Topic: Homeward Bound

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2011-11-03 17:29 EST

By the time Rhys reached the portal, it was dark and quiet in the Marketplace, the only light illuminating the stalls and shops that of Rhydin's twin moons. It was just as well. Saying good-bye to Katt had been painful enough. He didn't want to repeat the process all over again with those he'd come to care for since his arrival in Rhydin, as few of them as there were. He'd left a small piece of himself with Katt " the dreamstone that Aurelia had given him. Katt seemed to need it more than he did, and he didn't think it would do him much good where he was going. He'd asked her to remember him, but he doubted whether she would. Wounded and weary, heartsick with grief and loneliness, he knew that somehow he had to summon the strength and courage to finish what he'd started. There was only one demon left, but he knew the last would prove far more difficult than the other two. The portal was just where Katt had said it would be in the Marketplace - a door to other worlds, other dimensions, other realities. He had to be very careful telling it where he wanted to go, or there was no telling where he might end up. Rhys glanced up at the night sky, at the patterns of stars that had become familiar over the last weeks and months, his heart already aching with loneliness. He thought of all those he was leaving, people who had become or almost become friends, people he'd come to care for " Riley, David, Luke, Kellie, Katt, and Aurelia, to name a few. Each of them had offered to help in one way or another, but it was his fight. There had been enough lives lost, and he didn't want anyone else getting hurt because of him. There was no point in saying good-bye. Saying good-bye wouldn't change anything. It would only make leaving more painful for everyone. The one person he regretted more than any other in all this was Kellie. It was because of him that she'd gotten involved in all this and because of him she'd somehow ended up in Rhydin, but he was confident Luke would help her find her way home, confident in time she'd forget all about him. And so, he'd decided to go home, wherever home was, to whatever awaited him there. Rhys drew a deep breath, clutching his wounded side with one hand, while he pressed the other against the pearlescent orb that flashed to life as soon as his fingers came in contact with the surface. It felt smooth beneath his hand, like a polished stone, but warm instead of cool to the touch, almost like it was alive. Closing his eyes, he tried to visualize where he wanted to go, but no clear image would form in his mind. Where exactly was home" Was home where he'd been born in Mystic, Iowa, or was it where he'd grown up in the mountains of central Pennsylvania" Was it New York, where he'd spent his high school years living with John and Janet, or Brooklyn, where he'd moved after the car accident that had robbed him of his memory' Was it Flagstaff, where lifelong friends David and Adam had lived, or Denver, where he'd met the mysterious Nikki. Chicago with Kellie, Milwaukee with Cara, or Tucson with Riley' Was home the driver's seat of his "68 Chevelle" Or was it here on Rhydin with people he'd come to think of as friends? In truth, there was only one place that had ever felt like home, and it was to that place that his heart turned in his moment of searching. All at once, Rhys felt a surge of power flow through him, almost electric in its intensity and then there was a bright flash of light, and Rhys stepped through the portal, disappearing from Rhydin, as if he'd never been there at all.

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2011-12-04 23:24 EST

"Papa....Papa, come home to us..." Rhys groaned, a little girl's voice resounding in his head, one he recognized, the daughter of his dreams.

"Em..." he stammered, his tongue feeling thick, like he was drunk or feverish. "Emily..." he muttered, forcing his eyes open, his surroundings slowly coming into focus.

There was a stabbing pain in his side, and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. He tried to remember what had happened, where he was, how he'd come to be there, but it was foggy, like a dream upon waking.

"Papa..." He heard the little girl's voice again and looked around the room, but there was no one there. He watched almost entranced as dust motes swirled in the small stream of sunlight that was coming in through a window. It was daylight.

Afraid he was losing his mind, he pushed himself up, breath catching on a gasp as he clutched his aching side. Dizzy and confused, he blinked to clear his vision and take a harder look around.

"Emily?" he called, but no one answered, and he realized with a sinking heart she'd never really been there at all, and he suddenly remembered all of it. The whole painful journey of his life.

Rhys swallowed down the tears that were threatening, that always threatened when he thought of Emily and the children he and Riley would never have. There was no hope left. It was impossible. She was with David now. What is and what shall never be... It all seemed so unfair.

