For many mornings sleep did not come to me, just that strange loud voice roaring down the web. Cries about antediluvians, shouts of old children, burning cities and a forgotten body, a web of bones and flesh, a network of voices all screaming about the end. I tried to doze with Romero but a voice both child and adult bid me to thirst, forced me to hunger and had me moaning for his blood constantly. So I moved then to Kent's abode but my murmurs of death and doom disturbed his much needed beauty sleep and I was designated to his couch.

At last one night beneath a sable sky the wolf showed up, carmine eyed and for the first time fearful. I found him in Isaac's abode conversing in a hushed voice with the Baron about a reckoning in the city of angels. "The Kine don't know yet," Beckett said, "and not all of the Kindred realise what it is but they all know something is wrong."

"And what exactly is it?" Isaac asked calmly though his golden eyes danced with a fear foreign to the Baron. His Minos' touched gaze flickered towards me briefly and I knew he wondered if my mad babbling had been truth. Ah I was as cursed as Cassandra, always foreseeing the future but never believed.

"An ancient," Beckett answered heavily, "a strange one, he calls himself Ur-Shulgi, the herald of Haqim. Haqim being the founder of the Assamites, a clan of assassins and scholars, cursed to thirst for the vitae of Kindred."

Isaac nodded and queried, "and what does this Ur-Shulgi want?"

"He demands that all Kindred revere his sire, Haqim, as a god, those who do not and those who are unworthy to shall be purged." Beckett sighed and added sardonically, "it would seem he's rather strict on this point and has already purged many Kindred in Downtown."

"And what of the jester?" I asked curiously drawing a feral red stare upon me.

"To my knowledge he still exists," Beckett answered dryly, "in hiding of course. A brave gesture indeed to leave his falling city to the mercy of a more powerful Kindred."

"And why did the wolf come here?" I questioned innocently.

"I sadly am not a fan of conversion or worship but I am a fan of my flesh unscathed," Beckett answered in an almost apologetic, merry voice. "I am not staying but I thought it would be kind to leave a word of warning before I departed for less threatening lands."

"The wolf doesn't fight?" I queried.

"Not against ancient foes with the power to use my blood to influence, hurt and even destroy me, no." He gave me a wolfish smile and added, "wolves fight as a pack but not alone."

"How long do you think we have?" the Baron asked coolly.

Beckett sighed and looked back to my handsome Toreador. "It's difficult to guess at the mind of an ancient, he might wait until all of Downtown is purged or something may pull him here." His canine gaze flickered back to me briefly but he did not make any accusations. "I would not assume more than a handful of nights, perhaps just two, maybe more but not long Isaac."

"He will come to burn as promised," I spoke up confidently, "to make the blood boil and taste of poison. He will finish what he started with this mad spirit and have sacrifices of us all; we will be the purged example."

Isaac gave me a cautiously alarmed gaze whilst Beckett looked perturbed. "Sometimes it's best not to open boxes," he remarked dryly.

"Well thank you for your warning," Isaac remarked sincerely, "we will prepare."

"There is no preparing for the minion of an antediluvian," Beckett warned.

"How can you be certain of that?" Isaac retorted with a glimmer of cockiness in his golden eyes. I knew it was bravado, we were all scared here, some of us were just better at hiding it.

"No one has managed it so far," Beckett retorted calmly. "The only thing to fight an ancient with is another ancient and unfortunately we do seem short of those. I would advise you all to seek safety elsewhere Baron, if we are lucky his thirst will tire and he will return to slumber but given how many centuries he has thirsted for..." The wolf left the rest unsaid.

"He will not return to the dirt willingly," I murmured, "even in the day he is awake, endlessly watching for an attack no will dare to make."

"Then there is no point in running," Isaac remarked tranquilly, "for if he will not stop until all are purged or converted, then we will die as cowards rather than fighters. I will tell the others, you are welcome to stay Beckett but if not, thank you again for your warning."

