(10) Retribution

(Lines in bold (but without *'s) with a word [redacted/altered] are taken from the Christmas special 'Many Happy Returns' found on YouTube.)

The half-moon sank lower into the dark water, casting a streak of white over the ocean. Her eyes followed the lit path outwards into the vastness as her fingers twisted this way & that, separating her hair into three before braiding it down to the end which came to her hips once she let the completion fall from her hands. Her head turned slightly away from the pretty scene, hearing someone come up to her from behind.

"Will you come inside?"

There was a long silence as she looked back to the ocean.

"... Eurus?"

She closed her eyes & let out a long sigh before turning to face the visitor. Intruder? Upon her dark mixed up thoughts? "He's never coming back is he, Tobias?"

The gold eyes shone slightly as Tobias came nearer. "Your kind are undying," he began. "There is no such thing as never for you. Maybe he will not return in my lifetime, but for you, it is a certainty that he will. Unless he is bitten by a wolf or speared by another's wing, perhaps. But time? It has no more meaning for you."

Eurus looked back at the path of moonlight. "Oh, Xanthá, where are you?" She whispered softly to herself, under breath.

But Tobias heard just fine, having an acute sense of hearing. "We have searched the land for many years," he said. "It has been many more years since most of us has stopped looking. But I still try when I go down to the low lands or to the nearby ports." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Nothing. There has been nothing, all this time."

Eurus blinked back tears. "He doesn't want to be found."

"That is something I can understand," Tobias said. "When I lost my first mate to human hunters trying to get a wolf pelt, I left for a while. My sister had control of the pack at the time."

"But you came back."

"Eventually," said Tobias. "I lost my mate. Xanthá did as well, but also his children & even, according to you, a brother. He may take a longer time than I did to recover. I am just over five hundred years old. My life is more than half over. His is just starting, but it will always be just starting since there is no natural end."

Eurus raised her hands to cover his still on her shoulders. She finally managed a short smile. "Well ... you don't look a day over thirty."

"Neither do you," Tobias teased before pulling her up against him & kissing her. He moved away, holding her hand to pull her along. She took one last look at the ocean before following him home. It had been a long time, but she never stopped wondering where Sherlock was.

With a dull thud, the body dropped to the bloodied sand. Black boots appeared beside it as someone crouched down, hissing softly. The moonlight shone down over the dead pair as the one still moving leaned a little closer to his kill. "That's what happens to traitors!" The man hissed again, sounding somewhat catlike, exposing red-stained fangs before standing straight. His blue eyes flicked down at the body. "Ah," Sherlock clicked his tongue. "You really should have listened to me." He rubbed an index finger through his short beard, wiping away blood.

After washing up, his eyes turned towards the half-moon for a moment before glancing down along the water to a distant land. He was slowly working his way home. Stepping forward into the waves washing over the sandy beach, he knelt down & stirred up the water with one hand. "Come along, my dears. I don't have all night. I really need you to clean up this mess."

More than one fin sliced through the surface, attracted to the sound of splashing water, scented with blood. With a flick of his other hand, Sherlock commanded the element of earth to move forward, rolling the body into the water. He jumped up into the air & hovered for a few moments as he watched the sharks snap down on their midnight snack.

He landed in the copse of trees & proceeded across the island on foot. A large ship loomed up in the bay on the other side. Sherlock looked up her tall side, appreciating her size but also noting her damage. It would be a while before they left the safety of this hidden cove.

The crew were still on board, sleeping. Sherlock knew they would all notice someone was missing before the new day was done. He silently thanked whatever thing created such beautiful creatures as sharks before flipping his dark red cloak back & heading up the gangplank.

He only let himself relax when he was in his private cabin. Sherlock leaned back on the chair, feet up on the table, as he looked out the tiny window. The man he had just killed had been on board since they had left the last port on the lower tip of land from whence his father had come. Sherlock was used to people coming & going through one port or another. It was the best way to get around, after all. Also most ports were links to the trade routes which nearly everyone relied on.

But unbeknownst to the others on board, Sherlock would secretly check their quarters. He came across all manner of things that were perhaps questionable, but he only cared about certain items. No one had ever brought anything aboard that he silently kept watch for.

Until that last port with that one man that had joined.

As usual, when they had anchored the ship at an island to allow the living ones a bit of respite, Sherlock used the opportunity to check through the belongings of their newest arrival. There was a short lance about two feet long in the man's handbag. It was a wing ridge.

