It had been one hell of a time for the best CSI Team lately. But the time of pain and emotional uproar seemed to be over.
Chris was getting accustomed to his new vampire abilities. He was back to work. He had had a few starter problems, but that was over as well. The first case had been solved, the second had proven to be no big problem, and by the third and fourth one, the team was working like a well-oiled machine again. Buck had no further problems adjusting to his canine alter-ego either.
Yes, everything looked like it would finally switch back to normal.
AD Orrin Travis sighed briefly and took another sip of brandy. Define 'normal' when it came to these seven men...
What else could possibly happen?

* * *

"Wow," JD whistled through his teeth, looking around the large entrance hall of his friends's new home. "You planning on doing a remake of 'Gone with the Wind'?"
"I seriously doubt Ezra qualifies as a southern belle." Vin chuckled. "Although ... on second thought ..." He received a dark look from green glowing vampire eyes.
"No way!" Ezra exclaimed. "What is it with you Tanners, always keen to see me in a dress?"
"Huh?" Vin looked completely at a loss. "Uhm, I seem to be missing the funny point here...?"
"Good!"
"Hey, fur ball!" Buck Wilmington's voice hollered from the terrace, "Everybody's waitin' here for you."
"Nice to see one's being missed."
"Naw ... you're the man with the steaks."
Vin grumbled under his breath as he headed toward the sliding door and the terrace, where the rest of the team had gathered to celebrate Chris's return with an unforgettable barbecue, starting right at sundown.
Ezra chuckled as he watched him go, then turned as he heard his lover approach. Chris wrapped his arms around the smaller vampire and kissed his neck.
"It's nice to have them all here, as a team. Just having fun, a few steaks on the grill..."
"Which don't do anything for you..." Ezra added.
"Five cats having fun," Chris went on, unimpressed.
"Two wolves tearing through the house...."
"A cold beer or two," Chris continued to ignore Ezra.
"Which won't affect you."
Larabee squeezed him briefly and nibbled at one ear. "Spoilsport."
"Hey, you two lovebirds!" Buck hollered from outside once more. "Get your lazy butts out here! Or I'll send Vin in to get you!"
"In your dreams, Wilmington," came the immediate reply from the geologist. "You want them two Draculas out here, get 'em yourself!"
Ezra chuckled. "Draculas?"
"Maybe I should get myself a cape," Chris murmured into one ear.
Standish laughed. "Don't scare the neighbors."
Both men walked out onto the terrace and took their seats. Buck was in charge of the barbecue grill, while the rest entertained the cats. Which mostly meant keeping Sequoia and Peekaboo away from the meat.
"How d'you want yours, Chris?" Buck asked, grinning. "Raw, bloody or as a shake?"
Chris chuckled. "As always, medium rare. Now fork over the beer."
Ezra theatrically rolled his eyes, but took a beer as well. No, food did nothing to them, in either way. It was a human craving, a thing of the mind, but it was fun now and then. Like right now. Relaxing back into his chair, he smiled as he listened to the men laugh and tell stories. He watched his lover as Chris relaxed as well, completely content with his friends and colleagues.
Yes, Chris had made the right decision back when Ezra had offered to help him 'die', to disappear and begin a new life. His lover needed his friends and they needed him. Ezra's smile grew.

* * *

Things had gone smoothly the whole evening. All seven men were having fun, eating, drinking, telling jokes and reliving old cases. Buck was spinning wild tales about old police cases, embarrassing the hell out of Chris. Ezra patted his lover's thigh.
"Don't worry," he said brightly as Chris shot daggers at Buck for revealing some things he had hoped to leave buried in the hole he had dug in his mind, the one where he kept all the embarrassing stuff. "It's not like you can really embarrass yourself in front of me any more."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Chris called as the older vampire rose fluidly and walked into the kitchen to get some more napkins.
After Nathan had accidentally knocked over the iced tea, they had run out of them pretty soon.
"Nothing!" Ezra's voice could be heard from inside.
Chris grumbled something under his breath, but there was amusement dancing in his eyes.
By now it was fully dark and the immediate area of the barbecue party was lit up by torches Vin had bought in a homestore. They burned for hours, were mounted on solid sticks, and he and JD had rammed them into the ground at intervals, creating a nice illumination.
Chris took over barbecue duty after the first round of steaks, shooing Buck toward the table to eat. Watching his men banter, he smiled to himself. The smile disappeared when JD's face took on an enraged expression and he literally exploded into Buck's face.
"Goddamnit, Wilmington, can't you leave it just for once?! "
Dunne erupted from his seat and headed toward the door, intention clear. Ezra, who had just exited the house, was nearly bowled over by the youngest team member, and he shot Chris a confused look. Larabee shrugged, making attempts to follow JD.
But JD didn't even make it through the door.
Right in the middle of the doorframe appeared a little black shadow, jumping in front of JD's feet and hissing, annoyed. JD, who almost tripped over the kitten, could only keep his balance by steadying himself at the doorframe.
"Cat!!" he exclaimed. "Get away from me!"
Bagheera hissed again and arched her back, looking three times larger than usual.
"Whoa ... Bagheera?" JD almost jumped back from his cute, little, harmless kitten, that seemed to pretend she was a dangerous specimen of a much larger feline family, like her name sake.
"Damn, Bagheera, what's wrong with you? Let me go!"
Bagheera definitely had other plans, crash diving on his feet when JD made another attempt of walking past her.
 

Ezra watched the whole scene in front of his eyes with a strange feeling of deja vu, all over again. Then he noticed: Shawn, sitting on a trunk, watching her daughter closely, as her daughter watched her owner closely.
"Why does that look familiar?" Chris murmured, stepping up behind him.
It hit.
"Chris," Ezra turned around, beaming at his lover," you're ingenious."
"I am?"
"Yes. The key word is 'familiar'."
"Oh?"
"Yes, oh!"
"Wait a minute... Bagheera is JD's cat, and as far as I know I didn't bite him ..." Chris trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Ezra.
"Neither did I. I didn't have to."
"Huh? What are you attempting to suggest here ... ?"
Josiah had stepped up to JD in the meantime and was calming their youngest member down. Dunne looked furious, but the anger was dissipating. It had been a heat of the moment action.
"I'm sorry, JD," Buck could be heard apologizing. "I didn't mean it. Really. You know me and my big mouth...."
"Familiars aren't actually vampire companions. I came across Shawn by accident. She was given to me by a friend," the older vampire explained, keeping an eye on the scene inside the house. "Cassy became your familiar because Shawn decided you might need a...."
"Nanny?" Chris suggested, smiling.
Ezra grinned. "Something like it. But normally they are witch companions, Chris. It explains a lot."
"For example?"
"For example why Shawn didn't just place her familiar offspring into your lap back then. I expected her to do that; she had been breeding a familiar for you after all." Ezra raised his eyebrows.
"Whoa. You know what you are implying here?" Chris exclaimed as realization dawned.
"Hm-m."
"The whole damn implications? I mean... ever thought about Orrin's cardiac health status?"
Ezra thought that over. "Not to mention my brandy refill status."
Chris cuffed him lightly and the other vampire smiled. Then he became suddenly very serious again.
"Not to mention JD's whole life," Ezra murmured.
"Yeah." Larabee was silent for a moment. "What now?"
Good question. Very good question.
"There is someone I could ask," Ezra finally said. "An old friend of mine. She's a witch herself. She might be able to check JD, tell him and us what he really is, then we take it from there."
"Sounds like a plan. But for now, let's calm some more nerves."
Chris detached himself from Ezra and walked over to the group. JD had apparently decided not to leave, much to Bagheera's contentment. She sat in the hacker's arm, purring softly, and he scratched her ears.
Buck still appeared a bit shell-shocked, and Chris couldn't say he felt any better. It was the first time they had seen JD lose it like that. He exchanged a brief look with a thoughtful Josiah, but both men silently agreed not to act on it now. JD had to calm down first.
So Chris walked over to where Buck busied himself with the dirty plates, stacking them on the side table. As the vampire approached, Wilmington looked up.
"What happened?" Chris asked quietly, helping to sort used napkins from sticky plates.
"Hell if I know, pard," was the equally soft answer. "One minute he's all quiet, the next he behaves like I stung 'im. I was joking, Chris. Making a few comments. Then... wham...."
"What about?"
Buck looked sheepish. "His girl. Well, ex-girl. I know, I know, it's a sore spot, but I shot my mouth off before and he never blew into my face. Something else's bothering the kid."
Chris looked over to where Bagheera was hogging all of JD's attention. "Yes," he agreed. "Something is, and it's been festering for a while."
The werewolf chewed his lower lip. "He was under a lot of pressure lately. You getting cancer was a shock for all of us, but he was the only one who didn't fall apart and bungled up his cases. Heck, the kid did all of our work, too."
"Burn out?"
A shrug. "You'd have to ask Josiah. I'm no psychologist. But he shouldered more than I would have been able to manage, Chris. A lot more. Never took credit, never complained, never even mentioned it."
Chris's gaze went back to the young man. Yes, JD had shown what he could do under pressure, he had grown, but it had been too fast. It had left marks, deep wounds, and they were healing badly.
With a sigh, he bundled up the bag of trash. He'd have to deal with it sooner or later.

* * *

Chris leaned against one of the terrace supports, sipping on his last beer and watched the first rays of sunlight slowly creep over the horizon, filling the sky with an incredible play of colors. He heard Ezra chuckle as the other vampire stepped up behind him, and he inhaled the by now well-known scent of the other man. A scent he would never really get enough of. Extended senses had their uses, oh yes. Chris smiled slowly, thinking of how different things had become for him since he himself had become a vampire. For example how food tasted now.
"You had two steaks, three baked potatoes with sour cream, and I lost count after the fourth beer. You know it doesn't do anything to you, right?"
"How could I ever forget ... with a constant reminder at my side."
Chris grinned and sneaked a hand around Ezra's waist, pulling the smaller man closer into a soft kiss.
"Hm, interesting way to tell me to shut up..."
"Did work."
"Hmmm. Chris?"
"Yes?"
"You know it doesn't ... whoa!"
This time it wasn't just a soft kiss. Chris had thrown the empty bottle on the nearby table and whirled around, pressing Ezra against the support and his body against Ezra, holding him still, while his hands were sneaking under the shirt, starting to stroke and caress the soft skin underneath. The kiss was fiery and passionate, Chris's tongue demanding entrance. Ezra moaned under the unexpected assault of the erotic kind, but responded in kind, giving as good as he got. Chris pushed a leg between Ezra's thighs and felt his lover's hands brush over the skin of his back, pulling him even closer. Chris groaned and broke the kiss. He slightly bent his knees, grabbed Ezra and, with one swift move, threw him over his shoulder and headed toward his bedroom.
"Chris!" Ezra protested, "I'm well capable of walking on my own."
"Shut up, Standish," Chris growled. "You provoke me like that, you face the consequences."
"Provoke? Me? I didn't ... hey!"
Chris had given his behind a squeeze and a stroke before he unceremoniously dropped the other man on the bed.
"I said shut up," Chris growled and kneeled on top of the smaller man.
"Make me." Ezra grinned, letting his hand wander over one jeans clad thigh and under the shirt. Chris didn't need a second invitation.
 

Ezra sighed at the sound of torn fabric. So much for his shirt.
"Chris, you know this is getting exp...."
He didn't get any further, his words swallowed by one hot mouth, claiming his in a fervent kiss, hands wandering over his now exposed skin. Soon the hands were replaced by tongue and lips, leaving a fiery trail behind, as Chris worked himself down Ezra's body and removing offending pants in the process.
"Oh no you don't," Ezra moaned before Chris could reach more southern areas, grabbing his lover by the wrists, rolling him over onto his back and started to treat him right the same way, until he felt Chris writhe under him, moaning and arching into his touch, showing him clearly what he wanted right now. This wasn't far from his own desire, so Ezra had no problems giving in to his lover's wordless begging. He felt Chris's hands rake over his back, pulling him even closer, and he swallowed his scream with a passionate kiss as he fell into sync with his lover's needs, taking them both over the edge.
 

Ezra pulled the blanket over them and snuggled into his Chris's embrace.
"Hell, Ez," Chris murmured sleepily, "next time you want to get me into bed, just say so."
Ezra chuckled quietly and placed a light kiss on his lover' lips. He watched Chris's feature relax as he fell asleep in his arms, and sighed in contentment. He was here, where he wanted to be, and he had just made love to the man he loved with his very heart and soul, the man he had built a home with after such a long time. Ezra closed his eyes and snuggled even closer, wanting to feel Chris's reassuring, living warmth against his body. Things were as they should be. So why was there a tiny little voice in the back of his mind, nagging, telling him that things were just too good to be lasting for one Ezra P. Standish?

* * *

"Eeow..."
Buck looked down on the floor toward the source of the squeaking sound.
"Eeeeuow..."
Said source was wrapping itself around his legs, squeaking and mewling, looking up to him with huge, green pleading eyes.
"Peekaboo. What's up?"
The little tri-colored kitten stretched herself, until she was able to pat his forearm with one paw with a demanding mewl once again.
"Now, what do you want?"
Peekaboo seemed to run out of patience and jumped onto the desk, placing herself right in front of the computer screen, sniffing at her owner. Wilmington scratched the offered head, then pushed the little cat aside to reach his keyboard again. Peekaboo definitely had other ideas as she hopped back, placing her front paws on his thighs and started to tread.
"Peekaboo, this really isn't the right... hey!"
The hind legs had followed the front paws, and with a satisfied sigh the kitten curled up in Buck's lap. The werewolf sighed and started to rub over the kitten's back, until her purr sounded like a damaged lawnmower. He might not have been able to get much work done lately, but he definitely was more relaxed than ever.
"Buck?"
Vin entered the room, scratching Sequoia who was resting on his shoulder.
"Seems our little ones here both decided we need a break, huh?"
"Eeeowrr." Peekaboo chose that very moment to stare at her sister intensely. Sequoia stared back, unimpressed.
"Hey, kittens, if that is going to be a staring contest ..."
"Eeorrr." Peekaboo flicked her tail, message clear, and this time her sister took the invitation, freeing herself from Vin's hold and hopping onto the floor, waiting. Peekaboo joined her, and with some meowing and mewling they rushed out of the room, stumbling over one another in the process.
"Now, why do I feel used?" Buck muttered, looking after the departing kittens.
"You feel like having something warm and furry on your lap?" Vin teased, grinning, as he pulled the chair around.
"Now that you mention it ... you volunteering?"
"Do you expect me to purr?"
"I know you can ..."
Buck smiled and pulled Vin close until the other man came to straddle his lap. Vin took the opportunity to place a featherlike kiss on his lover's lips, leaning into the other man's body, until he pulled back a little.
"Uh-oh," he muttered.
"What?"
"There's that look again."
"What look?"
"That I-am-a-thousand-miles-away-from-here-look."
"I'm fine."
"Uh-huh. Give me another one, Wilmington."
"Really, I'm fine."
"Buck, if there's something - you know what we've talked about, do you? I'm here."
"I know you are."
Buck pulled Vin closer again, and the geologist decided to let it go for now, just enjoying his lover's warm presence. Nevertheless, he felt a little worried. Buck still fought against a black mood once in a while, and he hated to see him like that then.
"Vin?"
"Hm?"
"Love you."

* * *

A sight for sore eyes, Luther thought as he watched his boss and friend walk through the Grotto.
Ezra was smiling. Really smiling. It was an open, happy smile, one that reached his eyes. His whole being radiated contentment. Ever since Chris had stepped into the vampire's life, he had started to change. For the first time in the forty years Luther knew him now, Ezra Standish was suddenly alive. Chris was a vampire now, too. Luther knew Ezra hadn't been happy about being forced to turn his lover, but it had been either that or watch him die of leukemia. He doubted Ezra would have lived much longer after Larabee's passing.
Chris was Luther's student. Ezra had asked him to take over teaching the newborn vampire because he didn't want to face the conflict of being sire and lover in one. Luther had understood the dilemma and had readily agreed. He had found Chris a quick and eager study. So far, things had proceeded smoothly and with all the expected hiccups and problems.
"What are you smiling about?"
Luther turned his head to look at Harriet, one of the waitresses. She was a vampire, like most of the personnel, and even younger than him. She had been turned about twenty years ago and this job was her first chance after leaving her sire.
"Ezra," he answered.
"He's happy," Harriet agreed. "Very happy. Chris is good for him. Actually, they all are."
Luther had to agree. Yes, all six men were good for his friend. He had opened up and let them in, and though there had been some really tough times already, he had come out of them stronger, just like all of them. By now the CSI team consisted of three paranormals and Luther had to chuckle. Two werewolves, one vampire. Not bad.
"I heard they moved in together," Harriet went on. "Was about time."
The other vampire grinned. "Yep."
Ezra walked over to them and shot Luther a quizzical look. "What's the occasion?" he asked, meaning the grins.
Harriet shrugged and walked off to serve more drinks. Luther grinned more.
"Where's Chris?"
"He'll be here later. So, what are the grins all about."
"Just contemplating, Ezra."
The older vampire raised an eyebrow. "I see."
Luther's eyes danced with amusement. Ezra shook his head with a theatrical sigh.
"Children," he murmured and got himself a drink.