He had no choice but to push all that aside for now and to focus on the present.

"I know this place..." he told himself, finally recognizing his surroundings. The tattered furniture, the old television set, the dusty paintings on the walls, the red-painted sigils that marked the doors and windows to keep evil at bay, the stairs that led to a second floor and a bedroom that had once been his.

His memory flashed back to the last time he'd been here. Had it only been a few years ago' It seemed like yesterday. The road trip from Hell that had ended in disaster. Everything had changed after that. He'd lost Riley forever.

He tried to stand and inhaled a sharp breath, feeling faint, realizing he was worse off than he thought and settled himself back against the moth-eaten couch.

Dylan's house in the Alleghenies. That's where he was. That's where the portal had taken him. The place where he'd grown up, after his parents had been killed. The place he'd always thought of as home.

He couldn't stay there, not forever. He had one more demon to kill before he could rest his weary soul. He knew he was in bad shape and needed help. He didn't even know what day it was, what year it was, how long he'd been away. It could have been minutes, it could have been years.

There was only one person he could count on to help him, and that one person was who knew where. There was only one way to find out.

Rhys pulled his cell phone out of his jacket and punched up the name of the one person he trusted more than any other. He only hoped he was still alive to answer his call for help.

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2011-12-05 18:00 EST

"Rhys" Jesus Christ! Where the hell have you been?"

Rhys sighed in relief when he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. "Thank God," he muttered into the phone. "It's a long story, Adam. It'll have to wait. I need your help."

"Where the hell are you? What the hell happened?" the voice on the other end asked. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

"I'm at Dylan's," Rhys answered, sounding as sick and weary as he felt.

"Dylan's," Adam repeated, dubiously. "The hell are you doing there" I've got a dead body on my hands. You missed the meeting with your probation officer. There's a warrant out for your arrest. And I don't know what happened to Kel!"

"Demons," Rhys replied bluntly, as if that one word explained everything. The story of his life.

"Well, of course it was demons!" Adam exclaimed. "What else could it be?"

Rhys leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his tired eyes. "Are you going to help me or not?"

There was a short pause on the other end of the phone and then an audible sigh. "You sound like sh*t. Are you all right?"

"Would I be calling you if I was all right?" Rhys replied, sounding slightly irritated.

"What happened" Are you hurt?" The voice on the other end sounded suddenly concerned.

Rhys hesitated a moment, not wanting to alarm his old friend too much. "I was shot," he admitted finally. The bullet had been removed, but from the way he was feeling, he thought it might be infected. He didn't mention the stitches he suspected had torn again, or the pounding in his head from a probable concussion, or the loss of blood that he'd given to Katt. Too many words. It took too much effort.

"Jesus Christ, Rhys! Why are you calling me" Call an ambulance. Go to the hospital."

"I can't!" Rhys exclaimed. "Don't you think I would if I could? You're the only one left I can trust." He couldn't help the sound of desperation in his voice. Desperate times called for desperate measures. "Adam, please."

There was another brief pause as if the man on the other end of the line needed a moment to digest what he was being told or to decide what to do about it. "Don't you f*cking die on me, Rhys. I'll be there as soon as I can."

The line went dead, and Rhys dropped his hand, the phone clattering to the floor. Too weak to retrieve it, too weak to do anything but close his weary eyes, he let the darkness take him.

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2011-12-05 18:38 EST

She was there again. Emily. His little girl. His and Riley's. She looked so much like her mother that it tore his heart to pieces.

"Papa," she said, her small hand pressed against his cheek. "Come home to us. We miss you."

"Em..." he muttered, hot tears filling his eyes and blurring his vision. "It's too late. Your mother..." His voice broke on the word. She wasn't dead, no. Thank God for that. But she had a different life now. She was Alpha, and she belonged to someone else.

"Mama is here. She's waiting for you. You promised to make us pancakes, remember" You always make us pancakes on Sunday."

Some part of him knew it was the fever. That none of it was real. It was just a figment of his imagination. The result of a fevered brain, but once the tears started, he couldn't stop them. "Emily..." he whispered, reaching out to touch her, to run his fingers through her hair. She looked and felt so real, just as he remembered her. The daughter of his dreams.

