Broken Wings

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Tense and jumpy as he strained to hear every little sound around him, Leon followed Brother Petros deep into a part of the Vatican he had hoped never to enter. The dungeons belonging to the Department of the Inquisition. But he wasn’t going to be down here long, only as long as it took to get Abel and get out again. A thick blanket was slung over his shoulder while his silver cuffs that were also his throwing disks were hidden under the long sleeved black shirt he wore, and his long hair was pulled back in a short tail at the base of his neck. At his waist, Leon had a knife and a gun loaded with silvered bullets that were the common ammunition of the AX Department, both he was proficient with after his time as a soldier, but his skills were rusty.

The armored form leading him was strangely silent for all of Brother Petros’ massive bulk, and Leon admired that skill about the blue haired man. After all, it couldn’t have been easy to be that quite while wearing about one hundred pounds of pure metal and machinery.

Suddenly, Petros stopped and every nerve in Leon’s body screamed for attention as the Spaniard started looking around for the reason they had stopped moving forward to find Petros was quietly opening the door they were standing beside. “Hurry. I will watch the hall.”

“Right,” Leon breathed, slipping inside and wincing as he caught sight of Abel for the first time. He was suspended from a thick oak plank that his broken arms had been lashed to and there was barely any skin that wasn’t bruised, cut , burnt or covered in blood. His head was tied back, forcing him to stare at the ceiling, and Leon hurried over to where the chain keeping Abel suspended was tied off to the wall.

“Anyone call for a check out?” Leon greeted, somehow managing to keep the horror from the sight of his friend in such a state out of his voice. He gently lowered Abel towards the floor until the injured man was just barely brushing the wet crimson stones with his toes, and then Leon fastened the chain off.

He drew his knife as he approached Abel before kneeling to gently slice the leather straps off of the broken ankles. As he stood, he found Abel’s mouth working but no sound was emerging from the cracked and dried lips. “Easy, Abel. Let me get you out of here and then you can complain to the manager about the accommodations.”

Moving behind Abel, Leon eyed the leather strap wrapped around the silver hair, pinning the lank mass to the beam before carefully slicing through the strap. Abel whimpered in pain as the strain on his neck was released but didn’t tilt his head forward, unable to after having his head immobilized for such a long time. Sheathing the knife, Leon reached up and gently massaged the locked muscles until they relaxed enough for Abel to move his head with ease again, and Leon cupped Abel’s face until those crystal blue eyes managed to focus on him. They were much more intense without the glasses to hide behind, but Leon discovered that they suited Abel better.

“Leon?” His name was croaked out, and Petros hurried over with a waterskin of all things, gently tipping the clear water past Abel’s cracked lips as Leon went to work on the straps holding him to the beam. The leather was easy to cut through, but the metal shackles were a bit more work before they gave beneath the slender picks Leon was manipulating. Abel collapsed to the floor only to be caught by Petros before he struck the stone, and Leon hurried to grab the blanket.

“Straighten breaks,” gasped Abel, gently cradled in Petros’ arms as the dropped waterskin spilled its precious cargo across the floor, washing a small path through the blood, and Leon bit his lip.

“It’s gonna hurt, Father Four-Eyes, and I don’t have anything to use as splints,” the Spaniard stated in a soft voice. Abel only looked at Leon with eyes glowing with trust, and Leon took a breath before motioning Petros to place the injured man on the floor. Once Abel was stretched out, Leon quickly set the arms before examining his ankles only to shake his head. “There’s nothing I can do for your ankles. You’ll have to wait until we get to the Empire.”

Instead of replying, Abel closed his eyes and inhaled, his back arching slightly. Leon yelped as something dark slithered across the floor only to yelp again when he realized it was blood, returning to the one who had lost it in the first place. Twin cracks, like something snapping back into place, filled the air as Abel’s arms shivered before two more cracks sounded, this time his feet jerked. A low growl, an almost feral sound, echoed through the air as blood red eyes flickered open to gaze around with a deep hunger that Leon had only seen on a starving man, and black lips peeled back to reveal elongated fangs.