I saw the pity in the wolf's eyes, alone he could survive but alone was lonely, and it was a cursed existence for any of us. "Bye Mr. Beckett," I said softly, "I wish we could have found the Holy Grail or the Ark of the Covenant together, alas only the Nazis will know their secrets."

He shook his head with a sad smile. "Farewell then," he said curtly, "and good luck to all of you."

He left quickly and Isaac and I were alone once more. All business, the Baron had us feed on the first Kine he could get alone, before he called a meeting. Within an hour we were all gathered in his humble jewellery parlour, trying not to appear frightened though I knew I was not the only one suddenly wary about what was beyond death.

"There is an ancient coming for us," Isaac announced sombrely, "Ur-Shulgi, childe of the creator of the Assamite clan, Haqim. He comes to convert Kindred to Haqim's ways and to purge those who will not or cannot join. Beckett informed me that he has already taken Downtown and the coward La Croix has fled." He paused for a moment, and I noticed how for half a second there was a prickle of relief in Kent's eyes before he banished it for anger. "You may go too if you wish," Isaac continued, "I will not think less of anyone that does but I am staying. Ur-Shulgi has been silent and thirsting for centuries, his thirst will not end at Hollywood."

"We can't fight an ancient," Ash was the first to protest.

"We can try," V.V spoke up confidently with a glimmer of passion in her own lovely gaze.

"And fail," Ash sneered as he turned on her with a look of astonishment.

"Firespawn can dance out of Hollywood and into myth," I said with a grin, "the choice is there."

"No," he glowered at me and shook his head, "don't tell me to run. I won't run but we won't survive either. This is...this is your fault!" He was quick to accuse and point at me hatefully. "You opened that stupid box and damned us all!"

I shook my head in weak protest. "The ones of pasta and cars did disturb the box; I was merely there, a vaguely innocent bystander in the chaos."

"Why did he spare you?" Ash demanded. "Why?"

"To burn me later with everyone else," I answered truthfully.

"Just wonderful, not only must I die but it must be with you," Ash grumbled as he folded his arms and leaned back against the wall in defeat.

"Didn't you want to end it all anyway and be the phoenix?" I queried innocently.

"We will fight," Isaac spoke up firmly before Ash could yell at me, "we are strong and have many powers and talents, if we are to be destroyed we will not make it easy for him."

"Does he come alone?" Kent queried curiously. "Or has he minions now?"

Isaac shook his head. "Truthfully I do not know but it is possible there are some he has converted, maybe even members of his own clan have come out of the shadows to serve their shared master."

"There are shadows about the undead child," I mused, "they take the blood and twist it, some are true scholars and killers, others only masquerade, the beautiful, proud and mad, all trying to dance the same dance to avoid the purge."

I could see everyone look at me and then Romero finally spoke up bluntly, "that's a yes then."

"I don't understand," Heather cried out. The redhead was trembling beside Kent, her green eyes teary and wide.

"You don't have to," Kent cooed to her softly, "you aren't staying."

"Master?" she croaked with a look of disbelief at him.

"You are mortal yet," Kent murmured, "and would stand no chance in this. I am setting you free and ordering you to safety, go back to Santa Monica."

She shook her wildly and tried to voice a protest but Kent's order had too much power over her and she could not ignore it.

"You too Romero," Isaac spoke up reluctantly.

"No," Romero protested flatly with a frown.

"I cannot see you lost because of us," Isaac said. I knew he had been about to say 'me' but then his golden gaze had flickered once to me. Would the crypt keeper bleed for me? I could not have that. "You are strong, fast, and an excellent marksman, I do not question any of that but you are not Kindred and you should not die for a Kindred's hate."

"You can guard the poet's red," I suggested softly.

