A/N: A reminder that this story contains canon-typical violence and mature themes, hence the rating. Happy reading!

~46~

"Slowly. Not yet," Rosalyn guided. Her touch and her voice were too much for Michael. He moaned and shook hard beneath her teeth in a spasm.

"Sorry," he laughed sheepishly. Reaching for a box of tissues, he mumbled more apologies at her while she sealed the place on his thigh. She gave his knee a reassuring squeeze and went to straighten her clothes in the mirror. A strong pull suddenly tugged at the middle of her chest, sending shivers down her skin. She let out a gasp and grabbed the edge of the dresser. Michael looked at her in suspicion. "Did you just - ?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, you goon. It's Eric. He wants something."

"Dude," he snorted. "When doesn't Eric want something?"

They had begun transitioning Michael to administrative work for the school. While Eric was meticulous at the best of times, he became overbearing where it involved Rosalyn. He was not making Michael's new job easy. She circled around the bed where he was sprawled and dropped her voice. "Eric's a demanding boss, I know. But don't talk about him that way. You're living under his roof."

"So are you. You think he's got secret cameras in here to keep tabs on us?" he joked.

Rosalyn did not laugh. "Watch it. He doesn't need cameras to know if you're being disrespectful." He had her. And she felt the same protectiveness he bore for her.

Michael held up his hands. "I am nothing but grateful. Let him know I'm up to my neck in budget proposals and I'll have a report for you guys later." He waved her off. "You'd better go see what big, blond, and fangy Himself wants."

"Behave yourself." Leaning over, she booped him on the nose. "And sorry to dine and dash. Thank you for breakfast."

"Sure thing," he said with a wink and went to hunt down a pair of pants.

Rosalyn thought it odd that Eric was still at home. He was usually out the door the minute the sun had set. She found him clad in a towel in the master bath, shaving the stubble from his face. The air was humid with his scent. "Jeez, somebody's running hideously late tonight," she said as she rounded the corner. She forgot the sass on her tongue the moment she laid eyes on him. "What is it?"

He set his heavy chrome safety razor on the sink and cleared the mirror with a squeak of his palm. "You were done feeding, weren't you?" She nodded and he grunted, satisfied he had not interrupted her. "Give Maker a wide berth tonight and don't push his buttons."

"Alright. What's going on?" She perched on the lip of the large tub.

"Godric needs to plan our mission in Athens. He gets snappish when he works on something this big. Snappish and two and half millennia are a bad combo."

Godric had not exactly kept his chill after Ronwe attacked her. He had barricaded himself in his office for days while he strategized and barely spoke to anyone except to bark orders. "Did you get into it with him already?" she asked. "Is that why you're still here?"

Eric shook his head. "It's just not the time to run your reform school for wayward boys. Let him concentrate. Don't bug him with questions and don't give him shit about what needs to be done. Promise?"

"Eric," she said in aggravation. "I'm not going to promise -"

"Please," he said and turned to her. For a moment, she glimpsed a mile-wide crack in his steely demeanor. "For me, Ros. Just let him do his thing."

Eric being polite was never a good sign. Eric saying 'please' was downright worrisome. Something in Godric's demeanor must have alarmed him. "If it's that important to you, then fine. I'll keep out of his hair."

"Thank you, my bonded."

His formality was jarring. "What? No pet names for me tonight?"

"It's not going to be that kind of night." He grimaced. "Don't ask how I know. I can just tell. You live long enough, you can feel them coming."

"Well crap. Wanna take the Corvette to work? At least you'll get to enjoy the drive."

He brightened. "There's an idea. Go pull off the dust cover for me. I'll be up in a minute."

~OOO~

Godric's highlighter squeaked a fluorescent line across the street map he was studying. He made a corresponding annotation on a separate archaeological survey. Whole cases of documents related to the city of Athens were emptied onto Eric's desk at Fangtasia. He had been collecting material for nearly two centuries. "Pass me those pamphlets?" he eventually said to Rosalyn. It was the first time he had spoken to her in hours. Eric had been right to warn her. Godric had been testy all night.