“Father Nightroad, I suggest you gain control because Father de Asturias is trying to get you out of here to safety,” murmured Pertos, and Abel raised his arms to cover his face with hands tipped in lethal looking claws. A few deep breaths and the claws shrank to normal human nails, and when Abel dropped his arms, the red eyes had been replaced with exhausted blue and the fangs were normal teeth again.

Leon wrapped the blanket tightly around Abel before lifting the still injured man into his arms. He tossed a grin at Petros before starting towards the door. “Brother, it’s been a pleasure and keep an eye on Cardinal Crazy for us.”

Petros slipped a small data disk into Leon’s pocket. “For you to show to the doctor,” he offered. “It is what was recorded here in case it was needed. I have another copy.” The Spaniard nodded and slipped out into the darkened hallway, Abel completely covered by the thick blanket.

It was several tense minutes before Leon slid the door of Catarina’s personal craft shut behind him and carefully strapped Abel into the co-pilot’s chair. He had been expecting a small winged plane, but instead he found a ship with thick armor and more controls than he truly knew what to do with. However, the basic system of this advanced craft was the same as the planes he was use to flying, so he hoped he wouldn’t have any problems with it.

“Hope to Heaven I don’t have to mess with any of those fancy buttons,” muttered Leon as he started the engine, and in a few minutes they were air born and heading east. Dark eyes flickered over to Abel to discover that he had mercifully passed out, and Leon reached over to tuck the blanket back around pale shoulders. “It should take us about five hours to get to the Empire and then I’ll start broadcasting whatever it was that you gave Catarina. Hopefully whatever is suppose to happen happens so some trigger happy Methuselah guard doesn’t shoot us down ‘cause I don’t know half of what this thing has and it would really ruin our day to have this thing explode.”

Shivers wracked Abel’s body, and he whimpered faintly, his brow wrinkling with whatever horrors were dancing behind closed eyes. Reaching over, Leon brushed matted hair off of Abel’s face, caressing the soft cheek in a soothing manner, and Abel leaned slightly into the touch before apparently slipping deeper into sleep. Smiling, Leon returned his attention to piloting the craft as the landscape changed from hills and farms to forests. He swore as he dug the paper out of his locket one handed, and he noticed Abel flinched in his sleep at the strong word.

“Ya know, Catarina had everyone at AX out looking for you when we weren’t on missions,” Leon remarked, his voice upbeat and filled with his usual good natured charm as he managed to unfold the tightly folded piece of paper and frowned at the series of numbers printed on it in a neat hand. It didn’t make any sense to Leon as he split his attention between the paper and the craft. “She didn’t think you vanished for a minute, not like Hughes who couldn’t stay in one place for a second if it meant he missed out on killing vampires, and that was reinforced when Sister Kate found your glasses and ear cuffs next to an empty syringe. The Professor had a field day analyzing what was left in that before his Albion sensibilities were properly horrified on your behalf. How do you read this thing anyway? Catarina never said, just repeated whatever you told her about transmitting it and safety should be waiting for us at the Empire.”

A shaky, bloodstained hand emerged from the blanket and fiddled with the radio for a few minutes before a steady signal started transmitting. Leon looked over to find Abel curling back up in the thick and now bloodstained blanket, and smiled at the silver haired man. “Thanks. Don’t have a clue what it will do or who will be waiting for us, but it can’t be worse than Cardinal Crazy.”

“Seth will get it and wait for us,” Abel murmured, his eyes drooping shut again. “Can you talk to me? Please? About anything?”

Leon nodded. “Sure, I’ll babble your ear off, Abel,” he agreed, folding the paper back up and replacing it in his locket. He closed the lid, his fingers automatically caressing the smooth gold before both hands were back on the controls. “Wendy and Peter have been writing to me, and I just got their latest letter a few weeks ago. The last of the Lost Boys were adopted, and only they remain, but no one wants to adopt two children together. Too much trouble. People are willing to adopt one or the other, but they don’t wanna leave each other. Not too surprising really. Those two are going to be great together when they grow up.”

