Here's the first of the next two chapters. Sorry it's been a bit longer than usual, the problems with the site plus come computer problems of my own held me up.

As always, I don't own anything or any one.

Chapter Fifteen - Negotium Perambulans in Tenebris

"I think it's time to call it a night, Barlow," Hutch said wearily. The two men had been doggedly trying all their connections in the Haitian part of town for hours, to no avail. It seemed like no one wanted to talk to them, and although that was telling in its own way, letting them know they were on the right track, it was intensely frustrating.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Steve sighed. His feet hurt, and he was deeply depressed by their lack of success. He was more than willing to go back to the station now.

It had grown dark, and an unseasonably chilly wind was blowing as they headed to Steve's car. "Little Haiti" was near the waterfront, and the damp air carried the smell of rotting fish and seaweed. Steve shuddered. It was too similar to the stench from the night before when he and Hutch had chased the stranger to the beach.

He looked around the dark street uneasily. The back of his neck prickled as though he was being watched, but he couldn't see anyone around. The usual city night sounds seemed oddly muted. He could imagine the sounds of soft padding feet following them.

Suddenly there was a shriek off in the distance, blood-curdling, trailing off into an ominous gurgle, followed by a succession of screams.

Hutch spun around and pulled his gun in a single movement. "Come on," he barked to Steve, and was off running.

Steve followed, pulling his own gun as he ran.

They thudded down dark alleys, one leading into another, Hutch in the lead, following the sound of the screams.

Rounding one final turning, they found themselves in a dead end. The stench of rotting sea wrack was choking.

Suddenly a weight dropped on Steve from above, knocking him down. It was a man, terribly distorted, like the stranger from the night before, pounding and pummeling him, joined by another, who, horribly, looked just the same. His gun was knocked out of his fingers as a third stamped on his hand.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Hutch down with a pile of the ugly attackers on top of him too. He struggled and flailed, and suddenly something hit him behind the ear. Red exploded behind his eyes, and everything went gray.

He was only half-conscious as two of them dragged Hutch and him away. There was a white van at the end of the alley, with its back doors open, and they were unceremoniously thrown in and secured.

The voices of their captors were thick with phlegm, and strangely accented.

"Use the handcuffs for the blond," the one holding Steve croaked. "And here, take the keys." Steve struggled in vain as groping hands pulled his cuffs from his pockets, and then rifled through the rest of their contents.

"What about that one?"

"I'll tie him. He's not important. The Priest is just going to kill him when we get back to the temple anyway. It's the blond he wants for the Great Sacrifice."

"But doesn't he want the dark haired one as well?" Somewhere behind Steve, Hutch moaned softly. There was the metallic click of handcuffs.

"Not this one. This is the young one. It's the older one he wants. The blond's mate." The last word was spat out with disdain.

Steve was flipped onto his face. He writhed futilely in his captors grasp as his arms were pulled painfully behind his back and his wrists tied.

"Why do we have to follow the Priest's rules, anyway? He's just another dry-lander."

"He has taken the vow to He Who Sleeps, so he's one of us now," the one tying Steve said sternly. "So says the Sea-mother. And he has the attention of the Great Ones."

"Mmmm...." There was a hungry sound. "When the Great Ones return, what was ours before will be ours again."

"And the Priest can bring us that. So the Sea-mother says we follow him." He finished tying Steve's ankles. "There. Now hurry."

He was dumped at the back of the van. His two captors flopped ungainly out of the back doors and slammed them shut. He and Hutch were left alone.

The van's engine started up, and they pulled away with a jerk.

There was a moan from behind him. With great effort, he rolled over and sat up. His head throbbed. "Hutch? Hutch, are you all right?"

Unlike Steve, who simply had his ankles and wrists tied, Hutch's hands were cuffed above his head to a ringbolt that had been welded to the wall. He was in a seated position, slumped over, and looked as though he had been beaten worse than Steve had been. He shook his head groggily and blinked. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Who the hell are these guys? Did you see them? They hardly seemed human!"

Hutch coughed. "Must be some sort of inbred genetic problem. I never saw anything like it before." He shook his head again, seeming a little more alert now.

