Broken Wings

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The room was hot, too hot for a normal human to withstand it for long periods of time, but that was how the Master preferred it. Made it harder for someone to lie to him when they were close to roasting in their own skin. The Master didn’t mind the heat and therefor he didn’t either. Why should he care about something as insignificant as the temperature of a room when he was one of his Master’s prized War Dogs, one the Master had taken in and broken to his hand before showing what pleasures awaited at his feet, like the other War Dog. Part of him objected to being treated like a bed slave and a creature of slaughter, whispering that he had been an individual person once, a good man who had done good things that hadn’t resulted in bodies being broken and blood running like water, but it was a small part that the rest of him couldn’t remember even the name that part belonged to.

He lay half sprawled next to the imposing throne his Master sat on, a gold chain running from the sapphire collar around his neck to the arm of the throne, keeping him close enough for his Master to pet and caress at his leisure. Black feathered wings were folded against his back while sapphire encrusted cuffs encircled his wrists and ankles, and the only other things he wore were gold rings piercing his nipples and a golden ring around his cock, the three rings connected by delicate gold chains. He knew the other War Dog was decorated the same way, her stones emeralds and a ring through her clit as her emerald wings flexed in the hot air. They were their Master’s obedient slaves, something not even the harem slaves could claim.

His ruby eyes drifted over to where the harem slaves were sitting in a pile on the blankets and pillows that had been tossed down for their comfort. They were decorated similarly to the War Dogs, but their collars and cuffs didn’t have jewels encrusted in them, and each had a chain leading from an ankle cuff to a large ring sunk into the floor. The blond Methuselah boy with his red eyes stared around with a blank look, not seeming to care what happened to him anymore while the slender young man with gray eyes no longer huddled in an embarrassed and horrified ball behind the curvy blonde woman with matching eyes. The only other woman in the harem now was the blonde Methuselah with the red streak in her bangs, and both women looked at the War Dogs with sorrow in their eyes. There had been a red haired girl as part of the harem, but his Master had gifted her to the Puppet Man to do with as he pleased. It had been quite amusing to watch the Puppet Man make her dance to his tune before taking her right there for his Master’s pleasure.

Strong fingers stroked through his hair, and he looked up into beloved blue eyes as blond hair framed the beautiful face of his Master.

And he smiled in delight as his Master beckoned him into his Master’s lap.

Screaming in denial, Abel thrashed against the hands he could still feel on his skin, desperate to break out of the dream he hoped it was while part of him feared that it was the truth. The truth that he had failed in stopping Cain and both the world and his friends had paid the ultimate price for his failure while he himself was broken by Cain for his own sadistic pleasure.

“Yo! Father Four Eyes!” A voice cut through the nightmare, chasing the last bits of it away, and Abel opened his eyes to find himself being held not by Cain but by Leon, Seth and Astha, all three of whom were naked and soaking wet. A shaky but relieved smile spread across Leon’s face. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Abel.”

He tried to talk but his throat locked up on him, and he grimaced in pain as his hands flew to his throat. Seth reached out of his line of sight and brought a glass of cool water to his lips, and he greedily drank it, sighing as the water refreshed his parched throat. As he swallowed, he could feel gentle fingers on his throat, massaging the still tight muscles there, and finally, he pushed the glass away with a shaking hand as he tried talking again.

“What happened? How long was I out?” Abel croaked, blinking up at them.

“You were out for about eight hours, Father Four Eyes,” teased Leon as he jerked a head towards Seth and Astha. “Of course, I’m not surprised you woke up with a pair of lovely ladies like these taking care of you.”

Seth only shook her head and gently helped Abel sit up, and he winced as various pains reminded him that he was not only low on blood but had been put through the wringer by Francesco. “Easy, brother. You’re going to be hurting for a while, Crusnik healing beside the point.”

He smiled and ran the back of his hand down her cheek, ignoring the way it trembled with the effort. “With a doctor like you, I’ll be up and bothering Astha in no time.”