He chuckled, one hand coming up to touch his locket. “I’d probably take them in if I wasn’t a convicted felon and could claim my daughter as well. Sophia would like Peter and Wendy, and they’d get along once they got use to each other. Did I ever tell you about my Sophia? A beautiful little girl, she’s turning eight this year. She’s got my hair but her mother’s beauty. Gentle and kind, she wouldn’t hurt a fly if she could see it. My only regret is that she was born blind, never saw her papa or mama and unfortunately, never will. But she never let that get her down, said it made playing hide and seek more fun because she never had to close her eyes to count. Never could keep her down, my little beauty.”

A quick glance showed Abel had dozed off again, and Leon nodded. Abel would need to sleep to heal, and a friendly voice would be needed to keep the nightmares at bay. Besides, hearing a friendly voice would remind Abel that he wasn’t alone nor was he back in that hell hole. With that thought firmly in his mind, Leon opened his mouth and began rambling about anything he could think of, talking about whatever crossed his mind, even if it was only to grumble about the advanced craft he was flying.

Five hours later, Leon’s voice was scratchy from all the talking but he continued as the landscape changed again to mountains and thick, old forests that had been there since Armageddon. Abel hadn’t stirred since he had asked Leon to talk, and the Spaniard wished he would wake up, despite Abel’s need for healing sleep, to tell him what to do next because honestly, Leon didn’t have a clue. He knew that they had either passed the Empire’s border or were about to because only the Empire had truly old trees like the ones passing below them. Humans had destroyed many of their old forests centuries ago to make room for more farms or to take away the spots where vampires and weres could hide during the day.

“It’s truly a shame about human ignorance, ya know?” Leon mused, his dark eyes drinking in the beautiful old trees slipping away beneath them. “If we don’t understand it, we destroy it. If we fear it, we destroy it. If we’re suspicious of it, we watch it with unequaled paranoia before finding something that will justify destroying it. At least the Methuselah aren’t like that, if the forests they still have are anything to go by. Maybe it’s because they live so much longer than we do, they have time to get over those fears and distrusts. I’ve wondered what it would be like to live as long as a Methuselah, watch the years roll by and see the world change yet remain the same in so many ways.”

Dark eyes rose from the trees to focus on the stars scattered across the black velvet sky. “What would it be like to eventually be up there and look down on the earth? How different would it look? I bet it’s gorgeous without all the tension and strife that’s found down here.”

Off to one side, a shimmering dome of sapphire caught his attention, and Leon turned the craft to start in that direction. He had heard stories about the Byzantium Capital of the Empire, but to see it was truly a marvel. They were truly deep into the Empire at this point if he could see the Sapphire Wall of the capital, and he only hoped that this Seth was there or someone knew who this Seth was since Abel wasn’t talking.

Suddenly, an alarm shrieked on the panel and, he looked around, trying to find out what was going on when an explosion rocked the ship. Swearing, Leon fought the controls as the ship started to descend towards the forest below them, the alarm still shrieking before they crashed through branches, slowing their descent before slamming into the ground. Leon screamed as metal crumpled around them, arms flying to protect his face from the glass as it shattered, and in seconds, they had come to a stop, half buried in the ground from where their craft had slid across the grass.

Raising his head, Leon looked over at Abel who was blinking his eyes in confusion as he stared back at Leon. “I don’t know who we pissed off, but we gotta get going before they come back with help,” Leon stated, unfastening the harness even as slivers of glass fell from his dark hair. Rising to his feet, he hissed as his knee protested the movement, throbbing angrily as he rested some weight on it, before Leon shoved the pain aside with the rest of his injuries and moved over to Abel. “Sorry, but you’re in no shape to walk out of here. Hope you don’t mind if I carry you. Of course I have no idea what to do now or where your Seth is.”

