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  I didn't know what to say. I honestly hadn't expected Alfred to be the one he thought of as a monster.

  "He killed them all,” he breathed, “All except the blond and another that was in wolf form. They ran away before he got within range."

  I still couldn't speak. No one but my father had ever reacted so violently to me being injured. I reached out to try and comfort Elijah, but he stopped me.

  "That's not all,” he said. “Within thirty minutes, he'd piled the bodies up and doused them in gasoline."

  My eyes grew wider. “So what, he lit a match and torched thirty werewolves?"

  "No, he lit a cigar, took a few puffs and tossed it on them."

  Wow, I was impressed. I'd never known Alfred could be so ruthless. It was a turn on to know the hands that had gently washed my hair the night before could have just as easily torn me apart. I can't explain it, but knowing that Alfred would go to such lengths to protect me, just flat did it for me.

  One look at Elijah said he didn't share my appreciation for Alfred's brutality.

  "We can talk about it later.” I took Elijah by the hand, suddenly realizing I'd left Kat alone with Alfred.

  Upon entering the kitchen it appeared, to my relief, that all they'd done was make coffee. No one had been injured. Elijah looked calmer now, but he sat beside me, avoiding the chair closest to Alfred.

  Alfred handed me some coffee in my favorite mug, made just the way I liked it, Kalua coffee with vanilla cream. I used to take it bitter and strong, but over the years my taste in coffee, like my taste in men, had changed. Now I wanted it with a little more sugar.

  Kat got up and began pouring her own coffee as she said, “So, you guys got the shit beat out of you,” she indicated Elijah and me, before sitting back down. “What about you, Alfred?"

  "Sono allupato," he replied. (I'm horny.)

  I giggled and nearly choked on my coffee. Kat looked at me, but I wasn't about to interpret what he'd just said.

  "I know sarcasm when I hear it, even if I don't understand the language.” She chucked a piece of toast at Alfred. He ducked it with a laugh, but Elijah, who was now standing near the fridge, wasn't as fortunate. Elijah reached up and peeled the toast from his forehead as Kat began to laugh so hard she could no longer breathe, and Alfred propped on the counter for support. I tried to maintain my composure for Elijah's sake, but it was difficult. Kat and Alfred sounded like a pack of hyenas.

  "How's your toast?” I snickered.

  "Would you like fries with that?” Alfred asked, gasping for breath.

  Elijah laughed as he wiped his forehead. “You know, I don't know what is wrong with you guys, but I'm sure it's hard to pronounce."

  "Nothing serious, I'm afraid we're just assholes,” Alfred answered as he put some fruit on the table.

  Kat, who had laughed until her neatly applied mascara was running, picked this opportunity to snort.

  "Would you like some coffee?” I asked, my eyes watering with the effort it took to not burst out laughing.

  "No thanks,” he said with a smile, “I'm afraid to know where that might end up."

  I laughed then until I couldn't breathe. After the events of the night before, I think it did us all good, even Elijah seemed less on edge. We all sat down and had breakfast together like civilized people. That is if you ignored the occasional giggle when someone took a bite of toast.

  After a few minutes Alfred no longer had a murderous gleam in his eye when he looked at Kathryn, and Elijah didn't seem to notice that I was wearing Alfred's robe. Everything was going fairly well until Elijah asked, “How did you know where to find us?"

  Alfred looked at me and asked, “You remember a tall fellow with rusty colored hair?"

  "Yes.” It was the tall man at the door, the one I'd kneed in the crotch.

  Alfred went on, “Well, apparently he'd forgotten something. By the time he returned, I was here."

  Well, that eased my mind about where Alfred had spent the night.

  "He just told you where we were?” Elijah asked skeptically.

  "No,” Alfred said, pouring more coffee, “took me till the next day to get it out of him."

  "And where could I find this individual to question him further?” Elijah inquired.

  "You couldn't."

  With these words, Kat nearly choked on a strawberry and Elijah turned a sickly shade of green.

  "Did he say why they took us?” I seemed the only one capable of speech.

  "All he knew was they needed a sample of your blood."

