Title: Eyes on a Moon of Blindness (chapter 2)

Author: E.A. Week

E-mail: The Tenth Doctor is caught up in a deadly war between vampires and werewolves.

Category: Doctor Who; mystery/ romance/ supernatural. Crossover with the movie Underworld.

Distribution: Feel free to link this story to any Doctor Who or fanfic site, or distribute on a mailing list, but please drop me at least a brief e-mail and let me know you've done this.

Feedback: Letters of comment are always welcome! Loved it? Hated it? Let me know why!

Disclaimer: Copyrights to all characters in this story belong to their respective creators, production companies, and studios. I'm just borrowing them, honest! Special credit goes to Greg Cox, whose Underworld novelizations have provided invaluable background material.

Possible spoilers: This story takes place at some point in the indefinite future of the new Dr. Who series. Spoilers through the end of season two.

The story title and all chapter titles are shamelessly stolen from U2.

Datclaimer: This story is rated "M" for sexuality, creature violence, and profanity.

(iv)

She knew from the moment she walked in through the mansion's front door that word of Viktor's awakening had spread through the gathered vampires like wildfire. Incredulous, outraged stares followed her as she stormed through the grand salon.

Kraven tried to intercept her in the hallway leading to the crypt.

"How could you do this to me?" he roared. "Embarrass me like this! The whole coven knows I have plans for us!"

"There is no 'us!'" she spat.

Kraven dragged her into an alcove, pushing her against the wall. "You will go before Viktor and tell him exactly what I tell you to say! Is that in any way unclear?"

Selene responded by slamming the heel of her hand into his nose, dropping him to one knee. She ran down the hall and into the crypt, the doors sliding shut behind her. As the quiet of the crypt muffled external noises, her adrenaline-fueled sense of daring began to subside, leaving in its wake uneasiness and fear.

Courage, she told herself. Whatever happened, she'd face it like a warrior, not a sniveling child.

Viktor sat in the Elders' throne, regal despite the profusion of red lines snaking down from the blood bags overhead. He'd progressed from mummified to skeletal—still not his usual magnificent self, but at least not as horrific as he'd been earlier. Trembling slightly, Selene knelt on the tiled floor before him.

He made an impatient noise. Then, gently, "Come closer, child."

Selene stood and stepped closer to the throne. "I've been lost without you, my lord," she began. "Hounded by Kraven and his never-ending infatuation."

Viktor's face twisted into a rictus, a gruesome approximation of a smile. "It's the oldest story in the book," he said. "He desires the one thing he cannot have."

Selene silently thanked the gods that Viktor at least understood that.

"Now tell me," he said, "why have you come to believe that Lucian still lives?"

"But I've given you all the proof you need!"

"Incoherent thoughts and images," he scoffed. "Nothing more. Which is why an awakening is always performed by an Elder. You do not possess the necessary skills!"

"But I did see Lucian!" Selene insisted. "I shot him! You must believe me!"

"The Chain has never been broken," Viktor said, eyes flashing dangerously. "Not once in fourteen centuries, not since we Elders first began to leapfrog through time. One awake, two asleep—that is the way of it! It is Marcus's turn to reign, not mine!"

Selene struggled to keep her composure in the face of his anger. "But I had no choice," she argued. "The coven is in danger, and Michael is—"

He broke into her sentence with a harsh, disgusted noise. Selene shriveled inside, realizing that when it came to Michael—indeed, any lycan—there would be no arguing reason with Viktor.

"Ah, yes," he said contemptuously. "The lycan."

"Please," she begged, "allow me to get the proof you require!"

"I will leave it to Kraven to collect the proof—if there is any to be found," Viktor decided.

"How can you trust him over me?"

"Because," said Viktor, "he is not the one who has been tempted by an animal!" Selene fought back a hot flush: of course, Viktor would have sensed her feelings for Michael when he drank her blood.

Softening his tone, Viktor said, "I love you… like a daughter, but you've left me with no choice. These rules are in place for a good reason, and they are the only reason we have survived for so long." Becoming stern and harsh once again, he pronounced, "You will not be shown an ounce of leniency! When Amelia arrives, the Council will convene to decide your fate. You have broken the Chain and the Covenant! You must be judged!"

(v)

Seemingly the entire coven watched, thrilled and bitchy, as the disgraced Death Dealer was marched like a criminal through the grand salon and up the stairs. Selene kept her head tilted forward so that her hair would conceal her humiliated expression. She had little fear for herself: she'd been a Death Dealer for so long that the prospect of her own demise no longer troubled her. But she loathed the thought of Kraven having this victory, of the Elders' misplaced trust in him bringing about the end of the entire vampire species—or at the very least, leaving the coven permanently under Kraven's power.

Of course he couldn't resist the urge to gloat as he locked her in her room. "You should have listened to me and stayed out of this," he said. "Now I'll be lucky if I can persuade the Council to spare your life!"

Facing him through the open doorway, Selene asked coldly, "Tell me, did you have the nerve to cut the skin from Lucian's arm, or did he do it for you?"

The stunned expression on his face made up for almost everything—her humiliation, even her probable execution.

Unwilling to let Selene have the last shot, he snarled, "Mark my words, soon you'll be seeing things my way!" And before she had a chance to say anything more, he slammed the door shut, ordering Soren, "Nobody opens that, do you understand me?"

Selene listened to the retreating footsteps, Kraven barking to his minions, "As soon as the sun goes down, find that lycan! I want his head on a platter!"

The day passed with infernal slowness. Selene worried endlessly about Michael, even more than she worried about the coven. He was a complete innocent, drawn into this morass for no other reason than the DNA he carried in his cells.

She also wondered why Viktor had made no mention of the extraterrestrial. He hadn't included in her list of offenses the fact that she'd allowed a member of an unknown species into the mansion and had given it access to the vampires' history. But perhaps those transgressions paled in comparison to her breaking the Chain of coven leadership and violating the Covenant stricture against fraternizing with lycans. Or possibly Selene's memories were so jumbled and incoherent that Viktor had been unable to tease out her encounter with the alien. Maybe he just didn't care.

Obviously, I wasn't going to ask him, she ruminated grimly. Viktor had been so angry that Selene had dared not broach the subject.

And now Kraven was going to lead the search for Lucian. Selene scoffed at the very idea. Fat lot of good that will do, she fumed. Kraven will find exactly what he wants to find, and Viktor, because of his blind prejudice against lycans, will believe him.

With Soren outside the door, she couldn't use her spare mobile: he'd hear everything. The disposable cellular hadn't so much as twitched all day, and it lacked text-messaging capacity. Selene wondered in despair if the lycans had detected the extraterrestrial and destroyed him. Pity, she thought. He would have made a valuable ally.

More than anything, she dreaded what would happen if Kraven's men searched the safe house and found Michael chained up there, trapped and defenseless.

(vi)

Night had fallen. Selene paced, imagining the activity outside her room. Khan would have left to greet Amelia's train. In a matter of hours, the Council would convene to hear Selene's case. She wondered if she'd be allowed to speak in her own defense.

Then the lights went out. She blinked: an independent generator supplied the mansion's electricity. There had never been a blackout for as long as Selene could remember. Are we under attack? Her heart began to pound when, all over the building, an alarm blared loudly.

"Intruders!" a voice called, and she heard the thunder of running footsteps as every Death Dealer in the mansion responded to the threat. "The perimeter sensor's been tripped!"

The fence! Selene thought, wondering if the Doctor, in his carelessness, had set off the alarm. Then she realized the guard outside her door had abandoned his post, and she experienced a stab of hope.

A moment later, a key rattled in the lock, and Erika slipped inside.

"There's not a lot of time." She handed a heavy leather pouch to Selene: two guns and a dozen clips of ammunition. "Here." She tossed the Death Dealer a set of car keys.

"You set off the alarm?"

"I've been hiding all day—Kraven knows I've been spying on him."

Viktor, Selene realized. He saw that in my memories, too, and tipped off Kraven. Again, she felt anger: Erika was another innocent pawn in this ghastly mess. "You'd better come with me." Selene grabbed her leather duster and tossed an extra coat to the younger vampire. "It's not safe for you here any more—you'll be a convenient scapegoat for both Viktor and Kraven. Come on."

