Alastor decided that it would be best for everyone to give Isobel a few days to cool off before he saw her again. She had been very angry and emotional, which would not do. He needed the rational, pragmatic Isobel, not the hot headed spitfire.

So he waited, but it was an acute agony to keep such a secret. However, he had no choice, really. If he told anyone at the hotel that Isobel was in fact very much alive and trapped at V Tower, they would insist on storming the fortress. There would be no use in that. It would just result in a big dust up. He would lose his person on the inside and the element of surprise he currently had on the Vees. And it would ultimately do no good, as Isobel was a slave to the deal she had made. So Alastor kept his yap shut.

Even when Angel asked about his covert mission, he played dumb.

"Find any useful information?" Angel asked when Alastor had finally arrived home from sneaking around.

"Nothing of interest," he responded, feigning disappointment. "I will have to try again another time."

"Sure, sure. Personally I think you're spinning your wheels."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, now that I've been thinking about it, there's probably nothing to find. They could'uv been talkin' about anything. We're just being paranoid."

Alastor smiled sweetly, almost giddy from the self-satisfied feeling of once again knowing something that they did not know. He could have laughed or said something cryptic, but instead he simply nodded and said, "perhaps you're right, but better safe than sorry."

When Alastor finally decided to return, he retraced his steps through the tower. This time he was far more sure of himself and bolder as she traversed around the halls. It took him no time at all to get to the 19th floor and sneak in.

As he appeared from the shadows, he found Isobel sitting in front of the mirrored vanity. She was wearing a white frilly nightgown, (something far too fashion forward to be her own choosing.) and brushing her black mane. She looked much healthier now. She was not as frail and color had returned to her cheeks. Her eyes caught sight of him through the mirror and she spun around to face him with a sharp glare.

"Leave," she demanded.

"Tsk, tsk, what kind of salutation is that?" He held his chest as if an arrow had pierced him through the heart. "How rude. I told you I would come back."

"And I told you not to bother." She turned her back on him and slammed the brush down. "Damn it, Alastor."

"Come now, darling," he knelt beside her on one knee, trying to catch her eye. "I know that you are very upset with me, rightfully so. But don't you think you can put those feelings aside for the moment and help me solve this dilemma?" He reached up to softly brush her cheek with the back of his hand, to his surprise she recoiled away from his touch.

"Hard pass," she said as she briskly stood and moved away.

"Isobel, I am hurt. After all that we have meant to each other."

"Oh I think I know exactly what I mean to you now. I had time to think long and hard about it as I was lying on the ground choking on holy water and stewing in a puddle of my own blood."

Alastor sighed. "Are we still dwelling on that?" She met him with an expression of anger and exasperation. "Isobel," he tried again. "Look at me, you've got me on my knees."

He opened his arms wide, still positioned on one knee. He looked like a vaudevillian actor who had just finished their act and was waiting for the applause. It was almost comical. Isobel's expression softened. He knew she couldn't resist him. However, when she spoke it was cold and stern.

"I know what you're doing and I don't like it."

He had no choice but to act dumb. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You come in here acting all cute and charming because you're just that funny little man from the radio, right?" She crossed her arms in front of her. "You want me to give you some kind of information on what Vox is up to. That's the only reason you are here. And once I tell you what
I know, which is nothing by the way, you can just leave me here and scamper off to make your plans and schemes." Now she looked sad as she shook her head. "You are so cruel."

He was appalled that she could think so lowly of him. It was all true, of course, but still. He stood and approached ready to argue, but she spoke first. She wasn't harsh or biting, but rather low and sullen.

"Just go," she said. "Before they find you here and I get blamed for ruining their stupid plan."

"Is that the reason you want me to leave? Or could you be concerned for my safety?" He grinned his sharp, smug smile at her and her lips parted in an angry sneer.

"Go before I call them myself," she said.

"You don't really mean that." He leaned in close and chuckled in her ear. The soft static of his radio sent prickles down her neck.