  "Are you sure?” Elijah asked. “He could have been lying."

  "Oh, I'm sure.” Alfred smiled darkly, clearly enjoying Elijah's squeamish reaction.

  "Damn. That's all that we know, too,” I said.

  "I imagine it's got something to do with what Marco mentioned, about trying to recreate your DNA,” Alfred said to me.

  "Well, we'll never know now will we? Especially if you keep killing off all the witnesses.” Elijah stood and walked to the door.

  Alfred went on as if he hadn't spoken, “I'm afraid they'll be sorely disappointed. You were exposed to the disease, but your body managed to fight it. Not everyone exposed will contract the disease, but you absorbed it, mutated it to make you stronger. The odds of that ever happening again are slim to none."

  "Gee, I feel so special,” I sneered.

  "I'd best be going,” Elijah said from the door.

  I looked to Kat and Alfred, “Will you two behave while I see Elijah out?"

  They both gave me blank expressions that I'm sure were an attempt at innocence.

  "I'll be right back.” It sounded like a threat, even to my own ears.

  I put my hand on Elijah's elbow, careful not to touch his shoulder and walked with him upstairs.

  "Will you be alright?” I asked as we reached my bedroom.

  "I think so,” he said, offering me a feeble attempt at his usual smile.

  When the smile didn't reach his eyes, I thought I would cry. The sparkle in Elijah's blue eyes was gone, and it was my fault. I had corrupted him.

  "Don't look at me like that,” he said gently. “It's not that bad."

  But, as he slid my robe from his surprisingly well muscled shoulders, I gasped to see how bad it was. He handed me the robe and walked to the bed where his shirt had been discarded. He'd worn his jeans underneath the robe, but I got a clear view of his torso. His back was covered in cuts and bruises, many a deep heinous looking purple. The shoulder that I'd touched earlier looked as if someone had tried to tear it from the socket.

  I walked toward Elijah and turned him to face me before he could button his deep blue shirt. I noticed with a trace of regret, how well it matched his eyes.

  "I'm sorry,” I said softly as I touched his left cheek, the one spot on his face that wasn't bruised.

  "It's not your fault,” he said, placing his hand over mine.

  "Have you been...?"

  "Contaminated?"

  I nodded.

  "No. Alfred was sure to check for that."

  I ran my hands inside his shirt and gently placed them around his waist, careful to not touch any of the terrible bruises.

  "I'm sorry,” I repeated, laying my head against the shoulder that hadn't been abused so cruelly. I didn't know what else to do. I suppose it has something to do with being empathic. When I see someone hurting, I want to help. I always had. That sometimes made my job very difficult. As long as I could justify my actions in my mind, I'd be alright. Like Elijah had said earlier, if it was life and death. But this conflicted strongly with the animal in me that seemed to enjoy the violence. Fortunately, the beast was only aroused by sex or violence, and standing there with Elijah, there was cause for neither.

  All I wanted to do was to take him in my arms and make it go away. With all that was in me, I wanted to comfort Elijah. He rested his unbruised cheek against my face and sighed. With that sigh, I felt the tension begin to leave his body, and where my hands touched his bare waist, b
egan to flow into me. I couldn't take his memories, but I could take some of his pain, his shock, things that I was used to dealing with. I held Elijah to me and did my best to ease his burden.

  "I feel better,” he breathed. “How did you do that?"

  I pulled back slightly. “I don't know. That's only the second time it's ever happened."

  The first time had been when I'd rescued Kat's now ex-boyfriend from werewolves. Kat had not been injured, but she'd seen the whole thing. I did not leave one of them alive. Her boyfriend was unconscious, but as I turned around, the blood of the last werewolf dripping from my sword, I saw Kathryn. She was huddled up, rocking back and forth, her eyes wide with shock and terror. As I looked down at my blood covered hands, I had never been so ashamed of what I was. I approached Kat, her bloody avenger, and dropped to my knees before her.