“Empress... Sanctuary....” gasped Abel as Leon swung him up into the Spaniard’s arms before going completely limp as he passed out again.

Leon nodded as he made his way towards the door that had been ripped open during his less than perfect landing. “Right. We’ll go see the Empress and beg Sanctuary from her. Which means we have to get through a city of Methuselah, into the palace, and into her throne room without the person who knocked us down finding us first or even any unfriendly Methuselah.” He snorted. “Piece of cake.”

Shaking his head, Leon slipped out of the craft and into the darkness, hoping to loose any pursuers. It wasn’t going to be easy with his injuries and Abel’s, but Leon was nothing if not persistent. He juggled Abel slightly as he made sure his weapons were in easy reach, and he dug his throwing bracelets out from under his shirt sleeves. “Come on, Abel. Let’s blow this pop stand.”

Quietly, he slipped through the trees, ignoring the massive throbbing that was his right knee as he forced his body to move despite any injuries he had sustained in the crash. His ears strained for any sound of pursuit, and he jumped at each little sound as his skin crawled. He could hear night animals moving around the forest around him before the subtle hum of an approaching craft sent him deeper into the forest, towards the city and away from the broken craft that had brought them so far.

“I feel like I’m back in Hispania, fighting the Albion army,” he grumbled, quietly, as he squinted into the darkness. “But I was the best at what I did, so you’re in great hands.”

Abel didn’t reply but Leon wasn’t expecting him to as they moved deeper into the forest. A few hours later, they were at the shimmering blue dome and the thick stone wall that prevented them from advancing any further, and Leon growled as he studied the wall. It was tall, nearly three stories, and made of rough stone that was tightly fitted together, not giving much in the way of hand and foot holds. Leon might have been willing to attempt it if he had equipment and if Abel was in any shape to help, but neither was possible at the moment, forcing him to locate another way into the Imperial City.

Slowly, he made his way along the wall, looking for either a break in the wall or something that would let them get over the wall itself, when the clopping of hooves reached his ears, and Leon edged closer to the sound to find a cart coming up a dirt road that led right through the wall via an arch guarded by two armored soldiers. A blond woman was sitting in the driver’s seat, controlling the beautiful black horse that was pulling the hay filled cart. Her clothes were simple wool spun and her hair was pulled back in an intricate braid that was pinned up, keeping it clean and out of the way as she worked. But Leon’s eyes were drawn to the hay in the back once more. It was thick enough and piled high enough to hide both him and Abel, and all they had to do was get in it without knocking it all out of the cart.

Suddenly, the horse squealed and hopped sideways, causing the woman to stop the cart far enough away from the guards to not seem suspicious and climb down from the seat to see what was wrong with her animal. It was the perfect opportunity, and the second her sight was blocked by the huge horse, Leon was carrying Abel out of the trees and across the short distance that separated them from the wagon. With a bit of difficulty, Leon managed to get Abel hauled up into the cart without aggravating any of the silver haired man’s still healing injuries while his own knee screamed in protest. He could hear the woman cooing at the horse, soothing it while trying to find out what was wrong, as he scrunched as far down into the hay as he could with Abel and pulled more of the itchy, dusty hay on top of them, covering them completely from sight. There were a few more murmurs from the woman before the cart rocked as she resumed her spot, and in seconds, the cart was moving towards the wall again.

Leon breathed shallowly, doing his best not to inhale too much dust and sneeze at the wrong time, as the cart stopped a second time and there were soft voices as words were exchanged between the woman and the soldiers. He couldn’t hear what was being said through the hay, but apparently the woman passed inspection because they were moving again after only a few minutes. The clopping of the horses hooves changed in pitch, indicating that they were now on the cobble stones that covered the streets of civilized towns, and Leon carefully poked through the hay until he could make out their surroundings.

They were passing through old buildings that were well cared for, white walls peeking out between dark beams of wood, and twisting his head around, Leon could just make out the lightening sky, announcing that sunrise was on the way and people were going to be waking up and start moving around, making it harder for them to sneak anywhere, not with Abel still covered in blood and a trickle of the Spaniard’s own blood painting his face where a shard of glass had cut him.

