(Thanks to Saemay and whimsyfox again, for editing and encouragement!)

Lena's latest package from her London office included a personal letter from Corinth, complete with a photo of a happy family: parents and three children all waving hello. Some of her descendants, writing to catch 'Aunt Lena' up on their lives. She took the package to Hal's room, where he and Alex were arguing over the French Revolution. He suggested that A Tale of Two Cities was not, in fact, a history text, and she insisted that if history texts read as well as Dickens the world would be a much happier place.

Lena gave the package to Hal so he could look through the reports that interested him. She sat on his bed, read the letter, and showed the photo to Hal and Alex. When she was finished Lena took the letter to her room and tucked it into her treasure chest with her other family mementos. She had just locked up the box and was about to reseal it when there was a knock on the front door.

"Lena, delivery for you," Tom called up the stairs.

Lena rushed downstairs with Hal close behind. This was the delivery they had been waiting for—a new lute for him, a lyre for her, both hand-crafted for authentic sound. Alex saw them go, but she didn't follow. Instead she slipped into Lena's room, eager for a chance to finally investigate her treasure chest. Just how old were those pictures of Lena's children? Would they be on parchment? On skins? Maybe there was a rock carving down in there.

The delivery box was opened on the dining table and Hal and Lena were carefully unwrapping their individual instruments when Alex appeared.

"What kind of twisted game are you playing?" Alex yelled at Lena as she stormed into the room holding a gold-framed portrait, painted on a wood panel, in her hands. "You said they were pictures of your kids! This is Hal! Are you saying you're his mother?" She spat out the word. "You sicko! His mother?"

Hal knew what the portrait meant as soon as he saw it. His insides froze up—he stared at the young man so like himself, but not quite him. He saw traces of her in the red highlights of the young man's hair, the dark brown of his eyes. Not the woman he knew in Poland but the woman he knew now, her true form. It was evident.

Lena spoke quietly as she walked across the room to Alex. "That isn't Hal. It's his son. Our son." She removed the portrait gently from Alex's grasp and left the young ghost standing, stunned.

She walked over to Hal and held it out for him—he was reaching for it before she made the gesture. Once he had taken it, she turned without a word and went upstairs to her room to see what else Alex might have disturbed or damaged.

Hal stood and quietly studied the portrait. Tom joined him.

"Good lookin' bloke," Tom said awkwardly.

"Yes," Hal agreed. "He is—was—a fine-looking young man. Happy. Well-fed. Well-dressed. She took excellent care of him."

"Well, she would, wouldn't she." Tom made it more statement that question. "You gonna talk to her?"

"Yes. Of course." He looked at Alex. "Do you suppose you could allow us a private conversation, or is that too much to ask?"

The ghost nodded, tears rolling down her face. She was clearly devastated by what she had done.

Tom moved to her. "Aw, Alex, it'll be a'right. I reckon those two have a whole lot goin' on between 'em. You couldn't know what was up." He awkwardly put an arm around her and held her, feeling less awkward and more protective as she set her head against his.

"Oh, Tom, what have I done?" she asked with a touch of fear in her voice. They both worried about a potential explosion between Hal and Lena.

As he mounted the stairs Hal decided that the portrait explained the mystery of why Nastusia had left him. She discovered that she was with child and didn't want the disgrace of his parentage attached to it. She would have been better off raising the child without him. The idea hurt him deeply, but he could see the sense in it.

The portrait's protective wrappings were spread on her bed, next to the open case that held the other remembrances of Lena's children. She was checking its contents. Hal laid the portrait of his son on its wrappings.

"Everything else is untouched," Lena said without looking up from her treasures. "Some of them are very delicate. I guess I should be thankful that she didn't dig any deeper."

"She dug deep enough," Hal said soberly.

Lena sat on the bed, facing him. "What do you want to know about him? Anything? Everything? Nothing? I will tell you as much as you want to hear."

He stayed there, looking at the face of his son. "Is this the son you spoke of? It was his birthday."

"Yes."

There was a quiet moment.

"He looks happy. In the portrait. Was he happy?"

"Yes. I made sure of it." She read interest in Hal's face and continued. "He had a fine home, a place in society, education, friends, a loving wife, several children. He took charge of my properties in the region and managed them well. He traveled. He sponsored artists and musicians. He saw his grandchildren grown and married. He lived a very long life, but in the end he was human, and he died."