One at a time, they jumped out of Selene's window: in the distance, she heard baying dogs and the yells of Death Dealers. They stayed flattened against the mansion wall for a moment, waiting for their chance to flee unseen.

"Feel like living dangerously?" Selene asked under her breath.

"Not really," Erika admitted.

"Well, you're going to, so get used to it."

When she was sure the lawn lay empty, the two women bolted with superhuman speed across the grass to Selene's Jaguar—thankfully, still parked on the sweeping gravel drive.

"Buckle up." Selene started the engine and gunned the car toward the main gate, hitting the remote on the dashboard. The tall metal gates swung outward—thankfully, nobody had thought to disable her car. They roared onto the country road at top speed. Erika groaned softly and clutched the door handle.

"Tell me what you know," Selene ordered.

"Kraven sent Soren and his men after Amelia. Khan was furious."

Another alarm went off, this time in Selene's head. Kahn always fetched Elders from the train station—always; it was almost his sacred duty, as chief of the Death Dealers. Kraven's planning an assassination! The hairs on the back of Selene's neck stood up. She pressed down on the gas pedal, prompting another whimper from her passenger.

"Sorry about the speed," she said, fishing out her spare mobile. "I know you're not used to traveling in cars." She thumbed in the number of Khan's cellular.

"Yes?" Even that one word conveyed the depths of his anger and worry.

"It's me," she said rapidly. "I can't talk long. Soren's going to assassinate Amelia. Call the train and let her guards know they're walking into a trap—whatever they do, they mustn't stop the train at Nyugati Station."

"How do you know—"

"Khan, you must believe me!"

"Look, where are you—?"

Selene disconnected. She turned back to Erika. "What else?"

The blonde woman was staring at her, mouth agape. Finally, she managed, "Kraven ordered me to stay close to Viktor, to wait on him, and to report back to Kraven everything Viktor said and did. I did as he said, but then I overheard Viktor telling Kraven that you'd ordered me to spy on him. Kraven told his men to find me—he was yelling that he was going to throw me out into the sunlight." Erika shuddered. "So I hid—there's lots of places in the mansion Kraven doesn't even know about—the advantages of being a servant. When the dojo was empty, I stole those guns and your keys, and I waited until sundown before I tripped the alarm."

"Good thinking." Selene couldn't help admiring Erika's resourcefulness. Maybe the Doctor was right; maybe there was more to this tarted up domestic than met the eye.

"Kraven also knows Michael is a lycan."

"I figured as much," Selene sighed.

"After you told him Viktor was awake, he and Soren went into the crypt—they were arguing about whether you were telling the truth or bluffing. Soren said he'd reviewed the security tapes of Michael jumping over the fence, and he said it looked like Michael couldn't possibly be human if he could outrun the dogs and climb over the gates like that. Then Kraven started yelling, and that's when Viktor came rumbling out." Erika giggled. "You should've seen the looks on their faces, Selene. It was priceless."

"Not nearly as priceless as when I confronted Kraven about him not really killing Lucian."

Erika goggled at her. "He didn't?"

"No. Lucian is alive and well, collaborating with Kraven on some scheme—probably to assassinate the Elders and take over both covens."

Erika looked not only stunned but terrified, and Selene could only imagine how frightening it must be for someone so sheltered to have her little world—the only world she could consciously remember—shattered.

Gulping, Erika quavered, "So, what are you going to do?"

Selene felt torn. On the one hand, she knew she should try to protect Amelia, but Soren had too much of a head start. Besides, Amelia had a cabal of Death Dealers to protect her, and hopefully, Khan would have alerted the train of the danger by now. Corvin, by contrast, had no one.

"I'm going to check on Michael," she decided. "And with luck, collect some evidence to clear myself." She regarded the younger vampire, taking measure of her courage. "I might need your help."

"You're a Death Dealer; I'm chambermaid," Erika reminded her. "What help could I possibly be to you?"

"You've been useful so far," Selene admitted. "And remember, you have a stake in this, too. If Kraven succeeds in overthrowing the Elders and staring a new regime, you and I are both going to be on his shit list. So your life might depend on whatever help you can give me tonight."

Erika processed this in silence as the Jag roared toward Budapest.

(vii)

In less than an hour, she'd reached the city, a personal best record that would have pleased Selene if she'd had time to think on such trivial matters. She brought the car to a screeching halt outside the safe house. Behind a thick cloud cover, the moon was rising, and she had no idea if she'd find Michael in his human form, or already transformed into a slathering beast.

Erika staggered out of the passenger seat and retched semi-digested blood into the gutter.

"Come on, come on," Selene urged her, and they raced into the building, tearing up the flights of steps with blinding speed. They'd reached the third landing, when Selene heard voices and footsteps below. Lycans! They weren't even bothering with stealth. She grabbed Erika's arm, literally dragging the younger vampire up to the top landing. Hands shaking, Selene unlocked the safe house door, shoved Erika inside, and threw the bolts.

"Selene?" Michael mumbled, thankfully still in his human form.

"We need to leave," she said, moving rapidly to unlock him. Behind her, Erika began hissing quietly. Michael responded with a rumbling growl in his chest, much the same noise the Rottweilers made. "Stop it," Selene barked. "Both of you."

A barrage of gunfire tore through the door of the apartment. Michael and Erika ducked. Selene returned fire, then spun around and used her gun to shatter one of the tall windows.

"Michael, jump! Go on!" she shouted. "Jump!" The lycans kept firing, and Selene yelled, "Go on, go, go, go!"

He'd climbed into the window casement, and when he saw the drop, turned back to Selene with an incredulous expression.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he screamed.

The door burst open. Bullets flew, and Michael jumped. Erika had taken cover behind the heavy titanium interrogation chair.

Selene ruthlessly picked off lycans one by one; they'd had the advantage of numbers, but she had the advantage of superior training.

A new sound penetrated her mind: a car's motor, the screech of tires, Michael yelling in protest.

"Erika, go help him!" Selene barked, taking aim at the last two lycans.

Erika sprinted across the floor and leaped out the window.

(vii)

As she descended, Erika heard a strange mechanical rumbling, a grinding noise unlike anything she'd heard before. The grinding resolved into a few loud thumps. Before she could even begin to process the meaning of these sounds, she'd landed in a crouch—not on the pavement, but on top of some blue object. A light in a funny little cage flashed beside her.

Then she heard the creak of a door opening, and a man's voice calling out, "Hullo, what's all that about?"

Noiselessly, Erika sprang off the thing and landed on the street in front of the Doctor. An enormous smile spread across his face, taking her completely aback: nobody in the coven had ever smiled at her like that. "Nice trick!" he praised. "That must come in handy!"

"Where's Michael?" Erika stared down the alleyway just in time to see the red tail lights of a car flashing around the corner. "Shit! Selene won't like this!"

They both flinched reflexively at the sound of gunfire overhead. Silence followed.

"Come on," Erika said, grabbing the Doctor's arm. They raced around to the front of the building and inside. An acrid smell of gun smoke hung in the air, the steps littered with glowing blue bullets. Erika winced, trying not to look at them. "Selene?" she called.

"Where's Michael?" Selene was coming down the stairs, dragging something heavy behind her, something that thumped like a large bag of wet laundry. Erika's eyes flashed at the rancid scent of lycan blood.

"Someone grabbed him," she said. "It looked like a police cruiser."

"It's not the police," the Doctor provided. "It's two lycans disguised as Budapest cops. They've been following him around."

"You two see if you can find him," Selene ordered. "I need to get this one here back to the mansion." Erika realized the lycan was still alive, groaning as Selene dragged him mercilessly down the steps. He'd been wounded with silver and so couldn't transform into a werewolf, for which Erika was deeply grateful.

"That's Singe," the Doctor said. "The lycan who's been running those experiments on the descendants of Corvinus."

The male sneered up at him. "You," he rasped. "I know your scent! You were in my lab, you sneaking—ugh!" He grunted when Selene kicked him in the hip.

"Shut up," she said remorselessly. She'd shackled his hands behind his back and now began dragging him out to the Jag.

"What are you going to do with him?" the Doctor asked.

"Bring him back to the mansion," Selene said. "He's going to tell Viktor everything he knows about what Kraven and Lucian are up to, and he's going to tell him about the lycans' genetics project, and if he's cooperative, he'll get a merciful death. If he doesn't cooperate… well, he's going to be at Viktor's mercy."