“But first, you need to replace all that blood that you lost thanks to Cardinal Crazy,” retorted Seth, running a critical eye over his battered body. “I wouldn’t risk shifting yet because you’re going to be ravenous when you do, and Astha’s the closest source of blood, which means that I’m going to have to mummify you for now.”

“Then I am at your mercy, my dear sister,” teased Abel, holding his arms out a bit even as he tried to ignore the twisting cramps in his lower abdomen. He didn’t want to think about what had caused his various injuries, not yet. He would deal with the memories later, because unlike last time, he wasn’t in the middle of a war and the torture he had undergone wasn’t just considered a different aspect of his training.

Apparently, he wasn’t able to fool Seth completely from the way she eyed him, but she didn’t say anything as she retrieved some bandages from a cabinet along with some ointment before kneeling next to Abel. After smearing the ointment over the worst of the injuries, she started wrapping the bandages around his torso. “Astha, you and Leon might want to get dried before my physician shows up to treat Leon’s injuries.”

Leaning in close to pass the bandages around Abel’s back, Seth placed her mouth right next to his ear so the other two in the room wouldn’t hear the question Abel knew she was about to ask. “Did he tear you inside?”

He closed his eyes and rested his hands on his sister’s slender hips as he buried his nose in her throat, letting her scent calm his nerves and steady him. Even though he didn’t want to think about what had happened until he was more steady, he knew Seth wasn’t asking to be cruel but because she needed to know to treat all of his injuries.

“Probably,” he confessed, his breath not even stirring her short, black hair. “He liked cutting, whipping and burning.” His eyes opened briefly to glance at Astha and Leon who were busy getting dried and back into leather clothes with damp skin in Astha’s case. “How much does Astha know about us?”

Seth giggled, her green eyes dancing mischievously as she continued wrapping the bandage around his chest, her voice returning to its previous volume. “Just that we both require the blood of Methuselah the way she requires the blood of humans, we’re not gods no matter what Cain thinks, and that you’re my beloved brother and the Crown Prince of the Empire.”

Abel had been absently nodding his head in agreement as Seth talked only to stare at her last announcement with wide blue eyes, and she tapped his shoulders. “Arms up please,” she chirped as if she hadn’t just announced that she was going to declare him the Crown Prince of her Empire.

“Well, at least this time it isn’t the Imperial Consort,” Abel remarked, dryly, sending Leon into a coughing fit.

“What do you expect from me? I have always had the biggest crush on my silver brother,” she stated with a sniff. “Especially after we found that abandoned music store and spent the better part of a month doing nothing but listening to the different music there.”

That memory startled laughter out of Abel, and he grinned at Seth. “Old Ironhide wasn’t happy with us when he found out, despite the fact that we’d already killed that Methuselah leader and were just waiting for our pick up date,” he replied, shaking his head at the memory of the gray haired general who had bellowed at them for hours for wasting valuable time that could have been better used to combat the vampiric threat. Later Lilith had told both of them she was proud that they had found the music store and that had started an hours long discussion about different music and artists. “The generals had no sense of humor at all.”

“You’re a prince?” Leon’s voice echoed through the room, an octave higher than he usually talked, and Abel looked over at him, having forgotten Leon was there for a few minutes. The Spaniard waved a hand in his general direction. “If you’re the Crown Prince of the Empire, why are you working for the Vatican and broke all the time?”

The silver haired man smiled gently at his friend. It wasn’t Leon’s fault that Seth hadn’t told Abel her plans to make him her Crown Prince. “Because I wasn’t the Crown Prince before Seth stated it a few minutes ago, and I was working not so much for the Vatican but for Catarina, helping protect humanity,” he stated before clasping his hands before him in a dramatic manner and gazing at the ceiling as if in prayer as his voice took on the faint whine he normally used around others. “And the accounting department has no idea how much food costs anymore! I’m lucky to be able to afford a cup of tea with thirteen sugars in it to silence my empty stomach’s growls.”

“I don’t understand, tovarash,” began Astha, and Abel dropped the silly priest act to look at her with serious blue eyes. “If you are not the foolish priest, why do you act like it? More often than not, your enemies will not fear you and your allies will not listen to what you say until it is nearly too late.” She bowed her head, apparently remembering when they had first met in Venice and she had refused to listen to him, resulting in several humans dead or seriously injured.