"How old—"

"86. And still healthy. He didn't die of illness or old age, he was killed."

"Oh god! Not vampires!" Hal felt physically sick until he saw her shake her head, a small smile playing around her mouth.

"Stop being a drama queen Hal, it isn't always about vampires. No, he was riding a half-wild horse and it spooked. Threw him off. He broke his neck. It was quick."

She waited for him to ask another question, but he didn't, so she gave him the answer anyway. "His name was Henry, like his father."

"A bastard."

"No. That word was never used. I was a grieving young widow of means. I had lost my beloved on the battlefield. Ironic when you think about it. I didn't realize at the time that I was telling the truth."

"I wore black. I turned away all suitors. I maintained my propriety throughout his life, for his sake. No shadow was ever cast on his name." She looked into Hal's eyes. "I thought that would be important to you."

He nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. She had been so considerate of him, even then.

"I should put it away," she said, and he moved aside so she could reach it more easily.

"It is very well done," he said. "Do I recognize the style?"

"Are you a student of Renaissance art? A friend of the family painted it for me. You may know of him—Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni. I have his preliminary sketches as well, in a separate folder. We were living near Rome at the time." She smiled. "He hated working with egg tempera, but I was persistent and Henry was charming. Like his father." She threw Hal a look. "And he owed me a favor, so he did what I asked."

Hal recognized the artist's name immediately. "My god," he whispered. "It's priceless."

"Yes, it is," she replied as she put the portrait away.

Hal felt badly bruised by the wall of information that had slammed into him in the last few minutes. His emotions were in an uproar and his brain was struggling to grasp the significance of what he had learned. He sank into the chair in the corner and watched her carefully lock and seal the case of pictures and tuck it into the base of the wardrobe.

"We had a son. I had a son." He repeated the words, trying to make sense of them. "Wait, did you say he had children? Grandchildren?"

She sat on the foot of her bed and smiled at him. "Yes, his family is still going strong. It numbers in the hundreds now." Her voice softened. "You have a family, Hal."

"I have a family," he said with wonder in his voice. "Are any of them—like you?"

"Seraphin Nepos? Once in a while one comes along, not with any real power but with a bit of extra insight into the world, or a gift for medicine or the military."

"You were right to leave. You were better off raising a child without me," he said quietly.

"I didn't leave Hal. You left me! I would have been proud to have you there, as my husband and as the father of our children."

"I came home from exercising the carriage horses and you were gone."

"For a week! I was gone for a week! I asked you to wait for me, but you didn't even stay for a day!"

She had stood, confronting him as she spoke. He leaped to his feet in denial of her words. "No no no, Andrzej said you had gone to one of his other properties, that you were having your things sent for. He said that you sold him your horses and he threw me off the property."

"He WHAT?!" Lena was at the beginning of what was going to become a towering rage. "What about my letter, Hal, I left you a letter! I put it on your pillow! It was much kinder than the one I found when I returned."

It was Hal's turn to get angry, but where she had gotten loud, he became very quiet. "You found a letter? What letter would that be?" he asked ominously.

"Your Dear Jane letter. 'Thanks for a good time, it was fun but I'm getting bored, time to move on. I'm taking your horse as payment for services rendered, hope you don't mind.' I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea. I wouldn't expect you to remember, I'm sure it didn't mean that much to you," she said bitterly.

"I didn't write that." Hal was silent for a moment. He moved away from her, the confrontation over. His stood with his back to her, shoulders drooping, head down. Finally he squared his shoulders, turned to face her, and told her the truth. "I couldn't have written you a letter, nor could I have read the one you wrote to me. I was illiterate. I said that I couldn't read or write in the local language but the truth is, I could do no more than scratch out my name in English. I didn't want you to know."

"My letter?"

He looked at the floor. "I burned it. I assumed it said good-bye."

Hal stiffened with anger as he realized what had happened all those years ago, and he looked at her with murder in his eyes. She had the same look. Andrzej had betrayed them both.

"He played us both beautifully, I'll give him that," Hal said.

She nodded. "I think I need to have a come-to-Jesus meeting with my fair nephew," she said grimly.

"He's still alive?"