The Doctor didn't look pleased, but he didn't protest when Selene threw Singe into the back seat. She straightened up and turned to the extraterrestrial. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Unconscious for the past twenty-four hours, thanks to your boyfriend." He rubbed the back of his head. "I don't think he realizes his own strength."

"He'll learn fast if this cloud cover breaks," Selene worried, staring at the sky. Erika observed a glow behind the dark clouds: the moon was full. She hated being outside the shelter of the mansion on a night when lycans would be so powerful.

"You can't go back there until this is cleared up," Selene apologized. "Doctor, can you keep her safe?"

"Count on it," he said, taking Erika's hand.

"Good." She climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. "If I can, I'll call you after Viktor's heard what this one has to say." The door shut, and the Jag roared away into the darkness.

"Where should we go?" Erika said, looking up and around, terribly frightened now that Selene was gone.

"In here." The Doctor led her around the side of the building, back to the blue box. "We're going to look for Michael."

"In this?" Erika's vampiric senses detected a lot of humming and vibrating emanating from the seemingly simple object. She looked up, reading the lettering over the door: POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX. "What's all that noise?"

"The engines." He opened one of the doors. "Come on inside, and please try to stay calm. Michael didn't react very well, I'm afraid."

Erika's breath caught when she crossed the threshold. "It's huge!" she blurted. "But it's so small on the outside, like a phone booth!"

He beamed happily, and she realized he was proud to be showing off this thing—whatever it was—to her.

"Welcome to the TARDIS," he said grandly. "That's an acronym for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space."

Slowly, Erika circled around the room, staring at the profusion of unfamiliar things. The centerpiece of the room was some kind of complex machine surmounted by a glowing blue column that extended up to the ceiling. Underfoot, more lights glowed up from beneath a metal grillework floor. Yet the thing didn't seem wholly mechanical, like Selene's car—Erika realized it had an organic component, too.

"What do you think?" the Doctor asked awkwardly.

"It's… it's incredible. Like something on television, only better. More real." She didn't try to touch anything—she didn't dare—but she could sense that this place was breathing and responsive, not an inanimate object. "It's alive," she stated.

"Good for a start," he grinned. "No screams, no tears, no obscenities." He stood with his hands in his trouser pockets, watching her reactions.

Erika started laughing. "Me. A serving girl. Inside something like this. It should be one of the Elders or Council members."

"Why?" he said.

"I'm not important enough."

He came and put an arm around her. Erika leaned into him, feeling an extraordinary sense of comfort. "Of course you're important." She stared up into his eyes. They were warm and brown, and although she barely knew him, she found it impossible not to trust eyes like those.

She smelled his coat. "You're not human."

The Doctor exhaled, a funny laughing noise. "Here we go again. No, I'm not human."

"What are you?"

"A Time Lord. An alien species."

"You're from another planet?"

"Yes."

More nervous, incredulous laughter bubbled up out of Erika. "Is that a joke?"

"Well, look at you!" he teased. "You're a vampire, and you're asking me if I'm for real?"

"So what—what does this thing do? It wasn't there in the alley when I jumped, and then suddenly I was landing on top of it."

"It appears and disappears anywhere I want it to." He looked as shyly pleased as a boy showing off a new bicycle to a girl he fancied. "It travels in space and time."

Erika stared at him. "It travels in time?"

"Yes."

"Can I go back and see… my own past?"

"No, that's dangerous," he said gently. "It's not a good idea to cross your own time line." He went to one of the control panels and began pressing knobs and levers, twisting things and flipping switches. Erika heard once again that incredible grinding noise, and the floor began to shake under her feet.

"What's happening?" she shouted in alarm. She clutched the nearest support pillar.

"We're taking a short hop!" he called. "We're going to find Michael!"

The grinding ceased. The Doctor hurried to the door and peered out, Erika behind him. Her keen eyes pierced the gloom, and she wrinkled her nose at the fusty scent.

"Where are we?"

"Shh, keep your voice down," he said. "We're in the metro tunnels. I know the way into the lycans' base."

"But they'll kill us!"

"Not if they don't catch us they won't." The Doctor slipped outside, and uneasily, Erika followed.

"Do you have a gun?" she whispered.

"No."

"You don't?"

"I never travel armed."

"But what will you do if—"

"Shh." He put a finger to her lips, and Erika flushed at the contact. "They're gearing up for some battle—the place is mostly empty. We're going to find Michael and leave. It'll be all right—I promise you."

"But we—"

To her astonishment and pleasure, he kissed her once, on the mouth. "Reinette," he whispered. "I lost you once already. I'm not losing you again."

"All right," she said reluctantly. "But I'm taking a lot on faith."

"You can trust me." He took her hand, their fingers lacing together, and led her down the dim tunnel.

V. Exit

Selene didn't bother with subtlety. This occasion called for brazen arrogance, so she pulled the Jag straight up to the main doors, hopped out of the car, and began dragging the semi-conscious lycan scientist up the wide granite steps.

One of Soren's men was on duty, and he blurted out, "Holy shit!"

Fangs bared, eyes aglow, she snarled, "Get out of my way!"

Terrified, he jumped back as Selene roared like hellfire into the grand salon. Crowds of twittering socialites and dignitaries leaped away, hissing and growling at the presence of a lycan in their midst. Selene didn't pause; she kept dragging the scientist across the parquet floor and down the corridor to the left, toward the throne room. As she approached the double door, she could hear Kraven's whine as he reported her latest transgression to Viktor.

"…I sent for Selene, not you."

"She's defied your orders and fled the mansion, my lord," Kraven mumbled.

"Your incompetence is becoming most taxing!" Viktor snarled.

"It's not my fault!" Kraven protested. "She's become obsessed—thinks I'm at the core of some ridiculous conspiracy!"

The timing couldn't have been more perfect. "And here's my proof!" Selene strode into the chamber, flinging Singe in front of her. The wounded lycan slid wildly across the Italian tile, coming to an ignominious halt at Viktor's feet. For the second time that night, Selene had the satisfaction of seeing impotent fury on Kraven's face.

(ii)

Selene unlocked the handcuffs from Singe's wrists and chained him to the tiled floor. "Now," she ordered, "I want you to tell him everything about your little experiment." When he remained silent, Selene grabbed his shoulder, brutally crushing bones. He howled in pain.

"All right, all right!" he gasped. Selene lessened the pressure, but she kept her hand on his shoulder.

"We've been searching for someone with a special trait… a direct descendant of Alexander Corvinus…"

The Doctor was right, Selene though, keeping her reaction well-hidden.

"Hungarian… a warlord who came to power in the early seasons of the fifth century, only to watch a plague ravage his entire fiefdom." The lycan had picked up speed, and in some strange way, Selene realized, it pleased him to share this knowledge with a captive audience—even his enemies. "Corvinus was the only survivor. His body was able to shape the illness, somehow—to mold it to his benefit. He became the first true immortal."

The lycan trailed off, and Selene tightened her grip on his wounded shoulder.

"Gaaah!" He quickly resumed the story. "And years later, he fathered at least two sons who inherited this same trait."

A mocking smile touched Viktor's face. "The three sons of the Corvinus clan." His tone grew almost sing-song. "One bitten by bat, one by wolf, one to walk the lonely road of mortality as a human—it's a ridiculous legend. Nothing!"

Not a legend, Selene thought coldly. It's the truth, and you know it.

"That may be," the lycan countered, "but our two species share a common ancestor, and the mutation of the original virus is directly linked to his bloodline."

Viktor nodded to the ornate bronze hatch beneath which Marcus still slumbered. "There is a descendant of Corvinus lying there, not three feet from you!"

Markus Corvinus. The Doctor had been right about that, too. Selene wished she'd taken this ancient history a little more seriously, a lot sooner.

"Yes," Singe nodded, "but he's already a vampire. We needed a pure source. Untainted. An exact duplicate of the original virus, hidden away in the genetic code of his human descendants, passed along in its latent form down through the ages… all the way to Michael Corvin."

Selene's heart dropped at the mention of Michael.

"For years we've been trying to combine the bloodlines," Singe went on. "And for years we failed. It was useless. Even at the cellular level, our species seemed destined to destroy each other. That is, until we found Michael. The Corvinus strain allows for a perfect union—a triple-celled platelet, which holds unspeakable power."