Abel sighed and closed his eyes, not willing to answer that question without revealing more secrets that were between he and Seth, but he knew how much it cost the proud Noblewoman to ask such a question. “When you are feared, then it is hard to know who is fighting on your side out of loyalty and who is waiting to get close enough to remove the threat you represent,” he stated, deciding on that explanation. It was the truth, but not the entire explanation which would require much more explaining to make any sense. “When I started working with Catarina, I decided that I would be looked upon as foolish instead of feared.”

Just then, there was a loud knock on the outer room’s door, and Seth casually grabbed a robe, wrapping the terry cloth around her body as she moved out to answer the door with Astha right behind her, leaving Abel and Leon sitting in the warm bathroom. Abel shifted slightly and winced as the twisting cramps decided to remind him of his internal injuries since his external ones were bandaged. Hearing more voices than just Astha and Seth, he tossed a towel to Leon before wriggling one around his own waist, ignoring the flares of pain that flashed through his battered body.

He had just gotten the towel fastened around his waist as he sat on it, when the door opened to reveal two additional figures being led in by Seth as Astha brought up the rear. The one was a familiar apparently teenage boy with short blond hair and red eyes while the other was a less familiar blonde woman that was no less regal than Seth herself. Abel briefly wondered why Mirka Fortuna, Duchess of Moldova, was here with her grandson, Ion Fortuna, the Earl of Memphis.

“Abel, I’m sure you remember the Duchess of Moldova and her grandson, the Earl of Memphis,” began Seth, gesturing to the Methuselah as she spoke. “Mirka is my physician, trained by me and with a PhD from the Medical University as well to treat any important guest of my kingdom.”

“Hey! You’re the lady with the wagon!” Leon burst out, pointing a finger at Mirka, and everyone looked at him, Abel the most confused of all. A faint blush stained Leon’s cheeks but he kept his head high. “We crashed outside of the Sapphire Dome, and I was trying to find a way past the guards to get over the wall when she drives up with a wagon full of hay. Then her horse suddenly shies, forcing her to stop the wagon, so I figure why waste a perfectly good opportunity and hitch us a ride buried in the hay.”

Ion turned to face his grandmother with surprised red eyes. “Why did you do such a thing, Grandmother? And how did you know?”

Mirka smiled mysteriously. “I just knew,” she replied with a faint shrug. “The same as I knew you would be needed here but not in the way you believe you are needed.” The young Methuselah continued to look at her confused, but Abel realized from that cryptic statement that Mirka must have a touch of precognition or foresight that gave her ‘hunches’ about certain events.

The regal woman walked over and knelt before Leon, taking his swollen knee in gentle hands. Leon hissed as she carefully prodded it before nodding. “You have badly twisted it and then strained it further with your activities,” she announced. “You’re going to have to stay off of it for it to heal. I will make you several compresses to help reduce the soreness and swelling along with a willow bark tea for any pain you are feeling. Do not put any weight on this leg until after either Her Imperial Majesty or I have verified that you are in no danger of injuring yourself again.”

Leon nodded his understanding, his eyes a bit large at the sight of the regal woman still kneeling at his feet, and Abel snickered before wincing as his injured ribs reminded him that it wasn’t a good idea to irritate them too much. He winced again as a hand unexpectedly touched his shoulder, and he looked up to find Seth standing next to him.

“We should move into the sitting room,” she announced. “Astha, if you will assist Leon while Mirka and Ion prepare the tea and compresses, I’ll finish with Abel.”

Ion looked like he was about to start asking questions when Mirka casually pushed him out of the room as Astha slung Leon’s arm across her shoulders, helping him hop out of the room. When the door closed behind them, Seth turned to Abel and held out a hand, waiting with an eyebrow raised as if daring him not to accept it.