"We miss you, Papa. Please come home," she told him again, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. Her lips felt cool and soothing against his feverish face.

"I can't..." he whispered again, tears sliding down his face, tasting salty against his lips.

"Yes, you can. It's never too late, Papa. You'll see," she insisted, a smile as bright as sunshine breaking through the clouds on a stormy day lighting her face. "Don't give up," she said as she stepped back, still smiling, waving her small hand in farewell. "I love you, Papa."

Rhys watched as she disappeared into thin air, as if she'd never been there at all, and his heart shattered into a million pieces, broken sobs shaking his shoulders, feeling more alone than ever.

He'd been so close and yet, so far. How was he supposed to go on' He almost wished he'd just die and be done with it, but he couldn't give up. Whether she was just a figment of his imagination or not, she'd asked him to go on, to keep fighting, because she loved him. How could he deny her that"

He couldn't give up because then they'd win, and he wouldn't let them win. He'd come too far for that. He wasn't a quitter. He was a hunter, and one way or another, he was going to have to find the courage to go on, even if he couldn't have what he wanted.

He had to go on for all the other Rileys and Emilys in the world. For all the people who went about their lives never knowing how close they were to destruction.

It was a heavy burden to bear, but he was almost finished, and then he could rest. Then it would be over. Whatever the outcome, then he would have peace.

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2011-12-05 22:08 EST

Adam Sparrowhawk, F.B.I....

When he'd first joined the agency, he'd been thrilled to get away from all the weirdness that was part of his uncle's life. The things that go bump in the night. Demons, vampires, lycans, ghosts, monsters. The things kids make their parents check for under the bed and inside the closet before they went to sleep for the night.

Adam had learned at a very early age that those things weren't just the stuff of myths and legends, but were real. Very real. Too real.

Before the demons had killed him, David Sparrowhawk had been a Shaman, skilled in the ways of Native American magic, but apparently not skilled enough to have saved himself.

There had been a time when Adam had been skeptical of his uncle's ancient rituals and beliefs, but that time had long since passed. He'd seen too much in his thirty-seven years to not know there were things out there that defied explanation. Things both good and evil, but it wasn't the good things that concerned him.

It was on a night long ago when he was fifteen years old that he'd first met a boy five years his junior, a boy on the brink of death. He'd been bitten by a werewolf and Adam's uncle had been called upon to do what he could for the boy, but it was already too late.

They'd talked about killing him, putting him out of his misery before the inevitable happened, before the next full moon when he would turn into a monster. It was Adam who'd heard the boy weeping, terrified of dying, but even more terrified of becoming something horrible. It was Adam who had promised he wouldn't let them hurt him, and that if the necessity arose, he'd do the deed himself and make sure it was as quick and painless as possible.

It was on that dark, fateful night many years ago that Adam Sparrowhawk and Rhys Bristol had forged an unbreakable bond, but despite the severity of the wound, the full moon had come and gone, and Rhys had never turned. No one had understood why he hadn't turned; no one had even questioned it. They had just accepted it and been grateful for it, but as far as Adam was concerned, it had been nothing short of a miracle.

That night, hardly knowing each other, the two boys had made a pact to always watch each other's backs, no matter what might happen. To always be there for each other, to be like brothers, and even after all these years, it was a promise neither had ever broken.

While Rhys had followed in Dylan's path, growing up to become a hunter, just like his foster father, Adam had taken another route. Adam had gone into criminal justice, eventually pursuing his dream of becoming a Federal Agent, never expecting that his chosen path would lead him in a circle back to his own roots, back to the nightmares of his childhood.

Adam thought on all these things as he sat in Seat 3B on Flight 609 from Flagstaff. As much as he might complain, as much as Rhys might annoy him, irritate him, drive him crazy, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for the brother of his heart.

He only hoped he wasn't too late because this time, if Rhys wasn't already dead, Adam just might kill him himself.

