N/A: I don't encourage excessive drinking ;)

20. Was the hope drunk...?

The old man fired his gun but White Dawn did not move. Newkirk turned on his back, the tall man in white still pulling at his ankle. Newkirk grabbed every book he could reach and threw them at him. One hit White Dawn's hand and made him open it. Newkirk did not wait for anything. He sprung up, looking for the exit. Spike was on the street, still groggy but on his feet.

"Newkirk! Let's go!" He said.

Newkirk's first impulse was to run, but in seconds, he remembered that the old man was still in the store. He stopped and turned. Spike saw him getting back inside and he cursed. Those were the kind of heroic acts that made humans so vulnerable, he thought.

White Dawn had cornered the man. Newkirk came from behind and jumped to grab him by the neck. The man in white spun around, trying to get Newkirk off his back. He stepped back to crush Newkirk against the wall. The Englishman fell down but not for long. White Dawn grabbed him by the neck and lifted him till their eyes were at the same level. The man did not have pupils, his eyes were completely white. Newkirk was not surprised.

He swung his feet but he could not longer touch the ground. White Dawn opened his mouth and some kind of mist came out. Newkirk felt cold air entering his nostrils and mouth. Although in his mind he knew it would not be a good idea, he could not help but exhale deeply. Everything went dark and he almost fainted.

Spike ran inside the store. Without pausing to think his next move, he jumped and kicked White Dawn on the side. The impact made the giant loosen his grip on Newkirk. The Englishman fell down to the floor. He was dizzy, but through his blurred eyes he saw Spike engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the ghostly man.

The giant staggered and before he could respond, the vampire kicked him again. White Dawn did not yield, he grabbed Spike's fist before it connected with his chest and crushed it. The pain was intense. Spike let it out in a scream as the same time that his features switched into his game face. He took advantage of the grip and swirled. The sudden movement brought White Dawn's arms into an uncomfortable position. He had to let the vampire go. Spike punched him on the ribs with his elbow and lifted it against his chin. White Dawn stepped back just to be punched one more time and then, pushed into the next room. Spike quickly locked the door and dragged two heavy shelves against it. Then, he came to pull Newkirk to his feet.

"We've got to get out of here!" He said.

"Herr Eichenholz," Newkirk whispered.

Spike growled impatiently. He went back for the old man and pushed him out of the store.

"What was that?" the old man asked. "I thought he was gone."

Spike straightened up and his face changed back to normal. "Let's get out of here."

They began to walk, occasionally turning back just to make sure that White Dawn was not following them.

"Herr Eichenholz, you mentioned- a box..." Newkirk's voice weakened by the minute. "What happened with it?

"I'm not Herr Eichenholz. He was the previous owner and died almost ten years ago. I kept the name of the store because it was cheaper than getting another sign." The man stopped. "That damn box, they say it's cursed. It has been gone for so long and suddenly, everybody wants it. Herr Eichenholz kept it in his store until his death. Then, it went to his brother's hands."

Newkirk felt short of breath and had to bend over. with his hands on his knees. "And this brother, where can we find him?"

"Last thing I heard, he lived six blocks from here in that direction," he said, pointing north.

"And... his name is?" Breathing was painful now.

"I don't remember. Eichenholz is the last name. But you can't miss his house. It's next to Saint Michael's Church, that's his Parrish."

"A priest?" Spike smirked with disgust.

"It's been ages since I went that way; and after last week's bombardment, the place must be in very bad shape." The man looked at Newkirk and frowned. "Are you all right? You're getting awfully pale."

Spike turned to Newkirk and winced. He did not look good at all, indeed.

"But who was that Russian giant? Why did he want to tear my bookstore apart?"

"Long story, mate. Not a pretty one." Spike shrugged. "You'd better go home and stay away from there for one day. Just give the white bloke time to cool off... so to speak." He pulled Newkirk's sleeve. "C'mon, we've got to get moving."

()o()o()

Newkirk endured the walk for several blocks but suddenly the air deserted his lungs and he collapsed on the ground. Spike got him into an alley and made him lean against the wall. He slapped him on the face until Newkirk opened his eyes.