Suddenly there was the sound of bells jingling. It seemed a perfectly innocent sound, but it set Isobel on edge. Her body tensed and her eyes darted away from Alastor to a corner of the room. His eyes followed hers to where the clown automaton had been previously sitting still and silent. Now it came to life, turning its head toward the door.

"What's happening?" he asked.

"Shh," Isobel hissed at him. Alastor didn't take kindly to being shushed and opened his mouth to say so, but just then Kitty suddenly rose from her seat. Isobel clamped a hand over his mouth and pushed him against the wall. "Shut up," she said urgently, never taking her eyes off the door.

Not even a minute later an agitated rapping could be heard along with the unmistakable voice of Velvette. She sounded very put out, loudly complaining about a wardrobe fitting or something. Kitty turned her vacant stare toward Isobel who responded in a low, desperate whisper.

"Tell her I'm sick or sleeping, something to make her go away."

Kitty marched to the door and opened it.

From where they were positioned pushed up against the wall, Velvette could not see them unless she crossed the threshold and into the room. If Kitty could not convince her to leave, they would all be done for. Isobel's eyes stayed focused on Kitty completely distracted by the impending disaster. Alastor, however, could not help but focus on Isobel.

She had used all her weight to push him against the wall and there she stayed, her body pressed to his, one hand over his mouth and the other on his chest. He resisted the urge to lick her palm. She was close enough now that he could smell her sweet natural musk under the corrupting odors of the Vees.

Something about her closeness and her smell brought a strange kind of nostalgia to him, conjuring memories he had otherwise shoved to the back of his mind. He became aware of her black hands touching him. The mark he had given her now spread almost to her elbows and he wondered how far up her legs it went now or if it had spread on her back. His mind's eye pictured the dark line rolling all the way to the base of her spine.

Kitty finally closed the door. Apparently she had been successful in convincing Velvette that this was not a good time for whatever she was trying to do.

Isobel sighed in relief (she hadn't realized she was holding her breath.) and turned back to catch Alastor's eyes burning into her like red smoldering embers. She withdrew her hands as if she had forgotten she had placed them on his body and tried to back away, but he had wound his arms around her waist and he held her where she stood.

"Now, you see, if I didn't know better I'ld say you were worried for my safety." She didn't respond, so he squeezed her tighter. "I have missed you, you know," he confessed as he pulled her ever closer. "And I know you have missed me."

He leaned in. He could feel the quickening of her pulse, hear the heaviness of her breath, and see the subtle dilation in each emerald eye. However, just before he made contact, she turned her head to the side.

"Alastor, please," she whispered. A slight tremble haunted the edges of her words. "Don't do this to me."

He could have forced the issue. He could have refused to let her go, held her, sweet talked her, and it probably would have worked too. She would have eventually lay down her defenses and let him in. But it would only be for a moment. A fleeting exchange of words and embraces. In the end she would still be a prisoner of her contract, and he would still have to abandon her.

Some things cannot be easily forgotten, even for the briefest of moments. Not even if you so desperately wish to forget.

Alastor released his hold around Isobel and stood to his full height. He adjusted his bow tie as he cleared his throat and said, "Indeed. Goodnight then." He moved past her toward the door, his arm lightly brushing hers as he went. Then he felt a tug that made him halt.

Looking over his shoulder he found Isobel had grabbed the tail of his long coat. She was looking away, she couldn't bear to meet his eyes, but her grasp held him fast.

"In a few days," she began. "A meeting of the Overlords will be called. That's when they'll present whatever they have been scheming. They're going to bring me with them. Vox wants to catch you off guard. Wants to see your face when you realize I'm alive and with them." Her eyes darted to his face. "Don't react."

This small piece of information was all she had to give him, not that he deserved anything from her, yet she still felt compelled. He took her hand from his coat and, gently turning it over, kissed the middle of her blackened palm.

"Thank you," he said as he faded away back into the shadows from whence he came.