“I suppose now that the others are out of the room, you will want to know the full extent of my injuries and won’t be satisfied until you do,” sighed Abel, reluctantly taking his sister’s hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. He knew she was going to be furious at Cardinal di Medici once she found out what all the Cardinal had done to him, but apparently it couldn’t be avoided any longer.

“Of course,” she purred in a dangerous voice, a flicker of red in her green eyes the only betrayal of her temper. “I need to know how much flesh to take in payment out of his hide.”

Bowing his head, Abel rested his hands against the vanity placed against one wall and began to talk. The words were hesitant at first, not wanting to emerge, bringing with them the deliberate agony he had suffered into the bright light of day where they were made all the more real. After a few minutes, it was as if a dam had broken inside Abel, and the words came pouring out, almost tripping over each other in their mad rush to be heard. He spoke of feeling the leather tighten around his arms as it dried until he finally couldn’t take the pain on his bones any longer and had deliberately broke his arms to relieve the creaking pressure, the fire of the whips as flesh gave way beneath leather, the searing agony mixed with the scent of his own flesh burning when Francesco grew tired of carving his skin and decided to apply red hot metal to him instead. Finally, he spoke about how Francesco has drawn the blood that had stained his thighs, using the other end of the whips to hurt him, all while telling him that he had failed.

Soft hands stroked Abel’s silver hair before gentle kisses were pressed over the bandages the entire time he talked, and Seth finished treating his various injuries before wrapping her arms around his waist to just hold him as his words ran out. For a few minutes, they stood there, Seth offering comfort and Abel greedily accepting it as he tried to push aside the feeling of helplessness his imprisonment had infused in him, before Seth pulled back long enough to wrap a large bath sheet around Abel’s shoulders. “Come on. The other’s are waiting for us, and you need blood.”

Abel allowed Seth to gently escort him out into the sitting room where Leon had been placed sideways on the couch, his injured leg stretched out before him on the cushions while his swollen knee was wrapped in towels as Mirka poured a cup of tea. Ion stood nearby, fidgeting with his fingers as he tried to appear uninterested in what was going on around him and failing, and Astha perched in a nearby chair, her long blond hair twisted up in a towel to keep it from dripping water everywhere.

“You will stay off that leg as often as possible, and I will have a set of crutches found for you to use to get around,” Mirka announced as Seth situated Abel in the other couch, and he pulled the bath sheet a bit tighter around him, not wanting the others to know how badly he was injured. Leon and Astha were his only friends in this place, and the last thing he wanted was their pity, something he knew Seth would never give him.

Astha rose to walk over and stand in front of Abel, her golden eyes gazing at him with trust. “How much blood will you need, tovarash?”

“What?” squeaked Ion, his red eyes wide, and Abel flinched backwards, unable to help his automatic response. He had spent so long trying to blend in with humans so as not to be seen as a monster that he couldn’t help but flinch at any negative responses towards the fact that he might be different from everyone else. It was bad enough he had already tasted Ion’s blood back in Carthage when the young Methuselah had been unconscious when Radu Barvon, Baron of Luxor and the Rosen Kruenz Order’s Flamberg, had used the Goliath tank from the Inquisitorial Department to blow off his left arm and wing. It had been ridiculously easy to reform both with Ion’s blood mixed with his own, and Abel absently licked his lips as he remembered how sweet and young it tasted.

His eyes were drawn up Astha’s slender form to her pale neck where her blood ran closest and strongest beneath her skin, and he released his iron control on the nanotechnology in his blood that controlled the Crusnik virus, feeling new strength sweep through his body, washing the aches and pains away even as it brought a sharp hunger with it. A low growl rumbled in his chest as his hair rose above his head from the static electricity his body was generating, waiting to be released against those that would hurt him again, and he stood, the bath sheet falling away to reveal the numerous bandages that enveloped him, but Abel wasn’t concerned with that, not any more. No one in the room could hurt him when he was like this, and he reveled in the strength that now filled him.