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2011-12-06 17:41 EST

The flight from Flagstaff would take over twelve hours with layovers in Phoenix, L.A., and D.C., final destination Altoona, P.A. Then it would take another hour or so to drive from Altoona to the small town of Huntingdon, which was about halfway between Pittsburgh and Harrisburg. Adam figured if he didn't run into any delays or other problems, the entire trip shouldn't take any more than about fourteen hours. He only hoped Rhys could hold on that long.

He tried to call when he got to L.A. and then again in D.C., but there was no answer, and it worried him. He thought about calling the Pittsburgh Field Station and asking them to check on him, but with a warrant out for Rhys' arrest, there was no one there he trusted well enough to keep it under wraps.

It was times like these when he wished there was a faster means of transportation. Flying was fast, but not fast enough. One thing the long trip did was afford him time to think, but thinking only raised more questions.

For starters, where had Rhys been for the last few months" Where was Kel" Did he still have amnesia" What was he doing at Dylan's" How had a dead girl wound up outside Kellie's compound in Chicago' Was someone still following him' Was that why he'd disappeared" How'd he been shot' Why hadn't he tried to contact him before"

Questions and more questions. There was no end to weirdness where Rhys' life was concerned, and no matter how hard Adam tried to live a normal life, the weirdness always seemed to creep its way over into his own.

By the time Adam arrived in Altoona, it was late. He'd arranged to have a car waiting for him at the airport, but it was another hour to Huntingdon through winding roads that wound up and down the wooded hillsides.

As far as Adam was concerned, Huntingdon was a podunk town, but for some strange reason, Rhys has always seemed to like it. It was mostly quiet, with a population that wavered somewhere around 6500, give or take. The railroad and the Juniata River ran through the main part of town, which was nestled in a valley between the mountains. Most people found it quaint. Adam found it boring.

There were more churches in town than anything else. One hospital, two grocery stores, a couple of gas stations, fast food joints and pizzerias, a cafe or two, and Sheetz. Sheetz was the local gas station slash coffee shop, where all the locals hung out. It was where you got your coffee, your morning paper, and your Krispy Kremes, along with the latest gossip. Everyone knew everyone, it seemed, and even if you didn't, you were usually greeted with a warm, small-town smile. Nothing exciting ever happened in Huntingdon, and whenever it did, it was talked about for weeks and months afterward.

Dylan had chosen to live there for this very reason. While some might think it easier to get lost in plain sight amidst the ever-fluctuating population of a big city, Dylan preferred rural living. He knew every name and every face, and he knew by instinct when something was wrong.

The house itself was more hunting cabin than home, and after Dylan's death over fifteen years ago, it had fallen to ruin, but Rhys had never had the heart to sell it, still holding onto the memories of a childhood spent there with his foster father, a man he'd come to love as much as his own flesh and blood.

It was nearly midnight by the time Adam arrived in town. He stopped at J.C. Blair Memorial Hospital and with a flash of his badge and a little fast talk, acquired the necessary medical supplies he thought he might need to deal with a gunshot wound and possible complications. That done, he made a quick stop at Sheetz for coffee and something to eat and started down Route 22 east out of town.

By the time he reached the cabin, it was one a.m., nearly fifteen hours after he'd first talked to Rhys on the phone. He'd come as fast as he could. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2011-12-30 18:25 EST

When Rhys awoke, the first thing he realized was that he was no longer alone. The lights were on, there was a fire burning in the fireplace, and he could hear someone moving about the cabin. His first reaction was to reach for the .45 he always kept handy in his right-hand coat pocket, but he realized with alarm that he was no longer wearing a coat. For that matter, he wasn't wearing a shirt either.

Someone had bandaged his shoulder and re-bandaged his side, tossed a blanket over him and tucked a pillow under his head. He figured it was more than likely not a demon.

Groggy and confused, Rhys tried to sit up, but found he lacked the strength. Opening his mouth to speak, the only thing that came out was a groan.

It was then his visitor made himself known, a face moving into his line of vision, blurry but familiar. Adam.

"Don't try to get up. I've got you pumped full of enough painkillers and antibiotics to knock you on your *ss."

Rhys blinked several times in an attempt to bring his old friend's face into focus, vaguely remembering talking to him on the phone and wondering how long he'd been there.