Viktor looked revolted. "There can be no union," he almost whispered. "And to speak of it is blasphemy!"

"We'll see," Singe smirked. "Once Lucian has injected himself—"

"Lucian is dead," Viktor hissed.

Singe treated him to a nasty, twisted smile. "According to whom?"

Selene's head snapped around. Kraven had vanished.

(iii)

Viktor rose slowly from the throne. The massive infusion of blood had done him well, and he'd returned fully to his regal splendor. Despite her misgivings with him, Selene was glad of his presence, glad he'd finally realized the depth of Kraven's evil. All doubts were swept aside now, and she knew that she'd done the right thing to awaken him. She also could see in her sire's eyes admiration of her courage, of her willingness to accept punishment and even death to expose the regent's treachery.

"I can assure you, my child," he said. "Kraven will pay with his life."

From the floor, Singe began to chuckle, a horrible raspy sound. "Soon this house will lie in ruins," he declared.

"Not before you," Selene growled, pulling a gun and pressing it to his temple.

"No, wait!" the scientist babbled. "You, and you alone will know the truth of this!" He gasped quietly, then said, "If Lucian acquires the blood of a pure-born and the blood of a powerful Elder—like Amelia—" He glanced slyly at Viktor. "Or yourself—and injects it along with Michael's blood—"

"Abomination," Viktor whispered.

The scientist cackled, his tone dreamy and visionary. "Half vampire, half lycan, but stronger than both!"

I was right, Selene realized, but it's worse than I thought. Instead of creating an uber-werewolf, Singe and Lucian would create a new, hybrid species. In a nightmarish vision, she imagined every one of Lucian's werewolves, injected with Michael's blood. All they'd need then would be the blood of one vampire, and they'd have every ingredient they needed for an army of lycan-vampire hybrids.

She doubted if Kraven knew anything about these plans. The possibility of a hybrid was the ace Lucian held in his hand. Now she could see more fully the scope of their collaboration. Kraven needed Lucian and his werewolves to murder the Elders and seize command of both covens. And the hybrid warriors would protect the lycans, so that Kraven could never turn against them. It would be the strangest of peace treaties, Selene thought—more like an uneasy détente—but it would satisfy both men. What odd bedfellows. And poor Michael was caught up in this unholy alliance, his blood now more precious to the lycans than all the oil in the Middle East.

A commotion from outside the crypt brought her back to the present. She heard voices, growing louder, one of them distinctly Khan's. A surge of hope went through her.

A stunning woman in a gown of pearl gray silk and velvet swept into the crypt with the haughty bearing of a queen. Ebony hair was pulled back and twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck, setting off magnificent white shoulders to their best advantage. Selene stepped back, awed: Amelia had arrived in grand style. She's safe. Selene's legs went weak with relief, and a surge of triumph went through her at having denied Kraven this victory.

"Amelia!" Viktor said, moving to greet his female counterpart, but she held up her hands in a warding gesture, her expression like a black stormcloud. "What is it?"

"We were almost ambushed by your regent's men!" she thundered.

Viktor stared at Khan, appalled. "What is the meaning of this?" he hissed.

"Soren and his men were waitin' at Nyugati Station with a cadre of lycans," Khan reported grimly. "We called ahead to Amelia's guard, and they stopped the train two miles outside the station. We took Soren by surprise, killed his accomplices, and dragged him before Amelia."

"He confessed his crimes," she said viciously, eyes flashing blue. "And paid for them with his life! Now where is that infernal Kraven?"

"He's probably fled by now," Selene offered quietly. "I would imagine he's on his way back to Lucian—the only safe harbor left to him." When Amelia's elegant head turned in her direction, Selene grabbed Singe by the shoulder and said, "Lucian is still alive, my lady. This lycan just confessed to us a plot to create a vampire-werewolf hybrid—using your blood."

Amelia's enraged, imperious gaze turned down to the wretched creature on the floor. "And Kraven was involved in that?"

"In league with Lucian for almost two hundred years," Singe cackled. "He planned to overthrow you three and take control of both covens. Lucian aided him, in exchange for a peace treaty with the lycans." The scientist convulsed with mirth. "But now that he has Michael Corvin, he doesn't need Kraven's help. Soon he'll have an unstoppable legion of hybrids!"

Viktor had heard enough. He swept forward and with one mighty swing of his arm, crushed the lycan's skull to pulp. Singe's lifeless body toppled to the tiles, blood gushing from his mouth like a torrent of vomit.

As if they were alone in the chamber, he turned to Selene. "I'm sorry I doubted you. Fear not, my child," he whispered. "Absolution will be yours the moment you kill the descendant of Corvinus, this… Michael."

He turned to Amelia. "Come," he said, taking her arm. "Let us prepare for battle."

Her eyes gleamed at the prospect. "Viktor," she said, as they strode away, "why have you been awakened…?" Their voices trailed off as they vanished down the hallway.

The Death Dealers hurried out of the crypt, heading for the dojo to arm themselves. Khan lingered behind, turning to Selene.

"Thanks for that tip," he said quietly. "You saved Amelia's life, and the lives of everyone on the Council."

"Yes," she said bleakly, staring ahead into nothingness. One thought swirled around and around in her mind. Viktor expects me to kill Michael.

God help her. I can't do it.

"Come on," said Khan, gently taking her by the arm. "We have a battle to get ready for." They hurried out of the crypt, leaving the lycan's bleeding body on the floor behind them.

(iv)

Michael blinked awake. He tried to move but found himself immobilized, bound and handcuffed to some sort of upright metal examining table. He tried to protest and found a gag shoved in his mouth.

Shit. After discovering, incredibly, that he could drop from a height of six stories and land like a cat on his feet, he'd been grabbed by two lycans disguised as cops and chained up in the back of an ersatz police cruiser. Then the moonlight had come streaming through the car's windows, prompting the most horrific pain Michael could have imagined—bones shifting and cracking, skin and muscles stretching. Finally, the cops had pulled over, jabbing him with a hypodermic. Blackness had followed.

As his vision cleared, Michael realized he was in some kind of laboratory—a crude, filthy hovel, more of a meat locker than a place of scientific inquiry. A large bulletin board covered one wall, every inch of cork taken up by overlapping slips of paper bearing names and photos. Many of the names had been crossed out. And at the very top of the board, like a star on a Christmas tree, was the name Selene had mentioned.

Alexander Corvinus.

Michael's gaze moved down uneasily, to the right, then the left, finally locating one name circled in red ink.

Michael Corvin.

Shit, he thought again. Selene wasn't kidding. He remembered Van Helsing's warning about the lycans following him. Why the hell didn't I pay more attention to him? Now he's dead. He might've helped me—maybe he even knew a cure for this, and I'll never find out.

A man suddenly emerged from behind some plastic flaps. Michael recognized him as the lycan who'd attacked him that night in the elevator, the man whose bite had made Michael a werewolf. He watched with trepidation as the lycan rubbed an alcohol wipe on the crease of his elbow and slipped an empty hypodermic needle into one of his veins. Behind the gag, Michael grumbled in protest.

"Excuse me—where are my manners?" The man spoke with a British accent, and for a lycan, he seemed remarkably civilized—certainly moreso than the pair of thugs who'd manhandled Michael earlier. He withdrew the needle from Michael's arm and reached up to remove the gag.

"What're you doing?" Michael asked hoarsely.

"Bringing an end to this genocidal conflict." Grimacing slightly, the man began injecting himself with Michael's blood. "I'm Lucian, by the way."

"You're Lucian?" Michael blurted out.

"I see you've heard about me."

"I've heard you're the head of the werewolves. I was also warned you need my DNA for some crazy experiment to make a vampire-werewolf hybrid."

Lucian's gray eyes went dark. "I should never underestimate the vampires' intelligence-gathering. I assume the female Death Dealer told you all this?"

Michael didn't answer; it seemed a bad time to bring Van Helsing into the mix.

"How come I haven't… wolfed out? I was starting to change when your goons grabbed me."

"They gave you an enzyme to stop the change." Lucian smiled slightly. "Someday, when you're old enough and powerful enough, you'll be able to change forms at will."

Like I should be happy about that? Michael chafed against his bonds. "I need to get back."

