Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or anything surrounding it (but I do own this plot :D)


JPOV

Shame. I expected shame. That was what you were supposed to feel, right? Yet, with the early morning sun flowing in through the uncurtained windows, which neither of us had been bothered to draw, I could not bring myself to shame. Sure, I was lying rather exposed under the sheets with Ibrahim lying beside me, similarly attired, but there was none of that feeling that made you freeze and shudder in thinking 'oh God, what have I done.'

I had woken before him, blinking for a few moments a little dazed, before the part of my brain that operated the memory faculty kicked in. Glancing over, I saw Ibrahim, still asleep in spite of the morning glow; lying on his back, he had one arm hanging off the side of the bed, with the other draped limply across his stomach. Even asleep, he managed to retain is quintessential personality that kept him both amused and cunning at the same time. I smiled, feeling the tug form across my lips and seeing nothing wrong in allowing me to enjoy the sight. I shifted onto my side to face him and further assess the situation. It is interesting how blind we are; how we see features, (eyes, nose, mouth etc) register it as a face, but then ponder no further on the matter as your mind sees no overwhelming point in continuing. But with the sun's rays seeping gold into the warmly coloured room and me without cause for immediate attention, I took the moment to really study him: the slight kink in his nose; the minute differences in the stubble that surrounded his lips; how said lips remained only slightly parted as he breathed gently in sweet sombre or indeed the subtle change in skin colour from where his skin dipped under his cheekbones or under his jaw line, mirrored by the marked creases on his neck from where it had rolled and moved in natural response. He was beautiful, perhaps not by conventional standards, but certainly to me and each little imperfection and indentation only solidified that notion further.

I considered waking him up. We probably should as whilst the drama of the explosion would still hang in the city's air for a good week or two more, it would certainly be easier to get ourselves back to Hamlet's. I wondered, nay hoped, that Emyl and Vincent had made it back. Harriet would have been out of her head in worry. It was then that a pang of guilt rushed through me; to think that my worry was bad, her's was most likely doubled, and doubled again as it was her nature. Resolving, I thought it best to get up. We couldn't in this bubble, as enjoyable as it was, forever.

Yet as I turned my attention back to him, I felt that same wave of affection that had had underlined everything from the previous night; it was an almost pathetic type of pinning, but I didn't really mind it at that moment. I wanted to fall back into his embrace and listen to him whisper endearing affection into my ear: I was his and he was mine.

And then it dawned on me: I had the upper hand.

He was asleep and ergo, defenseless. A certain wickedness that I had no doubt picked up from him came over me and my tender smile evolved into a mischievous smirk. He was sprawled far enough away from me such that I could sneak out of the bed without disturbing him and make it all the way to the bathroom where I knew there was a container with ample room for a substantial volume of cold water. I amused myself considering at the many possible facial reactions to that particular scheme, causing me to chuckle. He stirred a little and I bit my lip. No, that would be too cruel, especially given that he was still technically recovering from a very recent bullet wound. Just before we had slept, I spent a careful amount of time gently rewrapping it in a new bandage, which had proven a little trickier than the first time as he spent the entire time planting chase, butterfly kisses against my neck. Smiling at the memory, I scooted towards his unconscious frame, stopping centimetres from him and gently bringing my hand to brush against the fabric of the bandage and skirt over his chest to rest on the dip of his collarbone. He stirred a little more and I edged my face towards his, propping myself on my elbow and leaning down towards his face. I brushed my lips on his cheek and worked my way down under his jaw. He really moved now; tilting his head upward to give me greater access for my little exploration. I smiled against his skin, the act causing a break in my mouth's rhythm against his neck.

"Mmm, don't stop…"

Evidently, it didn't go unnoticed by the subject.

I frowned, pulling back to revisit his features. His eyes were still closed, but the lazy grin told he was very much awake. "How long have you been awake?" I asked.

He sighed, a little over the top. "Long enough." he replied.

I glared at him a little and slapped his chest, provoking a deep chuckle in his throat. "Bastard." I muttered, making to flop back to my side and to reconsider getting that water.

I was stopped by his arm wrapping around me and pulling me so that I lay on my front and on top of him. "You know, I think you need to work on your pet names." he said, opening his eyes fully and smirking widely.

