Disclaimer: They're not mine. I don't pretend they are. Please don't sue.

Eliot held his breath and looked up at the ceiling. "Nate," he whispered. "Please."

"He can't save you."

Eliot didn't hear his own screams as the fangs pierced his flesh. His racing heartbeat pounded behind his eyes, blurring his vision. He gasped for breath and put up a last, futile attempt to escape. Waterston held him fast, drinking in the blood that flowed from the open artery. Eliot felt his own blood dripping down his chest and for a moment was conscious enough to hear Parker cry out for him. She sounded like she was under water or perhaps it was he who was under water. As his heart rate slowed, his tremulous muscles gave out. He felt his body being lowered to the floor and then he looked up to see Waterston standing over him.

Blood dripped down his chin. Waterston pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned himself off. "Hmm," he said. "Organic. You take care of yourself. And I detect just a hint of peach." Waterston turned around and focused his attention on Parker. "Of course, that makes sense. Peaches are in season."

Eliot struggled to keep his eyes open. "Hardis...Help." He knew he was barely alive. He began to shiver as he looked over to Parker. She was mouthing the words he was trying to say, 'help'. One of Waterston's men straddled him, rolled him over onto his back and a second later, hoisted him up on his shoulder. Eliot, weakened by the lost blood, pulled at the shackles but found himself only able to hang his head and stare at a black shirt.

"Bring the pet too. I may want a snack later."

Trying to stay conscious, Eliot counted the blood drops he left behind on the stone floor - ten drops. The pain in his shoulders was replaced with cold and numbness but the air around him was getting warmer - seventeen drops. He counted the stairs as he was carried up them and noted when the floors changed from stone to wood - 29 drops. Eliot managed to lift his head a bit and he saw the girl being carried behind him - 33 drops. He looked around for Parker but couldn't see or hear her and he prayed she was in front of him outside his field of vision which was rapidly narrowing - Forty drops. Eliot closed his eyes for just a moment, he thought.

When he opened them, he was on another hard stone floor. He had been placed on his back; the shackles had been removed from his wrists and ankles; and his dislocated shoulder had been realigned with his arm bound to his chest. He touched his neck where he had been bitten and felt the early scabs that had formed over the two puncture wounds. Then as his fingers couldn't reach further, he noticed the metal collar around his neck. As his vision cleared, he looked around the room.

It wasn't the concrete bunker where he had found the girl. It looked more like a library. He carefully moved his head to the right, taking in the stacks of books, ornate desk and chairs and oriental carpets. he turned his head to the left and looked straight at Waterston, who was sitting in an overstuffed chair next to him.

"How..."

"How long have you been out? About 4 hours," Waterston replied. "Your friends? Well let's see. They're alive, for now. How long they stay alive depends on you." Waterston scratched his chin.

"Girl?" Eliot felt too drained to make conversation.

"The one you tried to steal? Alive, but expecting a hell of a punishment." Waterston leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. "I want to know more about you. You see, I know what you are. You've stolen from me before. I want to know who you are and who sent you."

Eliot turned his head away from him and closed his eyes. "David," he rasped. "Kampstead."

"David," Waterston repeated. "That's interesting because your colleague kept calling you Eliot." He stood up and circled to the other side of Eliot. "Now what will come back if I fax your picture to Interpol. Hmm?"

"Please do."

"Later, perhaps. Do you even know what it is you were instructed to steal from me?" Waterston strode over to the corner of the room where the girl was cowering and grabbed her by the hair. He dragged her back to Eliot. "Open your eyes."

Eliot's eyes fluttered open and he was nearly nose to nose with her. He saw her green eyes for the first time. She held his gaze until Waterston slapped her and she again cowered face down on the floor.

"She wasn't on the list, was she?" Waterston snapped.

"Staff." Eliot fought to maintain a coherent thought. He arched his back and tried to turn over onto his side.

"The Staff of Inigo. Of course, but do you know what it is?"

Eliot shook his head, slightly. He heard the rattle of a chain and assumed it was attached to the collar. He twisted his head to try to see where it was connected but the crack of a belt across his thigh diverted his attention.

"Let me demonstrate. Max! Come in here please."

Eliot followed the sound from the door and saw a young man of about twenty-five walk into the room.

"Yes sir."

"Tell Adam to bring me the blonde. Parker, I think her name is." Waterston picked up the Staff, an ebony staff with a sleek curved blade atop it.

Eliot strained to get a better look at its carved base. He didn't recognize the language or the symbols but it looked ancient, like the symbols in the Cambodian temples where he sought refuge during adventures past. His eyes traveled to the blade at the top. In the back of his mind, he processed what Waterson had in mind and he didn't want to think about it. He wouldn't be able to help her. He sighed, knowing he was going to have to give up what little information he had about the client.

He heard the footsteps of two men. He looked up to see them dragging Parker, semi-conscious, into the library. They dumped her on the floor. Her eyes were half open and Eliot tried to make her hold eye contact but she couldn't.

"Max, stand here for a moment." Waterston pointed to a spot next to Parker.

He did as he was told. Before Max had a chance to react, Waterston swung the staff and with a quick flick of his wrist, took Max's head clean off. Eliot jerked against the restraints around his neck as the young vampire melted into a pool of blood. Parker tried to stand to stand up but something in her system incapacitated her. She mumbled something too soft to hear. The girl's eyes widened and darted back and forth between Parker and Eliot, who was working hard to sit up.

"This, here, is your opportunity to tell me what you know. Who are you, really?"

Elliot thought hard about the sacrifice Nate had made to save him and the others. "Let everyone else," Eliot panted. "...go. I'll talk."

"Do you really think you're in a position to negotiate?" Waterston reached over and grabbed Parker by her ponytail. He lifted it, exposing her neck. he spun the staff around ready to strike her. "How much do you care about her?" He raised the blade over his head.

"No!" The girl screamed as she rushed to place herself between Parker and the vampire. She reached out and to Waterston's surprise, the Staff flew out of his hand and into the girl's.

"That's not possible!" Waterston dove toward the girl but her body seemed to lift itself off the floor and out of his way.

She gripped the Staff and held it close. She scrambled to Eliot and took hold of his hand. He held it close as she trembled. Waterston tried to take the Staff from her again and this time light emanated from the blade and threw him across the room into a glass case. He crawled over to the desk and activated the alarm.

"The police are coming. Now, who are they going to believe?"