She nodded slowly. "He is Seraphin Nepos. Longevity-" She ground out the word in bitter frustration, "-is his only gift." Her eyes began to harden and glow.

Hal spoke for them both. "An easy kill."

She nodded her agreement as a thin, cruel smile crossed her face. She saw her mirror image in Hal's expression. "I can find him," she said. "Where's my phone?"

"You left it on the table."

They walked downstairs without speaking and Lena quickly found Andrzej's number in her contacts.

Alex and Tom were sitting together on the sofa. When they saw the pair come downstairs they could tell that something was seriously wrong. Tom's hair stood on end from the tension in the room, but he could see that it wasn't between Hal and Lena. Something else was going on.

Lena put a finger to her lips to signify that they should all be quiet as she hit Andrzej's number on her phone and put it on speaker. She set the phone on the dining table.

"Dzien dobry," he answered.

"Please speak English, Andrzej, a friend is joining our conversation," Lena replied.

"Very well." Andrzej sounded unpleasant, his usual state.

"My friend Hal and I have been chatting this evening—you know about Hal, right? The vampire I live with now?"

"I'm aware of the situation."

"Right, well, we were gossiping about old times and old lovers and such, as you do." She gave Hal a dark look. Clearly she was leading up to something. "I told him about that groom I had a thing for, back in the early 1500's. You know, the one with the great ass. I saw you looking, surely you remember."

"I vaguely remember him."

"Right. Well, I was joking about him being low-born, not really the best choice for a lover, which may have been why he left so suddenly."

"I suppose that could have been the reason. I really couldn't say."

"The thing is, he wrote me a goodbye letter. It was the only time he ever wrote anything, as far as I can recall. My friend here pointed out that very few people knew how to write back then. He was shocked that someone of such low birth would have had that skill, weren't you Hal?" She handed him the conversation.

"I believe it to be an impossibility that the young man of whom you spoke would have been able to read or write," Hal said in his very best posh voice.

Lena took the conversation back. "So I was thinking, Andrzej, maybe you'd like to tell me who really wrote that letter."

There was silence at the other end of the line. Clearly Andrzej was weighing his options. Finally he spoke, and there was relief in his arrogant voice. He had long anticipated the need for an explanation and was happy to provide the one he had prepared.

"I had a servant draft the letter so you would know the reason for his sudden departure. I thought I was doing you a service."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean. Could you explain yourself?" Lena's question sounded innocent enough, but her manner changed as she spoke. She became inwardly focused, concentrating in a way that Hal didn't understand. Then it dawned on him. She was hunting Andrzej, pinpointing his location, using his own voice against him.

"Well, I only learned of it later, of course. He bragged to one of the grooms and then knocked the poor fellow unconscious when he tried to stop him from stealing Diabel. Good riddance to them both, I say. I can't see owning a horse that's a danger to anyone who approaches it. And I never understood what you saw in that boy. He wasn't a suitable mate for you in any way, yet you refused to consider anyone from the number of suitors that I arranged for you to meet." Andrzej continued with his story, but it no longer mattered.

Lena smiled a cold smile of success. "Gotcha," she whispered. Hal stepped to face her as the air began to effervesce. He put his arms around her neck and nodded. They would do this thing together. She pulled him to her and they were gone.

Tom and Alex leaped to their feet and ran to the spot where their friends had just been standing. Andrzej's voice was still rambling through the phone. Suddenly they heard another voice, Hal's voice, in the room with Andrzej.

"Hello there. Remember me?" There was a strangled cry and the sound of a body being punched and landing hard. It sounded like someone had been knocked across a desk. Debris had scattered and fallen, including the phone.

What followed even more chilling: a man's scream, the shattering of glass, and the fading cry of a fall from a great height. There was nothing else. After a moment Tom turned off Lena's phone.

"They may be gone for a while," he said. He didn't know what else to say. The thought of Hal and Lena combined against anyone else in the world made him a little bit sick, and he felt sorry for the bloke they were after.

# # #

Andrzej had been in the plush office of his luxury apartment on the top floor of a glass-and-steel building with a beautiful view. He was holding his phone in his remaining hand, lecturing Lena on her poor life choices, when they appeared. Andrzej didn't bother to wear his prosthesis when he was alone. He had spent too many centuries without one for it to be comfortable.