Silently, she passed him a packet of promotional materials for a flashy housing development. He found the information he was after, pivoted to a desktop computer, and tapped a set of coordinates into a spreadsheet. He proceeded to work for another hour. Only the sounds of rustling paper and the occasional tittering click of the keyboard accompanied them. Eric's office was remarkably well soundproofed against the thudding bass of the club.

Finally, Godric narrowed his eyes at the monitor and navigated through a series of screen prompts. The computer struggled to incorporate his request. The drive churned and sputtered. After several minutes, it was still processing. He spun the tower around and blew on the fan with his cool breath to help it along.

The screen flashed with a 3-D model. "There, I think that did it," Rosalyn said. Godric leaned back into the office chair. A cruel smile crawled over his mouth. "Explain what you did?" she asked hesitantly. He held up a single finger at her. She glared at it and swallowed the urge to tell him off.

He moved through the layers on his model, toggling various tolerances on a control panel. Once he was satisfied, he angled the screen so she could see more clearly. "This is a geographic information system I've developed. It maps everything we know about Athens."

She sat forward. "You made this?"

"Not exactly. I've modified an existing platform with more data than the humans would ever think to use."

She cocked an impressed eyebrow. "So much for being the anti-tech member of the family."

He tutted her. "Just because I refuse to carry a GPS tracker on my person doesn't mean I'm against technology. Digitization has its uses."

Rosalyn reckoned the invention of iron smelting had made a difference for him too, but she managed to bite back that retort as well. "What does this program do then?" she asked instead. "It looks like a Google map on steroids."

"It's much more than that. I hadn't gotten around to updating the software with the latest lidar intel. You know this new technology? It maps far more effectively than satellite." He gestured to the semi-organized disaster covering the table. "It's taken some tweaking to get the computer to understand where to plot things with more accurate measurements. But look." He switched between two layers to show her.

"What the - ?" Rosalyn gasped. The model revealed not just the surface map of Athens, but centuries of infrastructure hidden beneath the streets.

"I want to know where every pipe and stone in Athens lies." He rotated the image and zoomed in on a suburb. His tongue darted out over his teeth in anticipation. "This is Thea's compound. It's a modern building but it is hooked into the city's forgotten underworld."

"Multiple exits," Rosalyn murmured. It was one of the first security strategies he had taught her. Worry clouded her features. "How much did Thea learn from you?"

He gave her a chilling look. "Too much. And not nearly enough." He manipulated the model further. "She should have constructed new tunnels rather than relying on old passageways. This is a messy area. It's ruins upon ruins. See here? You've got the old city wall running along right where architects buried the Ilisos River and later built the Metro. It hems her in considerably."

"And this is to our advantage," she guessed.

"Oh, yes," he replied, eyes shining with excitement. "It makes her retinue's options predictable, and our actions unpredictable. The city planning records I've kept are far better than what the humans have maintained. I doubt even Thea knows exactly where all her power and water lines run."

She frowned. "But still no sign of Thea?"

Sebek's source on the ground had only sighted Calla and a small retinue. "Calla will be enough. She'll lead us to the others."

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to a block of ledge in the ground. A sewer main had been built awkwardly around it.

"A minor temple to Artemis or Eileithyia. I forget which."

"It creates a blind drop in the tunnel. Should we label it for reference?" Rosalyn reached for the journal articles he had stacked, glad to be able to contribute.

Godric huffed a laugh. "You won't find it in there. The temple hasn't been excavated. I meant I don't remember."

She balked. "You…oh." She blinked several times.

When she did not press him with questions, he interpreted the stratigraphy of rubble for her, conjuring a world buried in time. "The temple used to be on the carriage road from Athens to the port. I never stopped in that area to hunt, otherwise I'd have paid it more mind. I usually had a ship waiting."

"When are we talking?"

He studied her. "Before the Peloponnesian War. The road was still fortified."

"Second century…?" she ventured.