The woman turned the horse into a small yard before hopping off again. There was a rattling of buckles and a creaking of leather as she unhitched the horse, and the clopping of hooves announced that she was leading it away. Raising his head out of the hay, Leon looked around to find that they were in a deserted yard with the stable doors laying open, indicating where the woman had gone, and he climbed out, pulling Abel back into his arms before slipping out of the yard, not noticing the blonde woman who watched them from the hayloft with dark eyes and a small smile on her face.

Slowly, Leon made his way through the strange streets towards the huge palace he could see towering over the other buildings, ducking into dark allies when soldiers or the now awake civilians appeared, his various injuries protesting loudly as he forced his body to move faster while carrying the unconscious form of his friend. Each minute they were out in the city was another minute they were closer to being discovered by whomever had shot their craft down, and while Leon could fight if needed, he didn’t know if Abel could hold on long enough for him to fight any enemy that found them.

After what seemed like an eternity, they were at the ornate walls that surrounded the palace itself, but despite being inside the city itself, these walls were even more impossible to scale. The stones were polished smooth with no sign of wear or corrosion from being out in the elements with each stone flowing almost seamlessly into the next.

“These Methuselah really know how to build something to make it impossible to get into,” Leon muttered, glaring at the wall. Maybe if he found a servants’ entrance, he could sneak them in that way...

There was a clattering of wheels along with the clopping of horses, and Leon turned, crouching behind a decorative shrub as he held Abel close. An ornate carriage bearing a crest of some noble came up, apparently in no hurry to get where it was going, and Leon said a silent prayer of thanks as it slowed down to turn towards an ornate gate in the wall that he could just make out. Someone was looking out for them, and now all he had to do was get Abel over there to hitch a ride through this wall under the carriage since there was no hay to hide in. After all, it had worked the first time, and this time they didn’t have as far to go.

Sneaking closer despite the shrieking his twisted knee was making, Leon made out one guard on the other side of the carriage, talking with the driver as the curtains were tightly shut in the carriage, making it impossible for someone to see out even with a Methuselah’s sharp eyesight. Somehow, Leon managed to slip under the carriage with Abel, and using his own body as a sling, he cradled the taller man as he clung to the underside of the carriage. He gritted his teeth at the strain being put on his limbs, digging his fingernails into the iron bars in determination to hang on, as the driver exchanged a few more pleasantries with the guard before the carriage pulled through the gate.

The carriage moved up the cobble stone drive, each bounce jarring Leon’s arms and legs and threatening to dislodge Abel from his precarious perch on top of Leon, and it curved around to stop in front of a huge expanse of marbled steps. The carriage shifted above him as the passenger disembarked, and he watched as slender legs encased in black leather pants and heeled boots while partially obscured by a long black cloak turned towards the driver.

“Park by the stable and see to the horses,” instructed a female voice, a slight harried edge to her words. “I will send for you when I am ready to depart.”

“Yes, Duchess,” replied the driver before the carriage was pulling away, and Leon managed keep from crying out as the carriage hit a deep mud puddle, splashing him with the muddy water, as it passed into what had to be the stable yard. It had felt like his twisted knee had been dislocated from the jar and he hoped it hadn’t because it would be impossible to walk on it if it was. It was hard enough with it twisted, but dislocated meant that they would be at the mercy of anyone who happened by, and frankly, Leon was not in the mood to tour the Empire’s dungeon.

“Greetings,” called out a friendly voice as someone approached the carriage just as it was pulled to a stop again, and now Leon could make out study leather boots that belonged to someone who worked all day. “The Duchess reporting to Her Majesty?”

“Yeah, and I’m stuck here until she calls for me,” the driver grumbled, climbing down. “Something big’s going on ‘cause she was called out in the middle of the night, and I don’t think either of us had a chance to eat before all the brouhaha started.”