Lucian said kindly, "There's no going back, Michael. The vampires will kill you on sight for being what you are. A lycan. One of us." His gaze grew steely. "You are one of us, Michael."

"Thanks to you."

Lucian didn't apologize. He finished injecting himself, unperturbed by the American's accusing eyes.

"I had nothing to do with this war of yours," Michael stated.

Lucian's eyes flicked up. "My war?"

For the first time, Michael noticed the odd pendant hanging around Lucian's neck: almost circular in shape, a tiny green stone set at the center of an even-armed cross of Celtic knotwork. Michael found the ornament surprisingly beautiful, almost too delicate for a lycan to be wearing. He'd have expected lycans to sport something bigger, uglier, perhaps more Satanic-looking. I've seen that pendant before, Michael realized. As he meditated on this puzzle, a wave of exhaustion rolled over him, and he passed out.

(v)

The dungeon. The Death Dealer with the silver-studded whips. The fair-haired woman chained to the wooden post, a pendant of Celtic knotwork hanging about her neck. The howls of lycans forced to watch the gruesome torture session.

The great doors opened, and a group of lordly vampires swept into the dungeon, led by a tall man with cold, imperious eyes. He regarded the lycan chained to the floor, the woman chained to the post, then turned and left, the heavy doors booming as they closed. A moment later, a shutter in the ceiling began to open, letting in a dazzling shaft of yellow sunlight. It struck the woman chained to the post, and she began to shriek as her flesh burst into flame.

The lycan reared back, screaming, "Sonja!" He watched, horrified, as the sunlight reduced the woman's body to a pile of smoking cinders.

Later. The great doors opened again. The tall, lordly vampire entered, reaching down to retrieve the pendant from the woman's ashes. He regarded the trinket with an expression that almost approximated grief. But the overhead window had been left unshuttered, and now cool moonlight streamed in. A heartbeat later, the lycan had transformed into a werewolf, snapping the chains that held him bound to the floor. With a snarling pounce, he leaped at the tall vampire and knocked the pendant from his hand. The werewolf sprang over, grabbed the pendant, and leaped up. Glass shattered as he broke through a window, escaping into the night.

(vi)

Michael blinked awake, staring once again at that medallion. He recalled what Selene had said about Lucian's memories, and the pieces came together at once.

"They forced you to watch her die."

Lucian glanced up, startled.

"Sonja. I saw it happen, as if I was there."

Lucian glanced away. Physically, he didn't seem that much older than Michael himself, maybe thirty-five or forty. His eyes and posture, however, told an entirely different story. Michael wondered if he still bore scars on his back from that vicious whipping. Lucian looked away as he spoke.

"We were slaves, once," he said. "The daylight guardians of the vampires. I was born in servitude. Yet I harbored them no ill-will." He smiled sadly, almost to himself, as if recalling younger, more naïve days. Looking directly at Michael now, he said, "Even took a vampire for my bride."

Sonja, Michael thought.

"It was forbidden, of course," Lucian went on. "Viktor feared a blending of the species. So much that he condemned her to death. His own daughter. Burnt alive… for loving me."

Jesus.

"The war started then," Lucian said, his voice growing clipped and hard with anger. "This is Viktor's war, and he's spent the last six hundred years exterminating my species. But it ends tonight."

"What about Selene?" Michael asked. "What'll happen to her?"

Ominously, Lucian didn't answer.

A voice from beyond the laboratory called out, "Lucian! We have company."

Michael heard an irate male voice, raised in complaint.

"… caught by Khan and his men! Someone tipped them off. My men were all killed! Amelia's still alive! All because of Selene and that werewolf Romeo of hers!"

"Calm yourself, Kraven…" The voices grew fainter as Lucian led away the newcomers.

Michael sagged back against the table. I guess letting me off this thing wasn't on the menu. He pulled at the restraints in futility.

His nose twitched at a familiar scent: vampire. Not just any vampire, either. A second scent mingled with the first, and Michael's eyes went wide. A moment later, the blonde female vampire slipped into the laboratory, Van Helsing on her heels.

Michael was so relieved to see the extraterrestrial alive, to have the burden of manslaughter taken off his shoulders, that he couldn't speak. Van Helsing gestured for silence. He pulled a thin metal tube from one pocket and aimed it at the manacles that locked Michael's hands to the table. The tip of the tube glowed blue, and the instrument whined like a mosquito. With a clink, the cuffs popped open.

"What're you doing?" Michael whispered.

"Getting you out of here. Selene sent us." Van Helsing unbuckled the thick leather straps, and Michael hopped to the floor, shaking his limbs to get the circulation going.

"Come on," Van Helsing said. "You'll be safe with us."

"What about Selene?"

"We'll meet up with her later," Van Helsing promised. "I think she can take care of herself."

A loud explosion shook the concrete walls, followed by the sound of running footsteps and the hoarse yells of lycans. The blonde vampire cringed.

"That'll be the Death Dealers," she said. "Viktor and Amelia will probably both be coming with them."

"And Selene?"

"Her, too," said the blonde. "But if they find you, Michael, they'll kill you. Kraven's incensed that Selene went over his head to Viktor about you, and—"

"Whoever Kraven is, he's here," said Michael. "He and Lucian had some kind of deal that sounds like it fell through."

"They were in league together to overthrow the vampire leadership," Van Helsing provided. "You're a pawn in all that, Michael—they won't hesitate to kill you." He tugged the American's arm. "Now, let's get moving."

Gunfire rattled against concrete, mixed with angry shouts and cries of pain. The thought of Selene caught in the midst of all that chaos and bloodshed was more than Michael could bear.

"No!" he said, yanking away from Van Helsing. "I'm not leaving here without her!"

(vii)

To enter the tunnels, Selene's party used the same metal grate she'd opened when chasing Trix two nights earlier. Now she wasn't alone: Khan accompanied her, and eight other Death Dealers, all armed with AK-47 assault rifles. Selene had opted to stick with the more familiar Berettas. She'd left her coat in the Jag, wanting to be as unencumbered as possible.

She would of course follow Viktor's orders to flush out and kill the lycans in the bunker, but she had her own agenda as well—to find Michael and see him to safety. If she was clever about it, Michael would appear to have slipped away during the fracas. Hopefully Lucian's death would satisfy Viktor, and he'd give up on the notion of killing Michael.

And after that? Selene didn't want to think that far ahead.

She welcomed the presence of the other Death Dealers around her. If only I'd been able to bring them down here two nights ago, she lamented. We'd have wiped out the werewolves, Michael would still be human, and Marcus would be awakened on schedule. Now, thanks to Kraven, Selene's entire world had gone to hell.

Viktor had also decreed that the traitorous regent be killed on sight. Selene hoped to have that pleasure herself.

The vampires strode through the tunnel, all senses on alert for danger. At last they reached the edge of an open concrete shaft, ladders reaching down into a foul-smelling pit. An old, empty elevator shaft. And scaling the ladders rapidly was a pair of lycans in human form.

Khan pulled the pin on a small grenade and tossed it casually down into the pit. He and the other Death Dealers drew back. Selene distinctly heard one of the lycans say, "Oh, shit!" the instant before the device detonated with a concussive blast. When she and Khan peered over the edge of the shaft again, both lycans lay dead at the bottom. Satisfied, the Death Dealers began to swiftly descend the ladders.

(viii)

When Michael heard Lucian's voice arguing, his first instinct was to draw back. But realizing he might gain some valuable information, he hunkered down by the heavy closed door, his keen ears overhearing the conversation with no effort.

"I guess it never occurred to you that you might have to bleed a little to pull off this coup!" Lucian snarled. "Don't even think about leaving!"

Michael heard some footsteps, then his heart jolted when he heard gunfire: two, three, four shots. Then silence.

"Silver nitrate," a second male voice said smugly. Michael recognized the voice from earlier: Kraven, the vampire Selene had warned him about. He heard footsteps approaching, and sprang aside, hiding behind a pile of crumbling concrete blocks. A tall vampire with shoulder-length black hair rushed past, gazing about wildly, as if searching for an escape route. Michael was grateful that the whole bunker smelled so pungently of werewolf that his own scent got lost in the mix. Kraven didn't notice him.