"Fifth," he said quietly. "Before the common era."

Over four hundred years before the birth of Christ. Rosalyn bit her lips, trying to wrap her head around it. "You were quite young then."

"Not really," he said darkly. He turned away from her and fiddled with the projection. "Almost everything topside will be new to me. A lot has changed since I was last there – that was in the late 1700s. They've had several wars since then."

Rosalyn snorted. "I'd heard."

He hung his head. "Does it bother you - realizing I'm so old?"

"I think it's extraordinary." She hesitated, certain she was encroaching on delicate terrain. "I can tell it makes you uncomfortable. I can't imagine why."

He swallowed and took a long moment before answering. "I don't like remembering. I don't like thinking about who I had to be to survive - and who I didn't have to be, but was anyways."

Rosalyn was uncertain what to say or do. "They say that the past is a foreign country. You don't have to revisit it unless you want to talk about it with me." Godric shrugged bitterly, unconvinced. She got up and slid around to the other side of the desk beside him. "We'll make new memories in Athens."

He set a hand on her thigh. "It will be violent, Ros. Make no mistake. I…need it to be." He looked away in shame. "I thought I'd evolved, but I haven't. Not in this. I won't be satisfied until I've made Thea's palace a graveyard."

"Well," she sighed. "Strange as it seems, I think Thea and Calla will haunt you a lot less when they're dead. Tell me how to help."

His head snapped up in surprise. "You can't be serious."

"Godric, I got blown up. They had their assassins slaughter our staff and steal Amleth's body, for god's sake. They helped murder your oldest friend – and I know there's more going on with that than you've shared."

"Tarquin wasn't…it's not…" he tried.

"I don't care. These bitches have it coming. I'm your partner. What I can do to make this right?"

He stared at her. The corner of his eye twitched. "You believe that violence is justified in this case?"

"To defend us when they're willing to do such terrible things? Absolutely. It was really easy to hold fast to a moral high ground when I'd never had my beliefs tested. Well, they've been freaking tested."

"I will hold you to that, Rosalyn," he said warily. "Do not double-back later and accuse me of encouraging you to be a monster. You're certain you're willing to take up arms? This must be your decision."

"Did you see the swords Eric made me?"

His pupils flooded black at the conviction in her voice. "Gods, yes. I want to borrow them. You shouldn't try to wield them until you've had more training."

"Be my guest." She gestured to the model on the screen. "I'll do whatever it takes. Give me garden clippers and I'll cut the power. Just show me the way."

He licked his lips, trying to temper his excitement. "I worry that you will see me differently afterwards, when you realize what I am capable of."

"Sweetheart, I'm starting to remember what you did to yourself to turn me. If you can do that out of love for me, I already know what you'll do to someone who threatens that. You're a survivor. Do what you do best."

"Is that permission to do my worst?" he asked coyly.

"You imp." She pinched him. "No, it is not. Just…do enough. No more, no less."

He bit back a smile and stood abruptly. He saved his program and pulled the thumb drive out from the computer. Locking the drive in Eric's safe, he took a reproduction longsword off the wall and handed it to her. Close-up, she realized it was not just for show. The Sheriff kept it in his office for a reason. "Come. Let's see what you've got."

"You want to spar? Now?" He had not offered to engage her in combat training before. She nodded at his bare hands. "What are you going to fight with?"

"Ha! You are bold to want me armed, young vampiress." He pulled out the desk drawer and found a letter opener. Striking a stance, he twirled the flimsy metal at her like a wand.

"Jerk!" she laughed. "That's not funny."

Chuckling, he tossed the opener back in the drawer and sat on the edge of the desk. "I don't want to fight you - much. I want to lure Sebek into a match so I can get a better sense of what he's made of."

She glared at him. "You want to pick a fight with an ancient."

"You never really know someone until you've fought them."

"Godric!"

"What?" he said innocently. "It's what I do best, like you said. He's out on the dancefloor. If he sees me looking to start a fight with you, he'll likely step in -"

Godric's proposal caught in his mouth. Pamela burst through the office door without knocking. She looked like she had seen a ghost. He was instantly on his feet. "Sitrep," he demanded.