  She gasped and leapt back when I extended my bloody hand to her. She told me later that when she looked in my eyes, she knew I wouldn't hurt her. Kat fell into my arms, and nearly knocked me to the ground, crying hysterically. My only thought was that if I could ease this woman's suffering, I would. I wanted to chase away the haunted look in her eyes and return her to whatever she was before. As I sat there, rocking her back and forth, I felt a peace flow from my body into hers. Gradually, she stopped shaking and looked at me with the eyes of the Kathryn I know today.

  "Thank you,” Elijah said as he kissed me gently, so as not to further injure his busted lip.

  It was a show of gratitude, not a sexual overture, and I accepted it with a smile. I walked Elijah to the front door, said goodbye, and returned to the kitchen.

  To my surprise, I found Kat and Alfred deeply engrossed in a conversation about decorating. Somewhere during this discussion, Alfred had retrieved his communicator that he then pointed at me without warning and said, “Smile."

  I was blinded by the flash.

  "What the hell?"

  "I've got a report to make, and Jacob will want to know that you're alright."

  "Couldn't you just tell him?"

  Alfred gave me a look that clearly said how stupid my question was. “You know he'll want proof."

  "You're right.” I sighed. “But how are you going to explain this?” I indicated the robe. “He's seen you in this robe before."

  Alfred winked as he left the room. “That's why I only got a head shot."

  "Damn, that man is sexy,” Kat said after Alfred was out of ear shot. “Well?” she asked expectantly.

  "I still don't know, Kat."

  She pretended to pout.

  "Oh, I almost forgot, Ms. Wilson came by the shop yesterday."

  I had known Ms. Wilson all of my life. She was a little gray haired old lady who lived in town and made it her business to know everyone else's business.

  Kat passed me an envelope while doing a fair impression of Ms. Wilson. “I'm having my annual spring tea party, and I would mail this, but that Italian she's living with probably wouldn't give it to her. So, would you be so kind as to pass along this invitation? I know what that man thinks of me, but in the south, we do still have manners."

  I snickered at Kat's impression as I read the invitation. There was a lovely watercolor picture on the front of the card of an antique looking teapot with cute little lumps of sugar in a dish beside it.

  "You know, I have to agree with Ms. Wilson on this one, Alfred really wouldn't give it to me. That's the problem,” I said provocatively, “he never has a chance to give it to me."

  Kat laughed as she continued, “She said to be sure and invite a friend, and you're my friend. So, will you come?"

  I laid the card back on the table. “I never miss it, but Alfred would rather be shot."

  Kat giggled. “You'll just have to bring someone else."

  "I know just the person."

  "Your buddy at the University?"

  "Yep."

  Dr. Richard Stacey had been my friend longer than Kathryn. I'd stopped one of his colleagues from killing him when the other guy wolfed out at a club one night. I have a knack for meeting people that way. Dr. Stacey was about five foot nine with gentle blue gray eyes and prematurely gray hair. He was one of the most genuinely nice people I had ever known, and he was a sucker for stuff like this. If the poor guy couldn't come up with an honest reason not to go, he wouldn't try to lie. Oh yes, I knew the friend I would be bringing.

  "What exactly does he do again?” Kat asked.

  "He's got a degree in chemistry, physics, and a number of other things that make my head hurt."

  She laughed at my response.

  "But, he teaches science and geology,” I finished.

  "Sounds fascinating,” Kat rolled her eyes. “Be sure to wear something nice, I'm going to take pictures."

  "Ok, but why?"

  "Alfred thought it would add a bit of ‘southern charm’ to my shop if I had some nice big pictures of the tea party to display."

  "Alfred thought?” I couldn't keep the surprise from my voice.

  "Yes, Alfred thought."

  I gave her a questioning look.

  "I had to find a subject that didn't piss him off.” She laughed. “You know, he's actually got good taste for a straight guy."

  * * * *

  After Kat left, I decided to see what was taking Alfred so long with the report. As I walked into his room, he was just signing off on his communicator and I ducked quickly back out of the room.

  "It's alright,” he called. “Jacob had already logged off."

  I walked over to where Alfred sat at a larger version of my writing desk, flung the robe dramatically back from my thighs, and straddled his lap.

  "It's not that I'm ashamed of you honey,” I purred sweetly, “I just wouldn't want to give my father the wrong impression."