It was rare to come across a human with such a weapon & for some, they didn't even understand what they had. For those that did however, it would be an obvious problem for the undead everywhere.

For Sherlock, it was personal, for the weapon was cornsilk yellow. He knew the colours of many of his kind by now. There had been a list of known ones that Merlin had put up during one of their many meetings back in the day. Cornsilk yellow however, hit very close to home. This was the creature that had turned Mycroft & who had tricked him into turning what was left of his family.

Sherlock had ordered the current owner of the lance to the far beach where he had confronted him. The man had pulled out a short dagger made of the same wing ridge colour & had attempted to destroy Sherlock right there.

But Sherlock had been too quick for him & had pinned him down. "Where did you get that?" He demanded.

The man started laughing. "I've been looking for you for years." He grunted in pain as Sherlock twisted his wing, pushing a point in a little further.

"That's not what I asked," Sherlock snarled, eyes gleaming red. "Where did you get it? Who gave it to you?" He waited a moment but there was no answer. He twisted his wing farther, earning another groan of pain. He sighed, the scent of blood filling him. "I will feast well, tonight," he said. "Your only choice is if it is fast or long & painful."

"Go back to Hades where you belong!" The man tried feebly to bring his dagger up into Sherlock. "Fiend!"

"It is not what you think it is!" Sherlock retorted. "Míka is the one who needs to be destroyed."

"I don't know who that is."

"You have a ridge from his wing & a dagger!" Sherlock snapped. "Look at me! Look at my wings! Do you not see? We all have a colour. I am like ice. That shade comes from the one who had turned my brother." He hesitated. It had been a while since he had mentioned his family & even longer since he called Mycroft 'brother'. "Now you have been tricked," Sherlock went on in a lower voice, explaining how some of the undead were bad while others weren't. "So I ask you one last time, why are you here?"

"There is talk in the land of an evil ship attacking all the ports up here," the man said, gasping for breath as one of Sherlock's wing points was still pinning him through the shoulder to the ground. "One with dark purple sails. They say a mighty vrykólakas rules it." He laughed in spite of himself. "They were not wrong! OH!"

Sherlock had flexed his ridge going through the man to shut him up. "I am driving out the forces of an even greater evil. I am not the daimōn you should fear. It is Drákoulas who kills the dead & those alive, alike. He cares not! I am working on destroying his forces. He has followers everywhere & he wishes to destroy my own homeland. You need to understand that there is a war among my kind & the final battle is yet to be fought."

"You're all the same," the man replied. "You all need to be destroyed. I'll start with you or die trying!"

"I once thought the same," Sherlock whispered. "You are on the wrong side." At that, he lifted his prey up to his feet & bit into the man, draining the blood but he did not poison him.

So now the sharks were in a feeding frenzy & here Sherlock sat in his cabin, the dagger being twirled around his fingers while the small lance lay on the table, knowing that his nippy little friends out there could never clean up the whole mess. Word was getting around about his ship. The ports that were clear naturally spoke of their new found freedom. Before his arrival, such places had a higher death rate due to being unwilling food for what they called night stalkers.

He wasn't too worried about the living thinking an undead ship was coming after them. All he had to do to dispel such silly fears was to show up in broad daylight. But his own kind would know better. It was only a matter of time before Drákoulas himself would come for him.

Well first things first. It was dawn & his keen hearing picked up the sounds of those on board getting up. Sure enough, others soon were asking about the new one who seemed to be missing. Fortunately, there was a red whirlpool with sharks still circling. It was all the explanation anyone needed.

Knowing a shark attack had happened, it kept everyone out of the water & more focused on fixing up the ship. In a few days, it was time to leave the southernmost tip of land that would one day be known as Norway & Sweden & head down towards home.

It was a dull grey dawn when Sherlock's eyes first caught sight of the edge of land where he had once called home. He pulled in to a port of a small fishing hamlet where most of those on board would leave for good, having reached their destination of the new land.

That was fine. Sherlock preferred an ever-changing crew who wouldn't notice him not aging. He only had four permanent members on board who were undead like him. They stayed with him, having no home of their own & were his eyes & ears in the ports.

He no longer took anyone on board unless they were hunters who knew what they were getting into. By now, his ship comprised mostly of Lycans & his own kind. He knew that it was only a matter of time before Dracula & Micah would retaliate as he systematically worked his way down the coastline of what would be Scotland someday, clearing the seaside towns of their followers.