I decided to play along, pouting a little as I whined: "But 'bastard' suits you so well…"

He rolled his eyes, but the smile never left them. He cast them back to me as his fingertips continued to draw circles on my back when something foreign crossed his features, causing him to frown a little. "Janine, I-" he cut himself off and reconsidered. "I just, I want you to know…it wasn't..." he trailed off.

Casting a slightly puzzled expression his way, I looked up at him fully. "Ibrahim?"

He resolved. "I want you to know that this meant something to me." I could feel the tension in his body underneath me grow as he said it.

It touched me, more than I could ever hope to say, when he said that and I smiled my response. "It appears we are in agreement." I said.

His expression softened. "You are truly like no other, Janine."

The comment flattered me beyond belief and I felt the flutter that grew in my stomach, but I played it off within the bounds of my usual character. "I try." I replied with a little shrug.

He laughed. "Oh, good Lord, what have you done to me, woman!" he said with a sigh. "I do not believe I have ever been this sappy."

I grinned. "It suits you."

He shook his head. "You are not wrong there: this certainly suits me." and with that he flipped us over such that he lay hovered above me, holding me tight in his embrace as his hands encircled my small frame. "I want this." he said simply.

I laughed a little. "You aren't going to propose now, are you?" I said, the humour lacing my tone.

To my utter surprise, he remained remarkably neutral at that comment. "In a way." he said. I blinked, a little panicked about what he was doing. Seeing my distress, he smiled. "Rest assured, not in that way. But I want this, Janine; I want you by my side, after all this is over." he said.

My smile returned as I realised what he meant. "Sounds nice." I whispered.

The tenderness in his expression grew. "Truly?"

"Truly." I affirmed.

He paused for a moment, watching me with his oh, so expressive eyes, before speaking again. "May I ask then, my love?"

I nodded, biting my lip a little.

He smiled. "Will you be my guardian?"

I raised my eyebrows and sucked on my lips, pretending to ponder for a moment. He shot me a playful glare and I chuckled. "I suppose someone has to keep you out of trouble."

He grinned. "Not too burdensome then…?"

"I'll get used to it," I said with a little shrug, which was a little tricky given our positioning. The tug on his lips grew and he brought them down to meet mine. I responded, but found the sensation cut short by the hiss of pain that escaped his lips. I pulled back and eyed his shoulder with no little concern.

He looked down with an irritated frown. "Well, this is going well." He muttered sarcastically.

I chuckled. "I guess this means I'm on top…" And with that, I gently pushed him back and rolled us both over.

He visually grimaced, but I could see his inward amusement. "How very emasculating."

"Alas," I said with a pitying sigh. "Poor you." I said pouting. Planting my lips to his, I gave him a chase kiss before pulling back and out of his arms.

He blinked, a little disoriented by the action. "And here I thought you cared…" he said.

I rolled my eyes. "We cannot stay in bed all day." I said flatly, wrapping the blanket around my still naked frame.

He cocked a brow. "We most certainly can."

I narrowed my eyes. "Well, we are most certainly not. We need to get back to Hamlet's." The more serious edge lilting against my casual tone.

Ibrahim, picking up on it, nodded. "Indeed, but perhaps not primarily for Hamlet's benefit, I am guessing." he said, his smile turning a little saddened.

I mirrored his change in demeanour. "She will be worried sick." I stated, not needing to mention Harriet's name for Ibrahim could well read between the lines.

He offered a small smile before reach over the phone lying on the bedside table. "Alek?" He said then proceeding to speak in what I assumed was Bulgarian. Not ten minutes later, a noise at the door had me reaching for my stake. Alek merely blinked upon seeing my defensive stance, most likely more than a little confused as to how I was going to take him on while still being wrapped in a sheet.

It was then that the shame hit me.

Well, not so much shame as it was raw embarrassment as there was no subtlety in the scene before the Bulgarian man (Ibrahim's somewhat smug grin doing little to help the situation). I blushed, but Alek remained placid, extended his arms out, drawing my attention for the first time to try objects in his hands: clothes. Clean, fresh and thus void of the blood, shrapnel and God knows what else that smothered our clothes from the previous day, it provoked a joy within me that continued my previously established good mood.

"For you." He said, handing them to me but gesturing to the both of us, furthered by the fact that there was a fully tailored suit among the pile. I took them, not meeting his gaze, nodding my thanks. Alek nodded back before leaving.

I turned to Ibrahim and glared. "Well, I think that all went very well." he said, grinning madly.