In his anger Hal forgot about the risk of Seraphin blood and punched Andrzej hard enough to send him flying over his desk and land him in a heap against the wall. Lena picked him up and threw him through the window, and they listened to him scream as he arced toward his death.

"You ready?" she asked Hal. He nodded and swung onto her back as her wings unfurled and she began to move. She flipped the bola around them as she leaped head-first out the window after Andrzej. Her wings pinned Hal to her and shielded him as he laid close against her back and they dove like a giant bird of prey. She caught their victim around the ankle a mere three feet from the pavement and swooped up and out, her great wings forcing them higher and faster than Hal thought possible.

He felt the air shift and he realized that she was creating a bubble of timelessness while moving in mid-air, another thing that he didn't know was possible. Suddenly they were flying over a city he recognized as Istanbul.

Lena circled low over Ammon's riad and dropped the babbling wreck that was Andrzej in the dirt behind the house, in the part of the compound where they parked their vehicles. She didn't stop until she reached the courtyard, where she landed carefully with Hal.

Ammon came running from his office. "Lena! What-?" He froze in mid-sentence when Lena's diamond-white eyes fixed on him. Her wrath made her nearly incandescent.

"Andrzej is in your driveway. Finish him. Take your time."

Ammon nodded. He'd waited centuries for the chance to do just that.

She pointed to Hal. "Protect him with your life. Keep him away from Andrzej's blood."

Ammon nodded again.

Lena spread her wings and was gone like a shooting star across the daylight sky.

The two men looked at each other.

"Hal."

"Ammon."

They shook hands.

"He betrayed us both," Hal said simply.

"Sounds like an interesting story. Perhaps you can tell me while we watch him die."

"It's a pity he's a Seraphin Nepos and I can't touch him," Hal said grimly. "I'm in the mood for a good old-fashioned murder."

"Trust me," Ammon said with a cruel smile. "I know all about old-fashioned."

Within an hour Andrzej was wrapped up, so Hal's exposure to his blood would be limited, and dumped into the back of a Range Rover. Hal had been pleasantly surprised to learn that the man's blood didn't affect him nearly as strongly Lena's had. Andrzej wasn't a very powerful Seraphin Nepos, and Ammon's presence helped mute the effect.

Hal and Ammon were comfortably ensconced in the air-conditioned front of the Range Rover with a cooler of food, some cold drinks, and a couple of hours to kill while driving into a barren area to finish off their prisoner. Hal told Ammon the story of how they had learned of Andrzej's deception and how he had learned that he was a father.

Ammon and Lena had been close during young Henry's lifetime. Ammon had a family of his own at the time, and although cultural differences suggested that the two families would be strangers, they were quite familiar with each other and had many discreet visits back and forth. Ammon told Hal about his son and his son's family, chatting casually, recalling bits and pieces of their lives.

After they'd kicked the sodden pile of flesh that remained of Andrzej into a deep crevice in the earth, Ammon told Hal about his child's mother, about the grief that burdened her and the smile they never saw unless Henry was present.

"She lost part of herself when she lost you," Ammon said. "Part of her was empty. When she found out that you had become a vampire she filled the emptiness with her fury." He shuddered to remember the battle she'd waged against her own father and grandfather when they wrestled her away from the vampire Yorke.

"So, want a drink?" Ammon flipped open the cooler. "Leylak packed water, of course. But I packed this—" he pointed to a bottle of champagne and smiled a grim smile "—for later. Something to celebrate with."

It was late evening when they could no longer sense a heartbeat or a soul and Ammon was able to confirm Andrzej's death. The men pulled supplies from the back of the Range Rover and built a fire. They set a jug of clean water nearby. Hal waited while Ammon unfurled his wings and dropped to the bottom of the crevice with a wicked-looking knife. He cut out Andrzej's heart and brain and flew them directly to the fire while Hal stayed a safe distance away.

Ammon took the jug of water with him when he returned to the crevice to kick dirt and rocks over what was left of Andrzej's body. He rinsed the blood from his hands and knife and rejoined Hal.

"You okay?" Ammon asked, checking to make sure Hal wasn't being affected by any remnants of Andrzej's blood.

"More than okay," Hal replied.

The two men drank champagne from the bottle and watched the fire and its contents burn to ash.