When the vampire's footsteps retreated, Michael dashed into Lucian's conference room. To his vast dismay, the lycan leader lay sprawled on the floor. All over his skin, Michael could see the prominent lines of veins that had turned the sickly color of dull pewter. Silver poisoning? Michael couldn't detect any visible wounds on the lycan's head or torso, so he gently turned over the body. Here, he found four gaping entrance wounds in Lucian's back.

That coward, Michael thought, outraged at what Kraven had done. He didn't even have the balls to face Lucian like a man! Quickly, he felt for vital signs, but the lycan's heartbeat and breathing were still. Liquid silver oozed out of the holes in Lucian's back; Michael took care not to touch it. His background in chemistry told him the substance was silver nitrate. That arrogant fuck! Michael supposed he ought to be glad that Lucian's death meant the end of his tenure as a lab rat, but still he grieved with unexpected intensity for the death of his wolfen sire.

He glanced around the inside of Lucian's conference room. On one shelf lay a collection of weapons and clips of UV ammo. Michael hesitated before taking one of the guns. He'd never used firearms in his life, and this seemed like a bad time to learn. Still, the bunker soon would be crawling with vampires hell-bent on killing him, just as Kraven had killed Lucian. What the fuck. Michael helped himself to a second gun, hoping he wouldn't need to use either weapon. Then he crept out of the room, wishing he knew his way around the subterranean rat warren a little better.

(ix)

The lycans were being massacred on their own territory, falling before the relentless assault of vampire weaponry. Khan led the advance party with ruthless efficiency honed over centuries of battling lycans. Some of their adversaries were in human form, armed with UV ammunition, others fully transformed werewolves. The Death Dealers kept up a steady barrage of silver firepower, picking off one lycan after another. Selene only wished Khan had had enough time to produce more silver nitrate bullets. He'd told her the single prototype weapon had vanished from the dojo, and Selene had a fairly good idea of who'd stolen it.

Behind them, the main force of Death Dealers entered the tunnels, spreading out through the labyrinth, cutting off the lycans' escape routes. Selene listened to the sound of distant explosions. At every turn and junction, she looked around, hoping desperately for a sign of Michael. Maybe he'd been able to escape to the surface.

Or maybe he was already dead.

Khan's party reached an intersection where two tunnels came together. Selene heard rough animal breathing, and from two corridors, massive lycans came roaring out: half a dozen on each side. The tunnels roared with gunfire. One of the beasts fell on Khan, and blood spattered everywhere. Selene screamed, "No!" and pumped an entire clip of silver into the shaggy hide.

A second lycan was rushing straight at her. She turned to face it, but both Berettas were empty. She reached for a pair of throwing stars, knowing that those weapons were unlikely to stop the beast before it killed her. An instant before she expected to be torn to shreds, a blur of black materialized out of nowhere, slamming the lycan halfway across the tunnel. A slender arm lifted the 400-pound beast clear off its massive hind feet, a white hand crushing its throat. The lycan dropped to the concrete. Blam! One bullet shattered its skull.

Amelia. A second lycan rushed the female Elder, and in one instant—faster than the eye could follow—she drew a wicked silver sword. The creature's own momentum propelled it onto the blade. Amelia finished the job by breaking the beast's neck.

She turned to Selene, pale eyes glowing with unearthly fire. She'd swapped her regal gown for utilitarian Death Dealer's garb. From beneath the folds of an elegant leather coat, she produced several clips of silver bullets.

"Thank you, my lady," Selene murmured, hastily reloading her Berettas. She surveyed the damage: the lycans all lay dead, but they'd taken five Death Dealers to the grave, including Khan. Selene grieved wildly for her lost friend.

"I'll lead this party from here." Amelia had brought a dozen Death Dealers, her own personal guard. "Viktor is taking his men through another entrance. We'll drive the lycan scum to the central bunker and finish them off."

The Death Dealers nodded. "Yes, m'lady."

Her expression softened by a fraction. "When it's over, we can collect the bodies of our fallen comrades."

Amelia gathered the warriors, and they swept down the corridor, weapons bristling. Selene brought up the rear, her nose and ears struggling to detect any lycan presence—not easy, given the explosions and gun smoke and clouds of mortar dust. The lycan scent abruptly intensified, and arms wrapped around her, a hand clamping over her mouth. But the scent was blessedly familiar: Michael!

(x)

He pulled her into a deserted niche, a corridor that terminated abruptly in a tangle of cinderblocks and rusted metal rods. Probably the corridor had been sawed off when the M2 subway tunnel had been dug: Selene faintly heard the rumble of a train. She was so glad to see Michael alive and unharmed that her legs were shaking. Without hesitation, he drew her against him, and they kissed with a desperate hunger.

"Thank God you're okay!" he said when they parted. He brushed hair back from her face and added, "Selene, I know what started this war."

"Shh, save the stories for later. I need to get you out of here and rejoin Amelia's party before they miss me."

"That woman—she moved so fast—was that Amelia?"

"One of the Elders," Selene nodded. She mostly knew Amelia as a shrewd businesswoman who had brought the covens through the dizzying twentieth century, seizing on technological innovations to expand the vampires' wealth. "She was a great warrior in the middle ages. That's how strong the Elders are, Michael. She'd snap your neck without even blinking. So would Viktor—he's here, too." Selene listened to the sounds of battle, too close-by for her liking. "Have Erika and the Doctor turned up?"

"They're the ones who found me… Lucian had me tied up in his lab." Michael swallowed hard. "Lucian's dead, Selene. Kraven shot him to death with some kind of weird silver nitrate bullets."

"Well, that's one less thing to worry about. I'm sure Kraven must've escaped to the surface by now." She sighed. "Why didn't you go with the Doctor? I told him to find you and keep you out of trouble!"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Michael admitted.

His simple concern for her—and his willingness to risk his own life to protect her—touched Selene profoundly. It had been centuries since someone had really, truly cared about her like that. She kissed him again, then took his hand and said, "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

They crept along the corridor, following the path the Death Dealers had taken. From further ahead came the sounds of a pitched battle. Through an open doorway to the right, Selene spotted a flight of concrete steps leading up.

"This way," she whispered. That was what they needed—up, toward the surface.

They hurried up, as far as the stairs would take them. Selene led Michael through an old generator room, hoping to find another flight of steps or a ladder. At the back of the room, she spotted a door of heavy, industrial steel. This looks promising. She pulled the door open.

To her horror, Kraven stood on the other side: from his expression, she knew he was lost, also looking for an escape route. He regarded Selene with anger, but when he saw Michael, that anger deepened into utter wrath. Before she could stop him, Kraven raised a large gun—Khan's prototype—and fired off several rounds, the silver nitrate bullets taking Michael squarely in the chest.

(xi)

"No!" Selene's legs buckled, and she dropped down beside Michael, stunned and horrified. He gagged and convulsed as the silver coursed its way through his bloodstream, turning his veins the color of pewter. She felt a tearing pain inside herself, realizing she'd lost something precious almost before she'd had a chance to appreciate it. She glared hatefully up at Kraven. "You monster!"

He regarded Michael with revulsion. "Enough!" He grabbed her shoulder, trying to pull her away from the dying lycan. "You're coming with me!"

Selene roughly shook him off. "Never! I only hope I live long enough to watch Viktor choke the life from you!"

The mention of the Elder seemed to spark some old resentment within Kraven. He leaned toward Selene, sneering slightly.

"I'll bet you do. But let me tell you something about your precious dark father," he said. "He's the one who killed your family, not the lycans."

Selene glared up at him, hissing in disbelief.

"He never could follow his own rules." An evil smile twisted up Kraven's face, and Selene wondered how long he'd yearned to tell her this, to shatter her devotion to Viktor. "Said he couldn't abide the taste of livestock. So every once in a while, he went out and gorged himself on human blood. I cleaned up the messes for him… kept his secrets."

Selene wanted to tear his mouth off his face, to stop the ugly flood of words. Part of her refused to believe this filth. Another part of her—the part that had witnessed the upheaval of the past forty-eight hours—knew that despite the cruelty of Kraven's motives, he was telling the truth.

"It was he who crept from room to room, dispatching everyone close to your heart," Kraven gloated. "But when he got to you, he just couldn't bear the thought of draining you dry. You, who reminded him so much of his precious Sonja." Kraven fairly spat out the name. "The daughter he condemned to death!"