Sherlock was hoping that Merlin & others he once knew would become aware of the upheaval & would come in by land, thereby trapping Dracula & his ilk between the land & the sea. His entire plan that he had been working on for years counted on this, hopefully predictable, theory.

By the third town, Sherlock was now keenly watching the coastline for the familiar white cliffs of his homeland that his people would eventually call Albion. He soon recognized the area as he came into one main port his father & older brothers would often go to to trade off the spoils of their hunts. He remembered how he had never been allowed to go with them; too young, was what they usually told him. He had to wait until he had his own house with Elizabet before being able to go anywhere on his own & now here he was attacking the ports his family once traded in.

As was his usual, he came into the bay by high noon, making any of the living folks there think he was just another person like them. His four spies had flown in during the night before to assess the place. They also glided back to him in the water with opened wings, slicing the bottoms off all the ships except their own.

By morning, every other ship in the port had blubbered on down to the seabed, leaving only a few mast tips sticking up on the edges where the water was more shallow. The people were already bemused as to the loss of their ships so that by the time his had shown up later that day, they had nothing to resist him with, anyway. Sherlock took little notice, knowing that most of those ships were owned by others of his kind but who were loyal to Dracula. By that next nightfall, the place had become a battlefield filled with ash. Though his people destroyed any of the vrykólakas as soon as they were found day or night, Sherlock had made sure to not let any of the living see the destruction of any of those creatures until it was dark, therefore perpetuating the lie that the undead can only come out at night.

He sailed away as the sun started to rise, shining down on some rather confused townsfolk standing in thick ashy air as they watched his ship disappear into the early light. None of them had been harmed in the bizarre attack, although most of their homes were on fire. It was possible to rebuild. A nuisance, perhaps, but it didn't take them long to realize that they were not being attacked any more by an even more sinister fiend than a random Sea Raider who showed up for a day & then just as quickly moved on without even taking much except several barrels of honey.

News of his appearance spread like wildfire to other towns further inland & soon, it reached the Lady's ears.

"What do they think they're doing?" Merlin asked Agápi when she had told him. "Do they not realize that they will rouse the ire of Drákoulas & his followers?"

"Probably not," Agápi replied.

"Doesn't Mikró reside near the coast?" Merlin continued.

"He might know something," said Agápi. "I will ride down to find & ask him." She hurried to the stables to saddle her chestnut stallion. With unknown attackers in the area & the constant threat of Dracula, it was unwise to fly very far. It would be a long ride to the sea.

Mycroft had moved into the area close to where London would soon be established. He was still an outcast in his remaining siblings' eyes & it was best to stay away from them. Over the years, he would switch to a random seaside village that he would avoid for several years so that when he arrived, the people didn't know him & he could start over. Meanwhile the previous town he was in would die off without seeing him age, or worse, realizing that he would not.

He often wandered between three or four towns to keep up appearances. Though he kept contact with the small established Undead Law to keep up with his blood rations ... & particularly with Agápi due to their on & off relationship, he rarely returned to the highlands.

Mycroft was currently in the backyard, attending to his Galloway*, a large black pony with a bit of fire in his mane, when he heard the hooves of another horse coming up to him. His Galloway nickered softly as Mycroft stood straight to see the Lady just pull her horse to a stop & dismount near the fence.

"Agápi," Mycroft greeted her, pushing his horse aside. "What brings you here?"

She came to him & after a moment took up his hand into hers. They rarely saw each other now. One time had been over a year. Another time had been several months. This time, it had been barely three weeks & she was suddenly back in his life. The sad dance of immortality was constant.

"Have you heard of the Sea Raider ship that has been attacking our kind all down the coast?" the Lady asked. "The one with purple sails."

Mycroft walked forward, turning her around at the pull of her hand & led her down the path until the trees cleared, providing a serene view of the sparkling ocean. With his free he hand, he pointed directly ahead out to something upon the water. "You mean that one?"

"Oh!" the Lady gasped in shock. She had barely gotten here in time. "Choráfi, you must leave this place. Now! They know about us & how to destroy us."

"I've heard," Mycroft said. "However, I am the only vrykólakas here. Look." He indicated the shining water again. "The other ships are not sunk. I do not believe they are here to attack this town but to spy on the next one over which happens to be more dead than alive. It will attack tonight, but not this place."

Agápi side-glanced at him for a moment. "That ship isn't the only one spying on others, I think."

Mycroft grunted softly as he rolled his eyes. "I have sent one of our wolves out to have a look. That ship does not seem to bother with wolves, only our kind."