"Can't breathe," he whispered.

"You are breathing. You can't feel the air in your lungs because they're numb." Spike stared at his eyes. "The white bugger blew his arctic breath on your face, didn't he?"

"W-what does it mean?" Newkirk shivered uncontrollably.

"Well, in a nutshell, you're frozen from the inside out." He shrugged.

"S-sounds b-bad enough," said Newkirk through his teeth. "Now w-what? Am I d-dying?"

"Not yet. This is usually a long agony that can last for years," he grinned.

"S-Spike!" Newkirk grabbed him by the collar of his coat. "D-do something!"

"All right. Let me think." He got up and looked around. One idea came to his mind. "Got any money?"

"W-What?"

"Money, mate. I don't carry cash."

Newkirk tried to reach the inner pocket of his coat but his hands shook too much. "In m-me pocket..."

Spike took all the bills and grinned. "Be back on a tick."

()o()o()

Mr. Jones saw Schultz picking up another card, the fourth in three blocks. He frowned. After sharing some time with these people, he had started to think that everybody was a little crazy. Maybe the war was affecting them more than they thought.

"Sergeant, may I have a word with you?"

"Herr-," Schultz had not caught the man's name and he did not think he wanted to anyway. First, they had said he was Countess Elizabeth's solicitor and then, he had identified himself as a London envoy, whatever it meant.

Mr. Jones smiled. "I was wondering if you have any idea of what is going on here."

"I'm sorry but I don't have time. I need to find Newkirk and come back to rescue Colonel Hogan."

"This was a clean operation. Kidnapping, no doubt about it." Mr. Jones took his notebook and wrote that down. "And those cards you've been collecting, is there any connection with the abduction?"

"I don't know. I don't think Newkirk is aware of what's going on here..." Schultz stopped to see in which direction to go next. He saw an old sign towards the Supernatural History Museum and sighed. "Why not?" He put his rifle over his shoulder and went that way. Mr. Jones just followed the leader.

()o()o()

Newkirk rubbed his eyes and felt his eyelids heavy and cold. Every breath hurt in his chest and back and his fingers were so numb that he could hardly clench the front of his coat. His teeth chattered and he could not stop shaking. A sudden sleep invaded him and his mind began to drift away.

"Golden slumbers fill your eyes..."

He heard a sweet voice and tried to follow it in his sleep.

"Are you dead yet?" Spike's careless voice brought him back to reality. The vampire saw him open his eyes and grinned with relief. He sat down next to him and showed him a bottle in a paper bag.

"W-what-?"

"The best remedy there is," Spike opened the bottle. The smell of whiskey invaded the place. "Here, have a drink."

Newkirk frowned. His hands were so weak that Spike had to hold the bottle while he took a sip. A sudden cough woke him up. "It's hot," he said.

"Warm whiskey, it'll melt the ice inside." Spike had a drink too and sighed. "Don't you feel closer to home when you taste this? Sometimes, after running so many adventures like this... traveling around the world and all that number, I sit and drink... Then, I remember what things used to be like at home, when nothing special happened... You know, quiet afternoons watching life go by... And I realize how much I miss that..."

Newkirk took the bottle with both hands. He too missed those lazy days at home, right before his mother died or things with his father went down the drain. But there was a war now, and he could not give himself time to linger over things that were there no more. He took another sip. "You're balmy, Spike."

Some time, and half a bottle later, Newkirk began to regain the feeling in his hands and feet. His breathing was no longer painful and the tremors stopped. He stared at the bottle and shook his head.

"Is this half empty or half full? What do you think?" He put it right on Spike's face.

The vampire took it and had another sip. He blinked and said. "Def- def'ntly half empty."

Newkirk snatched the bottle. "Hey, I'm the one who's ssick-" He drank and sighed. "Why is Baba Yaga so mean to me? I'm just a regular bloke... not much luck in life, though..."

"Don't get me started with luck and life... Those two ladies have always been very evasive to me..."

"You? With a name like William the Bloody?" he chuckled. "Birds love bad boys..."