"Christ, you're a mess," Adam continued. "Whoever stitched up your shoulder did a lousy job, and your side busted open, too. I hope whoever you tangled with is worse off than you," he said, pulling a chair up not far from the couch upon which Rhys was resting.

"Dead," Rhys croaked, after a moment of trying to get his mouth to work.

"Better them than you, buddy," Adam replied, reaching for a glass of water and lifting it to Rhys' lips. "Unless you want a trip to the E.R., you better try and drink something."

"No....hospital," Rhys told his friend in a strained voice.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No hospital, no questions." He slid an arm around his friend's shoulders and helped him take a few small sips of water before laying him back down. "Get some rest. It's safe here, and I'm not going anywhere." He offered a reassuring smile to the man who'd been like a brother most of his life.

"Yes, mother," Rhys mumbled, letting his eyes droop closed again, too weary to fight the meds, drifting back into blissful unconsciousness. Now that Adam was there, he could rest peacefully. There would be time for explanations later.

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2012-01-01 13:37 EST

Several days later...

"There was this girl..." Rhys started.

Adam groaned, as he set a glass of orange juice on the table in front of Rhys, along with some scrambled eggs and dry toast. "Why is it every story you tell always starts with those four words?"

"No, it doesn't," Rhys argued, glancing at the meager plate of food, his stomach growling in eager anticipation. "Where's the coffee?" he asked, sounding slightly irritated.

"No coffee. Not yet. Let's see if you can keep this down first."

"I can't eat breakfast without coffee."

"You can and you will, or maybe you'd like to take a trip to the E.R. and get an I.V. drip instead." Adam knew how his old friend felt about needles and wasn't afraid to make good on his threat.

Rhys scowled in annoyance. "Fine. Christ, you're worse than a woman."

"Speaking of women, you were saying..."

"I was saying that not every story I tell starts with a girl."

"The hell it doesn't. What was this one's name?"

Rhys winced as he took a sip of the orange juice. He'd always hated the stuff. He'd learned by trial and error that vodka didn't make it taste much better either. "Katt..." he replied, sourly.

"Katt," Adam repeated, as if trying to wrap his head around a mental image of what the girl might look like. Pretty, he figured. They always were. "What is with you anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"What was the name of that girl back in Iowa' The one you dropped off before calling me for help?"

Rhys had to jog his memory banks. "What girl in....oh..." He set the juice down and picked up his fork. Iowa seemed like forever ago. "Ashley, I think."

"Ashley, right. At least, she's still alive."

"They're all still alive," Rhys snapped, jerking his head up, eyes narrowing. All except one, and he didn't want to think about her right now, much less talk about her. His head was starting to throb like he had a hangover. Or maybe he just needed a drink.

Adam poured himself a glass of juice and took a seat at the table. "What about this Katt?"

"What about her" She's still alive, if that's what you want to know."

"I want to know what it is with you and women."

"How the hell should I know?" Rhys snapped back. "It wasn't like that. And if you want to know about Kellie, I don't know what happened to her, but the last time I saw her she was alive and kicking."

Adam leaned back in his chair and eyed his friend closely. He hadn't become a Federal Agent without having a keen sense of observation, and he knew Rhys better than anyone. "You were worried you'd get her killed, weren't you?"

Rhys made no reply, but started picking at his eggs, which confirmed Adam's suspicions.

"She's not Jessie, you know. She knows how to take care of herself."

Rhys' head jerked up, green eyes narrowing, flashing with anger when Adam mentioned the one he couldn't save. "You weren't there. You didn't see what I saw. There was a f*cking horde, Adam. A horde. You ever been up against a horde of demons?"

Adam only nodded his head toward Rhys, to indicate his wounds and asked, "Is that how you were wounded?"

"No," Rhys replied, quietly, all the anger going out of him. He just felt tired. "That happened before."

"Why don't you just start at the beginning? Start from when you left Chicago."