Hearty laughter broke out. “Then let Andrei and Ivan deal with your black beasties while I talk the kitchen maid into getting us both breakfast,” the first man announced before he bellowed for the two boys to come for the horses as he led the driver off. Twisting around as much as he could, Leon watched as two teens raced up, unhitched the horses and led them off, leaving the yard deserted and nothing between him and the door he could just see. With a groan of relief, Leon gently lowered them to the ground and took a few seconds to get some feeling back into his arms before he scooped Abel back up and started for the door.

Whatever power was watching out for them apparently decided to blink at that moment because just as he reached for the door, it opened to reveal a young pretty teenage girl in a maid’s uniform, and her eyes widened at the sight of him standing there. Leon could only imagine the sight he must be, hair tangled with hay, blood painting his face a macabre mask, dark mud stained clothes, and carrying a body wrapped in a stained blanket. Her pretty blue eyes widened as she opened her mouth to scream when Leon, quickly slapped his hand across her mouth, somehow managing to keep a hold on Abel, and backed her into the hallway behind the door even as he let the door swing shut behind him.

“Please, senorita, don’t scream,” Leon begged, his eyes pleading as he spoke softly. “We are not here to harm anyone. We only wish to seek sanctuary with Her Imperial Majesty.”

Her eyes calmed enough that fear was replaced with caution as she gently reached up with one hand to remove Leon’s hand from her mouth, her other hand still holding the wash basket on her hip. “How do I know you are not fugitives, here to impose on Her Majesty’s kindness and mercy only to get her in trouble when your own people come looking for you?”

“We are fugitives, but not in the way you think, senorita hermosa,” pleaded Leon, his voice still soft as he peeled back part of the blanket to show Abel’s unconscious face and part of the injuries on his chest. She gasped at the sight of the deliberate cuts and burns, her blue eyes large. “You see, I rescued him from an evil man who delighted in torturing him and hurting him when he was helpless, and now that man and his allies are hunting us.”

Carefully tucking the blanket back around Abel’s body and concealing him from sight again, Leon gazed at the maid, waiting for her to come to a decision. She stood there for a few moments, golden braids shining in the light as she bit her bottom lip, thinking furiously before she nodded once, stubborn chin raising as fiery blue eyes met hopeful brown.

“I will help, but if this turns out to be a trick that hurts Her Majesty, I will take care of you myself, *senorita*,” she stated, shaking a finger in his face in warning, and he smiled, bowing slightly. She sniffed, whirling around with her skirts flaring and started down the hallway with Leon following.

Quietly, they managed to slip through the lavishly decorated halls, and the maid seemed to know when the guards were approaching because every so often, she would turn down another hallway and a few minutes later, Leon would hear the heavy tread of armored feet passing. With the pretty maid as a guide, they managed to avoid even other servants and petty bureaucrats that always seemed to fill the hallways of the Vatican at least and cause people to trip over them when they least wanted to. It was almost amazing how many times the Pope had managed to avoid everyone long enough to slip away for some time alone.

Finally, she stopped in front of a door, and turned back to face him. “This is the servants’ entrance to the Throne Room,” she stated, gesturing for him to follow her. She led him into what looked like a plain antechamber with no decorations save for a simple chair and a torch lit in the wall. Reaching up, she pulled on the torch, and part of the stone wall swung outward, revealing a large room lit on the other side, and Leon could just make out quiet voices talking.

The maid gave him a small push. “Go,” she whispered. “Her Majesty is over there. I will watch your actions.”

With that warning, she pushed him a bit harder towards the open door, and taking a breath, Leon forced his legs to carry him forward.

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Sitting on her throne, Empress Agusta Vradica, Ageless Mother of the Methuselan Empire, listened as Astharoshe Asran, Viscountess of Odessa and Duchess of Kiev, reported on her latest mission which had been a simple search and rescue. Late last night, the Empress, who was known to a select few as Seth Nightlord, had received an emergency signal from a long dormant satellite, the message a simple SOS from the one person she trusted most in this world.

