Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews, and the favoriting and alerting. Also to autumngold, sorry I couldn't send a proper reply. And thanks to afrozenheart412 for discussion. You guys are wonderful; I couldn't do this without you! I hope you'll all continue to enjoy it.

Black Moon Rising – Erinyes

Flack yawns heartily and earns a grin from Angell. "What a way to tell me that you need more sleep than good old Ms Wagner, Detective." she chuckles.

"Yeah, some tough old lady she is! When did we get out from there again, at three?" Flack rubs his eyes at the memory. "The big sleep will come soon enough." he muses, "Her words, not mine, mind!"

"Don't worry. I remember." Angell reassures him. "And I also remember that she had some help, so …" She winks at him and gets up to fetch them coffee.

Flack browses through the files they have gathered. The information Ms Wagner has been able to give them is very promising. But he has a feeling that might raise their hopes too high. The first time that they have a witness, but now they don't have a body. Plus, it's the first time that it wasn't a dump job. And he just can't help this feeling that maybe the cases aren't connected.

He shrugs off the uncertainty as Angell returns with two steaming cups. No matter how many cases this might split up into, he's sure that in the end they will find who's responsible. After all they are New York's finest. In more than one respect, he thinks as he looks at Angell.

-o-

Mac looks up. Hadn't there just been a noise? He thinks he sees Stella standing in his door, but in a flash she's gone again. She had looked … like a ghost. It must have been a reflection. There's a lot of glass in the lab, and a lot of noises. He shakes his head. Kind of ironic given the nature of their case that his mind is playing such tricks on him now.

Another sound on glass. Mac raises his head again. Sinclair. With a sigh Mac waves the man in.

"What is it this time?" Mac opens the conversation.

"You see, Taylor," Sinclair starts unnecessarily circumspectly, "I really appreciate that nothing of yesterday's event has reached the press yet, and that your people are doing double shifts to close this case … but financially I'd prefer if you'd let the lower levels do the double shifts, and not the costly higher staff."

"They are in the superior positions because they are better and faster." Mac snarls. "And besides, most of what you refer to as the 'lower' staff has been doing double shifts too. Same as you, I presume?"

He doesn't care what other meaning the chief could draw from these sentences. Give him a reason to save a bit of money on the heating.

-o-

He stares into his coffee cup. Maybe he drinks too much of it, empty again. Not entirely empty, he notes with mordant amusement. Rings and layers that have gathered tell him the history of his last few days. Maybe he should wash the cup more often, but he can't be bothered. Maybe he could buy another cup, but he can't be bothered to do that either.

He digs through the clutter that furnishes his room, muttering under his breath because it takes him so long to find what he needs more than once a day. How can it be that no five minutes after use it always disappears again? His cry of triumph at spotting the item he has been looking for fades as he realizes that the glass is almost empty. Maybe it is time to buy another cup, if he has to buy some more coffee as well.

"Hey Mike, I'm bored!" he announces, coming out into the hallway and spotting one of his flat-mates.

"For the one hundredth time, I'd really prefer if you'd call me Michael. And, again? Fun doesn't last long with you, does it?"

"Yeah," he agrees, "yesterday was fun; can we do that again tonight?"

"No!" the other man makes clear. "And I've said that before too. Do you want me to spell it for you?"

"Oh come on Mike, why not?"

"Because! And besides, I have other things to do. Go find something to do yourself if you're bored. Like, hey, how about you clean up that room of yours? That should keep you busy until Christmas."

Michael walks away ignoring the stabbing glare the older man shoots him. He knows that is nothing to worry about. But he wonders if it was a good idea to include Peter in his little game. They always end up wanting more.

-o-

Danny drums his fingers against the metal innards of the elevator. So unusually empty for this time of the day. As empty as he feels, as empty as his mind is not. His thoughts keep rebounding.

When the doors finally open he shoots out, and almost bumps into Hawkes. "Hey, keep out of my head!" he scolds.

"What?" Hawkes is taken aback and gives his colleague a curious glance.

"I said, keep out of my head." Danny repeats exasperated.

"I heard you. But I have no idea what you mean. I think you should talk …"

Danny doesn't let him finish. "See, that's exactly what I mean! Don't tell me what to do! Stop being my conscience."

"Danny!" Hawkes feels a touch of irritation, "I can see that you need to talk, everybody can see that. I don't care who you talk to or what about, but if this gets in the way of your work, and your life, you have to talk to someone and get it off your mind. And you know that Mac can make you."

Danny's annoyance falters. "What do I tell her?"

"The truth."

"Do you realize what that means?"

Hawkes gets an uneasy feeling at this, but still, "Whatever happened, I think you have to tell her. Because it is your only chance, she may forgive you. If she has to find out on her own, she may not."