Rhys nodded and quieted a moment to gather his thoughts and his words. It would take a while before the story was all told, of how he'd been pulled through the Nexus to Rhydin and of everything that had happened there. Of how it had all ended with him and Katt facing a hoard of demons and of how she'd almost died because of him, or so he'd thought. But she hadn't died because he'd given her a little of his own blood, blood that was apparently different from a normal human's because he wasn't normal. He was an incarnated angel, or so he'd been told. And then, he'd left. Knowing that whatever it was he was supposed to have done on Rhydin was done. He'd avenged Patrick's death by killing Lilith and avenged Jessie's death by killing Naamah. He'd thought it would ease the pain a little, but it hadn't. It seemed nothing would.

"There's only one left," Rhys told his friend as he reached the end of the story. "Abaddon."

"The Destroyer," Adam remarked. He knew as much about demons as Rhys, maybe more. He had his own story to tell and knew Rhys wasn't going to like it. "Well, if you're gonna go up against that son of a bitch, you're gonna need more than an ethereal sword to help you, and I think I know just the thing."

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2012-01-02 22:30 EST

"You're joking, right?" Rhys asked upon hearing Adam lay out his plan. A crazy plan, Rhys thought. It was nuts, but he'd heard stranger things. "So, how am I supposed to get to Paris?"

"The same way everyone else does. Fly," Adam answered, pouring himself a cup of coffee, which only fueled Rhys' irritation.

"Fly. Right," Rhys grumbled doubtfully, staring at the coffee covetously. What he really wanted right now was a stiff shot of whiskey. He sure as hell was going to need something to bolster his courage if he was going to fly across the ocean. "Can't you just do some kinda spell and mojo me there?"

Adam laughed and lowered the mug to the table. He knew how much Rhys hated flying, was terrified of it really, but he didn't really think they had much choice. "Don't be such a baby. People fly all the time. Statistically, it's safer than driving."

Rhys raised a hand to silence him and break off the lecture. "Save it. I know what the statistics are. I'll still take wheels over wings any day of the week."

"This coming from a guy who almost died after meeting a tree up close and personal," Adam pointed out, reminding Rhys of the accident that had almost cost him his life and had for a time, cost him his memory.

"Yeah, well, it helps to not be able to remember some things sometimes."

"Like the fact that you're an angel?" Adam asked putting the word angel in air quotes.

Rhys snorted. "Do I look like an angel to you?"

"You're about the furthest thing I know from an angel. Not that I've ever met one personally, but....David thought there was something special about you. So did Dylan."

"What do you mean special?" Rhys asked, narrowing his eyes. "You mean like short bus special or special special?"

"I mean special special."

"Why'd he think that?" Rhys queried, his curiosity piqued.

"You remember the night you were attacked by a werewolf?" Adam asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"How could I forget?" Rhys replied, reminded of a night long ago. "Thought I was a goner. Or worse." He shook his head at the memory of it. "I was just a kid. I was stupid. I should never have gone out there alone."

"Yeah, well....never mind that," Adam dismissed Rhys" self-incrimination. It was beside the point. "You get wounded by a werewolf, you become a werewolf. That's how it works."

"It's not a given."

"Yeah, it is. David likened it to a virus. It infects you, gets into your blood, changes your DNA, and when the moon goes full, you become one of them. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"We've been over this before," Rhys pointed out, not really seeing the point.

"You ever wonder why you didn't turn, Rhys?" Adam continued.

Rhys shrugged. He had a few ideas about it, but there was no way of knowing for sure. "Just got lucky, I guess."

Adam snorted derisively. "Luck had nothing to do with it. You said your DNA is different. An extra strand or something."

"That's what I was told. Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"

"I think you're immune," Adam suggested.

Rhys seemed to take that in a minute, soak up the possibility, before replying. "Okay, so what if I'm immune. So what?"

Adam sighed in irritation. Either Rhys wasn't getting the point or just didn't want to get the point. "So, no one is immune, Rhys. No one. No human, anyway. Not that I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot."

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2012-01-02 22:36 EST

"Are you saying the....angelic part of me saved me from lycanthropy' Because that just sounds nuts." God, it almost sounds blasphemous saying that, Rhys thought.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. And vampirism. Isn't that why they tried killing you, instead of draining you?"

Rhys shrugged his shoulders. He didn't really want to think about that right now either. It brought back too many bad memories. "One of them took a bite and got sick. Said my blood was poison."