* * *

Blue and red lights flashed over the mostly empty streets, attracting spectators like flames did fireflies. Police lines kept the curious away. Two officers stood in front of the hotel entrance, eyes sweeping over the crowd. No one was allowed in right now and some guests had voiced their opinions concerning this treatment already. More officers were trying to calm them down. The hotel as such was small, outside the immediate downtown tourist area, and mostly visited by businessmen who didn't want to fall over tourists while going in and out.
A car stopped next to one of the police cruisers and three men got out. They opened the trunk and unloaded several cases, as well as a camera. As they approached the entrance, the two officers guarding it nodded and let them in after they had flashed their IDs.
Chris Larabee looked around the simple but tasteful entrance hall. The Coats & Arms was a nice hotel. Small but not shabby, tasteful but not too expensive, and it had a highly recommended restaurant. Now it was the scene of a crime, which was why he had been called.
Another police officer walked up to them. "You the guys from the CSI?"
"Yes. I'm Chris Larabee. These are Buck Wilmington and Josiah Sanchez."
"Sergeant Peter Cole. Nice to meet you. I had heard there had been changes in the graveyard shift." He smiled briefly. "Follow me." The officer walked over to the elevator banks. He pushed the third floor button.
"Who's the victim?" Josiah wanted to know as he checked the camera again.
"From the hotel register, his name is Kevin Rogers, businessman from San Diego. He had just checked in. We didn't search the body or the room." He flashed them a quick smile. "We know the drill."
The elevator stopped and the four men stepped out into a long hallway that had been crossed off with more police tape.
"All guests have been asked to stay in their rooms to avoid crime scene contamination."
Larabee nodded. Normal procedure.
"So you think it's a murder?" Chris wanted to know.
"No doubt about it."
The blond shot him a dubious look. In his career as a CSI agent he had seen multiple murders that had been suicides in the end. People became pretty inventive when killing themselves. Some went over it with an almost simplistic touch, others came up with outrageous schemes. But there were also suicides that had turned out to be murders in the end, so it was never clear in the beginning.
"You'll see," Cole added when he took in the expression in Chris's face.
And he saw. The moment Chris stepped into the room, he knew what Cole had meant. He almost stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.
Someone had criss-crossed the whole hotel room with clothes-lines, creating an intricate pattern, a web without a center. No one could enter the room without having to duck under the barrier. But that wasn't the worst of it. By far. Pinned onto the lines with clothes-pegs were Polaroids. Dozens of them. Chris didn't have to look at the pictures to know that they would contain snap-shots of the victim.
"The body's this way," Cole's voice penetrated his mind and the police officer ducked under the clothes-lines.
"Holy mother of..." Buck whispered.
"I know," Chris murmured and followed Cole, grabbing his bag.
Josiah silently took in the scene, but he wasn't as shocked as his two younger colleagues. He ducked under the lines, careful not to disturb the Polaroids, then followed as well.
The body was in the bath room, sitting in the tub. It was a man, in his forties, his hands folded over his slightly bloated looking stomach, eyes closed. He was rather slender but muscular, with blond, short hair and a suntanned skin. There were no visible wounds at first look.
"Who found him?" Chris wanted to know, his voice matter-of-fact, his face expressionless.
"Room service. He had placed an order and didn't answer the door or the phone. The manager knew him. He came here on a regular basis."
Chris nodded. "I want the time of the call to room service, as well as the time room service was delivered."
Cole nodded. "You'll get it."
"Does the hotel have any cameras set up? Monitoring the hallways?"
"Yes. I'll ask the manager to secure the tapes for you."
Chris smiled. "Thank you." He liked people who thought ahead. "Have them ready by the time we're done here." He snapped on a pair of gloves and looked at his two men. "Josiah, go over the room. Complete sweep. Buck, you and I have a look at Mr. Rogers. Sergeant Cole, would you please wait outside?"
"No problem. Call if you need us. I called the coroner and he'll be here in twenty."
"Good." With that Chris indicated Buck to snap pictures before he started his outside examination of the body.
When the door had closed after Cole and Josiah, Buck looked at his oldest friend.
"Chris... did you see...?"
"Yes," Larabee answered, eyes only on the dead man in the tub. "It isn't him, though. It can't be. We got him fifteen years ago, Buck." He walked over to Rogers and carefully examined him by eye only. "It isn't him."
Wilmington gave a brisk nod and readied the camera.
 

Josiah walked back into the room and avoided running straight into a clothes-line. He crouched down, snapped on his gloves, then took the camera and began shooting pictures from various angles. It took him over an hour to work his way around the room, take down the Polaroids and then the clothes-lines, without disturbing any other evidence.
The Polaroids as such showed the deceased in different places. Some where outside on the street, others had him getting in or out of his car, driving, buying himself a coffee, sitting in a restaurant, and entering the hotel. The last five shots had the victim in this room. Two showed him conscious, the other three in various stages until he was sitting in the tub.
Josiah shook his head. No, clearly a murder. And quite clearly by a very disturbed mind.
What he did find, aside from assorted hotel-owned magazines and the bible, was a hardcover book, relatively new and probably never read. It was a collection of Grimm's Fairy Tales. Josiah had no idea whether or not it belonged to Rogers, so he filed it away with the rest.
 

They were done one and a half hours later and the coroner was allowed to move the body away. Sergeant Cole nodded at Chris. "We have the videos from the hall monitoring system set up for you, Mr. Larabee."
"Good. Josiah, Buck, go and have a look at the hall. Dust for footprints. Same goes for the stairs."
Buck grimaced. "Do you know how many people use the stairwell between cleaning intervals?"
Chris smiled tightly. "Just do it."
He knew his friend would come up with virtually a hundred different prints and it would be close to impossible to match any one of them, but they had to be thorough.
Cole led him down to the monitoring office where the video feeds from all cameras came in. The tech who kept an eye on things nodded a greeting.
"We have the tape from the time of the murder, but it looks like nothing much to go on," Cole remarked.
"Let's see it."
The screen in front of them came to life and Chris looked at the grainy, black and white image of a surveillance camera. It showed the hallway. The tech fast-forwarded it to the moment their victim came out of the elevator. He walked to his room, used his key card, and then closed the door. For a long time there was nothing happening. One lonely, rather drunk looking guest stumbled along the corridor and into his own room, then nothing again -- until the room service arrived. Chris watched silently as the man knocked twice, then waited, then knocked again. A frown was etched into his features. He knocked a third time. He then pushed the cart to the side and pulled out his portable, apparently calling reception. When he hung up, he knocked again, then finally used his key card to get inside.
"He got permission to enter the room from the manager," Cole explained. "Mr. Rogers is well-known here."
Chris kept watching, nodding silently. The man from room-service suddenly reappeared, looking pale and sickly, even in the grainy quality of the security feed. He had a hand in front of his mouth, as if trying not to throw up, then he raced off toward the elevator.
"Didn't use his phone," Chris muttered.
There was a minute of nothing at all, then suddenly someone appeared out of the victim's room. Chris sat forward.
"Hello," he murmured.
The man didn't look into the camera, kept his head down while checking the hallway, then threw one arm up and hastened away.
"He knew he was being watched," Larabee said.
Cole nodded. "Nothing much to go on."
"I'd like to take the tapes with me."
The tech shrugged. "You'll have to ask Mr. Thatcher."
"I'll talk to him," Cole offered and disappeared.
Larabee rewatched the sequence, hazel eyes pinned to the screen. Zeke Thatcher, the manager, and Sergeant Cole came back a minute later.
"I hear you want to take the tapes with you," the balding man in his forties said.
"They are evidence, Mr. Thatcher."
"When will you return them?"
Chris smiled. "As soon as we are done."
Thatcher looked unhappy, but he couldn't but comply. Chris took the three tapes from this night and walked out of the surveillance room. Buck and Josiah were already lounging in the hotel reception area.
"Anything?"
"Nothing viable," Sanchez reported. "We have a smeared footprint, as well as a rather blurry one from the stairwell. I'll see if I can get the brand from it."
"And about two hundred finger prints," Buck added with a grimace. "You?"
"Killer."
"Really?"
The vampire smiled humorlessly. "Well, a grainy image of someone with his arm in front of his face running toward the stairs -- after room service had discovered the body."
"He was still in the room?" Buck wanted to know, whistling.
"Yep."
"Cheeky bastard."
 

The men left the crime scene. The body had already been taken away by the coroner and would be on Nathan's table first thing. Josiah and Buck had made a detailed plan of the clothes-lines, their height to the floor and the ceiling, the number of Polaroids and the exact spacing they had hung to each other. Each Polaroid had been placed into a plastic evidence bag and tagged. Finger prints would be taken off them next, but that was JD's area of expertise. Buck had collected various hairs and fibers, but since this was a hotel room, they could be from anyone. Even a cleaning lady didn't manage sterility.
"I want the whole team on this," Chris told his oldest friend as they passed the police lines.
It was already early morning and the sun would rise within the next thirty minutes. He had to be getting home.
"All other cases are secondary for now," Larabee went on. "Whoever did this, I want him!"
Buck nodded grimly. "Not only you, pard. Not only you..."
The team had their work cut out for them.

* * *

Ezra Standish stood in the small, dark room and smiled to himself. The walls were covered with star charts, mystical runes and there were dark blue and black drapes hanging down from the ceiling. A round table sat in the middle of the room, heavy wood, dark and very old. A crystal ball, covered by a black cloth, dominated it. There were crystals of all shapes and sizes, strange, mystical objects, and books on the shelves of the room. Candles lit up the place, flickering mysteriously, some of them scented.
Curtains rustled and a slim woman entered the room. She looked at her visitor, her eyes lighting up as she discovered who it was.
"Ezra!" she called out, the smile growing. "I haven't seen you around for a while! You finally remembered my address?"
"Hello, Thea," he chuckled, accepting the hug.
"My, you look good." She looked him up and down.
"Meow!"
"Shawn! Yes, you look good, too." Thea bent and scratched the black familiar. "I see you've been taking good care of him, darling."
Ezra chuckled more. "Indeed. She has."
"Mrrrrr!"
Another black cat entered the room. She wasn't completely black, with white stockings on her hind legs, white front paws and a white tip at her tail. Shawn purred as a greeting and went to butt her nose against the new arrival. Wabun licked over her daughter's head, purring in return.
"So, what brings you here," Thea asked as she watched the family moment.
"I wish something simple, but there have been a few changes in my life lately," the vampire began and followed Thea into the back room.
Well, the 'back room' was more of a sizeable living room, looking bright and friendly in comparison to the dark and small 'display room' out front.
Thea was a witch, and, as she always put it, how better to hide than right under everyone's noses? She ran a fortune teller's shop, reading the future, playing pop psychologist, and selling crystals, candles and 'magical' stuff to her customers. No one would believe that the slender woman in the flowing robe and her jingling jewelry was a real witch. So 'Lady Althea' was making her money as a fortune teller and owner of a little shop called 'The Witch World', while Thea the Witch kept her low profile. Of course she had customers, other witches and warlocks, who knew what she really was, and for those she kept the real stuff.
"I heard some things. Nothing definite. There was a ruckus about something or other. No idea." She shrugged and held up a mug, indicating whether or not Ezra wanted some.
"Sure," he accepted the offer.
When they both sat on the soft leather couch, she shot him an encouraging look. Ezra didn't hesitate long. Thea was a good friend who could be trusted. He launched into the tale of how he had met up with Chris, what had happened throughout the case with the vampire killer, Alicia, and how it had ended. She listened attentively, her eyebrows rising a fraction as he went on to tell her about Vin's transformation, Chris's illness, and those eyebrows twitched higher when he mentioned Shawn's pregnancy.
"Meow!" Shawn announced and hopped onto Ezra's lap, treading briefly.
He smiled and rubbed her back. "Yes, you did good."
"Mwfff!"
She looked at Thea, then hopped off, tail held high. The witch laughed.
"So she gave birth to a familiar for... Chris?"
Ezra nodded. "Yes. Her name is Cassiopeia. She's a real handful. Quite a match for Chris." He emptied the mug. "But that's not what brought me here. Cassy isn't the only familiar of the litter."
Thea tilted her head, looking thoughtful, as well as surprised. "Two?"
"Yes. We didn't know. I was just surprised when Shawn didn't bring her familiar daughter to Chris. She let Cassy choose the moment when to introduce herself to her new companion. I wrote it off as to the circumstances surrounding the whole events."
"You have the other kittens away?"
A nod. "Two went to Buck and Vin, one to JD. All members of Chris's team. A few days ago, we had a barbecue. There was a rather emotional moment, lots of harsh words, and JD wanted to leave. Bagheera, his cat, stopped him. The moment I saw her behavior, something clicked. I wasn't really sure what it was till Chris said it looked 'familiar'. Then it hit me."
"JD is...?"
"Human. No werewolf, no vampire."
"Ah." Thea looked at her steepled fingers. "Witch."
"Most likely. That's why I came here. I haven't talked to JD about it yet. He thinks it was the cat reacting to the emotional upheaval. Chris knows what I'm suspecting, but he hasn't acted on it yet." Ezra gave her an imploring look. "I'd like you to see JD, talk to him... "
"Check him out?" Thea supplied.
"Something like it. If he is a witch or wizard... he needs to know and learn about his powers."
"Agreed. You should talk to him about me and your suspicions, though," she told him. "He might brush it off, but I don't want him to be confronted with me all of a sudden. He'd fight it even more."
"I will. Thanks, Thea."
"Any time, Ezra. Any time."

* * *

"Chris, you might want to take a look at that," Nathan said and straightened from the autopsy table.
Larabee walked into the semi-dark room, ignoring the sharp smell of disinfectant and assorted other chemicals Nathan used. He didn't even want to think about the underlying smell of death. His vampire senses were a lot better than human ones, able to pick it out even though the chemicals stung in his nose.
"What is it?" he asked.
Nathan nodded at the naked corpse. He had just finished his autopsy and thankfully pulled the blanket up to the man's chest.
"I found out how he died."
"Well?"
The doctor pulled off his latex gloves. "He bled to death from the inside."
Chris frowned.
"Someone, the killer, filled his stomach with small, sharp stones and then poured in water. The stomach bloated and the stones shredded the walls. His intestines more or less exploded and then he bled to death."
"Ouch," was Chris's only comment, but the frown had deepened.
"From the bruising of his jaw and the tissue damage to his mouth, tongue and pharynx, I'd say that the killer forced his mouth open and used a tube. His esophagus looks like someone raked over it with a fork. I don't have to tell you what he looks like inside."
No, he didn't have to. Chris had a pretty good imagination. "Anything else?" he wanted to know.
"I found trace amounts of a strong sedative in the blood. The killer knocked him out first." Nathan shrugged. "Be thankful for little things. This is a pretty gruesome way to die."
Chris nodded. "Yeah."
"Time of death?"
"Between one and two a.m."
Larabee tapped a finger against his chin as he thoughtfully studied the waxen features of their dead man.
"According to the manager and the phone records, Rogers called for room service at a quarter to one. The Coats & Arms offers room service around the clock. The late night snack arrived about twenty minutes later."
Jackson gave him a surprised look. "The killer was damned fast then."
"He might have been waiting in the room already. He could have been with Rogers when he made the call."
"Why? It would be stupid to have him call for a meal, knowing room service might interrupt whatever he is doing."
Chris nodded. "Yes, maybe. Maybe the man's a lunatic and likes the thrill, the pressure. Vin's going through the tapes from security right now."
"So, any ideas who it might have been?" Jackson wanted to know.
"Not yet, Nathan. JD's still going over the Polaroids. We might have prints on them. I'll keep you informed."
Chris gave him a nod of thanks and then left the autopsy room, glad to get out of the smell. It would most likely cling to him all day. A few months ago, he wouldn't have noticed, but now. He sighed. Ups and downs of being a vampire, he thought wryly.

*

Vin rubbed his eyes and muttered a curse. This might be cheapter than renting from Blockbuster, but it was also damn boring and monotonous. He had been sitting in front of the TV, watching one tape after another from the murder night's security feed, and nothing really interesting had happened. He popped in the third tape, the one that covered the early afternoon hours, and watched guests arrive, lug their bags into the rooms, leave again, or room service appear.
Chris had brought back more than just the three tapes of the night of the murder. He had called Sergeant Cole to collect the rest of the day and the day before as well.
"Well, hello," he suddenly murmured and his attention was peeked.
A man in a business suit had appeared out of the elevator. He kept his face averted from the camera and walked up to the room of the victim, took a key card out of his pocket and slid it into the lock. The door opened.
Vin rewound the tape and watched the sequence again. The man was carrying a suitcase. Large enough to look like a travel case, small enough to give the idea that he was only staying overnight. There was nothing on the case that caught the eye. Vin squinted, but he couldn't make out any specifics on the man either. No ring, no watch, no glasses. Tanner kept watching the rest of the tape, but the man didn't surface again. Neither did he leave the room in the next two tapes that covered the time till Kevin Rogers suddenly appeared on the screen and entered his room.
"Damn, he was already waiting for him," Vin murmured.
And he had used a hotel key card to get in.
Tanner opened his cell and called the hotel.