"You are such an arse." I said, dumping his suit on top of him. He chuckled and started unfolding the shirt to put on. I looked down inspecting the lendings before me. "Did he just have these lying around?" I asked, looking at the pair of jeans and simple t-shirt.

Ibrahim shrugged. "Lost property, plus he has a very good eye for size." That made me shudder a little, but I was more grateful than not when I slid on the jeans and they fit reasonably well.

Yet his statement did make me frown. "He had an entire two piece suit in lost property?"

Ibrahim smiled. "Ah, no - Vincent and I kept one each here just for such emergencies."

"Of course you did." I felt silly for even asking. "Do you have them just dotted about the globe in case of a wardrobe malfunction?" I asked, teasing him a little.

He stopped with just one arm in the shirt sleeve to look over at me poignantly. "Guardian Hathaway, I trust you can infer the benefits of a properly constructed image in provoking a response tailored to that which the subject desires…"

I rolled my eyes. "Image is everything, huh?" I said.

"Not everything, but a rather useful tool nonetheless." he replied with a wink and shoving his other arm into the opposing sleeve.

Turning away and still enclothed by the sheet, I wandered into the bathroom in search of my underwear; closing the door a little, I called back, "How far is it to Hamlet's?"

"A good few hours by foot, only a couple by car," came the less than agreeable reply.

I scrunched my face up and considered; obviously the latter was the preferred option, but I wasn't sure how much of Istanbul's public transport would be still running after an explosion that could easily have been interpreted as a terror attack. I growled a little. "Alek have a car hidden away here?" It was a stupid question and overwhelmingly rhetorical, but despite the lack of reply, I could feel Ibrahim's smirk.

Feeling a lot better now appropriately attired, I picked up my clothes from the previous day and scrunched them into a ball. I considered just throwing them away, but I had never been one to waste on anything, so kept them in hand as I walked out. Ibrahim was also now fully dressed in his new suit which all but matched the one from the previous day. I laughed inwardly at the thought, but Ibrahim didn't seem to notice as he seemed immersed in the act of remaking the bed. I plonked the dirty laundry down and sought Ibrahim's former suit to put with it, finding myself blushing as I had to follow the discarded pieces like a trail of breadcrumbs to the bed. Picking them up and striding back to the pile, I halted when something feel out of his pocket. The object had me frowning and, after dumping the suit down, I went back and picked it up.

It was a necklace, of sorts: a blue rope-like piece of string with an even darker blue amulet threaded through. The amulet itself was cyclical; a clearly hand-crafted navy circle with what looked like an eye in the middle of it. It seemed so unlike Ibrahim that I was mesmerized by it, but then realised that it could have been something deeply personal and so made to hand it back.

"Sorry, this fell out…" I said, extending the object out towards him. "I didn't mean to look...I didn't know if you wanted it, or not…" I was stumbling a little and really not enjoying it.

Ibrahim quirked an eyebrow before tentatively taking the object and pausing. Without much more of a warning, he straightened up and came behind me. I, a little alarmed, made to follow him round but he held me still with a gentle touch of his hands on my arms, keeping me facing forward. I opened my mouth to speak, but felt his hands rise from their spot and place the necklace over my neck, brushing away my curls and tying it at my nape. "It is called a nazar," he whispered, "it means 'eye' and it is believed to protect against the 'evil eye'. I bought it on the day we first found out about Guerra and intended to give it to you, but we got a little sidetracked..." he said, planting a soft kiss to my neck. "You had done so much for me, and this was my mediocre attempt at repaying you: a seal to say that I'll protect you as much as you me, even if you don't believe it."

"Ibrahim…" my voice had caught in my throat.

He smiled against my skin. "What? Janine Hathaway without a thing to say?"

A difficult as it was for me to admit, he was right: I was stunned speechless, to the point where my only outward sign of the gratitude I felt came in the manifestation of turning around, still in his arms, and reclaiming his kiss. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me; the limited affection from my mother through my infancy had sealed the mould for disappointing expectation I had for the rest of my life. Sure, birthdays happened, but no-one had ever just gave me something on a whim. It wasn't even the gift, it was the motivation that had brought about the wave of speechlessness and subsequent intensity into the kiss that followed. I was fully ready to lose myself in his embrace, but was prevented from doing so by an unnerving sound:

Footsteps. More importantly, two sets of footsteps.