Her brother, Abel Nightroad.

Tracing the signal back, she found that it was coming from one location, and she had sent Astha out to find Abel and bring him back to the safety of the palace. But apparently, the only thing Astha had found was a wrecked personal craft with some traces of human blood where the survivor had been injured and a few long strands of silver hair. The only indication Abel had been in the craft at all.

“I searched as long as I could, Majesty, but was unable to find any further traces before the sun drove me to seek shelter,” concluded Astha, kneeling on one knee as her head was bowed. She was still dressed in her black leathers instead of the more decorative Court dress she wore when reporting to the Empress, and her Spear of Gae Bolg rested on the floor beside her.

“You did well, Astha,” replied Seth, propping her head up on a fist. “I only wish I knew where Abel was and what trouble he’s in to send that signal.” She ignored Astha’s startled look before the Methuselan Noble remembered herself enough to look down again, and she shook her head, frustrated. “Abel, where *are* you?”

There was the sound of footsteps from the servants’ entrance, but instead of being the almost silent steps her servants were trained to have, these were heavy. Labored, as if the person was injured and carrying a heavy load. Seth turned her head, one hand poised over the button to summon the guards if it turned out to be more than her or Astha could handle, when she saw a man staggering towards them, each step carefully placed as if unsure of his greeting. His shoulder length dark hair was tangled with hay and mud while mud stained his clothes and blood painted his face in a garish light. Large silver bangles glinted off his wrists while a gun and a knife were at his waist. In his arms, he carried a large figure wrapped completely in a dull gray blanket that had become soaked with the blood of the hidden person. Seth was aware of Astha gripping her spear, ready to jump between her and the man if needed.

“Your Majesty, we seek sanctuary,” began the man, a slight Spanish flavor to his words as if his dark coloring wasn’t enough to mark his heritage as from Hispania, when his words cut off in a startled and pained yelp as his one leg collapsed beneath him, sending him sprawling on the floor with the bundle falling from his arms. The blanket caught on part of his clothes, opening to spill a very familiar form out on the floor, and Seth cried out as she stumbled over to where her brother was sprawled on the floor, injured in a way she had hoped never to see again, as she ripped off the veil and voice modifier she was wearing.

“Abel,” gasped Astha, but Seth had already gathered Abel in her arms.

She raised her green eyes to meet pain filled brown. “Sanctuary granted,” she stated, lifting Abel as if he were the child instead of her. “Astha, bring him. He has much to tell us.” Turning, she slipped out of the Throne Room via a door hidden behind some tapestries even as the man yelped behind her. A quick glance showed that Astha had simply scooped him up in her arms and was carrying him before Seth started up the stairs.

Emerging into a large lush suite, she carried Abel into the richly decorated bathroom and gently laid him on the floor before motioning for Astha to place the stranger next to the shower as she ran a critical eye over him. The cloth was stretched tight around one knee, indicating at least a twisted knee with swelling and one of them would have to cut his pants off. “Astha, go into the next room and send a servant for more towels and my physician. Then get the scissors off my desk and the comb off my dresser.”

“Yes, Majesty,” replied Astha with a bow before she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Seth started filling the tub with hot water before turning to gaze at the man with her hands on her hips, completely ignoring the blood that stained her silk clothes. “Who are you and what happened to my brother?”

“Father Leon Garcia de Asturias, codename Dandelion, of the AX Department. Call me Leon,” the man replied with a charming smile. “As to Father Four Eyes, I mean Father Abel, Cardinal di Medici has started slipping away from sanity and Father Abel was his target.” He suddenly snapped his fingers and dug into a pocket, coming out with a miraculously unharmed disk before holding it out to her. “One of the Inquisitorial Department grew suspicious of di Medici’s activities after Father Abel had been missing for three months and followed him into the dungeon where he found Abel and also set up a camera to record what was going on when he realized that he couldn’t rescue him alone.” He nodded to the disk. “That’s a recording. He said to show it to the doctor, but I think you might need to see it more. It’s not going to be pleasant if what his injuries say. He already healed his broken arms and ankles by having me set his arms, and then he seemed to suck his spilled blood *back* as his eyes turned red. Brother Petros managed to get Abel calmed down and then he passed out.”