Abel held out his hand, the black claws he now sported glinting in the sunlight, and Astha slid her hand into his almost in a daze. Gently wrapping his fingers around her hand, he pulled her closer as he encircled her waist with his arm and placed a kiss on her wrist before his fangs slid through her skin, releasing a river of hot blood that slid over his tongue like a caress before sweeping through his body, much like the strength had earlier. A deep purring growl echoed in his chest as he felt the skin on his back split to allow his raven black wings to unfold even as the sharp feathers cut through the bandages wrapped around his torso, sending them slithering to the carpet.

Vaguely, he heard a tisking sound nearby, but didn’t break off his feeding until Astha moaned weakly and swayed against him, forcing Abel to hold her up. Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth away from her wrist, licking the twin puncture wounds as they healed before he turned to lay her down on the couch, his wings absently flexing against his back as the last of the bandages fell to the floor. There were startled gasps from behind him, but Abel ignored them as he straightened up, stretching his rapidly healing body and glorifying in the lack of pain for the first time in months.

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Leon had heard a bit about Abel and his abilities from a few of the others in the AX but no one seemed to know the full extent of the silver haired man’s talents. He was goofy, clumsy, and a bit whiny, but there was no better person to have on your side or at your back. The fact that he had survived three months of torture spoke a great deal to Leon, and he had seen a part of Abel’s abilities when he had healed his broken bones in the dungeon, the red eyes adding to the sense of danger that had been an almost palatable aura around the silver haired man.

But watching deliberately inflicted injuries heal right before his startled gaze as Abel stood there, wearing nothing but the ebony wings that had sprouted from his back, Leon was starting to understand just how much had been hidden from everyone. The aura of danger was still there but it was subdued to the feeling of power that stood there, a god wearing the form of a man, and yet Leon knew that he was as safe as anyone in this room.

Then, the powerful figure turned, the ebony wings folding against his back with a slight twitch, and Leon watched in stunned silence as Abel - no the Crusnik - again held out a hand tipped in black claws, much like a Methuselah’s razor sharp nails, to Ion. The young looking Methuselah shrank back from the outstretched hand, as if it were a poisonous viper instead of a hand, and the Crusnik flinched as if struck, his hand hastily withdrawing to curl against his chest. Glowing crimson eyes widened in that beautifully pale face as dark lips parted as if to say something, fangs flashing briefly, before his wings twitched and he vanished in a gust of wind.

A very unladylike snarl came from the tiny Empress before her green eyes were replaced with crimson and she vanished as well, probably after Abel. Snorting, Leon folded his arms across his chest and glared at Ion. “I hope you’re happy.”

Red eyes turned to look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Leon pointed in the direction of the swaying curtains, the only indication of any direction that the siblings had gone. “You couldn’t have hurt him more than if you had driven a silver knife into his chest,” he growled, his dark eyes flashing, and he was almost grateful that his throwing bracelets, knife and gun were all in the bathroom still or he would have been tempted to use them on the young noble. “I thought you were at least an ally if not friend of Abel’s.”

“That wasn’t Father Nightroad!” The boy’s voice actually broke about halfway through his exclamation, and Leon had to wonder just how old he truly was. “Father Nightroad is a kind man! That was some sort of.... of... monster!”

The sound of a hand hitting flesh echoed through the air, and Leon looked at Astha, who was standing there with her hand still raised even as she managed to remain upright from her sudden rising off the couch.

“Do not ever call my tovarash a monster again, do you hear me, Earl of Memphis?” she growled, her golden eyes flashing dangerously as one of Ion’s hands came up to cradle his bruised cheek. “Or next time, I will personally call insult against you and show you why I am a Special Investigator for Her Majesty.”

Leon leveled a finger at Ion, glaring at the younger Methuselah. “That man has gone through the nine levels of Hell and more at the hands of a sadistic creature that is not even remotely human in my book any more,” he snarled, levering himself up to tower over Ion. “Now listen and listen good, hibrido, because I’m only gonna say this once and the next time, you’ll find yourself over my knee with your butt as red as Esther’s hair when I’m done. Entienda?” Ion could only nod, his eyes huge in his pale face as his hand continued to cover the red bruise on his cheek. “Good. Now, Abel Nightroad is a good man who can’t help the circumstances of his birth any more than you can. If he was even a fraction of the monster you think he is, then I doubt Catarina would have been his friend for so long or even let him near her brother, the Pope. He also would have just attacked you for the blood he needs to heal instead of asking, and judging from the speed he just displayed, you wouldn’t have had time to squeak much less fight back if he had been that monster.”