"How often do you think that happens?"

"So, you're saying that this....anomaly with my DNA is proof that I'm..."

"That you're an angel?" Adam interjected helpfully.

"I was gonna say that I'm different."

It was Adam's turn to shrug. "I'm saying that whatever the explanation, you're the only person I know who's immune to lycanthropy and vampirism."

"That's a good thing, right?" Rhys asked hopefully, both brows lifting.

"You have any idea what might happen if it gets out?" Adam asked, leaning forward, as if to let Rhys know this was not a joking matter.

"Uh, I might make Time Magazine's Freak of the Year?" Rhys suggested, sarcastically.

"Can you be serious for a minute?"

"I am being serious," Rhys replied with a completely straight face. He'd never been more serious about anything in his life.

"There are....people..." Adam continued, "and I use that term loosely....who'd kill for blood like yours."

"People," Rhys repeated, thoughtfully. "You mean, like people looking for a cure?"

"Or the opposite."

"Okay, so, what?s that got to do with Paris?"

"Not a damned thing, except that you better watch your back. You've got more than just demons to worry about."

"Awesome. That's just awesome. Any more good news, Nostradamus?"

"Yeah....If I'm right about this sword, you're gonna have to steal it, and it's not gonna be easy."

"Steal it," Rhys echoed, doubtfully. "How do you even know it'll work" I was told I need an angel's sword. You know where we can find one of those?"

"My guess would be an angel."

"I am?" Rhys sighed. They were going in circles. He didn't understand how any of this worked really, and it was starting to make his head ache. "Why don't you just send me after Excalibur, Merlin?"

"Because Excalibur is more than likely a myth, and I've no idea where to look for it. But Charlemagne....He was real. And we know where his sword is."

"And all I have to do is steal it. Simple as pie," Rhys remarked sarcastically, snapping his fingers.

"First things first," said Adam. "First, you have to get to Paris, then we'll worry about stealing the sword."

"You aren't coming with me?" Rhys asked, arching a brow.

"Uh, no....I'll deal with things from here, Security clearances, contacts, that sort of thing."

"That's great, Adam. You're gonna send me to do the dirty work alone."

Rhys Bristol · Date: 2012-01-02 22:41 EST

"Well," Adam smirked, "you are the resident angel."

"You're an *ss, you know that?"

"Takes one to know one, brother."

"Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret this?"

"Come on. Think of it as a simple robbery. That's all it is. Breaking and entering. Nothing you haven't done before. Piece of cake. No demons, no werewolves, no vampires. Just you and the Louvre's security system. It'll be fun."

"Nothing simple about it. I'm a hunter, not a thief," Rhys pointed out.

"Look, I'm not even sure the sword in the Louvre is the real thing. The period's all wrong. They say the real sword is buried inside it, but I've got my doubts, so think of it as a reconnaissance mission."

"You're sending me halfway around the world, and you're not even sure if it's the real thing?" Rhys" voice lifted an octave, betraying his irritation.

"It's a start."

"If you're sending me across the ocean on a wild goose chase, I swear to God, I'm gonna kill you."

Adam smiled and reached over to give his friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Just trust me on this, okay' David was researching swords, and he seemed to think this one was important."

"Have you been smoking the whacky tobaccy again?"

"I may have imbibed a little. The spirits don't lie, Rhys, and I've got a feeling about this."

Rhys sighed, knowing there was no arguing with him. "Since you seem to have my life planned for me, when do I leave?"

"Not until those wounds are healed," Adam replied, nodding to Rhys" wounded shoulder. Like a mother hen, he wasn't going to let his friend out of his sight until he was sure he was well enough to stand on his own two feet alone. "You're safe here, for now. In the meantime, you've got some catching up to do."

"Catching up?" Rhys asked, not liking the sound of that. He'd rather just have the Reader's Digest version.

"Yeah, you don't think I'm sending you over there unprepared, do you? Time the hit the books, buddy. You've got a lot of reading to do."

Rhys groaned and rolled his eyes, "Slave driver.? Despite his misgivings and his worries, he was glad for Adam's help and anxious to finish the job, whatever the outcome.