"He was a murderer, you know," Ammon said, pointing at the fire. "He was a coward. He knifed a man in his sleep. Said he was afraid for his life, said he had been threatened. He lied. The man was a business rival, no more."

"How did he manage to live so long?" Hal asked.

"His father threw himself at Lena's feet. Begged for mercy. She agreed to spare him, then put him to work for her so she could keep an eye on him." Ammon handed Hal the champagne bottle. "He hated her for it. Hated her and needed to appease her at the same time."

"A recipe for trouble," Hal said, and he took a swig from the bottle and passed it back. "Why did she bring him to you?"

"She knew I wanted him. The man he killed was a friend of mine," Ammon replied darkly.

"So this is revenge for both of us," Hal said. "Doesn't that put your soul in jeopardy?"

"Possibly. I'll risk it. What about you?"

Hal chuckled. "Too late for me."

"In that case, if anybody asks, you did the killing and I was just the driver," Ammon said with a grin.

"Deal," Hal agreed. "How did he lose his hand, by the way?"

"Lena cut it off when she caught him stealing from her."

"That's my girl," Hal said with another chuckle, and took another drink from the bottle.

Ammon was surprised and pleased to hear Hal's comment. Clearly something was brewing again between Hal and Lena.

It took Hal a few more drinks of champagne before he could ask Ammon a more personal question. "Seeing your wings reminded me," he said. "You fought with Lena in the Seraphin war."

"Yes."

"Did you lose—did I kill anyone close to you? Family?"

"Friends, yes, but no family. Nobody close. Why?" Ammon was puzzled as to why Hal would bring up such a sore subject between their species.

"I'm an irreparable bastard," Hal said. "I have no idea how many people I've hurt. I thought I should check, in case I owed you an apology."

"If you live long enough, you end up owing most people an apology," Ammon said. "Don't worry about it."

"Lena manifested at the house," Hal said as he looked into the fire. "Her hair turned to flame. I hadn't seen that since the Seraphin war…That battle was the most terrifying day of my life." He looked at Ammon sitting quietly across from him. "You two broke us."

"We had help," Ammon reminded him. "We got as many of us together as we could. But yes, Lena and I have fought a lot of battles together. She trained me. We work well together."

Hal had no good response to what was clearly an understatement, so he allowed the topic to end.

The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon when Ammon and Hal got back to the riad, slightly tipsy, exhausted, and hungry. Leylak had food on the table by the time they got to the kitchen. She offered to show Hal to Lena's rooms so he could rest after breakfast, but he declined.

"I'm a vampire," he said quietly. "Isolating me from Seraphin Nepos influence is a bad idea."

Leylak blushed. She had forgotten. "I don't know how to be a good hostess to a vampire," she said. "We've never had one drop in before."

Hal smiled at her attempt at humor. He had indeed dropped in on them unannounced.

"Come on, brother, I know what to do," said Ammon, and he led Hal to a small television room off the library. There was only one door and no windows, making it an enclosed, private space. There were comfortable sofas so the men each took one and Ammon was quickly asleep.

Hal took a little longer to settle down. He had thought living with a Nephilim was the strangest thing that could happen to him, until she had brought him here. Being welcomed into Ammon's home had been, as Lena put it, a whole 'nother level of weird.

They had accepted him for her sake, and for her sake he would do whatever it took to keep the vampire in check and be a respectful guest in their home. His lips twitched in a wry smile as the word 'respectful' entered his mind. Lord Hal would laugh at the word and destroy anyone who might suggest such a course of action. Good Hal would never have participated in the death of Andrzej. He was becoming something new, something both and neither, under Lena's influence.

# # #

Hal was awakened by the sound of children giggling. He opened his eyes to see two pair of eyes staring back at him from between his feet. Hal quickly glanced to the other sofa. Ammon was there, awake, relaxed, slightly groggy-looking but smiling.

Hal returned his gaze to the children at the end of the couch.

"What's your name?" one of them asked.

"Hal."

"Wanna play hide and seek? We're gonna play hide and seek. We're gonna hide and you have to seek us!" They spoke together in a rush, and one of them slapped his foot and called, "Tag, you're it!" and the other commanded, "Count to 100." and they were gone.

"Better start counting," Ammon said. "They're very good hiders."