Now I wasn't sure if Alek had a friend or another guest round, but I wasn't taking any chances, not with Ibrahim's life. I broke away from him, sprinting towards the bedside table and grabbing my stake from the wooden construction, forcing him behind me and sinking into an offensive position.

"Well, this seems a little counter-intuitive…" Ibrahim whispered.

I shot him a quick look of placidity. "Next time, you can be the hero." I said flatly, glad that my speechlessness was only momentary.

He chuckled. "I'll hold you to that."

I pursed my lips but was spared the reply by the knock on the door and the movement of the handle. Tensing up, I readied myself for whatever came through that threshold…

"Jenny!"

I taped, dropping my stake and slamming into his chest. "Emyl, oh my God!" He held me tightly and neither of us could be persuaded to separate.

"I thought you were dead." He said, his voice trembling a little.

I held on for a moment before pulling away and stepping back. "As I you. How did you get out?"

Emyl smiled a little, sheepish and out of character. "We ran pretty quickly; Vince used the airshafts for his little trick, but we didn't know if you were out…" he broke a little. Gone was the placid mask and facade of strength and passivity: what remained was a shell of pure vulnerability and humanity. "Jenny, it killed me thinking you were dead, both of you," he said, glancing up at Ibrahim who nodded his respected reply. "And knowing that I could have had something to do with it…"

I shook my head. "You completed the mission - you and Vincent, you brought down the base."

"But at what cost?" Emyl quipped. "Vince and I have been running about every safe house, motel, hotel and any other contact he had in the area. And every time we came back empty, I felt my heart shatter that little bit more. You are my best friend, Jenny." He said plainly. Emyl was not one for emotional displays, it was something we had in common, but this had shaken him. Shaken him more than I had ever seen, to the point where I could see the question in his eyes. They come first. A given rule and one we'd both accepted, but this whole thing had sparked the doubt over our forced way of life. Why did they come first? Procreation aside, why was it that we had to die for them to live such a charmed existence. The lavishness of the Ivahkov party flooded back into my vision and stirred me to a more unsettled disposition. And I could see the same thing occurring within Emyl.

"Bloody hell!" We were spared further consideration on the matter by the entrance of one rather eccentric Brit. Vincent had come in straight through the door, probably having just been caught up with Alek as was his ever conversational nature; he was, much like Emyl, a little worse for wear, but even more so as he doubled over himself, shielding his eyes for a moment and turning away as though he were blinded. I could see Ibrahim rolling his eyes, but I wasn't so sure he was joking.

"Vince, you alright, mate?" Emyl asked, stepping towards him.

He looked back, blinking rapidly before smiling widely. "Wonderful. But perhaps not quite as Janine here appears to be." he said with a little wink.

I paled considerably. Shit.

Vincent continued to grin even through Emyl's confused expression. Ibrahim, for perhaps the only time that I knew him, looked as though he were blushing, but concealed it artfully with a turn of his head and a clearing of his throat.

"We were just heading back towards Hamlet's." he said, attempting to change the conversation.

"Sure you were." Vincent said, still fucking grinning.

Gone was the feeling of horror that he might be dead: I was going to kill him.

Emyl continued to scan the room, attempting to assess the matter, but to not much avail if his unchanging expression was any indicator. "Yeah, we haven't been able to contact them." Emyl decided to follow Ibrahim's lead and get back on topic.

"Did they not pick up?" I asked, befuddled a little.

"Oh, no - the blast knocked them out." Emyl clarified.

I nodded with a small smile.

"That appears to be a city-wide condition," Ibrahim added.

"And human tendency for panic will have closed off all public transport." Vincent, having composed himself, finally joined the conversation. His expression, while still somewhat amused, took on his more serious form. Running his fingers through his hair, he addressed Ibrahim. "Does E-J still drive the Polo?"

Ibrahim frowned and considered for a moment. "I thought he moved to New Zealand?"

"Did he?" Vincent said, "Blimey. Right, well there goes that one."

"Doesn't Alex drove?" Emyl asked.

"He was sixteen when we smuggled him out and since he's here illegally, it wasn't really on the cards." Ibrahim said.

"Also his name is Alek." Vincent added and received an eye roll from Emyl.

"Well how about we start on foot and see if we cannae find another mode of transport as we go." I offered, figuring it was best to actually do what we could do rather than argue about what we couldn't.

"Cannae?" Vincent said, with a slight smile.