* * *

The team meeting was two hours later.
Chris stood in front of the wall filled with Polaroids, his face expressionless. Josiah had pinned the pictures up the way he had taken them down from the clothes-lines. All showed the victim, following his day to day routines, and not all in Salt Lake City. Rogers had been from San Diego, which meant the killer had tracked him from his home city to this place.
Why?
To kill him?
Why here? And why this way?
"Looks eerily familiar," Buck murmured and Larabee turned.
"It isn't him, Buck," he repeated what he had told his friend again and again.
"I know, pard, I know. But you can't deny a certain similarity... right?"
Vin looked from his lover to his boss. "You had something like this before?" he asked.
Buck nodded, grimacing. "A whacko called Adrian Connor. He was known as the Fairy Tale Killer. Always had a different method and always one that had been described by the Brothers Grimm in their fairy tales. A real nut case. Chris and I took him down nineteen years ago."
"Maybe he's out?"
"I checked," Chris told him. "He's dead."
Vin raised an eyebrow. "Unless he came back from the dead, that makes it harder."
"Yep," Buck agreed.
"So we got a copycat?"
"Probably."
"Or a zombie."
Chris shot Vin a withering look.
"Hey, it wouldn't be such a long shot," the young werewolf defended himself. "Look at the collection of supernaturals we have already."
"No such thing as zombies."
"Just old vampires?" Vin teased.
"Tanner? Just shut up!"
Josiah walked into the briefing room. When Chris discovered the plastic-wrapped book in his hands, he sighed.
"Damn. Please tell me it's not Grimm's Fairy Tales."
"It is," the psychologist answered.
"Copycat," Vin reiterated.
"Yep." Josiah took out the book and picked up a small note that had been placed inside. It was equally wrapped in a plastic bag. "Look at that."
"Happily ever after just doesn't work any more," Vin read out loud.
Chris's jaw clenched and Buck looked rather pale.
"Same note like last time?" Josiah guessed and hit the bull's eye.
"Hell, the guy did his research," Tanner muttered.
"And if he did, he won't stop," Chris added grimly. "This was the first murder. He will kill again."
"Which fairy tale did he use for this one?" Vin wanted to know.
"A stomach full of stones?" Josiah frowned. "Either Little Red Riding Hood or The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids. Both have this scenario in it."
Chris nodded. "He won't use the same method again. Not even one that comes close."
Vin picked up the volume. "He has a lot to choose from," he muttered.
"Yeah. The question is, how do we find him?" Buck growled.
Larabee looked at the chemist. "Anything on the lines?"
"Nope. Standard clothes-lines. No substances on them I could work with."
"The book was bought at Barnes and Nobles," Josiah added. "It still has the price tag on the back. I've run a check on the sales of this particular volume over the last months. Fifteen were sold, only three were paid cash. I'll try and get the names and addresses of the twelve who used their credit cards."
Chris nodded. He knew Josiah would be busy for a while.
"Vin? What about the surveillance?"
"Nothing much, except this: our guy was in the room when the victim returned. He got in using a hotel master key card. I called Thatcher and he confirmed that one was missing, but he has no clue how the killer could have gotten a hold of it. He also claims it couldn't have been stolen before the day of the murder. The key cards are checked each day and the last check was almost sixteen hours before the murder. All accounted for." Vin shrugged. "As for a possible ID of the killer: no such luck. He avoided the camera all the time. But he carried a suitcase with him."
"The stones," Josiah hazarded a guess. "He had to have gotten them from somewhere."
The door opened and JD stuck his head in. "I got some useful prints," the hacker announced as he slipped into the meeting room, glancing at the other men. "Most are from the dozens of people who stayed in this particular hotel room, the maids and room service. The prints on the Polaroids were rather bad as well. The killer either wore some really cheap gloves or he tried to wipe them off. Two or three were good enough to copy and run them through the data banks."
"Well?"
Dunne sighed. "You won't like it, Chris."
"I already don't like it. Out with it!"
"I found a match with the ones I have from the room and from the pictures. They belong to one Adrian Connor. Deceased."
Chris's jaw clenched in a familiar way and the hacker chewed on his lower lip. JD wished he had had better news, but it had baffled him just as well when the machine had presented him with the name to the prints.
"What?" Buck exclaimed.
"Impossible," the vampire growled.
"I'm sorry, but I ran them three times. The answer was always the same. Adrian Connor's fingerprints are on the Polaroids and in the room. I checked the pictures themselves and they were taken in the last four weeks. None is older. The last three had been developed just hours before the time of death." JD shrugged helplessly.
Chris inhaled deeply. "Thanks," he murmured. "Damn! This can't be... It just can't be!"

* * *

Buck had gone through the prison records, trying not to remember too much of the time he and Chris had been after Adrian Connor, who had killed four people in the most gruesome ways. The first body had been a shock back then, almost torn in two, out in the desert. Buck had been one of the first officers on the scene after some hikers had stumbled across the remains. The woman had had a nervous breakdown. Buck had wished he could have had one too, but he was a police officer and more was expected of him. Still, the image had haunted him.
The second body had been found in an abandoned night club. The woman had had shoes made of metal on her feet and had died of blood loss, stress and an overdose of drugs. The coroner had determined that those shoes had been white hot and glowing. From the marks on the floor, she had been forced to dance in them.
Buck sighed and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. He hated to be reminded of that case, but there was no way around it. So he went back to Adrian Connor's file from prison. The man had had no outside contacts in the ten years he had been incarcerated. He had been a loner and the other inmates had made a wide detour around him. He had been marked as a freak, a killer with a weird sense of humor, and someone to be avoided. Of course, he had had his 'friends', men he used to get what he needed and wanted. But even they only got close to him if they had to.
Exactly ten years after he had been thrown into his cell, Connor had tried to make a break. Buck frowned as he read over the report of that attempted flight. It was sheer stupidity. Connor had more or less killed himself, behaving like an idiot as he made a break for it while out with the prison work force to renew a road. He had taken one of the guards as a hostage, had tried to get into the truck that had brought the prisoners out there, and had been struck down by three bullets.
Why try to get away? And why this way? The man was highly intelligent, as prison psychologists had figured out. He wasn't the man to just up and run, knowing from years of being in the prison that he would be shot down. It was a puzzle; one no one had been able to solve. The quick autopsy had shown that Connor hadn't been physically sick. He had just done something incredibly stupid.
Wilmington closed the file and contemplated his cooling coffee. The Fairy Tale Killer was dead, but someone was using the very same methods again, down to acquiring his fingerprints somehow. That in itself was something of an impossibility. Connor was dead, rotting away in some unmarked grave, and you couldn't get a decent print from the old police files. Or could you?
That was a question for JD.
Buck rose, mug still in hand, and left his desk to walk into the computer room. JD was hard at work - with whatever he was doing there. It looked like he was still scanning the Polaroids, doing something weird with them. Both men were on good terms again after JD's outbreak at Chris's party. It had been a momentary thing, one that was by now forgotten, something of the past. But it had given Buck an insight into his young friend. JD Dunne was carrying a burden of some kind, leftovers from the last months, and Buck hoped the younger man would let them help before it became too much for him.
"Hey, kid," he greeted his colleague.
"Hey yourself. What's up?"
Buck shot a look at the screen where one of the images was displayed in what he could only describe as psychedelic colors. "Whatcha doin'?"
"I'm analyzing the developing fluids. Might be a trace to what kind of camera he used, how old it was, and so on. Anything you need?"
Wilmington perched himself onto the cluttered desk. "JD, about the fingerprints on the photos... Is it possible to use old police file prints and transfer them onto those photos? I don't know... maybe scan the ink prints and make a glove or latex stickers for your finger pads? Something like that?"
JD leaned back and looked thoughtful. "I don't know. I'd have to see the police file. There are some pretty nifty techniques out there and it might work. If.. and here's the big if: if the ink prints aren't too old, if they can still be useful for the scanner to recognize all the details. You can't craft a model after a semi-viable print. You can't add what might be missing. Prints are unique, so any manual addition would just make it a bad copy. It wouldn't be the same."
"But it could be done?"
A shrug. "I'd have to try it myself. I can get the police files, no problem, and then do some experimenting. I'll let you know."
Buck nodded. "Thanks. It's a shot in the dark, but maybe it works."
"Yeah. How else could a dead man be leaving fingerprints all over the crime scene?" Dunne chuckled. "Or maybe he rose from the dead? Zombie anyone?"
"JD, you've been watching too many monster movies again," Buck laughed.
"Hey, half of those movies are right on target anyway, Mr. I'm Hairy All Over Once A Month," JD teased.
Buck snorted. "Get to work, kid."
JD laughed and turned back to his computer. "I'll call you when I have something."

* * *

"Anything?" Vin asked as he slouched back into the comfortable couch that sat in the break room.
Josiah opened a can of soda and took a gulp. "Not much. I went through the buyer list of the book. Five local addresses, two outside Utah, two in Canada, the rest all over the place, mostly Europe."
"Tourists."
"Yep. I checked the locals and there's nothing suspicious about them. All of them still have their copies, too."
Vin raised an eyebrow. "You asked them."
Sanchez chuckled. "I visited each and every one, yes. Told them I'm from the CSI, we're investigating a case, and that I needed to check the book they bought. All of them still had it."
"And the State-wide ones?"
"The same. I couldn't check visually, sure, but I made them read three passages I had chosen at random. That's how I knew they had it."
Vin nodded. "You're excluding the tourists?"
"Yes. For now. There are still three who paid cash and I think that the killer is one of them. He wouldn't be stupid enough to use a credit card," Josiah answered.
"Or he thinks we'd think he's intelligent and pays cash, so he plays stupid and uses a credit card. Maybe even one that comes from someone else. Maybe he knows a guy in Canada," Tanner shrugged.
Josiah sighed. "Thanks for busting my dreams," he muttered, but there was a smile in his eyes.
"You're welcome. So the book's a dead end. Anything else?"
"Nope. Buck's still working with JD on something. Has to do with the prints."
Vin stretched and yawned. "Well, I'm calling it a night. I'm done."
"Not as young as you used to be, hm?"
"Look who's talking."
Both men left the break room and grabbed their jackets. It was still three hours to sunrise.

* * *

"Chris, you got mail," Josiah called as he entered the office the next evening.
Larabee looked up from his intense study of the folder he had gotten out of the old police archives. "Who from?"
"No return address. It was delivered by SecurMail Services Ltd. an hour ago."
The letter was indeed in one of the colorful SMS envelopes. Chris's name and his office address were written on it. Larabee took the thick folder and ripped it open. A stack of Polaroids fell out and spread over the desk.
"What the....?" he murmured.
Chris opened his drawer and pulled out a pair of gloves he always kept handy. It was almost instinct to pull them on before touching anything out of the envelope. Then he flipped those Polaroids around that had landed on their faces. All showed people. Men. Businessmen and fathers with their children, sitting somewhere, driving, eating.
"There's a letter," Josiah said carefully as he peered into the envelope.
Chris pulled it out and opened it. The vampire's hazel eyes flared amber and Vin's face showed alarm.
"Chris?" he asked.
Larabee dropped the letter and a soft growl escaped his lips.
'Who will be next?' was written in neat print on the parchment. 'You choose.'
It was a challenge. Clear and simple.

* * *

Ezra walked through the by now very familiar corridors of the Clarion Tower, until he was in the office section assigned to The Branch's team 7. He didn't see anyone, except Josiah, who smiled at him in greeting.
"Ezra! Hello. Looking for Chris?" the psychologist asked.
"No. Actually, I'm looking for JD. Is he here?"
Sanchez nodded toward the closed computer room. "As usual." He chuckled. "While you're in there, check his sugar levels. I think he's back on the Mars bar diet."
Ezra smiled. "Will do."
He knocked at the door and heard a muffled grunt. That was as much an invitation as he would most likely get, so he took it.
JD sat in front of his machines, chewing on one of the aforementioned Mars bars. Soda cans and coffee cups littered any free spot on the table's surface, as well as perched on stacks of prints or folders.
"Hey, Ez!" the hacker greeted him, throwing the candy bar wrapper into the overflowing bin.
From the looks of them, JD had also indulged in assorted other candy, pizza and popcorn.
"What can I do for you?"
The vampire closed the door after himself and cleared some electronic gadget or other from the visitor chair. "How's Bagheera?" he asked casually.
"Oh, she's fine. Real great, actually. Thanks for trusting me to take care of her."
Ezra smiled. "Good to hear you enjoy her company. Say, JD, you know what a familiar is?"
"Sure. Shawn's one. Cassy, too."
"They are companions for witches, male or female. Sometimes vampires. Not many have one. Actually, aside from Chris and me, I know only two more, and they don't have cats."
"Oh? Dogs?"
Ezra chuckled. "There are no dog familiars. No, those two have ravens."
"Cool."
"Indeed."
JD furrowed his forehead. "You didn't come here to lecture me on cats and ravens, right?"
"Yes and no."
Dunne gave him a narrow-eyed look.
Ezra sighed. Okay. Out with it. He had to say it some time. "JD, Bagheera is a familiar."
There was a minute of silence in which the younger man stared at him as if Ezra had grown a second head.
"A what?" JD finally blurted.
"A familiar. A companion."
"But... I... I'm not a vampire, right? I mean, I would know it, right?"
Ezra smiled. "Yes, you would. Most assuredly you would."
"Does that mean I have to... become one?" JD's voice rose with the last words.
Standish bit down a laugh. It would have been inappropriate. "No, JD. You won't have to become a vampire."
"But.. then what? Maybe it's a mistake?" The hacker paled. "You want to take Bagheera away?"
Okay, not what Ezra would have thought might cross JD's mind. "No, I won't take her away either. She chose you, so to speak. She wants to be your companion."
"Okay," JD said slowly. "So....?"
"As I said before, they are mainly companions for male or female witches..."
JD made a choking noise and coughed. "What?!" he exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers. "A witch? Ez, you must be joking! I'm no witch! Hell, I mean Buck's always making fun of me and calling me a computer wizard, but that doesn't mean I'm... that I can do..."
"Magic," the vampire supplied calmly. "No, it doesn't have to mean that, but it could. I have a friend who would like to talk to you about this. She would be able to tell you whether or not you have powers. Maybe Bagheera chose you simply because she liked you, JD."
"But... you don't think so," JD mumbled.
Ezra sighed. "I don't know what to think, actually. This is new territory for me, just like for you."
"So when's this friend of yours coming by?"
"If you don't mind, tomorrow."
"Sure." JD looked nervous, fidgety. "Uh, she gonna examine me some or other?"
Ezra smiled. "Yes, but it's nothing bad. She isn't a physician. JD, are you okay with this? I mean, really okay?"
Dunne shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Man..." He shook his head. "Me... a witch..."
Standish rose and gave the younger man a reassuring smile. "Do you want me to be there when Thea comes?"
JD's eyes gave the answer even before the words left his mouth. "If you wouldn't mind... I mean.. it's not like I'm scared, but..."
Ezra nodded, raising one hand to stop the stammer of words. "I'll come along, JD. No problem."
"Thanks," he breathed.
The vampire left the office not much later, deep in thought. JD a male witch? Lord, he really would have to think of Orrin's health now. Maybe he could start substituting the brandy with Granola bars. With a chuckle, he got into the elevator to the underground parking garage. Now there was an idea if he had ever had one.

* * *

Buck frowned at the screen that told him in unmistakably clear words that forging the prints off the police file ink prints was impossible. JD had tried it in different ways and had failed.
He sighed. "Okay, it was worth a shot," he muttered.
JD shrugged. "At least we know the killer didn't fake the prints."
Buck shot him a tired look. "Yeah, but if he didn't fake them and if they are the real thing... how did they get here?"
JD chewed on his lower lip. Like Buck he had no idea at all. There was only one explanation and that was too far fetched. Connor was dead. Dead and buried.
Wasn't he?

* * *

Josiah thoughtfully looked at the reports from the old crime scenes he had received. In 1985 serial killer Adrian Connor had been caught by two young officers, namely Christopher Larabee and Buck Wilmington. The media had called him the 'Fairy Tale Killer' because he had copied the, sometimes incredibly cruel, way of death described in several fairy tales by the brothers Grimm. The interesting thing was that Connor hadn't been 'really' caught. From what he read in the reports it sounded as if Connor had simply decided to let it come to an end, and had waited for the two officers.
Connor had died in prison..
Something was wrong with this picture.
Terribly terribly wrong.
The profiler let his gaze wander over the written report and the attached photographs. Everybody expected the current killer to be a copy-cat, someone who was thrilled by the way Connor's mind had worked.
Then he noticed it.
And paled.
Sanchez picked up the phone and dialed a number.
"JD? Josiah. Could you do me favor? I want you to look up something ..."
 