Pamela swallowed and held up a sheaf of printouts in her hand. She looked between her grandsire and Rosalyn. "I'm so sorry," was all she managed to whisper. Eric had already felt her panic and zipped down the staff hallway. He plucked the papers from her hand and glanced over them. The line of his mouth tightened. "I don't understand what happened," Pamela stammered. "I got an alert notice and…and…it was too late."

He tossed the papers down. "Give me that sword, Ros."

"Uh, who are you going to - ?"

"I am your Sheriff, newborn!" he barked. "You do not question me. Give me the sword."

Godric stayed her with a calm hand. "Report, Eric. What is the problem?"

"The problem, Godric, is that our prisoners owe us some motherfucking answers." Eric snatched the longsword from Rosalyn's grasp and stalked out toward the basement.

Godric picked up the printouts from the floor. He flipped through them and nibbled his lip. "The School of Night fund has been emptied."

"What?!" Rosalyn cried. "How!?"

Godric did not flinch. Pamela looked ill. "Amleth's trading terminal," she explained. "It has back-end access to our banks. I…I think Eric forgot about it when he updated our financials."

Rosalyn was flabbergasted. "Someone hacked into Amleth's computer?"

"Not someone, Ros." Godric spoke in a terrifyingly soft monotone. "Him."

"The finance sector's biometric scanners are state of the art," Pamela said, wiping a hand over her mouth in shock. "They can't be fooled."

"Amleth is healed," Rosalyn whispered. It sounded unreal to her. "And he's in London?"

Pamela shook her head. "The IP was bounced. The terminal could be anywhere. I can see if King Peter can trace it for us, but..." Her voice trailed off and she let out a breath between her teeth. "This is so fucked. Amleth usually handles this kind of problem for us. "

"Are we sure its him?" Rosalyn looked hopefully at Godric.

Godric had frozen. "Go help Eric interrogate Eva and Costas."

"What? No! Jesus, Godric. Please. You should go."

He looked up at her, his expression deadly. "If I go downstairs, I will kill them. See that your brother does not, if you don't want Amleth's brood dead."

"I'm coming with you," Pamela declared.

~OOO~

Rosalyn skidded downstairs in time to witness Eric slam Constantine down on a grappling hook suspended from the ceiling. His scream tore through the air, burning into Rosalyn's ears. Eva dangled beside him, already impaled. Eric shrugged out of his leather jacket and chucked it aside. "Third shelf," he said, seeing that Rosalyn had joined him. "Grab a pair of gloves and hand me my pruning shears."

"Eric -" she tried, hoping she could reason with him.

He turned on her, eyes blazing, and took a step forward. He towered over her. "I will say this to you once more - and only once, underling. You are my subject and your Sheriff demands your assistance as is required by law. Comply immediately, or you will be prosecuted to the full extent of my power."

Rosalyn actually cowered. "Yes, sir," she gasped. She quickly pulled on a pair of leather gloves from the locker and passed him the silver implement. The longsword gleamed in Thalia's willing hands, ready for an execution. Eric skipped formalities, foregoing fingernails, and went straight for clipping knuckles. "Where is Amleth?" he demanded. Eva screeched in pain as she lost a pinky. Constantine's anguish followed in short order.

Sebek was drawn to the violence like a vulture to carrion. Pamela offered him the horsewhip she had pulled from the interrogation locker. "Not my style," he declined. He took up the spot beside Rosalyn. "Tell me, child," he said.

"Amleth is alive. He deceived us. He's bankrupted my school. The project is utterly ruined." She curled a hand around the ancient's arm to steady herself. She could not discern between her fury and the wild tangling scent of fear and blood in the air.

Sebek looked down curiously at the vampiress clinging to his arm. "If the Cumbrian is alive, he can be held accountable. What would you like to have happen to him?" His rich baritone made the threat sound almost sweet.

"He is mine to punish," she said in a low growl.