Mirka appeared from out of the bathroom and handed Leon a towel that contained his weapons along with a large tunic like shirt. “You’ll find them both in the garden outside,” she remarked. “It’s a private garden for Her Majesty.”

“Thanks,” he replied before looking up at Astha after pulling on the tunic and the bracelets. “How ‘bout a lift out to talk some common sense into Abel?” He fastened the belt around his waist and felt a bit of tension leave at the familiar weight of weapons again. He knew he was safe from the Methuselah in the room, but he had spent too long in the AX with rogue vampires breathing down his neck to be completely comfortable without weapons when around Methuselah. It would take some time, he knew, to get use to the idea of being around friendly Methuselah, but until then, he’d keep his weapons close to settle his nerves.

Astha carefully scooped him up, making sure to keep the compress around his knee before she nodded to Mirka and walked towards the balcony. Leon swallowed hard as he stared down the almost two stories to the late blooming garden below and wrapped his arms a bit tighter around Astha’s shoulders, making sure that the towel was between his bracelets and her skin so the silver wouldn’t burn her. With a quick hop, they were in the garden and Astha put him down long enough for him to get his feet under him, and together, they walked over to where Seth was sitting under the tree with a ball of misery in her lap, black feathered wings almost hiding the pale figure.

“Yo! Father Four-Eyes!” Leon called as he hobbled over to the tree and flopped down on the ground near Seth and Abel, and wary red eyes peeked above a black wing, reminding Leon of a dog that had been treated so cruelly that it only expected to be abused instead of treated with kindness. “Ya know, I gotta admit out of everything I’ve seen at the AX, the ability to grow wings is the one I’m most jealous of.”

Whatever Abel had been expecting him to say, that hadn’t been it if the confused expression was anything to go by. The wing closest to the Spaniard twitched as if to reach out to him before it was firmly folded against Abel’s back.

“I don’t understand,” confessed Abel, his voice deeper than it usually was and it sent a shiver of delight down Leon’s back before the Spaniard told his libido to knock it off until *much* later. No sense pulling Abel out of his shell only to scare him back into it. “Why are you here and not acting like Ion did?” Ruby eyes looked away as a sneer crossed Abel’s face. “I’m the Vatican’s monster after all.”

Snarling, Leon reached out and grabbed the back of Abel’s neck, pulling the silver haired man over to him before claiming those dark lips with his own. If Abel wouldn’t listen to words, then actions would shout so loud that he’d have to listen. A startled gasp slipped out of Abel, allowing Leon to deepen the kiss and the Spaniard moaned at his first taste of the beautiful man. The strongest was the metallic tang of the blood Abel had recently ingested, but underneath was a strange wildness that could only be described as Abel.

“You are not a monster,” growled Leon, finally breaking off the kiss and pulling back far enough to stare into dazed red eyes. “A monster wouldn’t have helped Wendy, Peter and the other orphans vanish quietly into Albion instead of destroying them. A monster wouldn’t have protected little Elise from Gunslinger when he had orders to terminate, thus putting his own neck on the line.” Leon’s voice softened as his hand came up to stroke the silver hair that seemed to float around Abel’s head and he was delighted to discover that it was as soft as it looked. “A monster wouldn’t have had Catarina so worried about him that she was walking the halls of the Vatican at night.”

“A monster wouldn’t have taken the time to teach others the error of their ways and open their eyes,” agreed Astha before leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on Abel’s cheek. “And I certainly wouldn’t call a monster my tovarash.”

Abel shook his head, his confusion still evident. “I don’t understand,” he repeated, one hand coming up to bury itself in his hair as his wings twitched against his back. “No one likes the Crusnik, and only like Father Abel when he’s goofy. Everyone turns their back on the Crusnik when they find out I’m him. Why haven’t you? And why did you kiss me?”