Hal dutifully counted to 100 as he put on his shoes and stretched his tired muscles. He looked for Ammon to join him while he 'seeked' for the children, whom Ammon had identified as his grandchildren. Ammon was both impressed and disconcerted by the ease with which Hal followed the scent trail to find the children hiding in the back of a closet.

Hal agreed to one more round of the game and tried to make it look like more of a challenge this time, just to put his host's mind at rest, but he wasn't sure Ammon was fooled. He declined round three and instead asked his host if he might shower and borrow a change of clothes.

Soon Hal was clean and clothed in lightweight linen khakis and a loose-fitting, white cotton open-collar shirt that was designed to be left untucked. The clothes were as far away from his typical style as possible, but they were much more appropriate for the climate than his black, form-fitting clothes had been.

Ammon introduced Hal to his daughter Rya, also a Seraphin Nepos, as she entered the kitchen where they had gone for a late lunch. Rya nodded a quick hello and got straight to the point.

"Lena's on a rampage."

Hal remained quiet, but the lights in his hazel eyes nearly shot sparks as he heard. Of course she was. He had expected it. He wished he could have joined her.

"What do you mean?" Ammon rose from his chair as he asked the question.

"It's all over the news. On every channel," Rya answered. Her voice shook as she added, "She's everywhere. And she's killing men."

They went to the television and saw the reports pouring in from around the world. Whole blocks of buildings leveled in Bangkok, Sao Paulo, Beijing; individual buildings destroyed in Kiev, Mumbai, Los Angeles, New York; pieces of men strewn across the landscape; bodies of policemen and politicians thrown through windows and off rooftops; women and children babbling about the great bloody angel who had killed the sex traffickers and murderers who controlled their lives, who swept them into her arms and carried them to safety. On every continent except Antarctica, in large cities and deep in the wilderness, men were dying and women and children were being set free.

Governments leaped into action, scouring all forms of social media for the hidden messages that signaled a world-wide women's uprising. Military forces were put on the alert but could find nothing to attack, so instead cleaned up the messes and tried to restore order.

Reports trickled in of random deaths with no witnesses, of crowds of women who saw nothing when the men who terrorized them suddenly fell out of windows or into machinery or onto a dozen knives at once. All over the world, men began to look over their shoulders and gather in groups as women began to smile a little more freely and watch their abusers with a calculating eye.

Hal knew that Lena wasn't directly responsible for every death, but she had definitely started a trend that others were picking up on. Trust her to turn her anger into something productive, to focus it on the worst of humanity. It would be the only way she could justify her actions.

Suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifted and Raphael appeared. Hal went to shake his hand and was relieved to see the angel accept his handshake cordially. Ammon and Raphael greeted each other cordially as well. They were old acquaintances.

"Our girl is out of sorts, I see," Raphael said calmly as he stood next to Ammon in front of the television.

"That's putting it mildly," Ammon replied. I haven't seen her like this since the Seraphin war."

Hal stifled a grimace at the memory.

Raphael spoke directly to Ammon, the historian who would document Lena's activities. "You need to understand that she's done nothing wrong. Every person she's killed has been judged as deserving death. She is well within the scope of her accepted responsibility to judge and to protect humanity. But," he added in a return to their personal conversation, "it will be very hard for her to come back from this."

"What happened the last time she was this angry?" Hal asked, although he believed he already knew the answer.

"Her father and I dragged her away from you in shackles and buried her in a cave at the base of Mount Ararat until she calmed down," Raphael replied. "She never really got over it, she just agreed to our terms so she could get out."

"How long?" Hal wasn't sure he wanted to know this part of the story, but he asked anyway.

"Nearly 100 years," Raphael replied grimly. "She will never allow herself to be captured again. She will die first, and take us with her if she must."

Raphael studied Hal for a moment. "I hope that this time will be different. She has someone to come back for, this time. Take care of her, Hal." And with that, the angel was gone.

Hal was restless and tired at the same time. He didn't want to hear any more news; he just wanted Lena to come back to him. Ammon was uncomfortable with the continuing news footage as well, and suggested that they go somewhere more relaxing. He turned off the television and led Hal to the courtyard. They settled onto cushioned lounge chairs in the shade, where they could stretch out and let the sound of the fountain calm their minds.

They were there, half-dozing, when she returned.