"Any idea who they are or who they serve?"

"I hope to have those answers tonight," Mycroft said before turning to her. "Will you stay for a drink?"

A drink. It seemed to have become an ongoing thing they would both mention. An invitation for a drink, of any kind, meant so much more between them. She nodded & followed him back to the house, casting one last glance back over her shoulder at the ship of purple sails before the trees obscured her vision.

"How are the others?" Mycroft asked as he poured out some mead for both of them once they were sitting inside.

Agápi added some blood to both stone cups before picking up her own. "Theós still does not speak of you." She sipped her drink for a moment before going on, "Eurus, I think, is the one who may be more forgiving, soon. She is the youngest out of the four of you & she misses the old days when her family were all together. Now that Xanthá is gone, she hopes either of you would return."

"It's been eighty-four years," Mycroft said. "So long since our family was destroyed by Wycoller."

"People consider it to be cursed ground now," Agápi said. "I doubt the place will be rebuilt any time soon, if ever."

Mycroft shot her a sharp glance. "It is cursed." He downed his drink in one go. "I hear Eurus is with Tobias, now."

"They have been together for quite some time," said Agápi. "But of course, it can not last. His life is more than half over. Theós has also found a new man, one of our own, but as is with all things eternal, that also will pass."

"I know," Mycroft sighed, refilling their drinks. "But unlike with wolves, those of our kind can return at any time." He raised his cup to her. "As we sometimes do."

"As we sometimes do," Agápi echoed, lifting her own cup for a moment before drinking from it.

They finished their second drinks just as a knock was heard at the door. Mycroft opened it to find his wolf spy. He let the werewolf in. "What have you found?"

"The ship is already going down to the next port," the wolf said. "I have a name. They call it the Enillydd."

Mycroft gasped & shared a shocked look with the Lady. "It's him!" He spread his hands on the table for support. He addressed the wolf. "Get me a map of all the places that ship attacked! Hurry!"

The wolf nodded & headed out for a few minutes.

"Are you sure?" Agápi asked.

"Purple was Elizabet's favourite colour," Mycroft said in a hoarse voice. "Enillydd was Trefor's first name! It's Xanthá!"

The wolf returned with a piece of wood that had something that barely passed as a map etched into it. "Someone's been marking all the destroyed towns that ship has attacked," the wolf said.

Mycroft looked it over, his eyes following the trail coming down from lands far above his own homeland. "Just look at the map, [Agápi]." He tapped a finger on one of the spots before moving down to the next destroyed port. "He's getting closer ..." His eyes followed the trail even beyond the points marked. "He's doing all the ports my father & I used to go to after every hunt. He'll be done those once he attacks tonight." He looked up into her eyes. "He's coming back!"

"He is destroying the force Drákoulas has on the water," Agápi said. "Does he not understand what will happen? Drákoulas will retaliate! Possibly tonight."

Mycroft turned & headed for the door. "Exactly & Xanthá not only understands that quite well, he is also counting on us."

"Us?"

"Do you not see?" Mycroft put a hand on the door before turning to her. "He is destroying the water ways, clearing out the towns & has basically grounded Drákoulas so that the Undead Law can pin him! He didn't run away, Agápi. I see it now. He infiltrated Drákoulas & whittled away at his forces so we could deal the final blow & drive him out for good. He has given us a chance at retribution."

"We have no time to warn Merlin or anyone else!"

"We do if we fly!" Mycroft finally pushed the door open.

"Choráfi, no! It is too dangerous!" Agápi exclaimed.

"It's dark enough & I can hear the battle cries in the other town, already," Mycroft pointed out. "No one will notice us."

"But we could be attacked in the air."

"We will fly high, close to where we should not go," Mycroft said. "They'll be too busy down here to notice. Let's go!" At that, he took to the air without another word & headed for the witch doctor's village.

By air, the pair could already see fires raging in the besieged port below. Their sharp sense of hearing could hear an occasional shattering sound as yet another was destroyed, but from whose side was anyone's guess. It was a quick flight & soon, they dropped in right at Merlin's doorstep. Rounding everyone up took a bit longer but they were soon heading to the sea.

Once they landed just outside the burning town, they were assailed by several of Dracula's force. Mycroft had just lighted on a large boulder, wings half folded behind him. when his eyes caught a glint of moonlight bouncing off cornsilk yellow wings. Micah was just a short ways away from him, down by a stream. They shared a glare before Micah took off down the trail into the village below.