A grin spread over Sebek's mouth. "Just so, mistress. Just so." His gaze followed Eric as he berated the prisoners. He observed the proceedings with a detached air. Eric demanded to know Amleth's whereabouts again - and again his children refused to give him up. More fingers dropped to the bloodied cement floor.

Frustrated by the slow pace, Rosalyn snarled at the ash-white blonde hanging in front of Eric. She grabbed Pamela's silver-tipped whip. "Eva, you knew. You knew about the letter Amla wrote me. Did you read it first? Did you know what he gave us?"

"What letter?" Eric asked.

"Amla's wedding card. He slipped a note in the gag wallet you idiots give each other. I should have known it was all a joke to him. He matched our contribution to the school. It's probably how he ensured there was a back door in the account to wipe us out." Angry tears streaked down her face. "Almost three billion dollars of charity. That money was for people who needed it! Who are disadvantaged! You've stolen from the poor, you despicable bastards!"

"I have no idea who took your money!" Eva cried in panic. "He gave it in good faith, Ros. He loves you!"

"He's broken our hearts and so have you!" The crushing betrayal brought out something in Rosalyn she never thought herself capable. She raised her arm and brought the whip down on Eva in a terrific blow. The lash scored a gash down the vampiress' neck and chest.

"Please!" Eva wailed, wriggling on her hook. "I beg your mercy!"

Constantine spat wet glob of spit at Rosalyn. Eric brutally backhanded him. "Eva knew about the letter," he supplied. "But you silenced her when she wanted to tell us Amleth had awoken. Why?"

Constantine struggled to lift his head. He smiled through a split lip, tonguing the cut. "Fuck you, Northman. You think we'll tell you anything about our maker under duress? Who do you think raised Amleth, you dumbfuck blond? We've been commanded to withstand torture, same as you." He turned his sharp tongue on Rosalyn with a grin. "And look at you, little Domina. I didn't think you had it in you."

"How dare you call me that!" Rosalyn seethed. There were no masters in Godric's House. "You arrogant, hateful little - " She set to beating him senseless. Her limbs were all rage and Constantine's smirking face and obsidian eyes only fueled her more. Eric watched in amusement until he deemed it enough. He caught Rosalyn's wrist mid-swing. She struggled. His grip was fierce. "Make him talk, Eric."

"Use my knife," Thalia suggested, offering the weapon on her belt.

"Give him a minute to recover," Eric told Rosalyn. "It's more effective."

She jerked her arm away from him and he flinched, surprised at her strength. "They've done nothing but lie to us. Costas was always against me. I want answers!"

"Stand down," Eric said, corralling her with an arm and ready to grab her when she lunged at the prisoners. She threw the whip down in anger instead and turned back to Pamela.

"Shit, Ros," Pamela muttered, wide-eyed. She and Eric exchanged a look. The newborn had trashed Constantine, then stopped herself in a full fit of bloodlust. Without a maker's command. Just because Eric had asked.

Sebek made a noise of displeasure. "There is no point to this. They will have warned their maker. We need to move now before our target does. There may still be time."

Eric sniffed. "You're right. Pam, clean up here. Stow these traitors for now." He turned to Sebek. "Is there blood in my hair?"

The Egyptian perused him and pursed his lips. "You're fine."

He nodded. "Good. I'll clear out the club. Ros…" He sighed, studying her blood-spattered face. "You'd better go tell Godric we need to mobilize pronto."

With each step up the basement, the fog lifted from Rosalyn's head. She stumbled numbly down the staff hallway, squelching in stained shoes.

In Eric's office, Godric sat hunched over on the couch, hands steepled against his forehead. He looked up at Rosalyn in surprise and she burst into tears. "I've done something terrible!"

A/N: Thoughts, theories, holy crapolas for Rosalyn? Leave a comment in the box if you have a moment. I've really appreciated hearing from all of you. Hope you're all taking care of yourselves. Stay safe! Reviewers get to help with Eric's evening shower routine. xx, M