Three hours and several cups of coffee later JD entered the office, placing two folders on Josiah's desk.
"How did you know Connor was a copy-cat himself?"
"Gut feeling. What have you found?"
"Looks as if this way of murder is found almost once every fifteen to twenty years. Seems the original killer, Thomas Richards, struck first in the fifties. Six murders, six fairy tales. Richards got caught and executed 1955. Then in the seventies. Four murders, four fairy tales, the killer Jonathan van Sand got shot 1970 while trying to escape from the last crime scene. And now this," JD pointed toward the evidence photographies of their latest crime scene. "Real ugly thing, that." He shuddered. "I think I'll never be able to read fairy tales ever again."
"Hmm. Something else similar with the murders?"
"Now that you mention it, yes. The note left at the crime scene was the same every time, says 'Happily Ever After Just Doesn't Work Any More'."
"Hm. Did you find any pictures of Richards or van Sand?"
"Not of van Sand, but this here is Richards. Not a good picture, but if I work it over a little with the computer ..."
"Would you do that for me, JD?"
"Sure."
Josiah noticed the curious look that JD threw at him but he kept silent. First he wanted to have a good picture of the old killer before saying anything he couldn't prove anyway.

* * *

Ezra watched his lover as he sat in front of the computer, one hand perched over the mouse, staring into the screen. He was reading over old police reports and if Ezra wasn't mistaken, he had read them four times already. At least. Chris had to be able to quote them by now. Something about this new case was making Larabee itchy and Ezra didn't think Chris knew exactly what it was himself.
A copycat killer was bad already. One that singled out a police officer, challenging him, was worse. Chris took it personal. Very personal. He had been the arresting officer in the Connor case. The copycat knew about the case and now killed with the same method. And in cold blood.
Chris had talked with Ezra about it. He needed to talk about cases, the older vampire had found out, run his thoughts by someone else, even if that someone didn't have a criminal science background. It was Chris's way of sorting through his own mind, putting things into focus and discarding what only littered his brain.
Standish rose from his place on the couch and walked over to where Chris was tapping his fingers on the mouse pad, clearly deep in thought. As he heard his lover approach, the hazel eyes briefly looked at him.
"Coffee?" Ezra asked, an amused smile on his lips.
Chris was still in the early stages of vampirism and he hadn't lost the human craving for caffeine or junk food.
"Yeah," was the brief answer.
Ezra trailed a hand over one tense shoulder and then walked into the kitchen, preparing coffee. As he watched the percolator, Chris suddenly appeared in the kitchen, looking tired and like he wanted to be anywhere but here right now.
"Tough case, hm?" Ezra asked sympathetically.
"As nails," was the answer. Chris scrubbed a hand over his eyes.
What he had gotten very quickly by now was the smaller amount of sleep a vampire needed. After four months, his body had pretty much adjusted to that. Lately though, he had neglected even that requirement.
"Chris, you should sleep," Ezra voiced his thoughts. "Vampire or not... "
"I know, I know." The blond slumped back against the kitchen counter. "It's just.. it won't leave me alone. Something... something about the case."
"The copycat?"
"Yes. Something's bugging me about it. Buck, too. Hell, all of the guys have a strange feeling about. Even JD. The guy makes it personal by mailing the Polaroids to me, but then he drops out of sight. One murder, using the same methods the Fairy Tale Killer used. It doesn't fit."
"Maybe some sleep will help clear it up?" Standish suggested.
"You trying to get me into bed?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.
The older vampire chuckled. "Is it working?"
"I've heard better offers," Chris fell into the teasing.
Ezra slipped his arms around his lover and kissed him. "Well?" he asked after they had separated.
"Getting there," Larabee murmured.
The sharp ring of the cell phone had Ezra laugh and he buried his face in Chris's neck as his lover groaned.
"Damn!"
Chris didn't let go of Ezra as he reached for the cell and opened it.
"Larabee!"
He listened, then his body stiffened and Ezra felt tension return. Not good.
"I'll be there. Call Nathan. I want him on site. Josiah, too."
Chris closed the cell and sighed.
"New case?" Ezra wanted to know.
"No. He struck again." Chris pressed a kiss on Standish's lips. "Sorry."
"It's your job," Ezra told him, returning the kiss.
Chris left five minutes later.
"Mrow?"
"Mew!"
Two cats hopped onto the couch's back and Cassy tilted her head, gazing at the door. She had felt Chris's mood and was reacting accordingly. Ezra scratched Shawn's head and she purred.
"Well, I knew what I was getting into, hm?"
"Mwf!"
"Then again, maybe not?" he conceded, still smiling. "He loves his job. I love him. Simple."
"Mrow!" Shawn agreed and rubbed herself against his hand.

* * *

The site of the second murder was the crematory of a funeral home. It was located outside the city, in the middle of a small garden with tastefully arranged copses of trees. A white gravel driveway led to a chapel not far from the crematory itself. The sun was just about to rise and the first signs of dawn were visible. Chris looked at the old building and sighed. Josiah's car was parked outside, as were two police cruisers. He was already expected by the psychologist, who looked grim.
"What do we have?"
"The night watchman discovered that one of the ovens was running," Sanchez told Chris without preamble. "He found the locks forced open and the fires were still going when he managed to shut down the crematory. He called his boss, who immediately called the police in turn."
 "Who's the victim?" Chris asked, following his friend through the cool and still dark halls of the building to the crime site.
"Male. Mid-forties. Looks like a business man or a tourist," Josiah answered. "For now, there's nothing much I can tell you other than that he was cremated in the last two hours. The brick furnace was still white-hot when we came here. We have to wait a while to get the ashes out. I hope that the quick reaction from the night watchman preserved most of the bones."
"The cremation is usually performed at 1800°," Nathan explained as he joined the other two men. "Total time for cremation takes sixty to ninety minutes, depending on the weight of the body. Sometimes longer. The body is subjected to intense heat and flame, so all substances are consumed except bone fragments and any non-combustible materials, such as jewelry, dental gold, prosthesis etc., since the temperature is not sufficient to consume them. I've to go through the ashes."
Chris nodded.
"We found that again," Nathan went on and picked up a plastic-wrapped copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales. It wasn't the same book as before, but it appeared brand-new, off the shelves, too. "Same note inside. And if I know my fairy tales, this one's Hansel and Gretel."
Larabee muttered a curse. "Anything else?"
Josiah gestured to follow him into the furnace room. Chris stepped inside and his features became even more grim. The room was criss-crossed with clothes-lines again, wooden pegs holding dozens of Polaroids. Pictures of the deceased, showing him from all angles, in all kinds of scenarios.
Chris unfroze and looked at his men. "Okay, let's get started. The usual. Fingerprints, fibers, hair, nails and so on. Josiah, tell the police we'll make a sweep. I don't want anyone in here to contaminate the crime scene. I also need the time table from the night watchman. I want to know when he made the last round before the one when he discovered the burning furnace."
"You got it."
They set to work.

* * *

"The body in the furnace was male, between 35 and 45. I estimate his height at around 5'8, weight between 150 and 170 pounds. That would match our man on the picture. I found a golden ring with the ashes. Probably a wedding band. He had two gold crowns in his mouth, so I can work with that, too. No other identifying marks. His clothes were already burned. Buck's trying to find any kind of fibers."
Nathan looked up and into the rather neutral expression of Chris Larabee. His boss wasn't happy. No one was. This case was one dead end after another, and whatever leads they had, they turned out to be dead ends or ran dry after a while.
"I'll try to get a DNA sample, but even that won't be a sure method of identifying him," the coroner went on. "The ring has no obvious markings, but Vin told me he'll have a go at it. I'll try to reconstruct his dental prints, so I can see what we can do about finding the victim through his dental works."
"Good. Thanks, Nathan."
With that, Chris left again. Jackson sighed and shook his head. This was personal for Larabee. Never a good basis to work with. But he didn't want to be the person to tell the vampire that he was getting too close, that he needed to get his professional distance back. No, sir, if anyone might be able to survive the Larabee Glare, it would be either Buck or Vin. Or Ezra, for that matter, but the other vampire wasn't officially part of their team.
Oh well. Nathan shrugged. He had some work to do, starting with the dental reconstruction of their latest victim. He looked at the pieces of teeth and bone fragments he had found of the mostly cremated man.
"Here we go," he murmured and gathered his necessary tools. This would be fun.

* * *

It was ten in the morning when Ezra rang the doorbell at JD's apartment in the old warehouse. He had finally made an appointment with the hacker for a brief examination of magical powers by his friend Thea. The fact that Bagheera was a familiar was almost proof enough for Ezra. Almost. He wanted to be sure. The sun was already out, but Ezra had had his shake just before leaving the house and he wouldn't be in direct sunlight very long. Another shake when he was home again would alleviate his problems anyway.
Chris hadn't come home yet and he suspected his lover was still at the Clarion Tower, working his case. He couldn't really travel all the way to the mansion in broad daylight yet, so he had to wait for sundown. Which also meant the start of a new shift. Standish sighed. Chris really did need a break.
Thea smiled at him.
"Don't worry, Ezra, everything is going to be fine. Whether the young man has any powers or not."
"I think he would prefer the 'not' part, Thea."
"We'll see."
They heard rustling behind the door, and a small feline squeal before the door was being opened.
"Seems someone has awaited us," Thea smiled at the young, slightly disheveled looking man who blinked at his visitors with an owlish expression.
Ezra sighed inwardly, knowing only too well what that look meant: JD had been sitting in front of the monitor again and completely forgotten about the outside world. Well, not completely, as another squeal demonstrated. Bagheera had obviously announced her presence recently. And who could resist a cat, let alone a familiar, that was demanding attention?
"Hi, JD. This is Thea, my friend."
"Uh - hi. I - uhm, sorry, I seem to ..."
"Don't worry. JD is it?"
The hacker nodded.
"I really don't care. Being engrossed in work and forgetting about everything around one is something I'm only too familiar with. Nevertheless, nice to meet you. May we come in?" Thea smiled charmingly at him.
"Uhm - yeah, sure. Sorry..."
JD stepped away from the door and they entered.
Ezra looked around the apartment. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but not really something like this. It was a cat's dream come true. JD lived in a huge two-room apartment, but only one room was occupied by the human member of this little room-sharing-company, dominated by, well, lots of high tec equipment. Somewhere in a corner lay a lone mattress on the floor. There was a couch, a table, TV set and closet. That was that. The other room obviously belonged to the cat, with scratching tree, blankets and some playthings. JD had nailed shelve boards against the wall, which allowed Bagheera to climb and jump around on more than one level.
Something touched his legs.
"Ee... eow?"
"Hi to you, too," the vampire said softly.
Bagheera sat at his feet, expectantly looking up at him until he crouched down and scratched her back and ears. She accepted the scratching for a while, watching Thea's every move.
"Coffee? Tea?" JD pulled him out of his thoughts and Ezra shook his head. Thea took a tea.
"Now," JD asked nervously, patting Bagheera, who had placed herself reassuringly on his lap, "how you're gonna do it? Check me out, I mean."
Thea smiled and sipped at her tea. "Well," she said, "I already started. Say, JD, do you have ... hunches of sorts? Like you know where to look for something or someone? Or not to drive this road or take that way?"
JD nodded, looking a little sheepish.
"Hm, that's what I thought. How about people? Is it that you sometimes have a bad feeling about somebody without having a real reason for it; or the other way around, feeling safe and secure with someone you don't really know?"
Another nod.
"Is it that you sometimes think you see something at the periphery of your vision, say, like a person, a shadow, or a light?"
"Yeah, I do. So, does that make me a witch, or what?" JD asked, looking frightened and curious in one.
Thea chuckled. "No, that alone would make you either a clairvoyant, or a real good judge of character. To be a witch or a wizard, you would need to have some more powers. And I've already scanned you for their existence. From your aura I'd say yes, but I can't be sure, just by plain eyesight. You mind if I take a deeper look?"
JD looked as if he did just that, but he shook his head nevertheless. Ezra leaned back and watched. It would be magic at work right now, and from personal experience he knew it could be frightening sometimes. Bagheera had started to purr reassuringly on JD's lap, providing as much comfort as a little familiar was capable of. Ezra noticed the absentminded way JD was stroking his small companion's fur, and it indeed seemed to soothe him a little.
Thea pulled out a strange looking amulet, looking like a star with an amethyst cabochon in the middle. Ezra nodded inwardly; he had seen that specific item in use before. It was best described as a protection and detection device, telling its owner if magic was within range. There was something more about it, but Ezra wasn't capable of doing magic of any kind, so the thing just ignored him. But it didn't ignore JD.
When Thea placed the amulet on the table, the stone in the middle started to glow softly.
"Hm."
"Hm?"
Ezra couldn't help it. To him, JD's voice sounded almost hysterical all of a sudden.
"It's something. Let's check out the rest."
Thea pushed the item toward JD, and the closer she got the brighter the amethyst shone.
"Please touch the amulet, JD," Thea requested softly.
JD hesitantly reached out for the piece of jewelry, but he never managed to actually touch it. When his hand came within an approximately two inch range, the cabochon started to sizzle. Little blue flames and sparkles were dancing over its surface, the glow within the stone changed its color from bright blue to dark red. JD's eyes widened in utter shock and he pulled back his hand as if he had burned himself.
"What the ... ?"
"Don't worry, JD," Thea soothed. "I expected something like that. To make it short, yes, you have powers. I know, this must come somewhat sudden and be one hell of a shock, but whatever you decide, I'm absolutely willing to assist you. Teach you, if you wish."
"Teach me?? Uhm, well, Thea, no offense, but ..." JD stammered, eyes wide, face pale.
"As I said, don't worry. Sleep over it; think it over. This is something you shouldn't rush. I'll leave my card. If you have questions, just call or e-mail me."
"E-mail?" Dunne echoed.
Thea grinned, and Ezra wondered for the n-th time how old his friend really was.
"Weeell, what did you expect? Smoke signals? This is the twenty-first century. Even my kind is moving with the times, you know?"
JD looked embarrassed. "Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for." Thea rose. "It was nice meeting you, JD?"
"Uh, likewise."
 

The moment they left JD's apartment Thea grew serious. Ezra frowned at her expression, getting the feeling he had missed something.
"Thea? Something wrong?" he asked quietly as they walked out onto the street.
"Wrong? Wouldn't say that, Ezra. Real ugly? Yes." Thea gazed at the warehouse, a frown on her features.
"What?"
"Your friend, JD. He's no witch."
"He's not?" Ezra looked confused. "Didn't you say he has powers?"
"Yes. He has powers. No, he's not a witch. And he's no wizard either."
"Then ...?"
"He's a warlock, Ezra."
The vampire needed a few seconds to understand the full meaning of that revelation.
"Shit!"
"Yep."

* * *

Chris had slept on the couch in his office, the blinds closed, the lights dimmed. It wasn't the most comfortable of places, but it had to do. He was woken by a knock on his door.
"Come," he called, his voice scratchy with sleep.
"Chris?"
It was Nathan who stuck his head into the office.
"Get the lights, will ya?" Larabee yawned, then blinked as the lights went on. A quick glance at his desk clock told him it was just past eight. At least he had gotten two hours of shut-eye
"Got the identity of our last victim," Nathan announced and placed a printed sheet of paper on Chris's desk. "Carl Willards, insurance executive, from St. Paul. No connection to the first victim I could find."
Chris looked at the print, then raised his eyes to shoot an inquisitive look at his medical expert. "Except...? I hear an except."
Jackson shrugged. "Just an observation. Look at the picture."
Chris studied the faxed photo, obviously taken from the driver's license of Mr. Willards. "Yes?"
Nathan pulled out more sheets from the folder he was carrying. "This is our first victim, Mr. Rogers. And these are copies from the pictures you were sent. See a tendency here?"
Chris frowned. "All men, all white, all fair-haired."
"All in their mid-thirties to mid-forties, if I'm any judge. All about the same height, the same built, the same general appearance, aside from the length of hair or a beard, or the clothes."
"So he's preferring a certain kind of look?"
"Yep."
The frown deepened. "Fetish?"
"Could be."
"But you don't think so."
Nathan nodded, then shrugged. "Just an observation."
Another knock interrupted the men and this time it was Josiah. "Bad time?" the profiler asked.
"No, come in. Whatcha got?" Chris asked.
Josiah was carrying a folder and pulled out a photograph, giving it to Chris. "JD rendered this image for me."
The man shown on it looked like in his late thirties with dark hair. Chris looked at him questioningly and he wordlessly laid the photo on the desk, watching Chris's reaction.
"What the hell...? Where did you get a picture of Connor?" Larabee demanded.
"That's not Connor."
"Not? Didn't know the man had a twin brother."
Josiah shook his head. "No brother. The name of this man is Thomas Richards. He died almost fifty years ago."
Sanchez received a puzzled look from his boss and Nathan studied the image silently.
"So what has this Richards fellow to do with our case?"
"He was the fairy tale murderer."
Chris blinked. "Wait a minute ... what are you telling me here exactly? That Connor copied the murders from a killer from fifty years ago?"
"Not exactly. There's much more involved than meets the eye. Chris, this is something the whole team should know, so can you arrange a team meeting?" Josiah wanted to know.
"Sure. Conference room, the moment everyone's here. Okay with you?"
"Sure."