His own daughter? Viktor would never—

"Lies!" she whispered.

"Believe what you want. Now, come." Once again, Kraven tried to tug Selene to her feet. "Your place is at my side."

At his side? He'd killed the man Selene loved and exposed the sordid truth of her family's death, and he imagined she'd want anything to do with him? Angrily, Selene shook him off, refusing to budge from her vigil over Michael's body.

"So be it." Kraven withdrew a second gun, this one full of UV ammunition, and put it to Selene's temple.

A bloody hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed Kraven's ankle. It was Lucian, literally crawling on his hands and knees, his skin a grotesque map of pewter veins, like Michael's. Selene's mind dimly registered astonishment that the lycan's body had resisted the poison long enough for him to come this far. His right arm snapped hard, and the spring-loaded blade shot out of his sleeve, plunging into the back of Kraven's leg. The regent's scream was music to Selene's ears.

From the doorway opposite, a female voice thundered, "Kraven!" The injured regent twisted and fell, Lucian's blade snapping off, and the gun in his hand fired wildly. The UV bullets sprayed up, missing Selene and peppering Amelia, who was already halfway across the generator room. She cried out and fell from midair to the concrete, the encapsulated sunlight burning her from the inside out, just as it had done to Rigel that fateful night in the metro station.

From the floor, Lucian choked, a horrible rasping laugh, at the Elder's death. Kraven lay nearby, writhing and grunting in pain, trying to get the broken sword out of his leg.

For an instant, Lucian's gaze locked onto Selene's. "Bite him," he said, and she knew instinctively he meant Michael. She didn't understand, then she recalled Singe's words: half vampire, half lycan, but stronger than both!

In theory it should work, but Michael had been poisoned by silver. And nobody had ever survived the bite of both species.

"Bite him," Lucian repeated urgently.

Michael was dying anyway. Selene realized she had nothing to lose.

She bent down to his neck and sank her ivory fangs into his skin. She could taste the silver nitrate, but even more ecstatically, she could taste him.

Voice shaking, Kraven demanded, "What the hell are you doing?"

Smiling, Lucian told him, "You may have killed me, cousin, but my will is done regardless."

Kraven struggled upright and vented his fury by finishing off Lucian with more silver nitrate. After six centuries, ironically, he'd finally done the deed for which he'd been so venerated.

Selene paid him no mind as Michael's blood coursed down her throat. The sensation was so remarkable that she had to forcibly pull back, lest she drain him completely. She gazed down upon him, hoping that Lucian's mad suggestion would work. Then, unbelievably, Michael's body began to twitch and thrash in wild spasms.

Powerful hands grabbed Selene's shoulders, throwing her like a puppet against an old generator. Viktor! She glared up through a haze of pain as he regarded Michael's rapidly transforming body with revulsion. Then he turned to the charred remains of Amelia's corpse.

"No," he whispered. Like Kraven, he vented his impotent rage elsewhere, lifting Michael and flinging him overhead with such force that the lycan exploded through the cinderblock wall in a cloud of broken concrete and choking mortar dust. Selene heard a tremendous splash, as if Michael had fallen from a great distance into a pool of water.

Viktor rounded on Selene. "Where is he? Where's Kraven?" he thundered.

Selene stared at the spot where the regent had been: only Lucian's broken sword remained. But at that moment, Kraven's escape didn't concern her.

"It wasn't the lycans," she whispered, turning her face to Viktor's. "It was you!"

(xi)

Three Death Dealers had followed Viktor into the old generator room. He turned toward them now, snarling, "Leave us!"

Selene hauled herself to her feet, facing Viktor, full of an implacable hatred—all the stronger because of the love she'd had for him. Until today, she would gladly have died for her sire, and now she realized her devotion to him had been built on a foundation of lies.

"How could you?" she whispered. "How could you bear my trust, knowing you murdered my family?"

Viktor's face softened into an almost tender expression, which in a way hurt even more than anything Kraven had done. Selene had disappointed Viktor, but he still loved her.

This wouldn't be so unbearable, she thought, if I hadn't also loved him so much.

"Yes, I have taken from you," he acknowledged. "But I've given you so much more. Is it not a fair trade, the life I have granted you? The gift of immortality?"

Is that how you justified it? Selene wondered. "And the life of your daughter?" she challenged? "Your own flesh and blood?"

Viktor's face grew hard again. He crouched down beside Lucian's corpse and pulled off the lycan leader's medallion. Selene felt the cold pain of another truth: that pendant had once belonged to Viktor's daughter. It was too small, too delicate to belong to a man, and the design of Celtic knotwork was one of Viktor's emblems, reflected in the design of the crypt at the mansion, in the detailing of his own robes—a design even used in the armor of the Death Dealers themselves.

Lucian and Sonja, Selene realized. They were lovers, just like Michael and I. And Viktor murdered her for that.

Michael now possessed Lucian's memories, as a result of the bite, and Selene knew he must have seen the truth, also. I know what started this war, he'd said. The war had been born in the furnace of Viktor's wrath, his anger that his daughter had been sullied by a lycan.

"I loved my daughter," Viktor declared. "But the abomination growing in her womb was a betrayal of me and the Covenant!" Growing more infuriated, he shouted, "I had no choice!" Selene shrank back, expecting at any moment for him to rip her to pieces. "I did what was necessary to protect the species! As I am forced to do—yet again!"

He drew his sword and advanced on Selene. But he froze—they both did—at the sound of a wild cry from the bunker room. For the first time in Selene's immortal life, she saw fear on Viktor's face.

Is that Michael? she wondered. The howl had been neither vampiric nor lycanthropic—something different altogether. Viktor's head snapped, staring out the hole in the wall. Selene took advantage of the moment, leaping into a savage kick that sent Viktor's sword flying from his hand into the bunker below.

He rounded on her furiously—only to be confronted by a creature the likes of which Selene could not have imagined.

It was Michael, transformed into a glorious, fearsome beast from some fantastic legend: not lycan, not vampire, but a creature carved of black obsidian, gleaming and rippling beneath the lights of the generator room. Not even the muck and plaster dust that covered him could diminish his magnificence. His eyes glowed ebony, fathomless. Lucian's mad scheme had worked, and from Singe's blind experiments had risen an entirely new species.

Michael snarled at Viktor, pure white fangs contrasting vividly with his black face. Then he lifted the Elder and flung him through the wall of the generator room into the fetid pool that lay below.

Then Michael was gone. Selene blinked, gasping: even the Elders couldn't move so quickly! She ran and stared through the gaping hole in the concrete wall. The main room of the bunker had flooded—there must be an underground pipe leaking somewhere—and an epic, titanic battle unfolded in the filthy waters. Michael was fearsomely strong, flinging Viktor about as if the powerful Elder weighed nothing. And every time Viktor stood up or turned around, Michael would be right there, always moving too quickly for the eye to follow.

Michael may have had the benefit of greater strength, but it was a raw, uncoordinated power. Viktor had the advantage of combat experience—centuries' worth. He delivered a couple of stunning punches and sent Michael flying across the bunker, where he landed with a mighty splash. Viktor had lost none of his ferocious authority, despite the water drenching his robes and his wildly disheveled yellow hair. Selene realized she was seeing him as he must have been during those legendary medieval battles.

Viktor's Death Dealers, hearing the sounds of trouble, had come to the aid of their master, and now they stood on the edge of the pool, AK-47s in hand, firing a barrage of silver at Michael. Ugly flowers of blood blossomed as the bullets struck him, and he howled with pain.

No! Selene dropped from her perch, landing noiselessly behind the Death Dealers. She kicked the central man, knocking his legs out from under him, and in one swift wrench, broke his neck. She downed the other two with a combination of kicks and punches, grieving as she fought. Forgive me, my brothers, she thought. I never meant to kill my own kind.

Viktor had leaped across the pool, and now he had Michael's head in a vicious lock. Selene saw the insane, almost rabid expression on his face, saw Michael's futile efforts to free himself.

"Time to die!" Viktor snarled, and Selene saw to her horror that he was going to break Michael's neck. Her head turned wildly from side to side, and a metallic gleam caught her eye: Viktor's abandoned sword.