-o-

Mac leaves his office, mulling things. All that has happened and is happening. Trying to keep the press out of this to avoid a panic – and pranks like what he thinks the incident yesterday was. Very successful indeed. But he thinks that it would have been better anyway to inform the press of the facts to avoid a panic, and not leave the people to suggestions. They might also need the help of the press to identify the victims. All that he has read in the files floats through his mind, waiting to fall into place.

A door falls shut behind him. The wind seems to be howling through the building, using chimneys as organ pipes. Looking around he sees Stella reflected in one of the glass walls. Her hands joined, pulling at her fingers, agitated, worried. But so quiet. He swirls around.

She's gone.

He blinks. She can't have been there.

He rubs his temple. Why does he see her?

-o-

Kendall frowns into the microscope. She's already prepared a sample for further examination, but so far the ashes look disturbingly human. Human, not vampire. She can't imagine that there was actually a vampire staked in that alley. But whatever really happened, it is odd, will be hard to explain, and makes her feel uncomfortable. Human ashes. How did they get there? This is more than just a prank. She feels a bit like somebody is invading her field of expertise, and not in a good way. People should know how far to go. She looks over at Adam.

He's bent over the last stake they have found. The one that wasn't really inside a victim. He's let the computer scan pages and pages of furniture manufacturers and been able to confirm Lindsay's suspicion. A chair leg, a fairly cheap one. Probably found in tens of thousands of households. Now he's trying to lower the number by looking for traces that may have been left by the former owner.

But he's concerned that like the other stakes it might turn out to be just a piece of wood that was used because it happened to be lying around near by; a lath, the broken stick of a broom. So far they haven't been able to find a link other than what they are made of and what they were used for.

"Adam?" Kendall pulls him from his thoughts.

"Huh?" It occurs to him that she sounds unusually friendly. Where's the catch?

"I was wondering if we could haunt the lab together?"

WE? "W-what do … do you have in mind??"

"I thought that to take revenge on Daniel we could pretend that the lab is haunted, and you could help me with the technology."

"Eh, uh, yeah … sure, I … I could." She's going to play a trick, and he's not going to be at the receiving end, he hopes.

She chuckles at the colors and lines that scoot over his face.

-o-

A draft of air flows past him, another sound. Just a door that opened somewhere, he tells himself. People passing all the time. Footsteps. But they sound like her, again. And she stands before him, again. But he knows that she's not really there. She looks so much like a ghost, hovering before him quietly. It has to be a reflection. He lays out a plan of the lab in his mind, but he doesn't see what could cause such a reflection. Where she really is. And why she looks at him the way she does.

"Hey Mac, have you seen Stella?"

"No." Mac says somewhat hesitantly, turning to the person who has drawn his eyes away from her apparition.

Something about the look that the head of the lab gives him strikes Hawkes as odd too. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Mac nods, a little too quickly, "Yeah, just … a little distracted, I guess."

A little distracted? You look more like you're not entirely with us. Hawkes decides to keep an eye on his superior.

-o-

Sid swings through the doors of the morgue, and finds it not quite as empty as he had expected.

"Lindsay, what can I do for you?"

"I don't know." She stands at the same table Ruben had lain on and for a moment it seems as if the boy is still lying there. "I don't know if there is anything you can do. Or anything anyone can do."

Sid nods quietly. He knows it's no use to pressure her to talk.

"You know," she begins again, running her hands back and forth along the edge of the table, "sometimes I think you're the one who knows us all here the best. I mean, you get the secrets out of the dead … and you get them out of the living." She makes a pause that is filled by the swishing of her hands against the ever cold metal. "And … remember how you said that Danny has a crush on me? I think you were the first to notice. Maybe even before he noticed himself …"

Sid bridges her pause with a warm smile, "Maybe … but now, what, hmm?"

"Exactly. Now … I just don't know what to make of him. I like that he's emotional. But now I'm worried that he'll get into something stupid because of that … or that he's already right in the middle of it …" her voice trails off.

"I wouldn't be surprised." Sid has to admit, "But I think what really matters is that both of you are willing to get out of it again."

"Together?" she wonders.

"Preferably." he smiles.

-o-

Mac goes looking for Stella. It has been less than an hour since he last saw her. Saw her for real, but that is what is beginning to make him uncomfortable.

He comes to the room he knows Stella prefers for quiet research. The door stands ajar. After a soft knock on the wood he pushes it further open.

"Stella?"

The room is empty.

Mac leans forward and looks around.

It looks empty.

But it doesn't feel empty.

Mac takes another step inside. "Stella?"

Then he sees her. She lies furled under the table, frozen rigid, hands drawn to her chest. On his knees Mac finds himself staring into her eyes, falling into them.

"Stella!"

Eh, yeah, told you it would be a long cliff …

Many thanks for taking the time to read. I hope this chapter was okay. Please don't hesitate to leave feedback; it really helps me along with this. All thoughts and comments are welcome and appreciated any time, and always replied to if logged.