*

The rest of the shift arrived within the next two hours and Chris immediately told them that there was a briefing set up. All six men piled into the conference room and expectant eyes turned on Sanchez.
The profiler cleared his throat. "To make a long story short, as you already know this is not the first series of fairy tale murders. It's not even the second." He passed copies of the old files and record to every member of the team.
"As you can see, there were three other series, 1955, 1970, Connor in 1985, and now this. There were always fifteen years between each series, and each time the killer died. The picture you see is that of Thomas Richards, the fairy tale killer of 1955. There is an almost hundred percent resemblance to Adrian Connor."
"Relative?" Buck asked
"Maybe, but rather unlikely. There was no indication Richards had any offspring. And I didn't find any connections between these three men."
"It's too striking to be just a mere coincidence," Vin murmured.
"That's exactly what I thought. So I worked through every man's records, starting with Connor. Looks as if the man was never born. He first appeared 1971, when he renewed his driver's license. There is no birth certificate, no marriage license, only a social security number, and that was a forged one. He was 52 when he died in prison five years ago. Jonathan van Sand: no birth certificate, appeared on the stage first in 1956, forty years old when shot 1970. Thomas Richards had a birth certificate, but it was forged, as JD found out. He pretended to be 56 when he was executed."
"And each of these men was a fairy tale murderer? Whoa!" Buck exclaimed, looking at the old crime scene records. "So, where and when did it actually start? And why is it starting all over again? Whoever it is today must know of this, uhm - crime history. And he must know Chris."
"Guys..." Vin cut in slowly, "there's something else."
"What do you mean?"
"The notes. Every killer left a note at the crime scene, with exactly the same sentence on it."
"So?"
"It was never published in the media."
Buck frowned. "Meaning?"
"Either there is a connection between them we just don't see at the moment or ... " Vin hesitated.
"Or what?" Chris wanted to know, looking at his friend.
"It's kinda... weird. You ever heard that, if one can ditch one explanation after another, the one that's left, even if real unlikely, must be the real thing?"
"Yeah, so? What do you have in mind?" Buck asked, still looking confused.
"There is no connection between these three men, because ... there are no three men. It's the same guy over and over again."
An awkward silence followed that statement. Chris almost thought he heard the crickets in the background.
"Wow ... cool!" JD exclaimed.
"Vin, did you nibble at the cat nip again?" Buck asked, making moves to check his lover's temperature.
"You're talking about an immortal here? Vin, that's impossible!" Chris said firmly.
"Sayeth the vampire."
Because everybody was looking at the geologist, rather stunned about the implications, nobody paid to the team's profiler any attention. If they had, they would have seen a man whose features were completely frozen into an unreadable mask.

* * *

Chris beat the rising sun by mere minutes and his already exhausted body complained about the low dosage of sun light rather stronger than it normally would. He hadn't slept at all in the last days, except for the two hours on the couch, and while vampires needed less sleep, he hadn't even given it the minimum requirements.
Ezra watched his lover as he sank onto his couch, looking exhausted to the point of collapse.
"Drink this," he told him and pushed a shake into his unresisting hands.
Chris gave a sigh and sipped at it, then took a huge swallow. "Thanks," he murmured, voice rough.
Ezra discarded of the container and sat down next to the younger vampire. "You are dead on your feet, Chris."
"Is that a vampire joke?"
He grimaced. "No. An observation."
Chris tilted sideways and Ezra wrapped an arm around the pliant man. "Not tired," Larabee murmured.
"Sure," Ezra whispered and kissed the blond head.
Five minutes later, Chris was deep asleep. Standish smiled and made himself comfortable on the large couch. He drew Chris down with him and wrapped his arms around the sleeping man.

* * *

It was an almost normal sight by now, Luther mused as he surveyed his domain, the Grotto nightclub, one of the most exclusive ones in Salt Lake. Exclusive because 95% of the clientele was paranormal in origin or had ties to it. To say it was a vampire hang-out would be comparing the The Ritz to a Bed&Breakfast. The club was open for everyone who passed Benny's judgment, the bouncer out front. Many in here were regulars and for the last two years, six men from the local CSI office had been added to that list. Benny knew them on sight.
One of those six was sitting in his usual place, his laptop on a low table, a large bottle of Coke next to him, the normal half-eaten sandwich with a bag of chips at hand, and studying his monitor screen.
JD Dunne had become almost part of that seating arrangement, Luther chuckled to himself. It felt like something was missing whenever he wasn't there, doing some work.
Luther grabbed his own soda and walked over to the young man. He genuinely liked JD. He was young, but he was very competent, good at what he did, one hell of a computer wizard, and a good friend. Luther liked talking to him, swapping ideas on different topics, hearing his opinion on daily operations. So like every time JD was here, Luther sat down and smiled at him.
"You're becoming a permanent fixture here," he remarked. "Uri's been asking where you were last week. You were missed."
JD chuckled and Luther thought he detected a faint blush. "Uh-huh. Missed my appointment, hm?"
"Something like it. Tough case?"
"Weird's more like it. We got the Fairy Tale Killer case."
Luther raised an eyebrow. "I read about it. One sick bastard."
"Yeah. Josiah unearthed some data, and with what Buck and Nathan found as well, this is becoming more freaky by the minute. I'm trying to make some sense of it all, but I'll be damned if it does the slightest."
Luther shrugged. "If you need someone to bounce ideas off, you know we vampires are well-versed in weird and freaky," he offered.
JD laughed.
They had done this before. JD would be working on something, bounce some stuff off Luther, and most of the time he found the solution all by himself. He just needed to talk about it to someone, whether or not this someone actually had an idea what he was talking about or not. In Luther's case, when it came to computers, it was more along the lines of 'not'.
"Okay, you asked for it."
And he launched into a brief version of the case, how it had started, then gave Luther the details of the murders, the past murders, and the weird findings of Josiah.
"It can't be the same guy," JD insisted. "I mean, he looks the same on the pictures, but isn't the same person. There's a difference in age and such. All three men aged and died. He can't have risen from the dead, looking younger, now can he? He isn't a vampire either. Maybe Thomas Richards had a younger brother or a son nobody knew anything about. And he called himself van Sand. And maybe our guy today's just weird enough to... to..." JD made a vague gesture, "well, surgically alter his face to look like Richards."
Luther frowned thoughtfully as JD's voice tapered off. "Or he is immortal," the vampire said slowly.
"Oh come on, Luther! There are no immortals!" JD exclaimed. "There's vampires, but Ezra said you guys aren't immortal either. You can get pretty old, but you die eventually."
"Yes, we do. I meant no vampire, I meant an immortal. The phoenix."
The hacker stared at him. "A bird?"
Luther smiled. "No. The existence of the phoenix is almost a legend in our circles. You know, like Bigfoot to you. The phoenix is a human who can't die. He will age, he will die, but he will rise again. Reborn."
JD looked at him with a dubious expression. "A legend?"
"Every legend has a kernel of truth."
"Uh-huh. You've been watching too many reruns of Highlander, Luther."
Luther smiled. "Where do you think those shows get the idea from?"
JD rolled his eyes, then shrugged. "Okay, I'll humor you. So if the guy's a phoenix, he can't die. But he died twice already."
"A phoenix dies to renew himself. I don't know much about them, but I could ask around."
JD nodded. "Why not? One more weird explanation attempt won't hurt." He emptied the bag of chips, crumbling the paper and depositing it next to the empty Coke bottle.
Luther watched him fidget with his disk drive, noting the fine lines of stress he had seen before. Something was bothering JD and it was more than the weird case.
"JD?"
The young man looked up. "Hm?"
"Something else I can help you with?"
There was a moment of hesitation, then JD looked around the Grotto. A lot of people were all around them, dancing, drinking, talking. The seating area allowed for some privacy, but apparently not enough.
"You want to talk in the office?" the vampire offered quietly.
Dunne hesitated once more, then shrugged half-heartedly. They both relocated to the office Luther used for his management paper work, as well as to just have some peace and quiet. JD flopped down in the comfortable leather chair in front of the desk, playing with a pen. Luther just watched him.
"You know Bagheera, right?"
"Your cat? Yes. She's one of Shawn's."
"Yeah. One of Shawn's." JD studied the pen. "Ezra told me she's a familiar."
Luther raised an eyebrow. "How come?"
A shrug. "No idea. No one knows. Must be a cat thing. Ez talked to a friend. Her name's Thea. She came to talk to me." More fidgeting.
Luther was silent. He knew of Thea and had met the woman once in his time with Ezra. She was a witch, quite a good one, and her cat was Shawn's mother.
"She says I'm a witch, too."
Now both eyebrows shot up. "A witch?"
"Yeah. Or wizard or whatever. Someone who has magic. Something like it." JD sunk deeper into the chair. "Thea said she can't be sure what I'm exactly. She wants to do another test. The first one was to find out if I had some kind of paranormal powers because Bagheera decided to be my companion."
Whoa, Luther thought. Whoa! JD? A paranormal? A magic user?
"Is she sure?"
"Who? Bagheera or Thea?" the hacker asked humorlessly.
Luther smiled. "Thea."
"Yes. Said there's no doubt." He chewed on his lower lip.
"So?"
JD looked up. "So nothing."
"You are a male witch, you have a familiar. I see a tendency with this team."
A grimace. "Not funny, Luther."
"I wasn't trying to be." The vampire leaned forward and looked at the younger man. "But it's what you are now. Accept it. You have no other choice."
"Who says so?" JD demanded, anger worming into his voice. "I never asked for it! Chris had a choice! You had a choice! I didn't!"
Luther watched him, the agitation, the anger, all of it coursing through the slender body. "Yes, we had a choice. Ezra hadn't. Neither did Vin or Buck. It just happened. Shit happens, JD. You got hit by it."
JD erupted from the chair and glared at him. "I don't want it! I don't want to be... like this. Different."
"You don't have to be different. You can still be John Dunne. You aren't forced through monthly changes because of some force of nature. You don't have to stay out of sunlight and become a blood addict. You are still you." Luther held the angry eyes. "I know witches and wizards. They are people, normal people. They don't run around in robes and pointy hats. They don't fly on broomsticks or wave wands. They are just like you, with some magical abilities."
JD raked a hand through his dark hair. "I don't want abilities. I have all I need. I'm a hacker, a computer nerd, an egg head. That's what I am! It's what I want to stay, Luther."
"Who says you can't." The vampire smiled. "You might need some tutoring to realize what powers you have, to hone the skills you already displayed. It's like Vin, Buck or Chris. They needed teachers too. Hey, I had Ezra and it was all just fine."
JD sank down again, defeat written all over his features. "I don't want it," he repeated weakly.
"Hell, kid, you have it. You can't switch it off. It never was switched off. Like I said, I know witches. Some have always had their skills. A sixth sense, precognition of the mild kind, clairvoyance. With training, they could use it at will."
JD mumbled something.
"Huh?"
"Thea asked me if I had hunches and stuff. I told her yes. Like when I tried to find Ezra and found him in the crypt... It was a hunch and it worked. Happened before."
Luther smiled. "See. Is that so bad? Who says you have to go throwing fire balls?"

* * *

Chris woke feeling a lot more human than he had in the last few days. Yawning, he was delighted to discover that his lover was still with him. Ezra usually let him sleep in while he already got up, showered, and did whatever he had planned for the day.
"Morning," the older vampire murmured and kissed him gently.
Chris wrapped his arms around his lover and deepened the kiss, feeling the thrill of just holding the man he loved so much race through him. "And a good morning to you," he replied, licking at the desirable lips.
"Slept well?"
"Very." Chris nibbled at the slender neck and felt shiver race through the smaller man.
They lost themselves in their tender display of love, kissing and nipping at the other. Chris felt his own arousal grow and he pulled Ezra on top of him, hands roaming over the muscular back.
"Want you," he whispered into one ear.
Standish smiled wickedly. He didn't need another invitation.
 

It was four hours later and Chris was surprised to hear the doorbell. Ezra was on the phone with someone and Chris walked to the door, his surprise rising when he discovered that it was JD.
"Uh, hi," the young hacker said carefully. "You busy?"
"No, come on in." Chris opened the door wide, still a bit puzzled about his young friend's visit. JD never ventured out this early in the day; well, early for him. And he had never dropped by unannounced.
"Something to drink?" Chris offered. "Coke, Root Beer, something else?"
"Root Beer's okay."
By the time Chris had retrieved the can from the fridge, Ezra had finished his phone call, smiling at their visitor.
"What can I do for you?" Larabee asked.
"I think I've got something concerning the Fairy Tale Killer, but... it might be rather, uhm, extreme," JD explained slowly.
Chris frowned. "Go on."
"I talked to Luther, mentioned the case we're working on...." He looked a bit sheepish.
"It's okay, JD," Larabee calmed him. "Luther's as part of this as Ezra is."
"Well, Luther mentioned hearing something once.... a legend.... it kinda fit the eerie repeat performance our killer made. He said it sounded like a phoenix."
Ezra frowned. "I vaguely recall hearing about something like this once. A myth. An immortal being who has to die to renew himself, right?"
Chris looked surprised. "A what?"
"Phoenix," JD repeated. "I started to dig around and asked a few of my friends online. I was pointed into the right direction by a guy from Ohio. He gave me access to some kind of paranormal database. Lots of crap, but some pans out right. I checked werewolves and vampires." JD smiled at the two vampires. "They got some things right. Anyway, the phoenix according to them is a normal human being who died and then was brought back to life. Death can occur through sickness or natural age or crime. The body will be completely dead, but the cells will regenerate and the person in question looks like his old self again. Just younger."
"Younger?" Chris echoed.
"Well, there were a ton of theories all over the data base, but they always say that the phoenix, before he actually dies and becomes one, has some kind of marker in his genes. The moment the phoenix is triggered, the moment he regenerates, the gene tells the regeneration where to take it, what age he'll look like when he's alive again. Then he simply goes through the normal aging process once more."
Larabee was silent, visible trying to digest the information. "So you think Connor is a phoenix?"
"Just look at the pictures and the evidence. The different killers look all so much like Adrian Connor, it's more than coincidence. They can't all be brothers or cousins or something. It's impossible," JD argued.
Chris tapped a finger against his chin, walking back and forth. "So Adrian Connor might be a paranormal. A murderer who can't die."
Ezra watched him silently.
"We don't have any proof, other than our theories and some old images. But if he is an immortal being, how do we stop the man?" Chris asked.
No one had an answer to it.

* * *

Ezra gazed over the coffee table, or more over the mess on the coffee table. Old folders, evidence bags, reports, Polaroids. Obviously Chris was deeply engrossed in some research for his case, because he hadn't even noticed Ezra's arrival. The older vampire frowned deeply, not liking the lines on his lover's face or the amber glow in his eyes. He stepped closer when something caught his attention. It was a photograph of a tall and slender, fair haired man in his early forties. Unfortunately the man looked everything but alive. It wasn't the only photograph and Ezra looked at the others, giving a sharp whistle through his teeth. That finally got Chris's attention.
"Ezra? Sorry, didn't hear you."
"Chris, who are these men?"
"Victims. Why?"
"Don't tell me nobody has noticed that till now?"
"What?"
"I'd say if you ever had a wayward brother this man would be it. They all look like you."
Chris inspected the photographs closer and paled slightly.
"Shit!"
"The Fairy Tale Killer?"
"Yep."
"Shit indeed. Looks like the man is trying to wipe you out."
"Damn, what is he intending?"
"Chris, don't you think it would be a good idea to hand over the case to someone else? This is getting far too personal."
Chris's temper flared. "The hell I will. If he wants to play it personal he can get it."
"Maybe. But currently he is pulling the strings. You are merely reacting. Maybe you should - distance yourself from the case a little?"
"Distance myself? Distance?! Hell, Ez, you just told me I have a lunatic Immortal after me with the intention to erase me from the face of the earth, and you suggest I should distance myself? Distance my ass!"
Ezra cleared his throat at the heated outburst, not saying anything. Knowing his lover too well he would do better than argue with a Larabee in such a mood. Unfortunately he was about to deepen that mood. Great timing, Ezra, he thought wryly.
"Something else?" Chris demanded.
"Uhm, yes. It's about JD."
"What is it?"
"You know I wanted to talk to a friend of mine, about Bagheera being a familiar and all? I did, just didn't have the opportunity to tell you about it. Thea is a witch, she knows what to look for and she checked him out." Ezra hesitated, knowing Chris wouldn't like it. Hell, he didn't like it either.
"And?"
"He has powers."
Chris moaned at that.
"Great. Orrin will be thrilled. Does JD know?"
Ezra nodded.
"There's more about it, right?"
Ezra sighed inwardly at the almost begging tone. "Yes. He's a warlock."
"A warlock. And that would be ...?"
Ezra gritted his teeth at his own stupidity, automatically presuming Chris would know what he was talking about and forgetting about how young the other vampire actually was.
"Dangerous. I make it short, Chris. Female witches are called witches, regardless to their powers. But with males it's different. You have witches, wizards, and ..."
"Warlocks?" Chris asked almost breathless.
"Yes. A warlock has extreme powers. Unfortunately if he doesn't train constantly, himself and his powers, they'll eat him up. The powers of a warlock are a very tempting thing. The man has to be very disciplined not to give in to that temptation. If he does ... " Ezra shrugged, "they'll eat him in one."
"What do you mean with tempting? What could JD become?"
"Shortly? A very, very bad guy. It ends up with the powers erupting all at once, destroying the warlock in the process. The disastrous thing is, mostly that process destroys a city as well."
This time Chris had paled considerately.
 "An entire city??"
"Not necessarily an entire. On the other hand - ever heard of Pompeii?"
"Good Lord!" Chris breathed.
"That JD doesn't know. I talked to Thea the other day. She can show him the basics if you will, but sooner or later JD will need a teacher, a real warlock. She knows one and will contact him as soon as possible."
"A real warlock? Hell, one of these guys is coming here?"
"Chris, one of these guys is already here." Ezra explained calmly. "And his name's JD. Remember, the kid you saved from being put behind bars for a fair amount of his life? He needs your help again." Not to mention the rest of the city, Ezra mused. Should JD's powers show while the young warlock was still untrained it wasn't to be foreseen what effects that would have.
"He needs much more than that."
"True. But he has six friends, right?"
"Sometimes friendship just isn't enough."

