destroy its mythology. But yes, it would be bad," Hal concurred. He resumed walking and was contemplative for a few paces. Alex kept pace with him. "We can't go to the Hebrides though. Even with teleporting back to Glasgow, it will take too much time. The hotel has its challenges, but it's a slice of normality for me. I'd rather not lose it, honestly."

"You know, I've been thinking about that."

"You seemed to be enjoying the perks today."

She slapped him lightheartedly on the arm, "Not the hotel." Hal must be calming down if he could throw a dig at her. "About how we'd get to Harris."

"And?"

"Well, you've been there, right?"

"I've been to Grimsay, but not Harris."

"But Grimsay is a helluva lot closer than Glasgow."

"I fail to see your point."

"Rent-a-ghosting..." Alex tried to explain it in way that could carry what she was thinking. "There's a little more to it than just 'if you can picture it you can be there'. It's kind of like playing make-believe. Like in Peter Pan how the Lost Boys were always full because they could imagine a feast laid out before them every night?"

"You've lost me. How would J.M. Barrie have known anything about it?"

"We're linked, right? I can sometimes feel what you feel, you always know right where I am," Alex stated, linking her arm through his. He nodded but still remained perplexed. Alex launched into the meat of her idea. "I wonder, if you concentrated hard enough, pictured it fully, if we could rent-a-ghost somewhere I've never been, but you have."

Hal pulled free of her arm, stopped walking. "No. Never in a thousand years. Teleporting is horrendous enough without throwing psychic experimentation into the mix."

"But you saw me at the club - if I don't get it right I don't go anywhere. Nothing happens."

"Or, you could get it half-right and I'll be the lucky one who ends up splinched like in those wizard books Pearl loved."

"Pearl read Harry Potter?" Alex guffawed. She never met the woman but from Tom's description of the pert and controlling ghost, she just couldn't picture it. "We could practice first? There has to be somewhere around here you've been to and I haven't."

"That I highly doubt. And no."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Certainly. How about we tell Rook to bugger off?"

"Or, we could do this for him. Get to Harris some conventional way, find out what this werewolf knows and then we're done with him. We won't owe Rook the time of day after that."

"Do you really think it could be that simple?" Hal said, asking sarcastically. "I wasn't cognizant when he arranged for our travel out of London, so you may have a better understanding of his motives than I. But I doubt Rook is the type to let sleeping dogs lie. No pun intended."

"After we find out what he needs to know, what more could he want from you? From any us?"

"It doesn't matter what he wants. It's what he'll do to get it that concerns me. He has far more knowledge and power over our household for than I'd like."

"Yeah, but is there anything at all we can do about it?" Alex asked and Hal didn't answer. "At least if we show a good faith attempt, then maybe Rook will leave us alone."

Hal resumed walking and was thoughtful for several moments. The evening birdsong and the crunch of newly-fallen leaves underfoot were the only sounds. He broke the silence by uttering with painful reluctance, "The Trading Post."

"The what?" Alex was startled out of her own thoughts of trying to recall other Northern locales she had visited.

"The pawn shop where Tom & I found the ring Leo wanted. You couldn't have been there. It closed."

"Oh - so you want to give it a go then?"

"No, I rather wouldn't. However... our options are dwindling. And I see your point," Hal offered his hand to her. "Good faith effort."

"Now?" Alex took both his hands in hers and looked unsure. He nodded. But now that he had agreed, doubts began to echo through her. God - what if she could hurt him? Or get them stuck in between somewhere? The thought hadn't crossed her mind. Teleporting with Hal was no different than teleporting with anything else. Just a simple matter of moving from one spot, to another.

He noticed her hesitation and tilted his head, "What must I do?"

"Um... just picture it in every detail you can I suppose..."

"That's all?"

"Yeah... but - we don't have to do this. Maybe there's another way?"

He squeezed her hands, "Perhaps. However, if it works it is an intriguing idea."

Alex sighed and bit her lip. She kept his gaze, her silhouette reflected in his eyes against the filtered light as she stepped close. She moved her right hand to wind through his hair, and to pull his forehead to hers. "Okay," she whispered. This was her grand idea, she better give as much of a good faith effort as he. "Build a picture in your mind. Not just where, but colour, texture, the layout of the room, everything you can think of."

Hal placed his free hand loosely around her shoulders, mimicking her stance. Then with one last questioning look, he nodded, closed his eyes. Alex did the same, tuning her focus into trying to "taste" from him. At first, there was nothing. Light was dappling through the darkness of her vision, distant birdsong peppering her ears. The wind stirred, and she sensed a deep note of allure. A scent so rich, so tantalizing… with a start she realized; How she smelled to him. She became aware that she was sipping off his other senses; the birdsong felt startlingly closer, the wind in the upper branches was near melodic in how it whispered. Underneath her scent were others; the musky fur of an animal detected further away, deer perhaps; soil, composting leaves, concrete beneath them. And beneath all of the sounds, subtle and unequivocally loud all at once, pulsed her very own heartbeat. Alex heard her breath catch in the overwhelm of it all, and she almost broke contact.

But then an image started to form. From a pinprick of sepia growing outwards, the image spread like a reveal of watercolour. Like the credits on Robert Downey JR's Sherlock... she thought. The room came into focus. Walls, floor, counter, the way the light from the storefront pierced and filtered, and with it, that teasing sense of place she needed.

With a building excitement, Alex got it. And then they were gone.