"I wasn't a vampire yet when they got me that name..." Spike grimaced with disgust and nostalgia. "I was a nancy boy, living at home with mother, writing stupid poems for a stupid bird... They called me William the Bloody because of the bloody poems I wrote..." he chuckled with sadness. "And you know what that silly bint said to me after I bled my heart for her in that poem? She said... She said that I was beneath her... Can you believe that? Beneath her..."

"Bugger," Newkirk shook his head lazily. "Some birds..." He hugged the bottle against his chest. "And then, she turned you into a vampire?"

"It wasn't her! My Sire was like... like an apparition... a ghost with shining, lovely...effulgent eyes."

"Effulgent!" Newkirk laughed. "That's a funny word!"

Spike elbowed him. "Pay attention! Drusilla was my salvation from mediocrity. She brought excitement and meaning to my empty existence... I'm nothing without her." He dropped his head over his chest and began to snore.

"That was so deep, mate," Newkirk sighed. He took a purposeful breath and tried to get up. "We'll get your sweeth-, your sweetha-...your love back. They'll pay f-for all of this..." He sank down to the ground again and laid his head on Spike's shoulder.

()o()o()

Schultz walked as he had not walked in years. With Hogan and Newkirk out of sight, he felt it was up to him to defend his post. But what post was that? He did not know. He might go back to Stalag XIII and tell Kinch what had happened. But how about Captain Grubber? He did not even know about the Fabergé

egg or the vampires or the witches.

Mr. Jones followed him very closely, wishing he had a rifle too. His little pistol would not be much use in a cross fire attack. Not that he was waiting for engagement, though.

"Sergeant Schultz? Do you have any idea where to go? Do you know this city at all?" He gasped. "Maybe we need a map."

"Herr Jones, I don't have any idea where to go but I can't read maps either," the sergeant shrugged. "Besides, the cards are leading us this way."

"Yeah, but where to? That museum looked like a disaster zone, and the bookstore? It looked like a tornado went through it several times! There's no trace of Corporal Newkirk, except for those cards that keep showing up on the ground every two steps." He stopped to catch his breath. "Come to think about it, I haven't seen any card the last three blocks. We lost him."

"Newkirk and the vampire have to be around, following the clues to that egg." He stopped and turned. "They can't be that far."

Mr. Jones was about to protest again when the sergeant shushed him. Not so near, not so far, the wind was carrying an out-of-tune song. Schultz recognized one of the voices right away.

...but the devil take the women, for they never can be easy

musha ring dumma do damma da
whack for the daddy 'ol
whack for the daddy 'ol
there's whiskey in the jar!

Both men followed the voices into an alley. There, they found Newkirk and Spike singing, drinking and laughing.

"Oh, Gott, Newkirk," Schultz crouched down to put one hand over the Englishman's shoulder. "What has that vampire done to you?"

"Done? I saved his bloody life, that's all," Spike said getting up slowly. He shook his head and everything spun around. "Bloody hell!"

"Schultzie, me mate!" Newkirk grabbed the sergeant's sleeve and let him help him to his feet. "You have no idea what's going on here."

"Neither do you." Schultz had to wrestle the bottle from Newkirk's hand. "Listen, we need to get out of here, all right? Let me help you."

"Does he have a drinking problem?" Mr. Jones frowned.

"Now the bloody wanker is going to write that down on his bloody notebook," Newkirk said, leaning heavily on Schultz. "Shame on you, Jones, shame on you..."

"I'm sure he has a good explanation for this." Schultz walked Newkirk outside the alley. "We need to find a place to hide and think."

"There aren't many options." Mr. Jones looked around at the stores and magazine stands all closed for the night. "I think the park is out of the question, which leaves us just one more place." He pointed with his pen at the church across the park.

"You've got to be joking," Spike said. "I can't go in there."

"That's not a problem..." Newkirk made an effort to enunciate clearly. "You just... lurk ar-... lurk ar-, I mean, look about..."

Schultz could not be happier. "The church it is. Come, Newkirk, you'll feel better soon."

tbc

Again, thank you for reading ;)

See you!