* * *

It was the third time Chris received mail delivered by SecurMail, but this time the envelope was brought to his home address.
Chris opened the envelope without thinking. The moment he realized what it was he had received he could have sworn. This time it was just one photograph, and Chris carefully turned it around. Only to let it drop the very next second.
"That goddamn son of a bitch!"
"Chris?"
Ezra looked up from the book he had been reading, not noticing what his lover had been doing until the outburst caught his attention.
"That fucking sick bastard!"
Standish looked at Chris and he didn't like what he saw. The man's face was pale as a sheet, and the eyes held a furious amber glow. He was looking at a very infuriated vampire at the moment, and Ezra knew from experience that an infuriated vampire could cause one hell of a mess if let loose.
"Cool down and tell me, Chris," he demanded.
"Cool down? Cool down?! The hell I will! That bastard is dead meat!"
Ezra followed Chris gaze toward the photograph that was still laying where his lover had dropped it. He knew what he was looking at instantaneously. The fairy tale killer had sent a picture of his next victim. It showed a young and slender man with short blond hair, wearing a college jacket. This time the resemblance with Chris was more than obvious.
Because the young man on the picture was Andrew Larabee.

* * *

Chris knew he had behaved like a complete asshole when he had stormed into the Clarion Tower and gone right through to the lab, demanding that the young tech doing the prints for the daytime shift drop whatever he was doing and print the Polaroids. Frank McRoy, the tech's name was. He knew Frank from various encounters when he had still worked the day shift. The few cases when neither of his own men had been able to lift the prints, when they had turned the forensic evidence over to the guys in the CSI labs. Normally the Branch did all of its own work, but sometimes they needed to recruit.
This was such a case. Neither of his men was in and Ezra, who hadn't let him out of his sight since the pictures had arrived, knew as much about forensic evidence as Chris did about gambling.
Chris did get his prints in record time. Probably because having a Larabee snarl at you, breathing down your neck, hurried every tech along. Chris wasn't proud of this talent, but Ezra had once told him that it was in the genes. His ancestor, the one Ezra had known, had been the same. Still, no reason to be proud.
Unfortunately, there was nothing they could use on the Polaroids, except for the print that belonged to Adrian Connor. It only proved that JD's theory looked more and more viable, that the killer was a paranormal.
Chris slammed the door after himself as he stalked into his office, already calling in the team. Ezra, who had been behind him, caught the door before it collided with his face, sighing. His lover was getting out of control.
"You should call and check on Drew," he spoke softly.
Glowing eyes challenged him. Chris grabbed the portable and viciously punched in the number of his ex-wife. He inhaled deeply, squeezed his eyes shut, visibly trying to calm down.
"JoAnn? Hi, it's Chris... yes... yes, I'm okay. Yes, Ezra is, too. JoAnn... do you know where Drew is?... Hm... hm... where are those colleges?"
Chris grabbed a pad and started to take notes.
"Has he called home?... Ah..." Suddenly he grew quiet, biting his lower lip, and Ezra could imagine the question.
What is going on? Has something happened to Drew?
And Chris started to explain, voice soft, even, the anger gone, the frustration hidden. He was the worried father intermixed with the professional. Ezra smiled slightly.
JoAnn gave Larabee the number from Drew's cell phone, made him promise to keep her updated, and he told her not to worry and stay home. If everything turned out to be a fluke and Drew came home while JoAnn was in Salt Lake, he might worry in turn. JoAnn argued for a brief while, then agreed. Reluctantly, but she agreed.
When he hung up, Chris closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Ezra stayed where he was, aware that if he touched his lover now, Chris might lose it. He couldn't afford that right now.
After a minute he picked up the portable again and dialed the cell phone number. Ezra walked over to stand closer to Larabee.
Someone picked up the call.
"Drew?" Chris asked, hope in his voice.
It was shattered immediately. Chris's face lost all color and the amber lights flared with such an intensity, Ezra blinked briefly.
"You sick bastard!" Chris snarled. "Why don't you show yourself, you son of a bitch? You want me, so get me! Where is my son? Tell me where my son is!"
Ezra didn't hear the reply, but he knew it hadn't been to Chris's satisfaction as he watched the portable get airborne and shatter against the wall.
"You have to call Travis," Ezra said softly as he curled his fingers around one trembling wrist.
"I have to do no such thing!" Larabee hissed.
"Chris, you are by now too deeply involved... You have to turn it over to someone else."
"No way!"
"Chris ..."
"I said: no way!"
"Will you stop and listen for once? I know this is hard ..." Ezra tried.
"Hard?! This bastard is toast! If he wanted to turn this into a personal vendetta of some kind, he got it!" Chris almost yelled.
"Yes, and that's the damn reason you should stay out of it. It's getting personal, and you can't think straight anymore."
Larabee tore out of the grasp Ezra had on him. "Bastard got Drew, for heaven's sake! He is threatening my son, and the hell I will just step aside and wait for him to..."
"Chris."
At Chris's choked words Ezra stepped at his lover's side, carefully wrapping his arms around the other vampire. He knew Chris well enough to see that he was masking his fear, terror and feelings of helplessness with anger and fury.
"You can't just step into the next best plane and fly to Bangor to look for Drew there. You're a vampire, remember? Sunlight and such? Besides, that's exactly what he wants. Connor's playground is Salt Lake, and he hasn't left it yet, so why should he start doing so right now? If I should hazard a guess, I'd say Drew is somewhere around here, in Salt Lake, not with JoAnn in Bangor."
"Ezra..."
Chris turned in his lover's arms, looking into his face and, for the first time during this whole mess, let down his guards while leaning heavily into the reassuring embrace.
"I'm just so damn scared ... you know what this sick son of a bitch has done to ... and he has Drew ... I swear if he does so much as touch a hair on my son's head I'll rip his heart out with my bare hands!"
Ezra closed his arms more tightly around Chris's slender waist. He believed every single word his lover was saying, and he knew that Larabee was well capable of doing so.

* * *

When the others arrived after Ezra had called Josiah and explained what had happened, Chris had finally managed to calm down a little, the professional clearly taking over. Yet, once in a while Ezra saw the amber glow flicker in his lover's hazel eyes. He almost felt sorry for Connor. Almost, because that sick bastard deserved everything that should happen to him, for messing with Chris Larabee's family.
"What do we have?" Josiah asked calmly.
Ezra handed the bagged photograph over to the others.
"He has kidnapped Andrew. Drew was on his way to Salt Lake to visit a college. When Chris called his cell, Connor answered."
"That son of a bitch!" Chris growled. "Said Drew's right under my nose, yet I'll never find him."
Ezra watched the members of the team, watched their different reactions toward the horrible news. Buck had paled, the muscles in his jaws were working, and his eyes had gotten a steely, dangerous glimmer. Josiah frowned deeply, his mind already working. JD, the youngest, looked ready to bolt and throw up. Vin watched both Buck and Chris, and Nathan's dark skin had turned into an unhealthy looking shade of gray. All of them had vivid imaginations what could happen to Chris's son, and every single scenario made them more angry and sick.
"Okay, no sense in sitting on our hands - or curse that bastard," Josiah said calmly. "First things first. We have to notify Travis, and the local PD so they can put out an APB. Chris, I need a picture of Andrew, for the APB. You and Ezra talk to Travis. Vin, would you accompany Buck to the police?"
"Sure."
"JD, you get your computers running. Find me a hint, a rumor, whatever."
Ezra nodded inwardly, understanding what Josiah was doing. Chris and Buck were far too deeply involved, both men not able to think straight anymore. Josiah was simply taking over command, trying to get his friends out of harm's way. Then he blinked as something Josiah had said made sense. Rumors. If someone was pre-destined to sense rumors it was the community. It gave Ezra an idea.
"Josiah, I'd love to help, but I have to return to the table," Nathan murmured.
As coroner he was working on several cases, and currently someone else was waiting for him. Not that that someone couldn't wait, dead people had lots of time. Bureaucrats didn't.
They were just about to leave to take care of their tasks when the delivery arrived. SecurMail again, addressed to Chris Larabee. Chris gingerly took the small package, dreading what might be inside. As he opened the cardboard envelope, his hazel eyes flashed amber
Another book. Another publisher, another cover, but it was Grimm's Fairy Tales. A yellow bookmark was placed somewhere around the middle. Chris opened the book.
'Snow White', the title proclaimed.
Vin looked over his friend's shoulder and cursed softly.
'Happily Ever After Just Doesn't Work Any More', was written on the bookmark. A picture of Drew had been stapled to the page.
Chris almost dropped the book.
His son was laying in what looked like a glass coffin, eyes closed, skin pale. Lifeless.
Someone touched his arm and he tried to twist out of the grip, but Ezra's strength still superceded that of the newborn vampire. "Chris," he only said and took the book out of his grasp, handing it over to Buck.
Wilmington immediately bagged it and hurried off to take prints.
"Sick bastard!" Chris growled, eyes staying a deep orange color this time. "I'll tear him apart!"
"Chris," Ezra repeated softly, his voice so low only another vampire could hear him.
Larabee whirled around, glaring at his lover. "What?"
"Travis," he only said.
The younger vampire hissed, but pulled himself together. With difficulty, but he did. Ezra nodded at Josiah to continue while the two of them went to inform Chris's boss.
"We'll be at the Grotto," Standish murmured as he passed by the psychologist. "Call my cell."
Josiah gave an affirmative, then they had left the room.

* * *

Understandably, Orrin Travis had been less than happy about the latest developments. He told Chris he was off the case, but judging from his lover's granite expression, Chris wasn't inclined to follow the order. Ezra had simply given Travis a suffering look.
"Ezra?" the AD inquired.
"I'll take care of him," Ezra promised.
With that he gave Chris a little push and they left.
 

The drive to the Grotto was spent in silence. Chris was on the passenger seat, almost apathic, his eyes flashing amber now and then. Ezra kept an eye on his lover as he navigated Salt Lake's evening traffic with ease. He parked the car behind the nightclub and nodded at Benny, the bouncer, as he walked Chris down the stairs.
The moment he entered the large, almost empty place, he knew Luther had sensed that something was wrong. The tall, dark-skinned vampire looked his way, brows drawn deeply over his eyes.
"Ezra?" he questioned.
Standish shook his head. Not now.
"I'll be in the office," was all he said as he grabbed two bottles and guided Chris into the privacy of the manager's spacious office.
"Chris?" he asked.
"Hm?"
"Here." He held out a glass of the whiskey. Larabee took in and downed the contents in one swallow.
Suddenly Chris whirled around threw the glass against the wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces, raining down on the floor.
"Who does that son of a bitch think he is?!" Chris raged. "If he wants me, he should come out and face me like a man!"
Ezra stood back, letting the other vampire vent his anger, even if it meant having to clean up a few more shards later on. Chris didn't stop at the glass, though. He suddenly drew back his fist and then buried it into the wall. Ezra winced.
That had to hurt.
He spoke from experience.
Chris was breathing hard, eyes bright orange now, but just as suddenly as the outburst had come, it disappeared again.
"If he hurts him, I'll kill him," he whispered as he sank down onto the floor. "Slowly. I'll make him suffer," he vowed. "Job and law be damned..."
Ezra knelt next to him and gently took the scraped and bruised hand, examining it. Chris winced briefly as he made him uncurl his fingers. The skin was scraped off in places and it was bleeding, but there were no broken bones Ezra could feel.
"I'll get a first aid kit," Ezra said softly and rose.
Chris hadn't heard him. Or if he had, he gave no indication that he had. Ezra left the office and almost ran into Luther, who looked just as worried as he felt.
"Ezra?"
"The killer Chris is after has his son," the older vampire explained briefly. "He sent him a pic of Drew in a glass coffin, as well as a book of Grimm's fairy tales with 'Snow White' bookmarked."
Luther sighed softly. "Damn."
"Exactly."
Standish grabbed the first aid kit from behind the bar. "Luther, we need the community's help. Chris's team is on the case, but I think we might be able to dig in places they wouldn't be able to, or don't think of."
Luther nodded slowly. "Glass coffin?" he repeated.
"Yes."
"Guy must have made it somewhere. Ordered the parts."
Ezra smiled almost ferally. "Get at it."
The larger vampire nodded. Ezra disappeared in the office again to take care of his lover.

* * *

When Luther knocked at the office door, it was way past the Grotto's prime time hours. It was actually just before closing and most of the regulars had already left. Ezra had spent all his time alternating between calling the CSI office to talk to one of the team, and take care of Chris. His lover was alternating, too - between complete apathy and rage. There was no real between state. Either he was colorfully describing what he would do to Connor, or he was staring at the wall, tremors racing through his slender frame.
Ezra looked up when Luther stuck his head inside the office.
"I've got something," the vampire said softly, shooting a look at Chris.
Ezra rose and pulled the door shut after him. "What?"
"Friend of a friend of a colleague of a common acquaintance of a friend leaked some info."
Ezra blinked, then gave up on making sense of the sentence.
"Someone placed a special orders ten days ago. Glass coffin, especially reinforced, hermetically sealable, with a small air hole to attach an oxygen tank to."
Ezra's face froze. "Do you have a name?"
"Can't tell you the name of the guy who made the coffin. He's some underground figure who does special orders and never asks. But I have the name of the buyer: Jacob William Grimm."
"Grimm?!"
"Yep. And there's something else. Grimm used a delivery service to pick the thing up. It was damn heavy." Luther looked very pleased with himself.
"Don't tell me it's UPS," Ezra growled.
"Nope. Local service called Zephire's." Luther held up a piece of paper. "Address and office number. Twenty-four hour service."
"Luther, if I wasn't already taken, I'd kiss you," Ezra almost laughed.
Luther chuckled and went back into the main dance room of the Grotto.
Ezra looked at the piece of paper, then pulled out his cell phone. "JD? Yes... listen, I've a possible trail. Zephire's had a pick-up order for a glass coffin in the last few days by a Jacob William Grimm.... Yes, like the Brother's Grimm. You think you can find out where they delivered that package to?... good.... Great. We'll be over in a flash."
Ezra hung up, inhaled deeply, then walked back into the office. It was a trail and it was a hope.

* * *

They had just entered the team's office floor when Ezra's phone rang. He opened the small device and smiled as the caller identified himself.
"Hello, Thea... no, no... fine..."
"Chris!" Buck's voice called across the office rooms and Ezra nodded at his lover to go on, he'd catch up.
Chris hurried on to JD's computer room, Buck in tow.
"You got something?" the werewolf asked.
"Someone had a glass coffin made by some black market, underground contact. Used a local delivery service," Chris explained crisply.
Now that he had a purpose, a lead, a trail, he had shoved his personal feelings aside again.
"JD's hunting down the delivery address."
They entered the small room that was JD's domain. "Hey, guys! I got it," the hacker called and held up a sheet.
Chris snatched it up.
"What?!" Buck exclaimed and leaned over his friend's shoulder. "That can't be right!"
"It is!" the hacker defended himself. "The package was delivered to the Clarion Tower two days ago! One of the guys downstairs even signed the delivery papers."
"Contents?" Chris asked tonelessly.
"Uh, according to the delivery papers it was furniture for... uh.. us. The Branch."
"Furniture," Buck echoed. "Damn!"
"It was moved into storage," JD went on. "The storage manager signed it in."
Chris straightened, his face holding the same stony expression as before, but his eyes were burning again.
"Right under my nose," he quoted what Connor had told him. "It couldn't be any closer if he had delivered it to my house! We're going down there!"
JD scribbled the storage number onto a piece of paper, then the three men hurried off to the elevator.
It never crossed Chris's mind to inform Ezra.