Reaching out again, Leon pulled Abel over to him to rest their foreheads together and stared into those sad and confused crimson eyes. No one should wonder why someone liked them or even why they were kissed. “Why should I turn my back on someone whose worst habit is drinking tea with way too much sugar in it? Especially when I have feelings for him that stretch just beyond friendship and brotherhood.”

That got a startled look before a faint blush stained Abel’s cheeks as he looked away, embarrassed, and Leon chuckled as he leaned back against the tree next to Seth. He idly glanced around, noting the neatly tended bushes and flowers that were blooming in the warm May sunshine. “Lovely garden, Empress. Wendy would love it here.”

Seth somehow got Abel to turn his back on her, and she started preening his wings, carefully straightening the feathers and smoothing them back into place. “When’s the last time you preened your wings, Abel? Armageddon?” she asked before glancing at Leon with a faint smile on her face. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned a Wendy, Leon. Who is she?”

“To understand who Wendy, Peter and the Lost Boys are, I need to give you a bit of background on the mission,” began Leon before looking at both Seth and Astha. “But both of you have to promise *never* to tell anyone else about them.”

After both had promised, swearing on their honor, Leon folded his hands across his stomach and gazed around as Abel curled forward, wrapping his arms around his up drawn knees while his wings relaxed under Seth’s gentle touches. “There had been reports of freighters being attacked by what they thought were fairies or vampires. It was hard to tell because of conflicting reports and the only clue was the dead body of a boy who had been artificially created into a fairy vampire. So, Father Four Eyes and I are dispatched to this island where a Professor James Barrie, a Methuselah Nobel from Albion, was suppose to have lived with a bunch of orphans he took in, because this looked fishy all around especially since all attacks took place near that island.”

“You never did mention where you got that airplane that nearly killed both of us,” mumbled Abel, his head on his knees and his eyes closed, and he looked like he was seconds from falling asleep.

Leon sniffed and ran a hand through his dark curls. “It was perfectly fine to get us to that island,” he retorted. “Not my fault the guy hadn’t changed the filter in forever, and it took the engine with it.” He shook his head and returned to his story. “So, we’re on this island with these kids who appear to hate adults, and it turns out that almost all of them are these artificial vampire fairies. Peter was one of the ‘failures’ and tried to help us only to get stabbed by Wendy whom he turns around to keep me from shooting her after her and the others attack both Abel and myself. After everything’s been settled and injuries tended, we charter a ship to Londinium where Abel takes them to the Ghetto and an orphanage that is run by this guy he knows. Even before we leave, three of them have been adopted by the workers at the orphanage and the word has gone out about the others.”

A sleepy chuckle came from Abel. “I slipped Peter your address because he was afraid you’d forget and he still wants to grow up to be just as strong as you for Wendy.”

“Wondered how he was getting letters to me,” remarked Leon with an absent grin before it faded from his face. “He and Wendy are the only two left at the orphanage and that’s ‘cause they refuse to be separated. Only, no one wants to adopt two children with one of them partially grown.” He wondered again if there ever would be a time when he’d have enough control over his own life to be able to do simple things like hold his daughter or even adopt Peter and Wendy. He wouldn’t mind being their father, even though he has no idea how to raise any vampire, but they could figure it out together. He sighed and amended that to ‘some day’.

“Why such a deep sigh, Dandelion?” inquired Astha in a soft voice, breaking Leon out of his thoughts, and he glanced up to find her and Seth watching him both with curious eyes. A quick glance at Abel showed that he was asleep, burning eyes shut as dark lashes fanned across pale cheeks and his wings stretched out in the sun to warm, all the feathers neat and tidy again.

He shrugged a shoulder. “I miss my daughter and having control over my life,” he confessed, wondering why he was talking about this here in this peaceful garden before deciding that he was talking *because* it was peaceful and safe. “See, there was this incident about three years ago in Hispania where thirty clergy ended up dead along with my wife, and I got blamed for all if it. Only, the officials didn’t want it to get out that a vampire had decided to take over the church, and had killed the clergymen who had congregated there because they had been trying to figure out what to do about the very vampire that killed them. My wife had gone in for Confession and had been unlucky enough to get caught. I had heard the screams and raced in to help only to kill the vampire and get framed for the other murders.”