Mycroft made to follow but Sherrinford grabbed Mycroft by the shoulder to hold him back. "Eurus had gone down to these ports."

"What?" Mycroft's eyes turned towards the town.

"We don't know which one," Sherrinford said. "She was just visiting the sea."

"Meaning she could be there!" Mycroft yanked himself away from Sherrinford's grasp & surged forward into the fray of fires, smoke & ash (some of which wasn't from the fires). "Xanthá, no! Be careful!"

Sherlock had just stepped off the docks onto the land when he glanced up to see figures in the sky just dropping in, a flash of white from Merlin's wings catching the moonlight. He laughed shortly to himself. "As I knew. Now, where are you, Drákoulas?"

He hurried into the fight, wings spread wide. There was little sense in hiding here for the town comprised mostly of the undead, all of which followed Dracula. The few living would-be victims had been rounded up by Sherlock's Lycan force & held captive in the hold of the Enillydd for safekeeping even though the 'prisoners' worried otherwise, wondering why they had been taken captive for no reason & no explanation.

Clanks of wing ridge against wing ridge could be heard throughout the main street, accompanied by an occasional shattering sound as another one was felled.

Sherlock moved backward as he encountered three at once & tried to move into a narrow space so that only one could come at him at a time. He ended up bumping his back against someone else. He quickly flicked his eyes to the side to check the wings before looking forward at his attackers again.

Black. A shining onyx black.

"It's been a while, Xanthá," Mycroft suddenly spoke, shoving a wing out beyond Sherlock to stab the first of his attackers. Once it had exploded, Mycroft added, "Be careful. Eurus might be around somewhere."

Sherlock merely nodded before springing forward to take down the second one. At the same moment, his third attacker also exploded, leaving behind a brief vision of fire. "Hello, Theós."

Sherrinford came up to grab Sherlock in an awkward hug, wings all twisted away. "Do you have any idea how worried we all were?"

"Sorry," Sherlock said in a voice that clearly meant the opposite. "I was—OOF!"

Something had crashed into them from above, sending both brothers tumbling over each other on the ground until they stopped at Mycroft's feet. "Get up, now!" Mycroft ordered in a low voice, his eyes on the culprit responsible.

As Sherlock & Sherrinford stood up, the fires burning lit the place up enough to see wings unfurling, blood red, dripping with the red river. "Drákoulas!" Sherlock & Sherrinford exclaimed at the same time while Mycroft turned to point down the street in the opposite direction. Cornsilk yellow wings were now fluttering out.

"Míka," Mycroft said.

Dracula nodded to someone & once more, Sherrinford found himself being thrown aside. He hit Mycroft & both crashed into the wall of a stable before piling up on the ground. As they picked themselves up, they heard a yell from Sherlock.

"Xanthá!" Mycroft & Sherrinford took two steps forward as they saw Sherlock had been grabbed by Micah & two others & were pushing him down by his wings, breaking the outer ridges. A pack of wolfmen they never met jumped in their way, snarling until they ended up back against the wall of the stable.

"You!" Dracula hissed, moving towards Sherlock who was down on one knee now, his broken wings being held against him to hold him. "Do you not know who I am?"

"I do," Sherlock began & was halfway through saying his name but Dracula cut him off.

"I am the one who strikes fear into the living so we can hear their beating sound inside," Dracula said, moving closer. "That pounding is something we all wish to have again. Did you actually think you could defeat me?"

"Not I, but one who is older than you," Sherlock said, his eyes shifting to Merlin who was moving in on Dracula.

"Ah, the one who can not see."

"I don't have to," Merlin said, his hand up, feeling the air around him. "I can smell you just fine & it's been a while since I've had anything to drink."

"This is it?" Dracula shot a glare at Sherlock. "You decimate my trade on the high seas, only to bring me a fool with no eyes? Do you have any idea what you've done, Xanthá?"

"Well, I certainly got your attention," Sherlock said before letting out a grunt of pain as Micah twisted his broken wing.

Dracula was now a pace in front of Sherlock. He curled his dripping wing forward. "Go on. Lick it. We both know you've lost a lot in this fight & you need it."

"That is taken from the innocent," Sherlock said. "I will not!"

"There is no innocent among the living!" Dracula snapped. "It is the living that caused us all to be this way. All curses come from the living."

"In ages past," Sherlock said. "They have long since died. You can not punish the new generations for something they have no control over. Oh!" He suddenly found himself shoved forward as one of his captors shattered.