* * *

The basement of the Clarion was a virtual maze. The building had been in use by so many different companies over the years and each had used the basement for different things. Walls had been erected, torn down, reinforced, and doors had been added or enlarged. The storage manager was a beefy looking guy in an ill-fitting blue shirt and dark pants. He double checked JD's hastily scribbled number against the map that was used to keep an oversight over the many rooms in use.
"Down that corridor, then the third to the right," he rumbled and handed Chris a copied map.
Larabee just nodded and the three men hurried off. He didn't want to know how Connor had managed to make a delivery to the Clarion, using the correct authorization papers, and even addressing the goods to The Branch. All he worried about was Drew. His son was down here somewhere, in a glass coffin, and according to the fairy tale Connor was using, he might even be poisoned - or worse.
He shoved those dark thoughts aside.
"Here is it," Buck announced as they followed the map. "Storage 3-45."
Chris flicked on the light switch, illuminating the small room, not much larger than JD's computer room. It was empty.
"JD!" he snarled.
"It was the right one!" Dunne defended himself, trying not to shrink back from the amber glare.
"It was moved," Buck interrupted whatever Chris was about to fling at the youngest team member. "Look at the floor."
There were traces of something heavy being dragged across the dusty floor, leading out of the storage room. Chris was on the trail like a blood hound.
The trail ended in a large room at the end of the corridor. It was mostly empty, except for a few small crates labeled 'Handle With Care'.
"Shit!" Chris hissed.
Buck looked at the trail and frowned.
"JD, get the others. I want the storage room and this one examined, no stone left unturned!" Larabee ordered.
Dunne nodded and hurried off again.
 

Chris watched JD leave the room. "All right, Buck, you and I will ..."
Something tingled at Chris's senses. The vampire whirled around but it was already too late. The movement he had seen out of the corner of his eyes turned out to be a man with a wooden bat in his hands, appearing right behind Buck. Before Chris could yell a warning the bat came down and collided with the human skull with a sickening sound. Buck went down like a broken doll without even realizing what had hit him. Chris prepared to jump Connor, but looking into the business end of a gun stopped him. That, and the following words.
"Larabee. Hurt me and you'll never find your brat."
Chris did his best to rein in his temper, to keep cool and wait for his chance, but it was hard. He cursed inwardly at his inability for vampire attacks. He was still training his speed and agility at this point in his  life. It would have given him an advantage. Nevertheless he was counting on Connor's ignorance concerning his changed status, which meant he had to play on winning time if he wanted to save Andrew.
"Where is he?" he demanded.
Connor laughed. "As I said, right under your nose. What do you think? Is he still alive or not? What did I do to your precious little boy? Poison him, maybe? Uh- uhn ..." Connor waved a finger at Chris's move, "don't. Party ain't over yet."
"You want me, Connor, not my son. Let him go!" Chris growled.
"Where would be the fun in that? You know," the killer smiled, taunting his prey, "I think I'll take him as a bonus. Two at the price of one. Tell me, Larabee, how does it feel? To know that your boy is here somewhere, alone and afraid, waiting for his daddy to end this nightmare and chase away the monster that came out of the closet. Only daddy won't come this time. Daddy will never come again when little Andrew is crying in the night. It will be his last night, Larabee, and there's nothing you can do about it."
There was an unholy gleam in the cold eyes, a certain kind of calculated madness, a thrill that made Chris shiver. Connor was way beyond human, and it wasn't the fact that he was a phoenix.
"Tell me where my son is and maybe I let you live," the vampire hissed.
"But I will live, Officer. I always do. Unlike a certain young man who ... now, we've been there already, haven't we? Back to the question whether your son is still alive. Probably dying right at this moment while you are wasting time with small talk."
"You goddamn...!" Chris was about to explode, when he saw something that made him groan in frustration.
JD.
 

JD had been out of the room, but not far down the corridor, when he had heard something that had made him stop and turn back. It had been a muffled, thudding sound, but something inside of him had frozen, then shrilled with alarm. Accustomed to following his hunches and instinct, he had returned. Now he looked at the scene that presented itself to him. Buck lay on the cement floor, out cold. He had no visible injuries, but he could be dead, too. The hacker swallowed and shoved that thought out of his head. No, his friend wasn't dead. He just wasn't.
Not far away stood Chris, his arms spread away from his body to indicate that he wasn't armed, and Connor was training his firearm on him. JD was a CSI agent, but he had never been in police training. He was cleared for firearms, but his forte was the computer. Right now, he knew he was not only outgunned, but also outmanned.
"Buck! Buck, please," he whispered in a panic, searching for a pulse.
A moment's agonizing gave way to relief as he found one, surprisingly strong and steady. Thank god for small miracles. JD was ignoring the two men, the words floating back and forth, but he couldn't ignore the sound.
Connor had squeezed the trigger.
JD's eye's widened, the air leaving his lungs as he saw Chris stager with blow of the projectile, then collapse. Blood and flesh were tearing free from his shoulder as the shot angrily tore up fragile human flesh. The vampire gave a strangled cry, hand going protectively to the injury even as he slammed into the hard floor. His face was a mask of agony, blood starting to spatter against the stark, dull gray cement.
Connor turned to the new-arrival, gun raised again to take out JD as well. Buck was forgotten as JD rose unsteadily, heart thrumming in his chest, vision hazing out at the edges as he watched Chris furtively try to turn around. Whatever the caliber had been, it had done some damage. JD shook his head as if to deny the scene, but there was no denying it. It was happening and in no less than a heartbeat.
The killer smiled apologetically at the younger man. "Wrong time, wrong place," he growled and his finger curled around the trigger.
No!
JD did not deny the wall of white fire that screamed up around him. Welcoming it even, as it tore through him, over him. The world disappeared in a haze of power, noise and energy, warping any grasp JD had on his senses.
"NO!"
The wave rushed along every nerve, setting his body on fire as the power wrenched from him, agony screaming through an overtaxed brain that succumbed happily to the wall of darkness that followed on the white fire's heels.

* * *

"Holy shit!"
It was an appropriate description of the situation, an all-encompassing exclamation, and Nathan stared around the basement with wide eyes.
To one side lay Buck, just about to come around, groaning softly. Vin had hurried to his lover's side and was carefully looking him over, asking low questions. Buck answered hesitantly, but he was looking more and more alert by the second. Werewolves apparently came with hard heads. Not far from him lay another one of team 7. JD was out cold, sprawled on the ground, and Josiah was with him, nodding at Nathan that their hacker was still alive.
Chris was just stumbling to his feet, a hand pressed to his freely bleeding shoulder, which looked like someone had tried to punch a large hole through it. Larabee leaned against one of the support beams, looking rather more pale than normal, but reasonably alert. Nathan knew he should be worried about the shot wound, but if he had learned one thing in the last months, it was that vampires and shot wounds weren't as bad as humans and shot wounds.
"Ah damn, I liked that shirt," Chris muttered, inspecting the black shirt in dismay.
"You can buy a new one," Ezra answered, looking relieved, but still worried. He gently guided his lover over to the others. "Hurt?"
"No, it's actually tickling!" the blond snapped. "Of course it hurts!"
Ezra smiled. "I see you're already recovering."
Chris growled something, then looked at JD. "How is he?"
"Unconscious but alive," Josiah answered.
"What happened here?" Nathan demanded as he gave a Chris a visual once over before going to tend to JD.
While the bullet wound had to be very painful, Chris wasn't in the danger of dying. Vampires healed quickly and it would stop bleeding soon. Ezra was already on it and when Nathan turned to JD, Josiah walked over to Chris to help with bandaging the shoulder.

Wht had happened?
That's something I'd like to know, Chris thought.
"Wish I knew," he answered. "Connor shot me, was about to deliver the final blow, and suddenly JD... well..."
The moment exploded with dreadful clarity in Chris's mind. Again he was laying there, vision dancing in little blue spots from the pain as blood pumped between his fingers. He had tried to get beyond the burning agony of his wounded shoulder, find some way to prevent his death in spite of the odds. He was a vampire, true, but a head shot would kill him just like anyone else. He wasn't immortal.
That was when his eyes had fallen on JD. The young man's jacket had suddenly lifted with the magical winds as a tornado of yellow energy streaked with red rose around him. A single scream was lost. A single denial that drove straight into his brain and wiped out everything in a battering wall of anger, fear and determination. That power had been directed at Connor and then the force had thrown him against the wall.
Chris looked at the wall and swallowed hard. The bricks and cement had blackened and blistered under an immense heat, and there was a distinct though faint outline on the wall. It looked like a human shaped had been burned into the bricks. That was when the scent finally assaulted his nose. His vampire sense of smell. He almost gagged.
"Gawd," he whispered.
The others followed his line of sight. Ezra's face was a mask, then he looked at their unconscious team mate.
"His powers. So much for Connor. I think we just found a way to... kill a phoenix," Ezra commented wryly, trying to shallow his breathing.
"Oh hell," Josiah whispered, looking suddenly very pale.
Ezra frowned briefly as he saw something flash in the psychologist's eyes, but it was too brief, too quickly replaced by an expression of normal, human shock that the vampire could make anything of it.
"He won't come back from that," Standish remarked. "And if we don't take care of JD, neither will he."
"What?" Nathan exclaimed.
"He just depleted his magical powers," the older vampire explained, already pulling out his cell phone and dialing a number. "It crashed his system, which is why he fell unconscious. You can't admit him to a normal hospital. They will treat him wrong and eventually kill him, while meaning well. He needs someone who knows how to treat magical shock."
Nathan looked doubtful, but he trusted Ezra to handle this. Magic was way out of his area of expertise.
"Thea will know what to do, who to call," Standish went on, then smiled as the witch answered his call. When he hung up, he looked at the assembled team. "Thea will be here with a friend within the next ten minutes. It might be prudent if someone brought her here and helped with getting JD out of this basement."
Josiah gave a brief nod. "I'm on it. What does she look like?"
Ezra's smile widened fractionally. "Just wait outside. She'll come to you."
The profiler mirrored the smile and then was gone. Nathan stayed with JD, monitoring his pulse and breathing, looking more and more worried. Buck had settled down beside their young friend. While Wilmington was conscious, he was also still dizzy.
"Drew... Drew!" Chris suddenly exclaimed. "That bastard!"
He tore himself out of his lover's grasp, biting back a groan of pain. Connor had been taunting him with the location of his son, but he had never revealed it.
Somewhere in this building.
Somewhere right under their noses.
Ezra grabbed him again, swinging him around to look into the bright, green eyes. "Chris!" he whispered softly, voice intent. "We'll find him."
Vin had walked over to the smear on the wall that had been Adrian Connor. Blue eyes took in the rate of molecular disintegration, whistling softly. He took out his handkerchief and wrapped it around one hand, then poked at the burned bricks.
"Guys," he suddenly called.
Chris turned to look at him.
"Come and take a look at this," Vin added. He poked at the bricks again. "The stones are loose. Looks to me like someone's been closing a gap here and JD's magic brittled the mortar."
"What?" Chris demanded and walked over to him.
"See this?" the geologist pointed out. "The heat made everything brittle. Looks like this section of the wall was brought up only recently."
The amber fire in the vampire's eyes made the medic almost take a step back.
"Right under our very noses," Larabee snarled. "He had Drew down here all the time!"
"We'll have to bring down the wall."
Chris growled deeply, placing a hand against the burned wall and pushed. There was the creaking, grinding noise of stone against stone, and part of the bricks shifted inward.
"We could get the... equipment." Nathan trailed off as his team leader pushed again and more of the bricks shifted. "Or not," he amended.
Chris tore and pushed at the bricks like a man possessed, and Ezra joined in after only a second of waiting. Both vampires broke through the wall, bricks and cement, mortar and stone chips flying around them. Chris gave a loud yell of desperation and threw himself against the swaying construction, which collapsed inward. Falling with the momentum, he lost his balance and ended up on his bad shoulder inside the room they had suddenly opened up behind the wall.
Chris scrambled to his feet, flaring amber eyes pinned to the glass coffin in the middle of the small room.
Drew was an utter point of stillness in the bed of glass, like dead, an absolute lack of motion in him. God, he looked so childlike. Face completely lax, his son appeared even younger than his nineteen years.
"Oh my god, no!" he whispered harshly, stumbling over to the hermetically sealed contraption.
There was a small oxygen tank attached to the prison, but the dial said it was almost empty.
"Drew!"
Chris frantically searched for a release, a way to open the coffin, but he found nothing. His fear and horror transformed into utter rage, driven by the terror that he might lose his son nevertheless. He was dimly aware of the others around him, of Ezra approaching, but his decision had already been made.
Chris slammed his hand into the glass lid. It cracked slightly. Another blow widened the cracks. A third took out a large shard that fell onto his son's lap. Unheeding of the cuts he was inflicting on himself he continued his pummeling of the lid, his fear growing.
There was someone helping him.
Glass broke and was removed.
And suddenly Drew was free.
Chris had no recollection of how his son came out of the coffin, but he had him in his arms from one second to the next, hearing the labored breathing, the heartbeat, each exhalation, with a clarity he had never believed possible. He sat on the ground, cradling his child, shaking from exertion, pain and the adrenaline still rushing through him.
"Drew?" he whispered.
A hand touched his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. He didn't know who it was. He accepted the gesture, all his attention on Drew.
There was a sudden commotion and from one moment to the other there were EMTs swarming the place, as well as police. Chris didn't want to surrender Drew to them.
"Chris, they want to help," Ezra's soft voice reached him.
The pressure on his shoulder increased.
"Let them."
He did. He let the strangers take care of his son.
 Chris felt tremors race through his abused system, felt the shock and blood loss catch up with his vampiric system, felt the hunger, felt the need, and he knew he had to get out of here. He had to get away from it all, had to feed, had to let his shoulder heal.
 

Chris didn't really recall how Nathan and Ezra managed to convince the EMTs that he would be taken care of. The men were clearly unhappy, but they complied when Nathan told them that he was a doctor and would handle things. Drew was wheeled away and Buck was asked to go the hospital to be checked in turn.
"Where's JD?" he mumbled.
"Josiah brought Thea down here while we were with Drew," his lover explained. "They got him out before the paramedics arrived. He'll be okay."
Chris drew a shuddering breath.
In the following hours, the two patients were admitted overnight for observation. Buck because he had a mild concussion, Drew because of the dizziness he still experienced. Ezra had driven Chris to their home, had cleaned and bandaged the shoulder wound with Nathan's help. The bullet had gone straight through, doing some real damage, but the vampire nature was already taking care of it. Chris had downe two shakes and was by now dozing, his body demanding rest. Vin and Josiah were at the hospital and Ezra had also called JoAnn, telling her that Drew was fine.
The basement had been declared a crime site and CSIs from the day shift were going over it, collecting evidence. Travis would take care of the details, cover up whatever needed to be covered.
All had been or was being taken care of. All Chris had to do was heal.
And somehow write a report, explain what had happened.
Damn.

* * *

"Meew?"
A soft questioning sound, followed by a purr and a rough, wet tongue licking over his ear. Then the headache hit and JD cringed, moaning.
"Easy, JD, easy. Wait, that'll help," a female voice said, and something cool washed over his head like a soft breeze, taking the splitting pain away.
"Who ... where ...?" JD asked, opening his eyes for the first time, looking around quizzically.
"Mrrow," the warm presence beside his ear announced.
"Bagheera? Hey, kitty." JD reached out for his little companion, weakly stroking the black fur.
"How are you feeling, JD?" the female voice asked again.
"Thea?"
"The one and only. Now?"
"I feel... " JD hesitated, unsure of how he exactly felt. "Bit tired. Had a headache, but that's gone now." He yawned, felt his eyes slide shut again, drifting back off into sleep.
"That's one understatement, young man."
The voice was male and held a foreign accent. He had never heard it before, but somehow he didn't feel as alarmed as he probably should be, JD thought just before exhaustion claimed him.
 

"Thanks for coming so quickly, Nick." Thea smiled at the man standing at her side.
The smile was returned, dimples appearing on the smooth face. "The young man is quite powerful, Thea, you were right. Far too dangerous to let loose without training. Do you by any chance know a place where I can stay with him for some time?"
Before the witch could say something, there was a deep rumble, a clearing of a throat.
"How about my place?" Luther offered.

* * *

Drew was released the next day, under strong advice from the doctors to take it easy and come back should he experience any difficulties.
"I'm not a baby!" the younger Larabee muttered.
Ezra smiled as Drew, still grumbling, settled down in the limo. Martin was driving the two vampires and Drew to the mansion, and Chris's son whistled appreciatively.
"Nice digs!"
Ezra chuckled and walked into the kitchen to get them something to drink.
"How are you feeling?" Chris inquired.
"You ask me that one more time and I admit to all kinds of illnesses just to get you off my back, Dad!" the teenager sighed.
Larabee smiled. "Sorry. Parent mode."
"S'okay. I'm fine. A bit on the downside of things, but I guess all that dope the dude pumped into me does that to you." Drew flopped down onto the couch and smiled.
"I'm sorry, son."
"Not your fault."
"He was trying to get me. Through you."
Drew shrugged. "But you got him. Buck told me JD pulverized the weirdo."
Chris grimaced. "Something like it."
"Cool. You got a wizard now, too."
Ezra chuckled as he walked back into the room with ice tea and some cans of soda. "Actually, he's a warlock, Drew."
"Difference being?"
"He's a lot stronger than a witch or a wizard."
"Cool."
Chris shook his head, hiding a smile behind his ice tea. He wondered if the Larabee Gene, as Ezra had dubbed it, made all offspring so... accepting of weirdness.
"Thea is with him," Ezra told his lover. "She wants to meet us tomorrow night."
Chris nodded. "JoAnn told me she wants to come and pick you up, Drew."
His son rolled his eyes. "Mother Mode. I can fly back all by my lonesome just fine!"
"She already has a flight. She insisted I keep you here."
"Mother Mode," Drew repeated and looked decidedly unhappy. "She won't let me out of her sight the next ten years!"
Ezra shared a grin with Chris.