She scrambled and grabbed the weapon. Viktor spotted her and released Michael, shoving the hybrid away and turning to face Selene. She sprang through the air like a cougar, the sword flashing. Viktor's arms snapped, and spring-loaded daggers dropped into his hands. He glared at Selene with murder in his eyes. But he couldn't move. A diagonal crimson line had begun to spread across his face. Selene held up the sword, showing him the wet blood on the blade. The line on Viktor's face grew, and then, grotesquely, the entire upper part of his head slid clean off. His body followed, toppling into the quagmire.

Stunned, Selene could only stand there, staring at him. After centuries of killing, she finally felt that her family's deaths had been avenged.

She waded slowly from the pool. In a pile of gray rubble nearby lay Sonja's pendant; Viktor must have dropped it in the fight. She rubbed the dust from the medallion, thinking of what it represented: the forbidden love, the years of warfare, the lives wasted and lost, the tangled web of lies and deceit.

Splashing footsteps behind her announced that Michael was alive. She turned to face him. He'd returned to human form, his skin unblemished: his vampiric blood had protected him from the silver's poison. Silently, Selene pressed the pendant into his hand: it was his now, as the keeper of Lucian's memories.

For a moment, they stood staring around the bunker, absorbing the enormity of what had happened. The old order had been overthrown, the war ended, a new species born. Selene hadn't just witnessed this, she'd helped to bring it about. In shadowy niches above the pool, werewolves growled, but at a single glance from Michael, the creatures withdrew.

Michael turned his gaze to Selene, eyes full of love. She marveled at that. We're still barely more than strangers. And yet their love was already so strong, forged in the hellish crucible of war. It didn't matter that they knew almost nothing about each other. They had an eternity to learn.

(xii)

Kraven had limped his way to the surface, his leg an agonizing burden that he dragged behind him. He needed to get back to the mansion before Selene, to awaken Marcus and tell him how that bitch had betrayed the coven. Maybe if he was lucky, Selene and Viktor would kill each other, and there would be nobody left alive to tell Marcus otherwise. At least that damned Michael was dead.

The cars that the Death Dealers had driven to the city were parked in an alleyway, three drivers left to guard them. The warriors stood nearby, weapons ready, keeping close watch on the street. Kraven tightened his grip on the purloined UV weapon.

They saw him, but a fraction of a second too late; anyway, their weapons were loaded with silver. Kraven fired ruthlessly, emptying the clip, reducing all three guards to piles of smoking ash on the ground.

He hobbled across the road, rummaging shamelessly among the hot, crunching cinders for a set of car keys. His heart jolted at the sound of running footsteps. A female voice snarled his name.

"Kraven!"

He looked up, then ducked as UV bullets flew wildly over his head. It was that bitch, that blonde slut who'd been in league with Selene, spying on him and Soren. Kraven grabbed the nearest weapon, a semiautomatic loaded with silver, firing at his would-be assassin. She cried out, flying back and landing on the asphalt, releasing her hold on the gun she'd wielded so inexpertly. The weapon clattered away across the pavement.

Kraven stalked over to her prone body. Silver couldn't harm a vampire, of course, but the bullets would pierce her heart and brain, killing her just as efficiently. She was bleeding, writhing in pain, but she glared up at him with defiant eyes. He pointed the semi down at her skull.

Something materialized out of the shadows: a man in a long coat. He'd picked up the blonde's gun, aiming it straight at Kraven. The vampire blinked: the man's scent was strange, inhuman, his face a chillingly blank mask, eyes cold and remote. Unbidden, a peculiar phrase popped into Kraven's mind—

(the oncoming storm)

—out of seemingly nowhere. The gun exploded once, the bullet taking Kraven right in the heart. He dropped to the sidewalk, screaming in pain, as the ultraviolet fire seared through his body, burning him alive.

(xiii)

Erika watched the Doctor fling away the gun, his expression revolted, as if he couldn't bear having the weapon even touch his skin. Then he dropped down beside her, examining her injuries.

"It's all right, I've got you," he said, voice shaking as he pulled off his long coat. Then he removed his jacket and folded it up under Erika's head. "You brave, crazy woman!" he scolded. "Why'd you go after him like that?"

Revenge, Erika thought. "It hurts," she sobbed.

"I know. But you'll be all right, I promise." He swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, then began ripping the fabric into strips, which he used to bind the gaping wounds in Erika's flesh. "At least the bullets were silver, not ultraviolet. I know they burn, but they're not poisonous to you." The greater danger, Erika knew, was blood loss: already she was dizzy and weak, tottering on the brink of unconsciousness.

"Don't fall asleep!" he ordered, covering her with his coat. "Start talking!"

"About what?"

"Anything! Say the alphabet, tell me a poem, sing a song, but don't let yourself lose consciousness!"

Erika couldn't recall any poetry off-hand, and she feared that the rhythm of the alphabet would put her to sleep, so she began conjugating French verbs. The Doctor used his sonic device to open the trunks of the Death Dealers' cars, looking frantically through the contents of each. Finally he pulled out an automotive tool box.

"No first aid kits," he fumed, dropping down again beside Erika. He removed a pair of long, thin pliers and held them up, running his sonic device along the metal.

"What are you doing?" she rasped.

"Sterilizing it."

"Vampires can't catch human infections."

"General principles," he huffed. Then he said, "I'm going to put your mind into a bit of a trance so that I can get these bullets out without hurting you. You'll still be awake; you'll feel some pressure and maybe a bit of burning, but it shouldn't hurt too badly. The thing you need to do is stay as relaxed as possible. All right?"

"All right," she agreed.

He put his hands on either side of her head, and Erika closed her eyes. A moment later she felt his presence in her mind, and then, incredibly, the searing pain of the bullets began to lessen.

"All right?" he asked again.

"I'm fine," she said. "I can barely feel anything."

"Good."

She tried to lay still and be calm when he removed one of the bandages and began probing into her flesh with the pliers, but it wasn't easy. For one thing, she could hear the wet sounds as he worked, and she felt the uncomfortable pressure of the metal burning inside her.

"Gotcha," he grunted, tossing one bullet onto the street. Then he re-bound the wound. Erika waited while he went to work on the next one. She tried to be patient, but it seemed there was no end to her injuries, and she was growing nauseated as well as weak.

"We're almost there," he said, his long hands red from her blood. He wiped them on his t-shirt, leaving smears on the gray fabric. "There's just one left, in your leg, but it's deep."

"Do it," she said, glad the ordeal would be over soon. She told herself to be calm and brave, but the pliers dug deep into the muscle of her thigh, and suddenly there was a bright, horrible pain. Erika nearly screamed, thrashing in spasms.

"Shh, shh!" His hands pressed down on her leg. "It's embedded in the bone. I'm sorry; I can't dig it out, not with these. I need better instruments."

Erika cringed at the sound of running footsteps, imagining more Death Dealers or worse, lycans. But then a familiar woman's voice called out, "What happened?"

"Erika's injured—there's a bullet in her leg I can't get out."

Selene's pale face loomed into Erika's field of vision, then Michael's. Through her haze of pain, Erika was glad to see both of them unharmed.

Michael took a quick, professional look at the injury. "Selene, is there anywhere we can take her? I could get this out, but I need some decent medical supplies."

"My ship," the Doctor said. "It's in the tunnels, and—"

Selene vetoed that idea immediately. "There's still too many lycans down there, and some Death Dealers may have survived as well. We'll go to one of our safe houses. Quickly—get her into the back of my car."

Michael took Erika by the shoulders, and the Doctor lifted her feet. They maneuvered her into the backseat of Selene's Jag, tucking her in with the Doctor's jacket for a pillow and his coat for a blanket.

She gazed blearily up at Michael. "Your smell has changed," she murmured.

"Yeah, I know." He climbed into the passenger seat in front. Selene had already started the engine. The Doctor stayed in the back, next to Erika, stroking her hand reassuringly.

"What happened down there?" he asked.

Selene pulled the car away from the curb. "Lucian is dead. Amelia's dead." Her voice grew heavy. "Viktor's dead. I killed him."

Mechanically, the Doctor told her, "Kraven's dead, too."

She glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. "Your work?"

He didn't answer.

"You lucky bastard," she said. The car whispered along the streets, into the heart of the city. Overhead, the moon glowed coldly in the night sky.

The End

Author's note: This story will continue in The Ground Beneath her Feet, hopefully ready by October.