"Sorry, can't." I translated, assuming that was what he meant.

Vincent shook his head. "No, no - I was just marvelling. I rather enjoy your random Scottish outbursts." He said chuckling a little. "A true unexpected pleasure, but you are indeed correct; I fear dear Harriet may be beside herself with concern."

At the mention of Harriet, Emyl perked up and began rallying us all out the door, but was halted by Ibrahim's pondering.

"You alright, Abe?" Vincent said, as he stood in the threshold of our room, looking back at the unmoving Moroi.

"Ibrahim?" I said in a lower voice, stepping towards him carefully as his furrowed brow told me he was deep in thought, not necessarily good.

"Sorry, something is bothering me and I can't seem to shake it." He said. Vincent frowned and came back into the room. Emyl poked his head through the door, concerned but unwilling delay for longer than necessary.

"The base." Vincent guessed, his small smile indicating that he too was suffering from a similar sentiment.

"How did they know?" He said, his inquiry including both Emyl and myself. "How could they have the knowledge of what we were going to do - you had come specifically to avoid such a situation." His gaze turned back to Vincent.

"Perhaps Torres could have told them…" I suggested, not particularly believing it myself.

"With le renard leering over him? Highly improbable." Vincent said, a little solemn. "Do you suppose that they keep that level of security at all times?"

Emyl shook his head. "Way too hard to manage."

"Plus, this was specific." I said. "Premeditated - they knew exactly how many of us there were and when we were going to advance."

"Someone must have tipped them off," Ibrahim stated.

"Who though?" a deep frown crossed upon Emyl as he spoke. "There were only about six of us that knew, plus Croft when we called him. Could be one of the Guardians in Crofts' elite?"

"That managed to get a message all the way to Istanbul before nightfall?" I said, sceptical. Also very concerned as the only two people we spoke to were Croft and Drew, neither of which I wanted to believe were capable of something like this.

Vincent shrugged a little. "Tight, but not entirely impossible."

"Look, we're getting away from ourselves here," I said, uncomfortable with the thoughts that were swirling in my head regarding those who I trusted and even cared for deeply. "Let's just head back to Hamlet's and sort it out there."

"Good call." Emyl said, jumping up from his lean against the doorframe and darting out the door.

Neither Ibrahim nor Vincent looked entirely chuffed with the inconclusive outcome of the conversation, but Emyl's actions did give them some levity. "Well, he certainly did not need to be told twice." Vincent said with a little chuckle. He looked back at me and squinted again, wincing away.

I sighed. "Right, out with it. What is wrong with you?"

"Many things, Janine, but this particular instance is not wholly my fault." he said with a slight frown.

"What are you talking about, Charles?" Ibrahim said, using his nickname as an undoubtable attempt to lighten the mood from the dismal thoughts that someone we knew could have betrayed us on perhaps the largest scale possible whilst picking up his blazer and sliding it on.

"As talented as you both are at concealing information, you unfortunately cannot hide the glare of your auras." Vincent said, giving us a knowing glance. "Particularly as they are presently blinding me. Now, I've seen happiness in a person, but not like this. I am struggling to turn it off here."

I shot him a scowl. "Try harder."

"Your sympathy is appreciated." He quipped, rubbing his temples before running his hand in his hair. "Right, I'm going before my headache gets any worse." And with that he walked out.

I rolled my eyes. "He does know we are following him, right?" I said, turning to Ibrahim. He chuckled and I exhaled. "Has he always been such an ass?"

"'Tis his nature, I am afraid. A life of cricket, tea and strict decorum has rendered him quite the ass." Ibrahim said, the amusement returning to his features.

I shook my head and put on my boots, strapping my stake to my hip and gun to my ankle. Hamlet had given me enough to last me for years, clearly taking no chances, but I still continued to use them sparingly. Walking out of the room, we exited the hotel; Alek bid us farewell and I could see the unease in his expression. I don't think I could ever grasp just how much he felt indebted to the two Moroi with me that day nor comprehend the level of protectiveness that came with it.

We lead out: Vincent and Ibrahim in front whilst Emyl and I covered the back, watching anything and everything around us. The blast made have shaken us, but it had inadvertently boosted our already hyper-sensitive conditioning. Not to mention the events of the previous night provoked an even deeper desire to keep Ibrahim alive. Let's be rational here: I wasn't so besotted that if anything were to happen to him, that I would completely lose all ability to function, but it certainly would not be comfortable. Far from it. But I loved him - there was no escaping it. Some might argue that it presented a conflict of interest and to them I say: bollocks. If anything, it only made me more motivated to do my job. Nothing and no-one was getting near that man, I was going to make damned sure of that.