* * *

Chris opened the fridge and grabbed a Starbuck's Frappuchino, taking a deep gulp. He rested his head against the closed fridge doors for a second, then straightened with a weary sigh and walked back into the living room where Ezra was watching TV. It was some kind of news bulletin, but the sound was muted, and when his lover discovered him, Ezra switched it off completely. Colorful images danced over the screen, showing some kind of political demonstration. Chris wasn't interested.
"Is Drew okay?" Ezra asked softly.
Chris emptied the small bottle and put it down on the coffee table. "Had a nightmare. He's dreaming about small, confined spaces and suffocating."
The older vampire nodded.
"I got him out of it, but he's scared. More scared than he'll admit to himself or to me."
Larabee looked exhausted. Between getting shot, doing hospital visits and trying to explain everything to Travis so his boss could cover as best as possible until Chris sent his reports, he hadn't slept much. The whole case had been solved on little to no sleep, pure adrenaline and anger, and some damn luck.
"He's your son, Chris," Ezra said with a smile.
Chris chuckled wryly. "It shows, hm?"
"Yes. The Larabee Gene. Stubbornness is part of it. And pride."
The blond grinned. "At least I now know what to blame." He was silent for a while, then exhaled in a soft hiss. "If the bastard wasn't dead already, I'd kill him again. Slowly. Again and again. Skin him alive... make him suffer as he made my son suffer!"
Ezra watched the man he loved, noticed the brief flare of amber. The peak of the anger had long since dissipated. These were small flares, contained fires, outbursts brought forth by memories or aftershocks.
"You have to let it go, Chris," he advised gently.
"The hell I will!" Chris exploded and erupted from the chair, pacing. "He killed people for the fun of it! The last two had to die because he made it personal, chose me, for some sick reason. Who knows how long Drew was in that death trap!"
Ezra knew. Well, Josiah had calculated the amount of oxygen that had been in the tank, if it had been full, and the rate it had been allowed to flow into the coffin. Using the information from the blood oxygen test the hospital had run, Nathan and Josiah had finally come up with a possible time frame. Chris had been told; he knew.
There had been high amounts of narcotics in Drew's blood, too. Not high enough to knock him out for the whole time. He must have been coming around now and then, still in a stupor, but also slightly more aware. Apparently Connor had wanted to time it so that when the victim woke, the oxygen would be at its lowest. Drew would have suffocated slowly after just waking from the drugs.
Chris growled to himself. "Heck, we don't even know how he knew so much about me, how he managed to get his hands on authorization codes that allowed him to deliver the coffin right into the Clarion building!"
"Money buys a lot of favors and alliances," Standish reminded him. "And Connor has been around for a while. He probably had a lot of both."
"Speaking from experience?"
The moment it was out, Chris swallowed, eyes widening.
"Oh shit, Ez, I'm sorry," he whispered.
Standish rose and walked over to his lover. "No offense taken. I doubt Connor and I ever played in the same league." He gave Larabee a lopsided grin.
Chris sighed softly. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled him close.
"The bastard's gone and still..."
Ezra just held on, feeling a tremor race through the other man. "How about you try and get some rest, Chris?" he suggested. "You need to sleep. Your wounds need time to heal properly. You aren't superman."
A dry laugh. "That I ain't."
Chris ended up asleep on the couch and Ezra pulled a blanket over his lover, smiling to himself.

* * *

JoAnn arrived the next day around the afternoon and stayed for coffee and an early lunch. Drew was mostly his old self, but there were shadows in his eyes that told the grown-ups that the teenager would need some help going through the nightmare. Chris felt more guilt press into his waking mind.
The cab to the airport left before sundown and JoAnn gave her ex-husband a little kiss. "Thanks," she whispered.
"JoAnn...."
She shook her head. "Don't start blaming yourself for this, Chris. We've been over this throughout your police career more than once. You can't influence your life. We'll be fine."
He sighed. "If you or Drew need anything..."
"Chris, we'll be okay. I'll call someone I know to get Drew some counseling."
"Call anyway," he asked of her.
"I will. Don't be a stranger, Chris." She turned to Ezra and smiled. "Take care."
"You too, JoAnn," Standish replied.
Watching the departing cab, Chris felt Ezra slip an arm around his waist and pull him close. He readily fell into the embrace.
"I'm okay," he answered the unspoken question.
"Sure. Never doubted that," was the light reply, indicating that Ezra didn't believe a word. "I called Thea earlier. She said JD's fine."
Chris hung his head. He had forgotten almost all about their new warlock, the worry about his son pushing his other problems to the back of his priority list.
Ezra hugged him, apparently reading his mind. "It's okay, Chris."
"JD is one of my men," he argued.
"Drew is your son."
He exhaled explosively. "JD's at Thea's?"
"Actually, they moved him to Luther's."
Chris turned and looked at his lover. "Luther?"
"Thea doesn't have the room to host two warlocks and still have the space to move around," Standish explained with a fine smile. "Luther said he doesn't mind and I agreed that JD needs somewhere private, spacious and someplace his teacher can stay with him as long as it takes."
Larabee looked quizzical. "Don't tell me Luther has a mansion as well."
Ezra laughed. "No, I'd hardly call his place of residence that..."

*

"A bunker?"
Chris stared at is lover. He wasn't the only one. The other four men of the CSI team had varying expressions of disbelief and amusement on their faces.
"Yes, a bunker."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
Chris rolled his eyes. "Okay, so why not? Luther lives in a bunker. Fine by me." He sighed. "I should be used to weird by now."
Ezra chuckled and walked to the entrance. The bunker as such looked like the gray concrete block it was. It was about two stories above ground, painted in various shades of gray. Neighborhood gangs or kids had sprayed graffiti on it, giving it a more cheerful look. The street as such appeared abandoned and most of the shops they had passed had been boarded or 'for lease'.
"Nobody lives here any more. Some kids hang out in the old stores," Ezra explained. "They won't bother Luther."
"I bet," Buck murmured, eyeing the desolate street.
Ezra keyed a number code into the lock and the door clicked open. The men filed into the cooler interior of the bunker and the door closed after them, shutting out the still hot evening air. The corridor led to an elevator and Ezra made a sweeping gesture to get inside.
"Luther knows we're coming?" Vin asked.
"Yes. I called ahead and there are cameras outside to keep an eye on things." Ezra smiled at their raised eyebrows.
The elevator doors opened into a wide, sprawling room, tastefully decorated with a carpet, old wooden furniture intermixed with new, state-of-the-art designer stuff. The room was brightly lit, had the size of the Grotto's dance floor, and the ceiling was twice as high as in normal homes. Chris let his eyes sweep over the neon signs fixed to the concrete walls, the giant screen TV and the stereo system that must have cost a fortune. A sizable collection of tapes and DVDs made up one wall, all in shelves.
Two open archways led away from the room. Out of one stepped Luther, dressed in slacks and a simple, black shirt.
"Hi guys," he greeted the team. "Come on in."
"Wow," Nathan murmured.
"You want something to drink?"
"As long as it's no shake," Buck joked.
Luther chuckled. "Thea, JD and Nick are in the back room," he told Ezra as he rooted through a glass door fridge that stood in the room. He handed some sodas to the non-vampiric members of the team.
The manager of the Grotto led them through one of the archways and Chris's eyebrows rose as he discovered a similarly big room, this one made up as a gym of sorts. It had a kind of second floor balcony running around, making it possible for someone to watch what was going on below. Currently the gym was occupied by two people. One of them was Thea, the other a stranger.
The man was about Vin's height, slender, with a shock of very dark brown hair and lively, gray-blue eyes. His face was clear-cut, with sharp angles, and dimples appeared whenever he smiled. He was dressed in black pants and a dark t-shirt, as well as a black leather jacket. Despite his casual clothing, the man radiated an air of official authority.
Chris felt himself suddenly bristle as those clear, gray eyes fell on him. He drew himself up to his full height unconsciously, the instinctive part inside him growling at the newcomer. The man didn't look threatening, but looks could be deceiving, Larabee knew. The guy felt threatening. No doubt about that.
"Hi guys," Thea called, smiling widely at Ezra.
"Where's JD?" Chris wanted to know.
"Sleeping. He does that a lot. Don't worry. He'll be fine soon. This is my friend Nicholas Reed," Thea introduced them. "Nick, these are JD's friends."
Nick stretched out one hand as he looked Chris up and down. "Thea told me about you," he said.
His voice held a clearly British accent. Chris eyed the hand, then reached out himself and shook it slowly, cautiously.
"You are the vampire?" Reed inquired.
"One of them," was the slightly more level than he had intended answer.
Ezra, standing at his side, rolled his eyes and smiled. "Ezra Standish. The other vampire. Welcome to Salt Lake."
"Thank you. I haven't been able to see the sights yet, but I've been told there are a few."
"You are from...?" Vin wanted to know.
"Originally I'm from Leicester. In England," he added with a small smirk. The accent was a dead giveaway. "But I've been stationed in Alameda for the last few years."
"Stationed?" Josiah rumbled. "You are with the military?"
"Royal British Navy, to be precise, Mr. Sanchez. Lieutenant Commander."
That explained the bearing of the man who seemed to have 'officer' written all over him.
"Thea asked me to come by as soon as possible, which happened to be the day before yesterday, and have a look at your young friend Mr. Dunne."
"Nick's a warlock," Thea explained. "A rather powerful one."
Vin let his eyes run speculatively over the handsome body in front of them, eyes gleaming. His smile said it all. He liked what he saw.
"You're a warlock?" Buck asked, sounding a bit suspicious and emphasizing the 'you'.
While he was eyeing the man as well, he was doing it with the air of someone saying 'that guy?'. When he caught Vin's gaze resting on Reed, he barely suppressed a growl. Tanner shot him a teasing smile and Buck glared back at him.
Nick smiled more. "Yes." He shrugged. "Power is in the eye of the beholder."
"What would you call turning a human being into a smear against the wall?" Chris inquired, still not sure why this man created such an itch inside him. He felt like he would have to fight this man over the leadership position.
"Either a burst of uncontrolled magical power or a really efficient way to get rid of someone you don't like," Nick answered with a faint smile.
"A bit of both in this case," Josiah remarked. He was watching the man cautiously, keeping his distance.
"Well, could have been worse."
"Worse?" Chris echoed. Then he remembered what Ezra had told him about warlocks before. "Oh... right."
"Yes. An untrained warlock losing control of his powers...?" Reed lifted one corner of his lips. "Not pretty. You can call yourselves lucky he only disintegrated the guy. It's a nice way to go considering the alternatives."
Chris frowned. "Do I want to know?" he muttered.
"Probably not," was the light answer.
"Thought as much."
"So you'll train JD now?" Buck wanted to know.
"I'll teach him about his powers, about his abilities, but most of it he has to discover himself. The most important rule is not to let the power take over. If he has that down pat, everything else will be child's play." Reed looked confident.
"How long will JD have to be on leave?" Chris asked, falling into his role as the team's leader.
"I can't honestly predict that," was the answer. "From what I've seen, your friend is already developing a lot of power on his own, without much coaxing, since he released that very first burst. It all depends on his grasp of the matter, how well he responds to the magic within him, and his tolerance as well as patience."
Larabee nodded briskly. "I'll handle the bureaucratic end of things."
"Thank you. I'll be here as long as it takes."
Vin frowned. "You have that much free time?"
"Free time, Mr. Tanner, no. Its called 'official business'." Reed looked inscrutable. "I've a handle on things from my side of the partnership."
Ezra leaned back and smiled at the five CSIs, especially Chris.
"Okay, who wants to explain all of this Orrin now?"

*

The moment they had left the bunker, Chris felt himself relax. For whatever reason, his instinctive side was hard to convince that the man wasn't a threat to his position. For all his slender and harmless appearance, Nicholas Reed's aura had the vampire go into overdrive. Nathan and Josiah had wanted to drive by the Clarion since Jackson had work waiting for him in form of a new body and Josiah still wanted to print some reports.
JD had been with them briefly, looking like he had fallen out of bed, but he had brightened considerably throughout the time the team had spent at Luther's. Chris was still worried, especially since he knew next to nothing about Reed and had only Thea's word. Not even Ezra's reassuring smile had calmed him. Nicholas Reed was a stranger and a dangerous one at that.
"What were you doing, eyeing the guy like that?"
Buck's low growl drew Chris's attention to the two lovers standing next to Vin's car. Currently, Wilmington looked rather.... Jealous? Larabee barely hid his smile.
Vin looked at the taller man, grinning. "He was nice to look at."
"What?"
"Don't tell me you didn't notice."
"That little guy?"
"Little?" Vin echoed. "Buck, you need your eyes checked. He's taller than me and Ez are."
Ezra just raised an eyebrow. He was leaning against their own car, watching as well.
"He might be a bit on the slender side, but heck, those hips are just wide enough to..."
"Tanner!"
Vin's look of pure innocence had Chris swallow his laughter.
"I just remarked on his excellent physique. Can't a man enjoy the sights?" he asked plaintively.
"Not if that man is mine and is ogling at someone else!"
"Buck, you are so cute when you're jealous," Tanner drawled, walking over to his lover and grabbing the labels of Buck's jacket.
"Jealous? Of that... that..."
Vin pulled his lover close. "'That... that...', lover, is a powerful warlock who could probably spread your molecules across the desert in no time." His hands let go of the jacket and his arms slipped around Wilmington's waist. "And he's really not my type."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I'm more into the big, brawny bruiser types."
Buck's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, who's your boyfriend and why wasn't I introduced?"
Vin chuckled and angled his head to kiss the taller man.
Chris shot Ezra a look as the two werewolves lost themselves in the gentle kiss, Buck's hands grabbing Tanner's butt and pulling him closer. Ezra just grinned and raised an eyebrow.
"Don't worry," the older vampire said. "Nick won't be any danger. Either way."
"Either way?" Larabee echoed.
"First of all... he's married."
"How do you know?"
"Observation, Mr. Larabee. He's wearing a wedding band."
Chris had the decency to look sheepish.
"And second... he's not challenging you, Chris. He's here to help JD, that's it."
Chris gave him an indignant glare. "I wasn't feeling threatened."
"Oh?" This time both eyebrows rose. "You were radiating 'alpha male' all over the room, Chris. But maybe I was just imagining things..." Standish smiled mischievously.
His lover glowered and tore his gaze away from the green, laughing eyes.
"Take it to a room, boys!" he called as both Vin and Buck made no moves to stop their loving exploration of each other's mouths.
Both ignored him and Larabee rolled his eyes. "Let's go," he decided and Ezra threw him the keys.

* * *

Orrin Travis sat in his executive chair, eyes closed, apparently asleep. Outside, the sun had gone down two hours ago and actually, he was supposed to be at home already. Evie would be slightly miffed that he was late for dinner.
Travis cracked his eyes open and smiled wryly.
She would be even more miffed if she found out he had been indulging before dinner as well. Not alcohol. Ezra Standish hadn't brought any brandy along this time, the Assistant Director mused with a faint chuckle and his eyes fell on the half eaten bar of dark, 70% cacao chocolate. The expensive type.
"Much better for the blood alcohol level," the vampire had remarked. "Vin voted for cookies, Buck wanted to get you gummy bears, but we decided on this instead."
Travis shook his head and took another piece, slowly letting it melt in his mouth. The strong, almost bitter taste spreading over his tongue. He savored it, ignoring the little voice that reminded him of the roast beef Evie had made for tonight.
He needed this.
First Ezra. Well, he had known who Standish was, had willingly and knowingly brought him on the team. Then Tanner, who had been in the unlucky position to be bitten by a werewolf. He hadn't been to blame, and neither the poor animal who had reacted out of pain and fright. Then Larabee. Well, Travis thought heavily. He would have lost Chris if Ezra hadn't made the decision he had. He knew it had been hard on the vampire, harder than on anyone else. Chris seemed to be living well with his new - undead -- status. And finally Wilmington, who was now running around furry and four-legged at least once a month as well.
The latest addition had been the youngest of the team, JD Dunne. A magic user. A male witch; no, worse: a warlock.
Travis seriously considered a drink, but instead took a deep swallow from his Evian. Much healthier. So he now had four paranormals on his team, and Ezra Standish, who held no specific position and about who Orrin Travis was slightly unclear what a role he continued to play in the lives of his men.
Did he really want to know?
He emptied the plastic bottle and chugged it into the waste disposal.
No, he decided. He didn't.