One hand drifted up to caress the golden locket, and he closed his eyes against the helplessness that threatened to choke him along with the memories of his wife’s mutilated body, lying in a pool of her own blood like a broken doll. “My little Sophia’s turning eight this year, and I haven’t seen her since that day. The Vatican swept her off to an orphanage in Rome even as they were throwing me into jail. Wanted to bury the incident as quickly as possible before the locals raised a fuss I guess.”

“Wasn’t there an investigation?” Astha inquired, a confused frown on her face.

Leon shrugged a shoulder. “Why should they? They had the person responsible and that was that.” He didn’t want to add that only Abel had ever asked him the full story, curious to know the events that had led to Leon being in jail, and he had even brought some alcohol to help with the memories. He didn’t remember really what happened after about half of the bottle had vanished, but the next morning, he woke up in his own bed with clean clothes on and a pitcher of orange juice sitting next to a bottle of aspirins. Even the curtains had been drawn in his room. Now *that* was the sign of a true friend.

“A highly sloppy way of closing a case,” sniffed Astha, her arms folded over the black leather bustier she was wearing again, and Leon spent a few seconds admiring the pale flesh she was showing off before she moved, turning towards the small Empress who had a thoughtful look on her young face. “Your Majesty?”

“I think I should extend an olive branch towards Albion now that there’s a new queen on the throne,” remarked Seth with a thoughtful frown. “The Vatican’s willing to listen to a possible peace accord, and the Germanic Kingdoms will follow wherever the Vatican goes, but the old queen didn’t return any of my missives, so I’ll have to send one to the new queen.” She smirked at them, an impish gleam in her eyes. “And if my messenger happens to return with two more people than they left, well, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too much of a problem to find a place for two children to stay here.”

Those mischievous eyes turned to Leon. “You will have to write a letter of introduction for my ambassador so Wendy and Peter trust them enough to accompany them, but I think it would do all of you to have them around.” She glanced down to where her brother was sleeping, curled up so the sun was warming his back. “Maybe it will finally help him heal too.”

Leon shifted a bit in the grass, trying to think of how to word his question before mentally shrugging. “Excuse me, I don’t want to be rude, but what’s your history with Abel? I mean, you saw his injuries and took everything in stride as if you’d seen him like that before. Plus you mentioned something about a military getting angry at you for listening to music after killing a Methuselah leader.”

It was all part of the puzzle that made up Abel, and Leon wanted to know more about his friend. Leon had cried into his cups, but he had never been the shoulder for Abel to lean on, and he wanted to change that. Especially if he decided to listen to his libido and court Abel into a more serious relationship. His dark eyes glanced over at Astha who was watching Abel sleep with a soft look on her face, and he amended his plans to include her as well. Besides, his Theresa would come back and beat him on the head until he moved on, and he always did like his ladies feisty.

Seth glanced at Abel before looking around. “That is a conversation to be had over drinks at night,” she remarked, rising to her feet and brushing her robe off. “We should get inside before the gardener stumbles over us and demands to know what we’re doing out here.” She reached out and stroked a hand down Abel’s arm. “Abel, we need to get inside. Can you wake up for me?”

Ruby eyes slowly blinked open before Abel yawned, his fangs flashing in the sunlight as he raised his head. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice even huskier with sleep.

She giggled and stroked a hand through his hair. “Nothing’s wrong. I just thought you’d like to sleep in a bed instead of on the hard ground.” She grinned and leaned a bit closer. “Besides, my gardener might get the wrong idea if he finds you out here, sleeping like a cat in the sun.” She giggled again at the blush that raced across Abel’s face, and even Leon chuckled softly at his friend’s embarrassment.

Abel was going to be fine here, and Leon would make sure of it.

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Translations: hibrido [bastard]
Entienda [Understand]