Romero turned a glare on me, it was the first time he had ever looked at me with such anger and I felt a flinch. His gaze was more powerful than Medusa's and had me frozen. "Don't you dare," he snapped at me, "don't side with him on this and make ordering me to flee seem like something else. After all we've been through, all I've put up with, do you all think so little of me?"

"No," it was Kent who answered him, "they love you Romero, and Hell knows I don't get why," he added sardonically, "but it is what is. Neither Isaac nor mad little Ariadne here wants to lose you with everyone and everything else. "They won't be able to fight to their best abilities either if they think you are in danger."

"Stop it," Romero growled out, "I'm not some damn kitten!"

I grinned at that and even V.V chortled briefly. "No," I said as his olive eyes turned to me, "you are a survivor so keep on surviving. Someone has to continue on should we all be dust, please," I looked at him pleadingly and felt my eyes dampen, "please crypt keeper go now while you can. Take the purple wildflower and survive for us."

"I release you Romero," Isaac said sombrely, "and order you to do as Ariadne says."

"Fuck," Romero cursed angrily as he glowered at each of us in turn. As Heather could not fight against Kent nor could Romero argue against Isaac. It was done, the Ghouls were free and we would probably see them no more.

I trembled as I looked at the zombie shooter; at least he would be safe, and though I would not see him again it would not be because he was permanently gone from this earth like poor Alex. I could not bear to know that yet another of my friends would not walk beneath the moon again. I went to him then, stumbling slightly as my ever aching leg protested. He looked at me as if in refusal but then his furious stare softened slightly and he took both my hands, not flinching when my claws scraped his flesh, and he pulled me close.

"Ah crazy cat," he murmured, "don't get burned on me, life's more interesting with you in it."

I nodded against his warm chest as I nestled into him and let him hug me tight. "We'll build sandcastles after it all, won't we?" I pulled back and looked up at him hopefully.

Romero grinned back and nodded before kissing me gently on the brow. "Of course."

We parted at last and Romero glanced at Heather before saying coldly, "let's go then."

Heather looked pleadingly at Kent and gave him a quick hug. "You'll come find me after master, won't you?" she queried desperately.

"Yes," Kent retorted quietly, "now go with Romero, he will keep you safe even if he is eccentric."

Heather nodded as she broke from Kent and turned reluctantly to Romero. The crypt keeper gave Isaac one final look and said stiffly, "good luck." He did not wait for a reply, opening the door swiftly and exiting out into the cool night. Heather followed hastily, sparing Kent a final teary gaze before she exited after the graveyard guard.

I sagged slightly against the wall, my knee once again throbbing and threatening to give way. I felt drained, first Alex now Romero, one by one we were being separated and all too soon there would be more losses.

"What's the plan then?" Ash asked the obvious question. Alas there was no obvious answer and so the futile debate began.

I listened only half-heartedly, perking up when Rob offered suggestions. It did not matter what strategies we came up with, none of us had fought an Assamite or an ancient before, we could not predict or guess at what strategy the immortal childe would have, not even I could foresee it. Yet on into the night we conversed, meaningless words spoken to make us feel like we were doing something, that something could be done. When the night had finally started to close we separated to feed, I going with Isaac.

It was with reluctance that I followed him back to his domain. "We could all perish tomorrow," he murmured woefully, "up in smoke and flames and I cannot do that knowing I foolishly spurned you to the end. Lie with me once more sweet Ariadne," he pleaded.

I was still angry but I knew I would regret it as much as he if we did not reconcile before the end so I went with him down to his basement and back to his coffin once more. The dust bunnies bade me an excited welcome and the fay told tales of goblins but I was too tired to listen. I climbed into the coffin first, awkwardly, wincing as my claws scraped the wood and my knee buckled with the movement. Isaac slid in beside me quickly, my back to his torso, the worst of my hurts away from him.

For a while we were as still as corpses should be, silent and almost suffocating in our awkward attempt to slumber. Then at last I felt his cold hand reach around to embrace me and I welcomed it with a smile.