"We have to get out of here. Did you hear what that guy said? They're gonna' kill us!"

Hutch pulled against the ringbolt, but the cuffs held firm. "You mean you have to get out. There's no way I'm going to be able to. And he said that the Priest, whoever the hell that is, is going to kill you as soon as we get where we're going."

"But Hutch, they're going to kill you too!" Steve cried in dismay. "I can't leave you here! Starsky would..."

Hutch interrupted him. "It's Starsky I'm thinking about. You heard what they said, they want him too. You have to make sure he's safe. And you have to tell Dobey what's happened, so you can find me before their sacrifice, whenever that is."

Steve sighed. He didn't like it, but it made sense. That was, assuming he could even get free. "Which begs the question of how I'm going to get lose in the first place," he muttered.

He squirmed, trying to get his tied wrists down low enough to put his feet through, but to no avail. His captors had tied him tightly; no matter how he twisted or wriggled, there was no way he could get his hands around to his front.

"Can you get over here?" Hutch asked. "I have an idea."

Steve wriggled himself with difficulty across the floor of the moving van. "Now what?"

"Can you get your wrists up to my face? Because if you can, I might be able to untie them with my teeth."

"You're joking!"

"It's worth a try, isn't it?"

"Better than nothing, I guess. OK, here goes." Steve struggled up on his knees, facing away from Hutch, swaying with the van's jolting, and raised his tied hands as high as he could. "How's that?"

"Bring them a little closer… There, that's good." Steve felt the press of Hutch's teeth against the rope and a tug. Hutch worked for a few minutes.

"Peh." He pulled away from Steve for a moment and spat. "That's disgusting."

He tugged on the knots again. Steve felt something give. "I think I'm getting it," Hutch mumbled. He pulled away once more to rest. "Let's hope Starsky never hears how close I have my mouth to your ass," he joked. He went back to chewing on the rope.

Steve laughed tersely. "Don't get your hopes up, you're not my type. You know I don't go for blonds." Angelina had flaming red hair. "How's it coming?" he went on nervously. "I just hope we don't get where we're going before you're finished."

"Just about done, actually," Hutch muttered. He gave a final yank, and Steve felt the ropes fall from his arms.

He rolled over and chaffed his wrists until his numbed hands felt better, then untied his ankles.

"You'd better get out of here fast, before they stop moving," Hutch pointed out.

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait in the van? If I jumped them when they opened the door, maybe I could take them and get you loose too."

"And maybe you couldn't," Hutch replied. "They took both of us on before with no problem. It's too big a risk. At least this way you get away and warn Starsky."

"Yeah. I guess." Steve sighed. "OK, here goes." He crawled over to the door of the van. It was bolted shut on the inside but didn't seem to be locked. Presumably, their captors had trusted to their restraints to contain the prisoners.

Their route had apparently been thorough street traffic rather than highways, to judge by their speed and stops, probably for traffic lights, and the way they seemed to go around corners occasionally. Now, as Steve crouched by the door, waiting, they slowed and came to a stop again, the engine still idling.

Making as little noise as possible, Steve undid the latch on the door. Then all in one movement he swung it open and jumped.

He landed on the roadbed in a crouch. Without waiting he began to run.

Behind him he heard shouting, and the cab door of the van opening and slamming. A harsh voice ordered, "You, drive back. I'll chase this one down." He heard the sound of the van starting again, and feet behind him.

He ran for his life down a dark, deserted street. Behind him he heard the slapping footfalls of his pursuer, closing in. Ahead he saw the only lighted building in the area, a small mini-market. Desperation pushed him forward towards the open doorway.

He could hear his follower coming closer. Frantically he threw himself over the last few yards and through the door of the store. "Police officer!" he cried out, slamming it behind him and leaning against it. "Call 911!"

He saw the ugly form come right up to the door, face contorted with rage, but, as Steve had hoped, he didn't dare attack in front of witnesses. Steve could hear him cursing as he turned and, as rapidly as he had come, fled back into the darkness.

He slumped on the floor, panting. In a few moments he heard the wail of police sirens, summoned by the storekeeper's call.

He was safe, but Hutch had vanished into the night.