  "Like us sleeping together?” he smiled. “Yeah, that would be totally misleading."

  "So, did Kathryn give you the invitation to the tea party?"

  "Yes, she did.” I ran my fingers playfully through his already tousled hair.

  "And who are you taking?” He asked, smiling. “You know I can't stand that old woman."

  "Yeah, I know how you feel about Ms. Wilson. I was thinking of asking Richard Stacey."

  Alfred, for reasons beyond my comprehension, rarely missed an opportunity to either make fun of, or generally harass Richard Stacey. Needless to say, there was no love lost between these guys. They didn't exactly hate each other, but they weren't friends either.

  "So, you're taking Dick Stacey with you, eh?” he teased.

  "Must you call him that?” I tried to pretend it wasn't funny.

  "Yeah,” Alfred's voice took on a more wicked tone as he added, “He looks like a dick to me."

  I sighed as I leaned in to rub my cheek against his. “Yes, and Elijah's a peckerwood."

  "Don't make me sound so terrible."

  "Oh, you don't need my help,” I said as I bit gently along his bottom lip. “Richard's thought you were an asshole for years, and now poor Elijah thinks you're a complete sociopath."

  He laughed, but the smile faded quickly from his face.

  "What?"

  "I've got something to tell you that ... well, you're not going to want to hear."

  "You hate my guts and you're leaving me for Marcy?"

  Alfred laughed so hard he nearly dislodged me from my perch on his lap.

  "God, no,” he gasped. “Please, get your mind on something else, this is serious."

  "Ok, fine. What has my father cooked up now?"

  "How did you know?"

  "You know better than to ask me that question. How many years have I known this man?"

  I watched as the smile faded from Alfred's eyes and knew it was something serious, even before he spoke. “The council has granted Marco Barak a hearing."

  "What?"

  "That's not all,” he cut in. “Jacob thinks we should stage a protest. Not that it will do any good, but he's got about a hundred Hunters who are willing to show up outside the Council Tow
er."

  "I wondered how he was planning on getting close enough to get that damn bug of his in the building."

  "He told you about that, too, huh?"

  "Of course, daddy's little girl, don't you know."

  Alfred smiled weakly. “And he wants me to be there,” he finished.

  I felt my heart leap unpleasantly. “When's the hearing?"

  "In three months."

  "That's not so bad...."

  "He wants me to leave now,” Alfred interrupted. “Apparently, there's a lot of planning to be done, and he wants me to be there."

  I sighed disappointedly as I rested my forehead against Alfred's shoulder. There was no refusing my father once he had his mind made up. I also knew Alfred well enough to know he wouldn't love me and leave me so quickly, so sex was out of the question. That didn't make sense to me, but it's the way things were. No use wasting the time we had together arguing over it.

  "Does the transporter in the lab still work? It hasn't been used in a while,” I said.

  "Yeah, it works, unfortunately."

  "So, when will you leave?"

  Alfred looked into my eyes as he answered quietly, “Tomorrow."

  I spent the night with Alfred again, but this time we moved to my room. I wanted his scent on my sheets. Perhaps the smell of his cologne on my pillow would help to ease the empty feeling I had at the thoughts of being without him. Neither of us spoke much that night. We seemed to share a mutual need to just be close. It wasn't as if I was expecting to never see him again. I knew Alfred would come back ... I just didn't want him to leave. Not then, not when I'd begun to attach myself to him so completely.

  I held him to me as if there would be no tomorrow. Part of me was angry with my father for asking him to go. But, I reasoned that since they used to be partners, he trusted Alfred. People in power don't always have someone to trust. It was a compliment to be asked, really. As I lay there, pressed as tightly against Alfred's side as I could get, I felt him brush the hair back from my forehead and place his lips against me so gently that I knew he thought I was asleep. It took everything I had not to cry.

  * * * *

  The morning came too soon. I followed Alfred quietly down the stairs to the lab. The transporter in the far corner looked like nothing more than a circle of white tiles set into the floor. However, each tile represented other transporters and their locations, both on Earth and Terra.