Oh, and Vincent too.

Did it bother me that he knew? A little. I mean, it wasn't entirely his fault that he possessed the ability to see people's emotions and read their minds, but I wasn't overly convinced that this could not be controlled. People have sex all the time and even more people are considered happy - he couldn't be 'blinded' by everyone, right? It simply wasn't feasible. Perhaps he was just so used to poking in Ibrahim's and I's heads that it had just become second nature: annoying, but still not entirely his fault.

"Jenny, is everything alright?" Emyl's voice startled me a little, but I was composed quickly enough to frown in good time.

"Yeah...well, I mean, as much as they could be considering…" I didn't bother finishing.

He paused for a bit, still walking, but pondering a little. "Did something happen between you and Abe?"

I blinked. Oh, shit, not him too! This wasn't going well at all. How on Earth could they all know!?

"W-what…?"

"No, it doesn't matter if it did. I mean, I'm still not keen on him, but upon reflection," he paused again and looked towards the Moroi in question, "quite a lot of reflection," he amended, "I suppose he isn't so bad, but it was just when Vincent was talking earlier... I don't know."

While he was shrugging, I was planning - how exactly did I go about this? I wanted to be honest, truly I did, but I doubted Emyl, even with the slightly more chilled mindset he had, would be best pleased with the knowledge that while he was running about worried sick with his assigned partner, I was engaging in something rather different with mine.

So I decided to tell him part of it.

"Ibrahim asked me to be his guardian." I said.

Emyl looked over, a little surprised, but mostly neutral as he took a moment to process the new information. "You said yes, I'm guessing."

I nodded. "I want to. Despite all, well this," I gestured around, but meant the multitudinous amount of shit we had gone through over the past month or so. "I feel like a guardian. I feel like I am actually protecting people, instead of just standing by a pillar and watching the world go on around me." That was entirely true. I was done: done being a Court Guardian, with the schedules and shifts and shadow-like existence. Was the life of a Personal Guardian more dangerous? Could get me killed earlier? Possibly drive me insane with being stuck with one person until essentially 'death do us part'? Yes, entirely. But at least it was personal. I would be a person, not just a shadow against the wall. It was what I had imagined being a guardian would be like and it was an added bonus that I could do it with the man that I had fallen in love with. And if Ibrahim and I should not work out? An uneasy thought, but at least I would have had a chance to experience love, to be able to connect with someone at a deeper level, to live a life worthy of its name.

I would miss Harriet and Emyl, Croft, Drew and Ruth, but Ibrahim was not so heartless as to cut me off entirely. And perhaps it was time I started to enjoy my time on the planet; started to live properly, free from social conventions and institutionalised dictations.

I could see a smile form on Emyl's face as I spoke, clearly sharing in a similar notion. I would always cherish the fact that we could connect like that. "Good for you, Jenny." he said. "Good for you."

...

It would have been a great moment. It would have been the perfect one. But that all changed in a matter of minutes.

...

First it was the boy: a young lad, no more that sixteen, who came bolting from behind us, calling out Ibrahim and Vincent's names. Then came Alek, following rapidly behind. They both wore a look of despair, of horror, across the faces, as though they had just walked into hell itself.

I had reached for my weapon, and Emyl did too, but Vincent's signal told us it was alright. He addressed the boy in Turkish while Ibrahim spoke to Alek in Bulgarian. It was a flurry of language and incoherence - I couldn't make anything out, but the panic and concern was high. As the two spoke, Ibrahim and Vincent got paler and paler. Sharing a glance with each other, they then turned to us.

"What is it?" Emyl said, looking between all four parties.

There was no response, they all stood silent, until the young lad stepped forward and handed a piece of paper to us. I took it in hand and began to read.

It was note. A message. A warning. Coded and then decoded: a Shakespearean verse written with Bacon's brand of substitution ciphers. King Lear. The traitor, the bastard: Edmund's famous soliloquy reduced to a few Earth-shattering words:

Tonight at Nine Two D Two M Spirit and Earth Be Prepared

And the address - the signator - the traitor in our group.

Reverend Paul Hamlet.