A slate grey sword was withdrawn from his side-vision a moment later. The Lady had turned to Micah but he had already disappeared into the air to avoid her stab, losing his grip on Sherlock in the process. Something long, hard & cornsilk yellow fell next to Sherlock.

"You do not belong here!" Merlin declared as he suddenly banged his white wings against the bloodied ones.

A horrendous fight ensued between the two as others tried to drive the strange wolfmen out with the help of some of the Waldheri wolves who had shown up. Mycroft managed to get into the street where Sherlock had been held & picked up the object that had dropped next to him. It was the sword Mycroft had kept close until he found out it had come from Micah. He gripped it hard before jumping into the mess once more, using both wing & sword to fell anyone within reach who deserved it.

Merlin managed to stab Dracula right through the middle but it only angered the killer more. Merlin shoved hard, throwing Dracula over the hedge & down onto the rocky shore below. He jumped forward, following Dracula down. He didn't need to see. He could smell the blood just fine & all he had to do was follow the scent.

Dracula spread his wings & went straight up into the air. He watched as several of his own shattered & even some of his own wolves were killed. He was losing control of everything & had already lost most of the water ways. The fight was over by the time he was fully in the air. Nearly everything he had controlled was now destroyed, his followers were either on the run or worse: dead.

"You may kill my followers, but I will have even more when I return!" Dracula flapped his wings & dipped towards the previous town, the one Mycroft currently had settled in among the living. "I am immortal!" Dracula bellowed, curling his wings around him to catch a draft of wind. "I AM DEATH!" He dove into the unprotected town out of sight.

The screams of those who once lived there reached the ears of every undead & wolf left behind in the destroyed village & then, all went silent as a shadow flew up into the stars & disappeared.

"What have we done?" Tobias gasped, running forward into the trees. He headed to the other town.

Others soon followed him. Those who took to the air arrived within minutes while the wolves showed up a while later. They were faster in human form than most humans, but it was still a long trail connecting both towns.

It was a gruesome sight to behold. Every single living thing, man or beast, had been killed. Mycroft's Galloway had been ripped into at least three pieces. Part of the Lady's horse was skewered into the tree tops, the other part was never found. The bodies of those who once lived here were cut up & thrown about, most of their blood was still oozing out of the wounds.

"He didn't even drink!" Sherrinford gasped. "He just ... slaughtered them. He slaughtered them all!"

"That's what he does," said Johaiñe. "He's always been a killer, even before he became one among the dead, like us. It's a game to him."

The Undead Law looked over the mess for a while before slowly working their way through it, burying bodies & washing away blood whenever possible.

Sherrinford placed a woman's body into the giant hole for the mass grave while Mycroft put in a child & a piece of her pet dog. "I hope we drove them both away from this land forever," Sherrinford said, looking down at the bloodied bodies.

"Merlin & a few others are flying out after them," Mycroft said. "He will make sure to drive them far away, maybe even destroy them."

"Sometimes I wonder if we can ever destroy those two," said Sherrinford. "At least they are driven out of here for now."

"I'm just glad we were able to do it," Mycroft said.

Sherrinford scoffed. "You don't regret it, do you? What you did to us?"

"I don't like how I went about it," said Mycroft. "But ... Drákoulas & Míka would still be here, killing innocent people, if I had not."

Sherrinford rolled his eyes. "You like it, don't you?"

"Like what?" Mycroft snarled, getting defensive. "The killing? No. I have not ever liked that!"

"What about the better vision?"

"That's good."

"Better hearing?"

"Definitely useful."

"The speed?"

"Again, useful."

"Flying?"

Mycroft hesitated before answering, recalling his battle of Ragnarok he had with the wood pile ... & lost. "I'll get back to you on that," he finally muttered, slightly put out.

"Well, whatever," Sherrinford gave up. "I don't know if I can ever forgive what you did to us."

"I know," Mycroft said. "We should—we should finish cleaning up this town." He turned & walked away.

The captives on the Enillydd ending up being the only survivors of the night that Dracula & Micah were driven out from their land.

AN: Yeah, yeah, that's totally from Titanic.

Also again, something from Lord Of The Rings, well The Hobbit this time, but for that, there is definitely a reason.

* Galloway ponies are native to this land & spawned various other native breeds, including the Fell (hill) ponies & the Dales ponies, the latter of which reside in the Cheviot area where the Holmes castle stands. Locals used the word Galloway for any of these ponies, but technically, the Galloway ended up going extinct in favour of the breeds it spawned.