Nodding, Seth turned back to Abel, gently lifting him into the warm water, before slipping out of her own bloodied garments, unconcerned about her nudity. “Well, Leon, get out of all the clothes you can because someone’s gonna have to cut your pants off with your knee that bad, and then Astha can help you shower the rest of the blood and grime off of you. I’ll tend to Abel as I doubt either you or Astha can handle him should he slip into full Crusnik mode.”

Leon ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at the tangles there. “Look, Your Majesty, I really don’t understand that much about Abel or what he can do or even what his connection to you is,” he stated, his voice soft and a bit lost. “All I know is that he’s my friend, and he told me to come here after we crashed and his Seth never showed up.”

She smiled as she brushed a tangled lock of grimy silver hair out of Abel’s peaceful face. “He is my brother in every way that counts,” she announced, grabbing a washcloth and the soap, carefully washing the blood off of his motionless form to reveal the extent of Abel’s injuries. Knife cuts battled for space with whip lashes and burns on the pale skin, and Seth did her best to push aside her growing anger for the one who did this to her kind and gentle brother so she could concentrate on Abel. She glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. “I do not see you disrobing, Senor de Asturias. Do you wish for me to cut all of your clothes off?”

He snorted and started tugging at the shirt. “You look young enough to be my daughter, Empress, no matter what your true age might be,” he replied, finally pulling the shirt off over his head. “Don’t make me turn you over my lap and spank you.”

Her laughter rang out just as Astha returned with an arm full of towels with the comb and scissors balanced on top of the pile. She carefully placed the towels on a nearby chair before handing the scissors and the comb to Seth. “Your physician will be here in about five minutes.”

“Thank you, Astha,” replied Seth before waving off the scissors and gesturing towards Leon. “You’ll have to cut his pants off since his knee is too swollen to get them off the normal way, and if you could then help him into the shower.”

For a few seconds, it looked like the blonde Methuselah was going to protest before she nodded and walked over to kneel before Leon who had placed his silver bracelets and his weapons off to one side. “Don’t get use to this, human,” she stated, her voice hard as she gently worked his boots off. “If you hadn’t helped my tovarash, I wouldn’t even give you the time of day.”

Leon snorted and winced when Astha accidentally jarred his injured leg. “I don’t like having women at my feet,” he retorted, peeling the blood stained fingerless gloves from his hands. “I prefer my women willing to stand up for themselves instead of simper and cower.” He smirked. “You don’t strike me as the sort to simper, Duchess.”

Seth bit her lip at the startled look on Astha’s face before the blonde ducked her head and paid attention to what the scissors were cutting, before Seth turned back to Abel and gently washed his hair until it gleamed again. Then she picked up the comb and began to gently remove the tangles, teasing the cut leather strap out of a particularly nasty knot before tossing it aside. It was easy to figure out what the strap had done and despite the healing he would get after ingesting the blood of a Methuselah, he would be sore for days.

The sound of the shower starting had her glance over to find Astha supporting Leon in the shower while her leathers were tossed off to one side, and Seth couldn’t help but giggle. Between the clothes scattered across various surfaces and a couple in both the bath and the shower, anyone entering the room would wonder why an orgy was starting in the Empress’ personal bathroom.

It took two refills of the water before Abel was completely clean of dirt, grime and blood and his hair shimmered like the spun silver it resembled. The only thing that bothered Seth was that Abel hadn’t stirred or even twitched once since he had been brought into her throne room. Climbing into the tub, she cradled him to her, his ear resting over her heart as his long hair floated around them in the water, and she only hoped her presence was enough to reassure him that he wasn’t alone.

Now only if he would wake up for her.

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